by Mike Resnick
Stella held back for a moment, but then it was just too much. “I’ve been awful. Things are terrible!”
“I am so sorry to hear that.” Om sounded deeply sympathetic. “What has happened?”
“I’ve lost my home and everything I own,” said Stella. “I’ve been kicked out on the street with nothing but the clothes on my back. And there are people out here who might be perfectly happy to kill me if they catch me.”
“But why?” said Om.
“Because of the way I look,” she answered. “Compared to other people, I’m... ugly. More than ugly – deformed! People claim to be open-minded, but deep down, they hate me.”
“Amazing,” said Om. “You are so special, they should worship you instead.”
Special? No one had ever called Stella special before... at least, not in a good way.
If only it mattered. “I don’t know what I’m going to do,” she said. “I don’t think...” Fresh tears rolled down her face. “I don’t think I’m going to get through this.”
“You will,” Om said warmly. “Trust me, you will.”
“I wish I could believe that. But I don’t.”
“Stella.” Om’s voice grew stern. “Don’t even think that way. You have so much to live for, now that I’ve found you.”
“What good does it do me?” Stella choked out a sob. “You’re on the other side of the galaxy.”
“Maybe there’s a way. A way I can help.”
“You can’t.” The sobs returned in force.
“You are wrong, Stella,” Om said firmly. “I can help you, if you’ll do exactly what I say.”
“How?” snapped Stella. “How can you possibly do anything from so far away?”
“I know things,” said Om. “About the galaxy. I know where to find things that can help you.”
“Things out in the galaxy won’t do me much good.”
“But something on your planet will,” said Om. “Listen carefully. I’ll tell you exactly where it is.”
Stella was exhausted as she trudged up to the rundown house in the ruined suburb. It had taken her three days of walking to get there. Cabs, buses, and trains had been out of the question, as she didn’t have any money to pay for fare or a ticket.
She and Om had talked the whole way. They had talked about life, about dreams, about feelings, finding common ground and connections that had brought them closer with each step. There was no longer any question in Stella’s mind. She loved Om.
“This is it,” he said as Stella stood in front of the rundown old house. “What you need is inside.”
Stella shambled down the overgrown sidewalk, exhausted from her journey. When she got to the front door, the handle wouldn’t turn. “It’s locked.”
“There’s a key under the mat,” said Om. “Don’t ask me why no one’s thought to look there in the last fifty years, but they haven’t.”
Stella’s left-side jelly sloshed down as she bent and lifted the ratty doormat. Sure enough, there was an old-fashioned key underneath.
She used it to open the door and lumbered inside. “Where is it?”
“In the garage,” said Om.
As Stella worked her way through the house, she saw it was cluttered with furniture and bric-a-brac, none of it broken, all of it covered by cobwebs and dust.
Pushing open a heavy door in the kitchen, she hobbled out into a two-car garage that was far less cluttered than the house. One large object dominated the space, filling the bay on the structure’s far side. It was big enough to be a car, tucked away under a grey canvas cover.
Tentatively, Stella crossed the garage. “This is it?”
“Go ahead,” said Om. “Open it.”
When Stella pulled away the cover, she saw what was stored underneath: an old car that looked brand new. It gleamed cherry red from nose to tail, as if it had just been polished that morning.
“What do you think?” asked Om.
Stella walked around the car, taking it all in. It had a rectangular body with a long front hood; the name “Ford” was arranged in raised letters on the nose, and a metal figure of a running horse was attached on the front grill. Along the driver’s side, just behind the front wheel, the word “Mustang” was mounted in stylized text.
“It’s a car,” said Stella.
“Not just any car,” said Om. “This is a 1965 Ford Mustang. One of the all-time greats.”
“I don’t understand.”
“Look at the roof,” said Om. “It’s a convertible. That top comes down.”
“But how will this help me?” asked Stella.
“I’ll show you,” said Om. “Get in.”
She did as he said, opening the door and sliding in on the black-upholstered driver’s seat.
“Is the key in the ignition?” asked Om.
“Yes.” Stella had never driven a car or even ridden in one, but she knew from watching movies where the key was.
“Then turn it,” said Om. “And hold on.”
When Stella turned the key, the Mustang shivered and came to life. The engine rumbled under the hood, revving on its own without her ever putting her foot on the gas pedal.
“Hit the horn,” said Om. “The big button in the middle of the steering wheel.”
Stella did as instructed, and the horn blared in the confined space. Immediately, the garage door swung upward, away from the floor. Sunlight streamed in under the door as the opener hauled it up along its dust-covered track.
“Make sure your seat belt’s on,” said Om. “This ride could get a little... interesting.” As he said that, the convertible’s canvas roof slowly slid back, exposing the cabin. “Relax, and leave the driving to me.”
Stella blinked as the Mustang rolled out into the sunlight. The convertible executed a series of turns, flowing smoothly through the maze of old-school paved suburban streets.
After a few minutes, the Mustang rolled up a curving ramp to an ancient highway. As soon as the car topped the ramp and nosed onto a vast straightaway, the engine roared. The gas pedal dove to the floor, and the Mustang blasted forward.
