You got to have fire, he kept mumbling, even as they slipped the noose over his neck.
Millenia later, a great hall on another planet. Its polished floor glitters with the etched jade - intricate square patterns mimicking salt formations - glassed below a layer of clear crystal dripped over like resin, stretching off into the distant dark on either side. The ceiling lies somewhere above in a shadowy heaven. Ahead, a wall of mauve stone, carved with towering figures and half pillars and between them thousands of stories depicted in minute detail, animated in shadow by a single fire burning at the foot of a colossal door. A line of figures stand sentinel before the firepit, their long shadows flickering across the crystal floor and warping as they dance on the jade squares below.
A man holding a black rabbit watches the woman burn. At the top of her lungs she is screaming, you got to have a fire.
At the end of things, on a cold dark moon, a lone figure staggers across the desolate steppes. They collapse to one knee, holding something to their chest. They slowly uncup their hands and a blazing light shines out from within, reflecting in their gold visor. The figure bursts into flame, golden tongues flickering in the airless night. As they collapse into dust, they whisper something, but no one is around to hear what is said in the last moments of our time.
From the fringes of the darkness, primitive and scared creatures watch the body burn, and crawl tentatively towards the new warmth.
Paddy Dobson
12th October 2021