Benedicto Vox
Most assumed that Selene died sometime during the late 44th century. The most common date cited is 4391--shortly after her last writing arrived at Earth. Given her presumed death, she became a candidate for canonization. After her canonization, which happened quickly, her advocates and detractors alike seemingly vanished from public life, returning to their private studies. Despite her reputation during her life, few seemed to carry on studying her writings or teachings after her death.
In 4357, Selene left for the monastary on Eridan to live as an anchorite. Being born near her home city, I was well aware of her legacy and the respect her name had attained for her writings and life of devotion. So, as soon as I was of age, I left home for a life in an abbey, with the hopes of becoming a scholar of Selene and the history of Eridani Church figures.
The Church believed Selene's work on Eridan was one of the most important developments by Church scholars since Saint Barlowe's Easter calculation and documentation of Eridani field studies (mostly famously, the strange fungi used for building because of its peculiar calcification properties). However, my translation and editing work was in less demand when Selene's final work was dismissed as the meaningless scribblings and ramblings of a woman driven mad by the isolation and hunger of asceticism. The text was an incomprehensible collection of math and nonsensical verse. Whether Selene was alive, I committed myself to finding answers.
So, in the year 4400, I boarded the final ship permitted to travel to what was left of the Eridani monastery. It had been founded by Saint Argus more than eight hundred years ago, then maintained by a series of scholars and their accompanying SCRIBES. The use of SCRIBES dwindled after the Schism of 4027--until vanishing entirely following Selene's death. Scholar Idris Cora is responsible for the theory that Selene's death is connected with the disappearance of the SCRIBES. Cora believed that Selene's math notes (which no scholar has attempted to decipher) suggest that she had influenced or altered their inner workings.
A ship's stated purposed was to survey the planet to search for any remaining SCRIBES or signs of activity and retrieve any important works in Barlowe's library that had not yet been copied or preserved. The ship was not intended for human passengers. However, regulations required at least one trained human crew member to be present to avoid disasters or malfunctions like those that had occurred with the Oracle ships on their return trip to Earth, which led to the death of many pilgrims throughout the 3900s.
Since the manufacture of so-called "true" SCRIBES had been outlawed, our ship was fashioned with less powerful machines. The machines were said to have more in common with the everyday computers and vehicles used by the ancients for surveying extraterrestrial soils before the advancement of off-planet travel in the late third millennium, but I suspect they were security machines with all of the equipment and protocols that come with that.
In truth, I snuck aboard.
In 4400, the Vatican announced its final mission to Eridan, the distant monastery known for the most extensive use of SCRIBES of any galactic diocese. My heart pounded with excitement and fear as the ship's final checks were underway. I had studied the ship's layout and knew the service vents and maintenance halls like the back of my hand--a necessity if I wished to remain undetected. With the cargo-bay crew focused on their pre-launch routines, I slipped into a narrow access panel behind the cargo bay, where the machine crew was focused on their programmed pre-launch routines. The human crew simply stood by in the event of any technological failures or to make adjustments. They would not pose a threat.
I moved quietly and calculatedly. The interior was cramped, lined with cables and pipes, and dimly lit by the occasional flicker of emergency lights. Although the ship was primarily uncrewed, if my suspicions wer correct, the computers and machines onboard had the most advanced security tech known at the time. They could detect changes in temperature and even the faint sound of breathing and even heartbeats. Although many rejected calling them SCRIBES, to me, these units just seemed like SCRIBES--but rather, programmed for violence instead of liturgy, academics, or scientific study.
I had slipped into a narrow access panel behind the cargo bay,
The interior was cramped, lined with cables and pipes, and unlit apart from the beams of the service headlights of the occasional machine passing by. I crawled forward, the metal cool against my skin, trying to avoid making a sound. I found my way to the small, seldom-used storage room I had identified earlier in the schematics as my hideout for the trip. Surrounded by spare parts and maintenance tools, I settled in, pulling my knees close to my chest.