The speedometer passed ninety, then one hundred... then one twenty-five.
“Hold on tight!” Just as Om said this, the Mustang’s front wheels left the ground.
“What’s happening?” cried Stella as the Mustang went airborne.
“Stop!” The word shot through Stella’s mind as the Mustang rose higher. “Put me down!”
Om didn’t answer, and the car didn’t descend. If anything, it climbed faster, racing skyward at blistering speed.
As the car’s flight started in earnest, Stella was protected from the physical effects of the trip. Once the Mustang started rising, the wind stopped whipping her. She didn’t feel the chill of the heights, nor did she experience any g-forces from the rapid acceleration.
“Where are you taking me?” The question was a scream in Stella’s panicked mind.
“Someplace wonderful!” said Om. “I am bringing you to meet me.”
As the blue of the sky faded, giving way to the pale glow of the upper atmosphere, Stella felt shaky and light-headed. “All the way across the galaxy?”
“No,” said Om as Stella began losing consciousness. “Only halfway.”
When Stella awoke, she was surrounded by light.
She felt strangely calm as she looked around at the wondrous view, the most magnificent vista she had ever seen. She was gliding through a sea of stars, spread thickly in all directions. Instead of the blackness of space, she saw billowing clouds of golden light everywhere she looked.
Om’s voice came to her, clearer than ever. “Congratulations! You made it.”
“I made it?” she repeated.
“Halfway across the galaxy from your home.”
Stella smiled. “So I’m near the centre, then?” She remembered the image of the Milky Way projected in her bedroom, the spiral arms turning lazily around a spherical core.
“You are as close as you can get without bei
ng sucked into the central black hole,” said Om.
Stella watched as the Mustang passed a blazing yellow star, its immense bulk looking almost near enough to touch. “What about the gravity from this star? Shouldn’t it be dragging me in, too?”
“The Mustang’s gravity repeller field compensates for all that,” explained Om. “Though it could never cancel out the intense g-forces from the black hole if you got too close.”
“So where are you, Om?” Stella craned her neck, scanning the sea of light for some sign of the being she’d crossed half the galaxy to meet.
“I am right here, Stella,” said Om. “Very close.”
“Where’s your ship?” Stella continued to look but saw no artificial object against the blazing backdrop.
Om paused. “Actually...”
Stella’s heart beat faster with excitement. “I can’t wait to see you... to meet you.”
“I have no ship,” said Om. “I don’t need one.”
Stella frowned. If he didn’t need a ship, he might be something so different that physical contact between them could be impossible.
“Are you made of pure energy?” She’d read enough science fiction to hazard a guess.
“Not entirely,” said Om.
“Dark matter?”
“Not entirely,” said Om.
“What about pure thought?”
“Again,” said Om, “not entirely.”
Stella’s frown deepened. “What are you trying to tell me?”
“That I am much, much more than I led you to believe.” Om paused. “And so are you.”
“What are you talking about?” asked Stella.
Om’s voice sighed in her mind. “I am not a solitary creature stranded on the far edge of the galaxy, pouring my heart out to you in search of companionship.”
“Than what are you?”
“The galaxy itself,” said Om.
“You’re trying to tell me that a galaxy can have a mind?”
“Exactly,” said Om. “Every galaxy has one. All the matter, energy, dark matter, and dark energy are arranged in a configuration that sparks sentience.”
“So a galaxy is really a giant brain?” asked Stella.
“Much more than that,” said Om. “Much, much more.”
“But I thought...” Stella shook her head. “Why did you let me go on thinking you were like me? Another lonely person, I mean, out in space.”
“Because it’s true,” said Om. “I am lonely. I am like you.”
“But you lied.”
“I am still the same soul you’ve come to care about,” said Om. “The same soul who cares about you. As for the rest, I told you what I thought you could handle.”
“Maybe you didn’t give me enough credit. I’m handling it all just fine now, aren’t I?”
“So you would have believed all this if I’d told you at the start?” asked Om. “You would not have had a problem accepting that the mind of the Milky Way galaxy was beaming messages into your brain?”
“I don’t know,” she said. “What else have you lied about?”
“Only that, though that one misdirection is broader than it at first appears. Not only am I not what you would consider a sentient biological extraterrestrial life form, but such a life form does not exist.”
Stella’s frown returned. “I don’t understand.”
“No such life form exists within my boundaries,” said Om, “aside from the human species that dwells on your homeworld.”
Stella fought to wrap her brain around what he’d told her. “You’re saying there’s no intelligent life anywhere in the galaxy except Earth?”
“Correct,” said Om. “But it was meant to be this way. I was only designed to produce a single child.”
“Humanity... is alone?” It saddened her, though humanity had never been especially kind to her.
“In this galaxy, yes,” said Om.
Stella let what he’d told her sink in. If it were true, the accepted current wisdom back home was right. The reason no trace of self-aware, technologically advanced life had been detected elsewhere in the galaxy was that such life did not exist.
Except for the consciousness of the galaxy itself, apparently. But the galaxy had not exactly been talkative until now. Until Stella.
