The Station, Part 76

I am being shown that the habitat chamber is now complete, a facsimile of the old world. The fog, plants life and all the other things they call home are all there for them when they awake. The young species is now aboard, mercifully unconscious among their many familiar things.

I am seeing the Junction once again. One of the crew steps into a chamber just like the one I inhabit now. Time passes and the chrysalis, as I understand it to be now, unseals and out emerges a perfect replica of the mollusk-like form, in every physical way identical to those that are within the new habitat. This being is to be the emissary, the one who will live among them, learn their ways, and become one of them. And when the time is right, the emissary will reveal himself to the people. There is much time as they all journey through space. They will continue to find and save other dying races that deserve a second chance. Habitats will continue to be created, and the emissary will visit each one in turn.

More images pass by. More races of all shapes, habit and form have been rescued from undeserved fates. Years, perhaps eons have passed and I discover that even the most advanced of all races is still not immortal. All but one remains. The emissary is long since gone. This is the last member of his own race, and he and weak from age and work. His time is short. The Ark is being programmed. For the first time in millennia, its mission has changed. It will no longer seek newly sentient races. The Ark must find its next caretakers; and most importantly, its new emissary. The learning programs have been prepared. All the habitats will be maintained automatically. But new ones cannot be created until a new emissary has been selected. And now that emissary has been found, and is almost prepared.

My safe cushion of fluid has disappeared, and once again I am in the empty chrysalis. The opening I have so desperately tried to preserve and escape into has returned. I feel so anxiety now. I now emerge out of it and into my new life. My body is like that of the long deceased crew. Thin, smooth skin devoid of hair. My feet retain their four toes and I see that my hands are still of the six fingered configuration as well. They will be better able to manipulate the myriad functions of the Ark. I am fully prepared.

I understand precisely why I am here. I understand it all. And yes, I will do this thing this long dead being asks of me.