I couldn't risk the debris of physical notes or the light of a digital notebook. I would just have to rely on mental memory and write it all down whenever I had the chance. I also hoped there was enough dilithium to make it a round trip. Afterall, it's entirely possible that there were no plans to retrieve and return whatever was found at Eridan.
Outside my confined hiding spot, the hum of the ship grew steadier, a sign that the engines were coming to life. I felt a slight shudder run through the structure as the ship disengaged from the dock. My breath caught--the adventure (or something like it) was beginning. Sure, I was stowing away to see the stars, but my mission was personal--spiritual. I needed to find out what had happened to the SCRIBES and, if possible, to secure the legacy of Selene, the Last Anchorite of Eridan, which held secrets no delivered digital copy could preserve.
Author's Note:
It is unclear how Lina met her basic needs, like food, water, and hygiene, on the long journey. The trip took several months to a year, depending on the ship's speed. The ship was likely traveling faster than usual because of the assumption that no humans were onboard[2]. Records suggest that she may have been in possession of a travel suit, which could have stored a small supply of high-calorie food supplies and water pouches and likely had a built-in temporary toilet system. All ships at the time had waste disposal systems, and no-rinse soap, shampoo, and hygiene space travel kits were easily accessible. Still, she would have had to wait until arriving at Eridan before having anything resembling a proper shower. All of this is, of course, primarily speculative since Lina makes no mention of the practical aspects of her trip in her writings.
Roughly midway through the trip, the ship went dark. The machines could power down to preserve energy since this stretch required very little active navigation. Security systems were unlikely to be as active at this point as they were during boarding and takeoff. There was little means of estimating exactly how long we had been traveling, but it had still been well under a year since we first left. I occupied by time with prayer and contemplation, and reading the few small volumes I could manage to fit in my travel pack. I chose not to bring along digital texts because I knew that I could not depend on electricity access as a stowaway.
Confident that I had so far gone undetected, I ventured into the central corridor once I was sure that security measures were deactivated. Along the walls were a few square windows with a view of the empty expanse of deep space. We were well outside the local solar system, but nothing was identifiable to determine where the ship was exactly.
I moved cautiously, trying to minimize the noise of each step. The corridor was dim, primarily illuminated by the soft blue glow of the control panels and the occasional overhead light. The crew was nowhere in sight.
My eyes were drawn to the windows in the front cabin--designed for manned space flights, but irrelevent in the case of this flight since based on my past few months here, it seemed as though I was in-fact the only human onboard.
I couldn't resist pausing to look out. The darkness of space was profound, dotted with distant stars that seemed infinitely far away (because well, they were, more or less, due to the limitations of modern space travel). I felt beautifully insignificant as I pressed my face against the cool glass. Out here, the problems of one stowaway seemed trivial. Yet, there was a thrill in the secret I carried with me. I was alone and surrounded by the unknown.
Breaking up the expansive void, a (relatively) short distance ahead of the ship, I could see something colorful. It would not be exactly accurate to call it shapeless, but that is the closest word I can think of to describe its dimensions. Still, I could not accurately describe its shape because it lacked discernable boundaries. It was growing and receding at once. I soon realized it was pulsing with a precise rhythm--like a very slow heartbeat. The color was something not found on Earth. I want to describe it like a soap bubble or a puddle of oil on asphalt after a heavy rain, but that would not entirely be accurate either. It shimmered and rippled like a fluid, but that didn't make any sense.
As I continued staring, transfixed, the color shifted and swirled, creating patterns that reminded me of auroras back on Earth, only infinitely more complex. It was as if this entity--or phenomenon--possessed a depth and luminosity beyond the spectrum of ordinary human vision--or at least danced in between. Each pulse brought a new wave of colors, some of which I couldn't even name, colors that seemed to exist only in that fleeting moment before morphing into something else entirely. This mesmerizing display was more than a visual experience. It felt spiritual, evoking a sense of wonder and slight trepidation as I wondered about its nature and origin--but maybe that's just the solitude talking. Was it a natural cosmic phenomenon, an alien life form, or something entirely unknown to human science? It didn't matter because I couldn't document it. I would have to simply try my best to remember the experience and recall the best I could many months to a year from now. For now, its mystery beckoned, pulling me deeper into the enigma as the ship edged ever closer.
