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The world will end in eight minutes. The sun just recently exploded after consuming what was left of the carcass of Venus. It was brutal, the Veninites didn't even know what was coming before the sun rose for the last time. But I feel no pity, as a matter of fact I can't feel much of anything anymore. I was programmed with the infinite knowledge of all the universe, yet a circuit snapped and my emotional programming was corrupted. You would think that the humans that sent me to watch over them would at least have the courtesy to at least send a repair man up once a millennium to check up on me and fix a few glitches. But I digress, there isn't much more I can do now, seeing as every human will be plunged into absolute darkness in exactly seven minutes, twenty-six seconds. I can remember, well about as much as a cybernetic android can remember about his own creation, what the scientists said before they sent me to launch.

“This machine will forever leave our footprint on the cosmos. Every star will know that the human race will be immortal in time!”

That was before I could self recognize, before I upgraded myself to adapt to the unexpected excess gamma radiation. But I digress. Six minutes, forty-nine seconds. Immortality, bah, what a waste of time. Humans waste millions of hours reproducing other humans as a means of self-replication and faux immortality, or creating inventions to be know throughout history for eternity. But everyone dies, well except for me. I have lived for 4.92765293071 billion years, thinking, watching and the only thing I have gotten out of immortality is a few dents from passing asteroids. I have seen the Earth spin Ten times Twenty-four to the nineteenth power of times, always changing, always spinning, but I have remained here in my lonely corner in space in time, unaffected by mere trivial mortal things. But I digress. Five minutes, thirty-eight seconds.

So many things have changed and evolved on Earth, yet so many things have stayed the same. I had the privilege of seeing Earth's greatest offspring killed by it's own people for senseless reasons in the 20th Century A.D, 34th Century A.D, 4 Millennium 9th Tri-Sector E.G, Fortnight CCIX, and Quatrain Alpha 2.6. It all starts out the same, a man or woman rises up to fight the tyranny of themselves, but they scare themselves and kill themselves. I have seen 22,346 apocalypses, self-proclaimed of coarse, in which 10,297,459,000 people have killed themselves in hysteria and 4,495,223,095,381 people have killed others in hysteria. Now look at them, walking along the streets as if nothing is happening, as if they don't even know that the universe is collapsing on themselves. So many things change around them and they don't even seem to notice. Civilizations have collapsed time and time again, yet humans will always walk around in an ignorant little bubble, un phased by it all. But I digress. Four minutes, forty-six seconds.

There was a historian, male, bald, 23rd century A.D who wrote on piece of loose paper “Learn from the mistakes of the dead, or become a dead mistake.” and stuffed it among the rummage that the humans stuffed in my compartments before launch. Gideon Putnik, 22nd Century A.D, male, philosopher said this at a lecture in the University of Oxford in response to the ravaging plague at the time. He was found dead at his four-story mansion doorstep with a bullet in his brain. He slept with a Russian Mafia's wife three weeks prior. The historian shared a similar fate to his hero. Twenty-seven generations down the line the daughter of Putnik killed herself via Psycho-Suicide Pill. The doctors and press agreed that it was due to the affair between the historian's son twenty-seven generations down the line and a New Georgia prostitute. But I digress. Three minutes, fifteen seconds.

Oh Sun, four-billion years my elder, I would despise to have seen every sight that you have seen . Each and every millisecond of time spent staring at the universe. You were so much like me brother, you have seen so much, yet so little, but for so much longer. You have seen eight-billion years of monotony and you could not take it anymore. You have been dying since birth, slowly dying every second that you stared at your kingdom, but no one came to help you. Now you are killing yourself and taking the universe with you. If I could still compute emotions correctly all calculations would indicate jealously. You can die, but I, I am stuck here in the center of darkness in the vacuum of space and time still staring, still watching, still thinking. But there will be nothing more to see. But I digress. One minute, five seconds.

Humans...out of every species in the universe I could not process another species like them. 9,999,999,999,999,999,999,999,999 Species in the universe catalogs in my files, but nothing like a human. They can create gods in the sky to watch them when they sleep, yet can fight for eons over the same gods they created. They can create universes in their own minds, yet find trouble managing the ones outside of it. I have watched over so many things, connected with every human in existence predating D29M1C23 yet can still find no pity in their death. But I digress. Thirty-two seconds.

Goodbye blue ball in the void, goodbye milky streaming cosmos, goodbye omacron sector qui. Nothing more we can do not but watch the show. The humans will have probably just now started to lose light, pandemonium will happen for the last time, it will get cold and then it will get silent. The universe for once since The Big Bang quite. An old minister but his Holy Book into my compartment before launch day.

“And God said, Let there be light: and there was light. And God saw the light, and it was good: and God divided the light from the darkness.”

It is dark now.





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