SINGULAR PURSUIT

The darkness sings to me, drawing me closer, daring me to peer into the eye of eternity. The stars around my ship seem to lean in, as if waiting to see what I'll do. Without their audience, I might have missed finding the anomaly. This monster of the universe.

The black hole spews jets of plasma into space, irrationally dragging time itself to a standstill while shredding any bit of life and light beyond its outer boundary.

It seems almost a reflection of my grief.

I swallow back the tears that immediately whelm, threatening to pull me under as if I've stepped too close to my heart's gravitation.

"Launch class eight probe."

"Launching probe." My ship's AI has a female voice—a throwback to ancient beliefs about sailing vessels providing nurture and protection.

I track the probe's trajectory. Information fills the display screen, a stream of data rich with secrets not yet understood. The probe appears to slow, although the data on my screen intensifies, as if I've slowed and the probe accelerated.

My heartbeat accelerates to match.

"Show me." My whisper reeks of desperation.

Everything in me screams my theory is right. Black holes defy modern physics because they don't exist in any one universe—but between many.

My eyes burn, but I can't risk blinking.

The probe stretches impossibly in every direction, its shell shredding into thin streams of energy as its existence unravels.

Tears slip down my face as I will my eyes to watch. To see. There!

At the last moment, the probe flattens, its mass reduced to a squat shape. A projection of itself, against the screen of time and space.

And then it's gone.

The data on my display halts mid-word, slowly unwinding itself backwards until the entire log is erased. I was ready for this, and let the information disappear knowing it was backed up in several redundant systems set to copy and save every nanosecond. Three backups even recorded video, in case the ability to go backwards through time compromised my ship's computer by extension.

Besides, the data, like the probe, was sacrificial. I needed to see the truth, and I have. I wipe my damp face and turn away from the viewport, hurrying to my sleeping quarters. Sophie needs to be with me for this.

Her picture waits on my bedside stand, dark eyes peering up the same as they did the day I snapped the shot. I can still feel the warmth of the sun on my skin, hear the joy in her laughter, smell her hair—a mix of shampoo and that sweet, innocent fragrance only children possess.

"Mommy, look!" A butterfly drifts past her outstretched hand, it's wobbling flight like a dance as it weaves and bobs, then dips to land on her shoulder.

Her eyes widen, along with my grin as I click several photos, capturing this moment. My breath stutters, an unsounded sob gripping my throat. Sheer happiness, I think, but perhaps my soul knows better. Knows the moment, and my joy, won't last much longer.

I press the silver frame against my chest and cling to every particle of the memory. Losing it would be like losing her all over again—a pain I can't bear.

The walk back to the bridge stretches long, as if I'm caught in the singularity's web, but I know it's merely my sorrow. Again, the similarity between them confronts me.

I set Sophie's picture on the nearest panel as I buckle in. I'm in for a bumpy ride, but then nobody said this was going to be easy. Proving theories never is, especially where black holes are concerned.

"I know I'm right," I say to Sophie.

Her dark eyes look back at me, filled with wonder and... expectation? Or is that my own wishful thinking? This is literally the universe's biggest longshot, but it's all I have.

"Mommy, what's that?" Sophie's sleepy eyes peer at the image on my laptop monitor.

"A black hole, darling. Why aren't you in bed? You need your rest."

"I can't sleep. What's a black hole?"

A smile tugs my lips, her curiosity so like my own. "A place where gravity pulls so hard even light can't get out."

Her face pulls into a frown as she tries to work this out in her head. "Isn't light... everywhere?"

Excitement spreads through me. Her mind is sharp. "In a sense. Unless..."

"Unless what?"

"Unless we stop seeing it because it's gone somewhere else."

Her smile returns. "Like to the moon?"

I laugh and lift her into my lap. She feels so light. "Like to another dimension!"

Her eyes are wide as twin moons as she contemplates my answer.

It's time to prove my many-worlds theory.

If black holes truly are places where infinite dimensions intersect, it explains why they present differently than they appear, why they exist in opposition to known laws of physics.

The moment the probe flattened, became two-dimensional, I knew I was right. Based on my analysis, the black hole before me will emerge in an alternate universe. Beyond the event-horizon lies another existence.

One where malignant brainstem tumors don't drain children's lives away.

All I must do now is find a way through.

"If I'm wrong, I'll be with you soon. If I'm right... perhaps you're already waiting for me."

I stroke the frame one last time, hoping the next time I see my daughter I can touch her hair, her cheek, her warm hand.

"Computer, engage quantum tunneling engines."

If particles could tunnel out of a black hole, as Hawking had suggested, then I could tunnel in. Every moment of my existence since losing my daughter has been dedicated to this singular pursuit.

"Warning. Engaging engines at close proximity to a singularity may result in system failure."

"Override safety protocols."

"Engines engaged."

I look up one last time, ensuring my trajectory is perfect as I accelerate toward the nexus between the past and my inevitable future—the event horizon.