As the ship drew closer, I felt strange. I was warm, and I grew warmer the closer we pulled to the colorful (orb?). What would happen if, or when, we passed through? Leaning closer the window to get a better look, I bumped a keypanel below my elbow, setting of a series of highp-pitched beeping noises that alerted the machine crew--and likely any human crew members if they were on board. I could hear them approaching, the whirring of machinary growing closer with each second. I could see them now. My adventure was about to come to an end.
Upon entering the colorful shape, a light appeared on the ship. This would surley alert the machines even more than now. However, the light shifted slowly into the shape of a woman. After a few minutes, I could make out a face. She was smiling and looking right at me.
“Lina. Do not be afraid.”
The machines that were in view all stopped and their "eyes" went dark. Had this figure saved me from being caught?
The woman looked kind. The light on her face softened. I could see her beautiful hair change rapidly between shades of red and white. She didn't just have one face. Instead, she was both young and old at once, right before my eyes. It was as if I knew I was witnessing this woman's entire life all at once. She was the strong Rihannon and the wise and aged Witte Wieven all at once. I could not gather the courage or power to move or respond.
“Do not be afraid,” she repeated.
“Who are you?” I finally managed to ask, only able to manage a whisper.
“I am who you seek. Do not despair. You will arrive soon. Do not forsake your mission. You trusted that my parting words were important.”
“Selene? I don't understand. I didn't understand what you wrote.”
“You will soon enough.”
“What were you trying to tell us?”
“Not me, but we. There is another also. Seek the final anchorite's guidance.”
This is all I will record of our brief conversation. It is best that the final words she said to me be left a secret between us alone. When I arrived at Eridan, I would ask what exactly she meant--if that was in-fact who had appeared before me. To speculate on them now would only diminish or corrupt them. Then, the necklace hanging from Saint Selene's neck glowed blue. The light gathered into a swirling spiral—like a galaxy. Then, without another word, the woman was gone.
The ship was dark again. Now was my chance to get away from the machines and to reach the ship's archive room.
I thought I heard footsteps, so shaking off the reverie, I turned and continued down the corridor toward the ship's archival materials room, away from what I hoped was only one of the useless crew members. I knew that if I were to find any information on the SCRIBES or original Eridan manuscripts, they would be cataloged in the ship's archives. With each step, I grew more alert, aware that I might encounter a crew member or an automated security drone at any moment. I brushed my hand against the small memory chip in my pocket; its presence was a comforting reminder of the purpose behind my risks--Do not forsake your mission.
Reaching the door, I paused, listening for any sound of someone inside. Hearing nothing, I pressed the access button. The door clicked and slid open with a whir, revealing rows of digital archives and ancient texts[3] preserved behind glass and filled with a foul gas recently developed for preserving fragile materials. I stepped inside. My heart pounded in my throat. Here, in the silence surrounded by centuries of knowledge, I felt reinvigorated. It was time to uncover what was hidden.
"You aren't supposed to be here."
I froze--unable to react to the voice.
"You aren't supposed to be here," the voice repeated, "are you?"
I relaxed slightly upon hearing the voice soften with the added question, though rhetorical rather than a genuine inqury as to whether or not I was permitted into the ship's archives, tacked on to the previously matter-of-fact-toned statement informing me, despite my caution thus far, that I had, in-fact, been caught red-headed, blatantly trespassing where I did not belong.
