There. It was so close, he could barely focus on it. It kept slipping into the mixture of life on so many worlds beyond. It was chaos, concentrated into a single point. Was it a life? Many? He could not tell. He tried to focus.
But his body demanded his submission. He was losing his grip on its mind, on life, his heart growing louder and--
The first instinctive breath sent another spasm through him, pinned in place by the machine. He could feel it moving with his heart, pumping into him, a sensation viscerally abhorrent to him, but he could not allow it to stop. Its conduits had once filled him with the preservatives that set him in his journey across time. They now ensured he could live long enough in these waking moments, to return to that greater expanse if he saw fit.
But if something had found him here, others might follow. He could not bear to be woken again in a few short years. He would have to remain here, in this time, until he could be certain he could slip away once more.
For the galaxy had not felt ready. He struggled to hold onto the last shivering moment of pan-galactic sight, try to think within the bounds of himself and a single point in time. There had been that sudden flickering of death so soon before it, of balance shifting. He had only just begun considering its greater meaning before he had woke.
He breathed again as the shaking slowly began to subside, keeping his eyes closed within his helmet. They were still of no use. All he wanted to see was the interloper's mind.
Two doors began to slide open: The outer vault door, and at the other end of a pitch black hallway, the door to his chamber. The red glow of a force field behind it was the only light source, placing one last barrier between the invading mind and his body. He hung in the midst of the machine, its leechlike conduits twitching slightly as they pulsed.
no subject
But his body demanded his submission. He was losing his grip on its mind, on life, his heart growing louder and--
The first instinctive breath sent another spasm through him, pinned in place by the machine. He could feel it moving with his heart, pumping into him, a sensation viscerally abhorrent to him, but he could not allow it to stop. Its conduits had once filled him with the preservatives that set him in his journey across time. They now ensured he could live long enough in these waking moments, to return to that greater expanse if he saw fit.
But if something had found him here, others might follow. He could not bear to be woken again in a few short years. He would have to remain here, in this time, until he could be certain he could slip away once more.
For the galaxy had not felt ready. He struggled to hold onto the last shivering moment of pan-galactic sight, try to think within the bounds of himself and a single point in time. There had been that sudden flickering of death so soon before it, of balance shifting. He had only just begun considering its greater meaning before he had woke.
He breathed again as the shaking slowly began to subside, keeping his eyes closed within his helmet. They were still of no use. All he wanted to see was the interloper's mind.
Two doors began to slide open: The outer vault door, and at the other end of a pitch black hallway, the door to his chamber. The red glow of a force field behind it was the only light source, placing one last barrier between the invading mind and his body. He hung in the midst of the machine, its leechlike conduits twitching slightly as they pulsed.