Ananda's Journal, Entry 28
July 31st, 2260 – Midnight
It’s full of stars. The ‘quantum egg’, that is. Wait, I should start from the beginning.
The object we found with the label “AO-55 – Quantum Egg” was in the floor 1E museum, anomaly wing. It’s only present when not being looked at directly. Despite the name, that only applies to vision rather than all forms of observation. It can be handled so long as the person touching it keeps their eyes off their hands. Attempting to catch it with my X-ray spec scrambled the device’s software enough to trigger an automatic reboot.
The interesting part, though. I picked up the basics of Insight this afternoon, specifically to look inside the thing. When I asked it what it was, I found myself bodiless and falling in the dark. In some ways, it wasn’t unlike the environment of my own thoughts – I could sense that I was moving down a channel at some absurd velocity, even though there was no light to see by. The lack of sound was disconcerting, though I don’t know if that space had any notion of air to begin with. It’s not clear how long I was falling; with only the speed of thought to measure by, it might not even be meaningful to say. But it didn’t feel like very much time had passed when I rounded a corner and found myself hurtling towards a solid-looking mass of raw Spiritual energy. I reflexively braced against the impact, and that resistance shattered me on its surface.
I came to lying on the ground, where I’d evidently fallen out of my chair. The quantum egg looked exactly as it had before, but the hand I’d been touching it with was covered in a clear gel. A short while later, I tried again with Wielding assistance. Down the rabbit hole as before, but this time I was able to keep myself open and formless enough to pass through the Spiritual “eggshell”. My intentions, for good or ill, were stripped away and encapsulated as I did. Wanting nothing, planning nothing, I might have been an idealized observer for a moment – and in that moment a vast starscape poured into my awareness.
It was awe-inspiring in the simplest and most direct sense. But when I try to put together a visual description, words fail me. The whole doesn’t fit into any language I know. Broken into manageable pieces, it would take years to adequately describe even a tiny fragment.
I know in my bones that it wasn’t here-and-now, but I’ll never look at a night sky the same again. Dim, distant, and blurry echoes of the stars’ true splendor.