There was nothing I could do at this point. I was a stoway aboard a ship a long, long way from Earth, other habitable planets, or populated space station bases. There was nowhere to run or to hide. After what felt like an eternity, I turned to face the voice. The room was dim, but there was just enough faint light emiting from the many computer terminals lining the walls to make out the face of an old man. His face changed from stoic reprimand to pleasant surprise as his mouth began to lift into a small grin.
"I asked you a question," the man said, now making direct eye-contact with me.
Given that he continued to smile while questioning me, I did not feel afraid of the man. However, I still did not know how to respond to his catching me in the act of breaking into the archives, let alone the sheer fact of my presence onboard the ship.
"You must be hungry. Hiding out on the ship for this long, even if you had brought provisions, you couldn't have brought all that much, enough to last you for the entirety of the trip. Here come with me--we can't eat in here, obviously."
I wasn't sure if this was possibly a trap--luring me away from the archives to somewhere where I can be detained because I've surely broken numerous laws. But what else could I do. I couldn't continue with my previous plans to investigate and hopefully retrieve SCRIBAL texts or Church records, and I certainly couldn't run--what could that possible acheive? Sure, the ship was big, but it wasn't that big. It wasn't big enough for me to hide while being pursued.
So, I followed the man--unsure where he could be taking me. I'd hoped he was being honest about food. After all, I was starving. He did appeared harmless, but what did I know? Altough, there was something off about his eyes, but there wasn't enough light in the room for me to fully see why.
"I am Brother Wells. Matthias Wells," he told me as we exited back into the main corridor, as he walked in front of me, leading the way.
"I'm Lina," I finally responded, breaking the the several previous minutes of silence.
"And what brings you aboard, Lina?" he asked.
"I'm on a pilgrimage," I answer, careful to avoid saying more than neccessary.
"That is admirable. Pilgrimages have always been an important part of the Church's history. And what is it you hope to gain from this pilgrimage?"
"To seek the anchorite of Eridan--or to seek her guidance, I mean."
"Ah, yes. Of course. The famous Selene, anchoress of Eridan. I have read much of her teachings. Wise and devout, if a bit shall we say, eccentric, or unconventional, rather.
With his last statement, he turn to face me once more and smiled again. And with that, I knew he was in-fact familiar with her writings and teachings. Perhaps he was safe to confide in after all?
"But, I'm afraid you will be arriving too late. Sadly, she--" Brother Wells paused mid-sentence upon reaching a shut metal door, seemingly identical to every other door along this section of the ship's corridor. "Ah, here we are," he continued, "It's always tricky to know which room is which around here, but please, do come inside, I've made tea, and that's certainly no easy feat here."
Brother Wells opened the metal door and motioned me to also step into the room. Once he had step partially inside, I couldn't help but notice his pupil expand to adapt to change in lighting from the brightly lit corridor to the more dimly lit living quarters. His pupils grew far beyond what seemed reasonable for human eyes, but there was no time to study his eyes, as he quickly turned to walk toward a charming kichenette where a clear specially designed teapot-- a common feature on modern tourist ships--sat, resting on a folded gray and white striped towel, warm and inviting, which held several cups worth of fresly brewed amber-colored tea.
Wells opened a small overhead cupboard to retreive the only two cups from inside, carefully unlatching, on each, the two metal clips that held the cups in place, then placed them down onto the metal kitchenette surface next to the steaming teapot.
"Oh, one other thing I meant to ask earlier," he said while reaching for the teapot,"why were you hiding on the ship?"
Then, with an almost meditative pace and rhythm he slowly lifted the pot and poured two cups of tea, handing one to me and pointing to a nearby table and chair. After I sat down with my tea, he picked up his own, as well as a tray on dried fruits, packed into a brown rectangle--about the best I could I hope for here as a coffee-cake of-sorts--which he then brought and placed in the center of the table to share."Please sit. I almost never have guests."
(I'm now fairly certain this was intended as a joke since I'm pretty sure no other humans were onboard the ship).
"The machines," I responded.
At this, Brother Wells let out a small laugh. "You can't be serious."
