jb55 on Nostr: “Write a short story about the galactic scale entities called “the builders “ ...
“Write a short story about the galactic scale entities called “the builders “
…
The Builders arrived in silence.
They did not announce themselves with thunderous fleets or celestial trumpets. There were no emissaries, no warnings, no signs. One moment, the dark void of intergalactic space was as it had always been—cold, empty, infinite. The next, they were there.
Great machines the size of planets, forged from impossible alloys and humming with energies beyond mortal comprehension. They did not drift; they did not waver. They moved with purpose, bending physics to their will, ignoring the rules lesser beings were forced to obey.
Entire civilizations turned their eyes to the newcomers. Some, the arrogant ones, sent war fleets. These were ignored as one might ignore dust caught in the wind. Their weapons—technological marvels capable of scarring moons—flared and vanished like fireflies against a hurricane. Others, the curious, sent messages, mathematical proofs, and gestures of peace. These, too, were ignored.
The Builders did not speak.
Instead, they constructed.
Without hesitation, without pause, they began to remake the universe. Dead worlds were shattered and reforged, their atoms rearranged into new architectures, vast and intricate beyond imagining. Stars were shifted, their orbits altered with a precision so fine it defied all reason. Black holes were harnessed, their event horizons woven into mechanisms too grand for lesser minds to decipher.
Some thought the Builders were gods, cosmic artisans sculpting reality itself. Others saw them as indifferent titans, uncaring and mechanical, moving according to some incomprehensible design. But the truth was far stranger.
For after millennia of silent labor, after reshaping entire galactic clusters, they left. Not all at once, but piece by piece, their immense forms vanishing beyond the cosmic horizon, leaving behind their works—vast, intricate constructs scattered across the void, humming with energies unknown.
It took eons before the lesser races began to understand. The Builders had not come to create monuments or weapons, nor to conquer or judge.
They had been repairing something.
Something vast. Something broken.
And as the universe slowly ticked forward, as distant stars began to flicker in strange, unnatural ways, a single terrifying question took root in the minds of those who dared to think beyond their own brief existence.
If the Builders were fixing something…
Then who had broken it?
gm nostr
…
The Builders arrived in silence.
They did not announce themselves with thunderous fleets or celestial trumpets. There were no emissaries, no warnings, no signs. One moment, the dark void of intergalactic space was as it had always been—cold, empty, infinite. The next, they were there.
Great machines the size of planets, forged from impossible alloys and humming with energies beyond mortal comprehension. They did not drift; they did not waver. They moved with purpose, bending physics to their will, ignoring the rules lesser beings were forced to obey.
Entire civilizations turned their eyes to the newcomers. Some, the arrogant ones, sent war fleets. These were ignored as one might ignore dust caught in the wind. Their weapons—technological marvels capable of scarring moons—flared and vanished like fireflies against a hurricane. Others, the curious, sent messages, mathematical proofs, and gestures of peace. These, too, were ignored.
The Builders did not speak.
Instead, they constructed.
Without hesitation, without pause, they began to remake the universe. Dead worlds were shattered and reforged, their atoms rearranged into new architectures, vast and intricate beyond imagining. Stars were shifted, their orbits altered with a precision so fine it defied all reason. Black holes were harnessed, their event horizons woven into mechanisms too grand for lesser minds to decipher.
Some thought the Builders were gods, cosmic artisans sculpting reality itself. Others saw them as indifferent titans, uncaring and mechanical, moving according to some incomprehensible design. But the truth was far stranger.
For after millennia of silent labor, after reshaping entire galactic clusters, they left. Not all at once, but piece by piece, their immense forms vanishing beyond the cosmic horizon, leaving behind their works—vast, intricate constructs scattered across the void, humming with energies unknown.
It took eons before the lesser races began to understand. The Builders had not come to create monuments or weapons, nor to conquer or judge.
They had been repairing something.
Something vast. Something broken.
And as the universe slowly ticked forward, as distant stars began to flicker in strange, unnatural ways, a single terrifying question took root in the minds of those who dared to think beyond their own brief existence.
If the Builders were fixing something…
Then who had broken it?
gm nostr