Space isn’t black but purple, the stars not white but burning yellow gold, flaring brightly behind heavily tinted glass, so that just their orbs are seen. Dark matter flows through and around them every fraction of a second, the speed of the smallest particles of the universe, that truly black stuff that makes up the universe, surrounding even this capsule, making up as much of the empty space between planets as it does down on Earth.
They said sending a vampire up into space didn’t make sense, that it was counterintuitive, but I worked hard to get here, and NASA worked even harder to create a shuttle that I could survive in and observe the universe in. And they were reaping the benefits most of all, because now that I had allowed them to discover dark matter, new breakthroughs on the subject are being made even now.
Right now, as I sat here, I was marking their movements as only my vampire eyes can.
There are no planets in my near view: I have left the Milky Way. I am charting the first map out of this galaxy in search of a new home. Within only a few million years, this galaxy will no longer be habitable. The sun will blast away all its layers until nothing remains. And even before that happens, it will burn us alive. I, more than anyone, won’t be able to survive such a world. We need a new home, desperately. Even if it takes us another century to the centuries I’ve lived through.
I turn to my right, to an old weathered line drawing of Carl Sagan. Though few humen of this century know who he was, I remember. He was my Inspiration to think beyond, to reach for the stars. I have studied each individual line on his face, each of which mean nothing. But together, they create an image that can be known and understood to any thinking mind that perceives it. To me, it’s even more important. To me, it means hope.
I’m floating on a wide black three-dimensional sea out here, far further out than any human has ever witnessed. That dot that was the Earth is far behind me now, and I don’t know how long I can really survive on the amount of blood I have in storage. Survival out here is difficult but I keep my eye on the star system I’m heading for, full in the knowledge I’ll be there soon. My craft wouldn’t have woken me if I were so many years from it.
When I arrive, the time difference between me and Earth will be extreme, but my image will reach the nearest station at least a few million years to the past, when they still have some control over their fate. I beg it’s not too late.