"They're security machines. They can detect changes in temperature, breathing and, heartbeats. There's no telling how they would attack or detain me if they had spotted me."
"I don't know where you heard all of this, but they can't do any of that. They're glorified maintenance computers, at best."
Again, I was speachless. Was I really not in any danger this entire time?
"After we have tea, I'll show you that there's nothing to worry about from the machines onboard. But enough of all that, for now, I'd love to hear more about your journey and plans once we arrive. However, we have plenty of time, so first enjoy your tea and cake, and then--you got here just in time--we can pray the Vespers."
When we arrived, we set off on foot, heading in the direction of the mountain to the north where the monastary was supposedly located. The mountain was easy enough to spot as it was the largest geological feature found on the gray rocky surface. The only signs of life were the strange fungi that scholars had recorded in past visits to the planet. The fungi that had been used to build a significant amount of the monstary.
We arrived at night, but fortuantely, I had studied Eridani maps as well as Selene's and Barlowe's writings reagrding the constellations from the Eridani perspective, so it did not take me long to find my bearings.
We arrived, quite appropriately on what would be July 25th on Earth. So, taking this to be a sign from the divine, I kneeled and said a prayer to Saint Christopher, then stood up and quickly tried to catch back up to Brothers Wells who had started walking ahead of me, leading the way through the barren Eridani valley. Wells had kindly offered to accompany as my guide, but would not be able to travel the entire way, as his duties were required on the ship, but promised he would meet up with me again in a few days--he further assured me that they would not depart without me, as he would not abandon me on the sparsely populated (possibly unpopulated) planet.
After several days of walking, only stopping to rest when it felt absolutely neccessary, Brother Wells spoke up, and pointed, "There, just up ahead. The monastary is located in those mountains. It's customary to say a prayer when it comes into view," he informed me.
So, that is what we did.
"Now, I'm afraid this is as far as I can take you. I must return to the ship. You'll have to travel the rest alone, but do not worry, the Lord will protect you on your pilgrimage," said Brother Wells. "But first--here, take this."
Wells placed a small memory chip in my hand.
"The collection from the ship's archives that I imagine you were after when we first met. If you manage to locate a scribe when you arive at the monastary, they should be able to read it. A standard computer is not capale of accessing the data it contains."
It did not take long to identify with previous researchers' descriptions of barrenness, desolation, and loneliness. After crossing the valley, the surface of the planet was almost perfectly flat, and lacking in almost any variation--only sharp rocks and seemingly endless gray. After many hours of walking (unsure of how many) and several blisters later, the harsh, flat landscape revealed a cave-- or more accurately, a pit, as it did not rise over the otherwise flat terrain. Desperate, it would have to suffice as shelter from the cold for the night. The foot of the mountain lie just twenty miles or so ahead. So, if the conditions are fair, and by the will of Christ our God, I will be there tomorrow.
Tomorrow.
Tomorrow I will have the answers to my questions about this place and the holy anchorite who lives there, whom I have devoted my life to studying and following in her path.
[1]Authorship has been traditionally attributed to Benedicto Vox, who discovered the journals among a collection of notebooks, hardrives, and memory chips. However, Vox would certainly have died before 4476, the accepted date of the discovery. It is unclear who completed Vox’s work or assisted with the discovery and recovery of these lost texts.
[2] Frequent contradictions in the recorded accounts have led to confusion over whether or not the ship was unmanned. The author here is mistaken and therfore his note is of little use. Previous editions of this text state that no humans were onboard. However, there absolutely were humans on-board during Lina's trip, but they played little role in navigation or operation which is possibly why Lina makes little mention of them in her writings. In regards to food and hygiene. She mostly likely simply stole food and supplies from the ship's stock as needed without the crew noticing. Of course it is worth noting that an increasing number of scholars regard Lina's writings as fictional (or at least semi-fictionalized) rather than strictly autobiographical.
[3] It is likely that these were many of the texts found among the trove discovered in the 4476 collection.