"There are more things in Heaven and Earth, Horatio, than are dreamt of in your philosophy." -Hamlet, William Shakespeare, 1603.
In the early 1900s, people believed that the Universe had been described. Classical mechanics solved most of the questions people had, and physicists believed they lived in a deterministic, clockwork world, where, if somehow, one had the ability to know all starting factors, they could describe a system infinitely far into the future.
There were just a few questions remaining to be answered: How come Mercury's orbit was faster than it should have been? What exactly was light, and how did it interact with matter at the smallest levels?
Physicists and scientists believed that they would explain these phenomena soon enough, and all of physics would come to an end. Indeed, physicist Phillip von Jolly claimed to his student, Max Planck, "In this field, almost everything is already discovered, and all that remains is to fill a few unimportant holes," in an attempt to keep the boy from going into the, in his opinion, tapped out field of physics.
Perhaps later, Phillip von Jolly regretted his words—Max Planck, his student, went on to discover 'the quantum constant,' Planck's constant, at the turn of the century in the year 1900, leading to the development of quantum theory in 1918 and the opening of entirely new branches of physics in domains utterly beyond his imagination as a classical physicist.
Or perhaps he didn't, because he was dead.
The point remains: the Universe is far greater, more complex, and more insane than any mortal human could ever hope to comprehend. It is an act of immense hubris and folly to claim that one understands even a fraction of the universal truth, that terrible and grand infinity, that work of divine hands writ in starlight and eternal fire, much less all of it.
It is a pity, then, that hubris has always been the downfall of Man.
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In Vivian's first year after graduating college with a Bachelor of Sciences Degree in Physics, one of her professors advised her:
"Don't bother going into graduate studies," the old man said dryly. "Everything that will be discovered has been discovered—the only small problem hanging around is dark matter at the moment. And there's already people working on that. Go into computer science or engineering or something."
She'd ignored him, of course. Surely there was something to learn, something out there to find. The Universe was so big! There must be something new somewhere, right? But, as she spent the years, studying and experimenting, it soon became clear, in her opinion, that any advances would be quantitative and not qualitative, that any advances would be made in the sixth places of decimals rather than theory or genius.
And now... it was only now, after her death, her transformation, her freedom, that she knew how utterly small her vision had been. It was only now that she knew how small the vision of all those men and all those kings, every saint and every sinner trapped on the speck of dust, floating in the light of a cosmic sunbeam.
Now, in death, Vivian Esoti gazed upon Infinity.
There were no words. Not in any human language, and, she suspected, not in any language spoken or writ or thought by any mortal being. It was cosmic resplendence, starlight and fire and will and matter and energy and law; it was light and life and dirt and earth and iron and grass and protons and strings and quarks and neutrons and infinitely more—infinitely, infinitely more.
It was the divine Work of a Creator, beyond... beyond everything.
Mortal minds could never comprehend such a thing, bound as they were by vulgar flesh and human form, with thoughts constrained by the chains of DNA and light. It was only now, after her death and her remaking as a thing of will and starfire, standing by the eternal throne of the Maker of Stars, the Demiurge, that she saw it.
"I have seen and known all of Infinity, and in Its grand glory, all things pale before Its light," Vivian whispered in the silence of the void, her thoughts borne aloft upon the gossamer strings of starlight cast by the stars below and between.
She stood there what seemed like eons, but also moments, in that place between life and final death, in that place of infinities and eternities, staring upon the grand tapestry of all things, witnessing, thinking, comprehending. Physics, Chemistry, Biology—all theories and secrets paled before the final and terrible Truth, unveiled behind the workings of the Universe.
It was then, oddly, that a sudden emotion intruded on her thoughts.
Pity.
Her vision turned toward a corner of the tapestry—if there could even be such a thing. There, in that tiny, infinitesimal corner, infinitely smaller than all Infinity, there was a dot of blue. A mote of dust, suspended within a cosmic sunbeam, upon which every saint and sinner, every hero and coward, every king and peasant, every couple in love, every mother and father, every explorer and inventor had lived out there infinitesimal lives, rarely, if ever, thinking to simply look... up.
They were so burdened by mortal things. Life, love, sex... money. Land. Vivian would have scoffed. Frogs in a well, so blinded by their own folly that they failed and forgot to just look up.
Infinity was so much more than a ball of rock, ruined by those who sought to burn their eternity to warm their present. Out there, in the stars, lay so much more. And yet, man was content to wage his petty wars on the surface of the earth, the few visionaries and leaders struggling to convince the unwashed masses to take their first steps off the world.
Vivian turned her gaze and saw a hole in the tapestry. A Breach between the twilit plane of half-existence where she stood... and the mortal world. She recognized it, just as she recognized almost all things in creation. The THRESHER device's portal. Was this where it had opened to?
Was this a test? She almost turned to look upon her Creator, but stilled the urge.
It didn't matter, for she knew what she had to do.
"Test or not, I will save them from themselves," she whispered, and her voice carried upon the cosmic breeze like the song of a thousand stars, brightening in unison in shared dawn.
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March 15th, 3:46:48 PM, 2062: One second after First Light.
The body twitched suddenly.
A face pressed against the pale shroud that had been layered over it as lungs restarted, taking swift, calming gulps of air. One hand rose, weakly throwing aside the white cloth.
Vivian sat up, pressing one hand gingerly onto unbroken skin where, just seconds earlier, her body had lain broken and shattered. A slight smile crossed her lips, slowly growing redder as blood returned to her system.
"Major internal bleeding, spinal cord damage, 3rd degree burns, brain trauma, and multiple organ failure," she mused. "I do good work."
She winced, rubbing at her head, and sighed. "If only I could remember exactly how I did it. Though perhaps that was a bit much to expect of this body. Biological brains," she muttered derisively.
Much of her knowledge, accrued over endless aeons in the timeless space between universes, about... well, everything, was gone. Or sealed, hidden. Chained away by her mortal flesh.
"Still..." Vivian tilted her head, as if listening to something whispering in her ear. "Yes... this should work. Status." A signal flashed through the air, lighting up the medical nanites and implants in her visual cortex.
NAME: Vivian Esoti.
RACE: Human (Enhanced).
CLASS: Student of the Star Forger.
CLASS SKILLS: Transcendence (MAX, ACTIVE), Shaper (Level 1, PASSIVE).
FEATS: Behold the Infinite (Level 100), Architect of the System (Level 100), The Guiding Fire (Level 100).
FEAT SKILLS: Mortal Vessel (Level 1, PASSIVE), Phason Flow Control (Level 1, ACTIVE), Fire of Knowledge (Level 1, PASSIVE).
Vivian sighed. "Good enough. It will have to do."
As she swung her feet off the table, looking around at the sterile room and noting the bloodied surgical implements on the rolling stand by the surgical table, a nurse stepped in. A woman, with dark skin and wide, confused eyes—that swiftly became even more confused, then terrified as she looked at Vivian.
"You—you're dead?" The woman said, confused. "Wait. I thought—"
"Yes, always a dangerous thing," Vivian said. "Don't understand it? Don't bother. There are more things in Heaven and Earth, Horatio, than are dreamt of in your philosophy," she quoted dryly.
She paused, then nodded to the woman. "Shakespeare. Hamlet?"
"I—I never read it," the nurse said. "Your hair..."
Vivian frowned, reaching back to grab a handful and pull it into sight. It carried a pale white sheen, the color of moonlight and starfire. "Ah. Good to know someone's thinking of me. Now," she said, turning her attention back, "Be a dear and find me some clothes, won't you?"