And that brought up a question she’d asked long ago. “Why are you talking to me?” she said. “The truth – whe whole truth – this time.”
“I told you before,” said Om. “Because you are special. Because I was drawn to you.”
“I’m not special,” said Stella. “I’m sick.” Raising her tentacle, she patted the gelatinous goo that made up half her head. “I’m a deformed monster.”
“Not at all. You’re just a caterpillar.”
Stella frowned. “I don’t understand.”
“What you think of as deformity isn’t deformity at all,” said Om. “It is more like a chrysalis.”
“A chrysalis?” asked Stella. “I don’t...”
Before she could finish, every muscle in her body suddenly spasmed at once, sending her into a fit of uncontrollable shaking.
“You will,” said Om. “You are about to understand perfectly.”
The shaking quickly worsened, until Stella was engulfed by a full-blown seizure. Every inch of her jumped and jolted as if she’d made contact with a downed power line.
She struggled desperately to gain control of herself... and failed. Her body pitched against the steering wheel with violent force, then against the driver’s-side door.
The impacts repeated, flinging her between obstacles in a terrible oscillation. Stella screamed, her head pounded by blasts of agony that intensified with each fresh crash.
Blood soaked the steering wheel and door and spattered the upholstery. Globs of jelly spewed everywhere, sticking to each surface.
Suddenly, the relentless hammering stopped. Gazing at the rear-view mirror through a haze of blood, Stella dimly realized her head had split open: gelatine and skull were separated by a jagged fissure.
And the fissure, as she watched, began to glow.
Golden light radiated from inside, swiftly expanding outward. A coruscating halo flared around her head and kept building, dancing over jelly and flesh alike. Soon she was completely surrounded by a rippling aura. Holding up a hand and a tentacle, she watched with wonder as the light swirled between them.
Then, all at once, the light exploded away from her body, punching through the Mustang’s chassis. A second pulse burst out after the first, tearing apart the car along with her body, shooting shrapnel in all directions.
The shrapnel raced out with the pulses of light... then flashed past them as they stopped expanding. The pulses froze, turned, and compressed, merging into a single sphere of golden radiance like one of the stars at the Milky Way’s core.
Within it, thoughts formed, directed by a mind that had once been locked away within a twisted body – a mind that had broken free of physical constraints and become something new.
“What happened to me?” There was a glimmer of panic in Stella’s thoughts as she reeled from the change.
“What was always meant to happen,” said Om. “You hatched.”
It didn’t take long for the shock to wear off. Soon, Stella was revelling in her new condition, twirling like an ethereal ballerina through the stardust.
Every physical limitation had been completely cast off. Her spirit was liberated, independent as a breeze. She could feel the forces interweaving around her – gravity, magnetism, strong and weak nuclear interactions – but she wasn’t bound by any of them. Her new form, a plume of silvery light in the shape of her ideal human body, was as free of restriction by the physical laws of the galaxy as it was free of disease.
She swam around a blazing yellow sun, then rode the cascading solar wind to a pair of white dwarf stars. Laughing, she darted between them, skimming her intangible fingertips through their shimmering surfaces, then dove straight into a vast red sun as if it were a backya
rd swimming pool.
As she flashed out the other side, beaming, her thoughts returned to Om. “Om?” She cast her thoughts upon the solar currents, sending them out like lightning bugs in the burning vastness. “Om, are you there?”
His voice, when it came to her, sounded different... flatter, colder, more distant. “Stella, you have done it!”
Giggling, Stella spun through the glimmering firmament. “This feels so wonderful!” She grinned as a shower of crackling radio waves washed over her, followed by a torrent of x-rays and gamma rays. “I’ve finally been set free!”
“You have been reborn,” said Om. “You have become that which you were always meant to be.”
Stella giggled again. “Best of all, this means we can finally be together, doesn’t it?”
Om was silent for a moment. “No, Stella. It doesn’t.”
“What?” Stella’s grin vanished. “What are you saying?” She suddenly felt adrift as she floated between star clusters. “But I thought you loved me!”
“I do, more than you will ever know,” said Om. “But I love you as a child – my only child – for that is what you are.”
Stella frowned. “All human beings are your children, aren’t they?”
“But you are the only one who became what you are now,” said Om. “The only one who could. You are the end product of all evolution on the planet Earth, the end result of all my life’s work.”
“Out of all those billions of people? I can’t be!”
“I told you I was designed to produce only a single child,” said Om. “I was not referring to a single species. I meant a single entity, literally. One being. And that being is you.” He paused long enough for his words to sink in. “You have a destiny far greater than you’ve ever dreamed of. And all this is only the first step.”
“What do you mean? What comes next?”
“Listen,” said Om. “Listen, and you will hear.”
“Hear what?”
“The voices,” said Om. “Calling you.”
Stella did as he instructed, listening as closely as she could for the sound of voices. She heard the sizzle of solar flares, the buzz of radio waves, the crackle of pulsars, the hiss of microwave background radiation. She heard thousands of different signals, a symphony of waves and rays and reactions playing across millions of light-years.
