The Time Capsule

Chapter One

'So she follows from land to land

the wizard's beckoning hand

as a leaf is blown by the gust, 

till she vanishes into the night. 

Oh reader, stoop down and write

with thy finger in the dust. 

O town in midst of seas 

with thy rafts of cedar trees

Thy merchandise and thy ships

Thou too, art become as naught. 

A phantom, a shadow, a thought. 

A name upon man's lips.' 

-Henry Longfellow, Helen of Tyre

.......

IMAGE. The name blares in huge, bold letters, tall, dark and imposing, if one knew what they were dealing with. But most often didn't. IMAGE could be scattered across the universe meaning different things. The act of printing thousands of pixels onto a sheet of paper, until they composed a two dimensional copy of a three dimensional object. Image, the act of presenting yourself to the universe, the act that you wish others to see. IMAGE, the Gods of the known universe. That's I.M.A.G.E, but what it stands for doesn't matter as much right now; just know that they are far worse/beautiful/great/infinite than the classic, black caped, evil laughing typical villain.

Actually, scratch that last comparison. These Gods are so much worse/beautiful/great/infinite that there really isn't anything they can be compared with. They're their own class of universal creations. One would assume that the word Image came from these Gods, and they wouldn't be too far off either. These Gods have been here since the universe's humble beginning and will be here long after it's end. Why do people, and indeed, all beings, refer to the universe's beginning as humble? What could possibly be humble about a single explosion of a single second creating every known and unknown object of the universe, the stars bursting out of nebulous flame, and crackling into supernova outbursts of a thousand, million year lifespans. A blaze of glory. 

Everything, all beings of the universe now, cars, and pens, and buildings, and building blocks, and parrots and otters, atoms and dwarf stars, microscopic cells and exploding stars; all of it was forged in this one tiny, huge, momentous explosion. And now, 5 billion years later, there was about to be another. 

The IMAGE Gods all gathered around the infamous bridge that lead to nothing. Nothing and everything, the cold darkness of space. An odd shape it was too, as bridges were generally straight. Not this one. It veered off course, first spiraling to the left, then to the right, until it curved into the unknown. The Gods kept their hoods obscuring their faces, if they even had faces, and the hoods themselves were covered with an ancient language of numbers and symbols, circling a birthstone in the middle. These were their stories, these were their souls. 

The leader of the group, a leader one could tell because his cloak was much more elaborate and his gemstone much bigger than the others, raised a hand and everything whirled into motion. With this simple movement, members of the circle raised objects that seemed to be random up to the sky, a pentagonal box, embossed with a swirl that glowed blue with magic of the universe, a dream catcher with glowing purple, blue and pink colors that dangled with beautiful feathers, an ancient scroll that seemed to be written in the languages of the God's cloak, and an ancient sea shell that glowed with it's own magic, like a heartbeat. 

"The time has come," the Ancient One spoke in a voice that seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere all at once. "The time of prophecy, the universe's saviors have come at last. We present the Adventurer with the Infinite Box, the Dreamer with the Loom of Imagination, The Lost Knight with The Ancient Scrolls, and The Siren with the Song of Hope. With these objects, they will heal the wounds of time, preserve imagination, and make thyself immortal. So the universe will live on, forever. So mote it be."