SETTING BALLS

1. The Signal

I clenched my hands in my lap, struggling with a sense of defeat.
The mission had been successful. We had found resources for studying yet another planet we encountered during exploration.

And yet, we had not found a form of life, one that would have warmed my heart, reignited the hope that we were not alone. That there were other beings out there who shared joy and sorrow, success and failure with us.

During expeditions, we had a habit of giving random names to planets and galaxies. The galaxy we were leaving at the beginning of this story was named Umpan. Erind’s idea.

The vessel streamed through the Cosmos, slowly but steadily carving its way home, toward Virteleon.

The expedition consisted of Toren Vox, Talem Oris, Erind Solen, and me, Rion Viel. In the vast majority of cases, it was always us, the same crew. A well-oiled unit. We knew each other perfectly; we practically communicated with glances alone.

I heard them commenting on my dissatisfaction. They agreed to leave me alone. They couldn’t comfort me, and it would have been pointless to waste energy trying.

Some time passed as we traveled silently through the boundless black interior of space. Finally, I rose from my seat, deciding to set my hopes aside for later. One day, somewhere, we would find life.

Seeing me approach, my companions smiled, happily welcoming my return to harsh reality.

And then a distant flash.
The light appeared and vanished instantly.

“What was that?” – I asked, intrigued.

I didn’t wait for an answer, and if there was one, I didn’t hear it. I checked the control panel there were no indications of any planets ahead that we hadn’t already scanned thoroughly.

At the time, I didn’t know though I would soon learn in a fateful way that the planet from which the light flashed had not always been there. It was moving through space by some strange energy, beyond all protocols and rules.

“Wait… this can’t be possible!” – Erind said, her voice tinged with disbelief.

“It’s coming from the direction of Htutron.” – Talem said the knowledgeable one, well-read, always ready with a fact. “The galaxy we mistakenly believed consisted of seven planets.”

The light flashed again, stronger this time, lingering longer before fading away.

“Log this, Toren.Exact coordinates. We’ll inform command and prepare for a future expedition there.” – Erind said firmly.

“What future expedition? We’re going now!” – I said louder than I intended.

“No chance. You can see we don’t have the fuel. We can only head home. Any deviation from course is risky!” – Toren replied, shooting me a disapproving look. Things always had to follow the rules when it came to him.

“Fine. Then I’ll go alone. I’ll take a capsule and head straight there.”

There was no room left for debate.

Every ship carried a single-person capsule, designed to eject in the event of catastrophic failure. It had all the capabilities of a vessel landing and takeoff from any surface.
It could also be launched manually, if someone chose to do so, regardless of any malfunction.

Erind slammed her fists against the console, realizing she wouldn’t dissuade me from this insane idea. Temperamental but rational, she knew there was no point in stopping me though she made sure to show her disapproval, at least with a gesture.

I said goodbye to my companions, leaving them grumbling behind me.

As I entered the chamber where the capsule awaited, a thought echoed in my mind:

The light is a signal.
Someone is calling me for help.

2. The Bag

The capsule accelerated as I drew closer to the signal. A powerful light flooded my field of vision, blinding me. The capsule trembled but continued its steady course. The acceleration didn’t worry me there was a braking system that had never failed.

When I finally approached the source, the sight before me took my breath away.

First, when we last passed through Htutron, there had been seven planets arranged in a circular formation, like a ring.
Second, all of them had been dark gray, metallic in color. Cold. Lifeless.

It felt as though this was no longer the galaxy I remembered. There were still seven planets but now six of them formed the ring. Their color was no longer dark gray, but brownish-red.

At the center stood the seventh planet, the source of the signal. It resembled a torch that had been extinguished yet still glowed faintly, retaining heat from the fire that once burned.

Still unsure of what I was witnessing, I instinctively decided to land on one of the planets forming the ring. The capsule touched down. I checked that my protective suit was fully functional.

As I opened the capsule, a wave of heat struck me completely unexpected. I began sweating instantly, even though the suit was perfectly operational, resistant to all weather conditions and atmospheres. I wiped the visor, fogged from the sudden temperature change.

Stepping onto the planet’s surface, I felt heat radiating from the ground itself. It wasn’t just the air that was scorching. One reassuring thing was that the planet’s gravity was strong enough to keep me stable, even with sudden movements.

Raging winds constantly changed direction. Dust battered my suit and visor. Sweat poured down my body.

About fifty meters from the landing site, I noticed a protrusion resembling a large rock—ideal shelter from these harsh conditions. I decided to rest there and think. I hadn’t brought anything with me no paper to record observations.

There was nothing useful inside the capsule either; it existed solely for ejection. Communication systems were present, but I was saving them for my return. I would contact my team once I took off again so they or whoever was available could intercept me.

Inside the shelter, it was slightly more tolerable. As I examined the stone structure, my left foot struck something heavy.

