Aryxia

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Push forward. No more distractions.
Every failure is a setback I can't afford.
Too much time has been wasted.
The day of reckoning is near.

The world grows bleaker by the minute. Riotous magma forces itself
to the surface, spewing sickly sulfur into the atmosphere.
Life struggles beneath the weight of heavy, red-tinged air.
Surviving inhabitants scavenge the lands, desperately clinging
to what few resources remain. They've given up,
but I believe that there is still a sliver of hope.

Surges of gravitational waves have been detected within the
Illia-ZY system. Not only are they consistent, but they are also
arriving in patterns. No, they're more than patterns. It is an
advanced, indecipherable language. We may not be alone in the
Universe. In fact, we may have contact with highly intelligent life!

My team and I have been working to decode the grav language,
but have made little progress. Anything that could generate a
language from gravitational waves must be hundreds,
if not thousands of cycles ahead of us in terms of technology.
It is possible that these messages were intended
for a more advanced civilization. Even so, I think that we can
and should investigate them.

Funding has been approved for what may be our civilization's
greatest mission. I'm going to the source of the
gravitational waves, in an attempt to communicate
with whatever is sending these messages. Perhaps if they
understand our predicament, they will offer aid.

This is a journey into darkness, and it is a journey I will take alone.
Our limited resources can only support a single pilot.

I've been asked, “If whoever is sending these messages
could somehow save Aryxia, why would they go out of their way to
help us?” That question has haunted me since the beginning.
There's an immense amount of uncertainty.

In my youth, if you had told me our race was putting
their fate in the hands of one Aryxian, and that Aryxian's
job was to “speak” with a superior power in hopes that they
could potentially save our entire species, I'd think you
were high on iboclen. If you claimed that I was
that individual, I'd question your sanity.

Desperate times call for desperate measures.

The planet trembles with rage.
Another reminder that time is of the essence.
I need to get ready.

credits

from Quaternion, released February 17, 2016
Music and Story: Type-I
Album Artist: Martina Stipan
Story Editor: Max Al-Shawbkeh

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