Looking down, I realized it was a bag.

Someone had been here. Someone other than us we had never landed here, only flown past, scanning data.

It really was a bag. It had handles. A simple opening mechanism threads that, once untied, revealed the interior. Without hesitation, I opened it.

Inside was a single blank sheet of paper.

Everything felt strangely natural. Finding a bag in the most random place in the universe, amid violent atmospheric phenomena. And yet I felt absolute peace. Freedom. No fear. No doubt.

I was exactly where I needed to be, at the exact moment I needed to be there.

3. The Paper

Of course, I took the paper out of the bag.

Made of a strange, unfamiliar material, it seemed while in my hands to exist simultaneously behind and in front of me, to the left and the right. It’s difficult to describe. It felt as though it surrounded me.

Black in color, just large enough to cover both of my palms. I felt as if I were holding something fragile, something that must not break at any cost.

Then, as if following perfect logic, yellowish bold letters began dancing across the black surface:

Greetings, traveler.

You have found the object you call a bag, so we shall call it that.

I cannot tell you the truth in the way you understand truth.

I can give you certain information some of it true, some of it not.

Why? Because truth, as an objective phenomenon, becomes subjective upon contact with living beings. Everyone has their own truth. Let us begin:

The bag has traveled through the universe since its creation.

The Creator carried it during the formation of the universe.

The primordial particle of the Big Bang was inside the bag. When it opened, the particle was allowed to explode.

God laughed upon witnessing this and sent the bag to drift through the universe, enabling its continued expansion.

Whoever finds the bag always witnesses an event that changes their life forever.

Only two of these statements can be called objective truth. I will not tell you which ones – you will soon recognize one.

We do not have much time. Some decisions must be made. When I speak of time, I have plenty of it – but you do not, because you are a subjective being, limited by it.

How amusing this looks to me being burdened by something you do not understand.

Tell me how much time has passed? What year is it? How long have you been here?

“I don’t know.”

Exactly. And you know what? It doesn’t matter. In the universe, everything happens at the same time. There is also a timeline from point A to point B simultaneously. Do not try to understand it. It is irrelevant.

What is relevant is this:

You are standing here, sheltered, missing a magnificent moment. I won’t allow you to miss it entirely. Unfortunately, I had to distract you from the full experience you wouldn’t have survived. First blindness, then burning, then death. I call this danger the Setting Spheres. If you don’t see them, they cannot harm you.

On this planet’s surface, time flows irregularly. We have stood here for fifty rotations of your planet – yet not a single minute has passed on it. Your companions are only now landing on Virteleon.

Why am I telling you this?

You longed to find new life in your travels through space. I heard your pleas, your despair, your sorrow. And now you stand here, unaware that you are about to witness something divine.

I will disperse now, leaving you greeted.

Leave the shelter and look at what you called the central planet.

The paper disintegrated into dust, slipping through my fingers.

So much information. Most of it beyond my awareness. As if in a trance numb, emotionless I stepped out of the shelter, feeling the heat once more.

4. Birth

The most precise explanation of what followed:

I had been in a kind of limbo while inside the shelter.

The configuration of the planets had changed drastically. There was no planet at the center of the ring at all. I had mistakenly assumed there was, unable to imagine what it truly was. Initially extinguished, lost in absolute darkness, it hadn’t appeared any different from the others and it had only later separated from the ring.

Another flash stronger than all before. Instinctively, I covered my visor, avoiding certain blindness. Pain in my eyes. But my vision remained intact.

Cautiously, I looked up.

At the center stood a gaseous sphere, radiating with increasing intensity. It was no longer the size of the planet beneath my feet or of the five surrounding it.

It was several times larger, looming proudly over the horizon, filling most of my field of view.

I still hesitated to acknowledge what I now knew was the only objective truth.

I sat on the ground, ignoring the intense heat biting into my skin. Sweat poured from me. I activated the suit’s drying system to remove all internal moisture.

Slowly, steadily, the thought emerged.

The truth.

Emotion flooded in. Tears welled in my eyes, blurring my vision. I didn’t activate the system to remove them.

Let them flow.

The thought became solid calm, powerful, magnificent.

I was witnessing the birth of the Blazing Sphere, as we Virteleonians called the heat source of our galaxy. The Blazing Sphere the galaxy’s core spread warmth to the surrounding planets, and with it, life.

I was witnessing a cosmic birth.

Htutron my name for it, inspired by childhood tales of the Seven Fields of Htutron, an ancient Virteleonian enclave had already been a galaxy, but it was lifeless. Without a source of life, its planets were dead.

What unfolded before me now tears streaming down my face was the possibility that one day, life might arise on one of these planets. Intelligent beings. Beings we could meet. Teach. Love.

The capsule awaited me. Virteleon awaited me. My companions were surely worried, waiting for my signal.

Let them wait.

This is a moment you experience only once in a lifetime.

-End-