"There, beyond the veil of Sirius,
lies a blot not upon the sky but upon reality itself,
a thing not born, but subtracted from the sum of all things.
My instruments trembled,
not from malfunction,
but as if they recoiled from gazing upon that dreadful convergence.
The abyss did not merely exist,
it observed, a devouring eye set in the bone of space."
- Dr. Eugene Harrison
15th of March, 19,616 HE
I FIRST READ those words, scrawled hastily in the margin of an astronomical ledger, in the archives of the Tenebrae Observatory. I suspect Dr. Harrison wrote them during the final hours of his tenure there, before the catastrophe was laid upon this facility. At the time, I believed them the ravings of an exhausted mind. Now I know better.
We lost contact with the Tenebrae Observatory weeks ago. The scientists, quick to blame technical difficulties, were in a quarrel to find out what calamity had befallen the station so suddenly. It had come in the dead of night, as far as nights happened in space, and without warning. Dr. Harrison, Head of the Observatory, had been tasked with assembling a report on the station's findings, but the end result was anything but cohesive. Cryptic codes and the ramblings of a madman ran the page, and he spoke of things impossible to exist. Communications were lost just one day later.
For after all, the station had been of utmost quality, devoted wholly to the field of Obscurology, the study and scientific usage of Black Holes. But what was truly remarkable about this incident was the seeming sterilization of the station, no mere destruction. No parts of the ship had been damaged, no power cut, but yet, the station remained lifeless. Once teeming with acitivty, the station was now barren. No soul remained in sight, neither human nor animal. I myself was even surprised by the dilapidated state of the station. There weren't even overgrown plants or bacteria, the entire station was sterile of life.
The only trace of life less was some graffiti I discovered while walking through the station. At least, I assume it was graffiti. Guess it matters not anyway.
Among those, however, who have correlated this evidence, there remain those who cling to less rational theories. They remain inclined to believe the evidence without doubt or interpretation, listening to the ramblings of a madman like a gospel’s word. They said that technical difficulty couldn’t possibly have been the cause, for Harrison’s writing and later expeditions showed the ship itself to be totally fine.
Dr. Harrison was a reputable man of science, fascinated with the ideas of using the elements of the universe for Man’s benefit. He joined the Tenebrae Observatory with great enthusiasm, as he held the desire to study the properties of Black Holes and suckle on its unlimited energy for all time. As months passed, however, Harrison watched as things changed all around him, people disappeared or spoke in ramblings or tongues unknown to man. It must’ve been some morbid curiosity that drew Harrison to stay, or some nihilism that urged him to face his doom.
I now sit in the exact same chair that Harrison had. The room, starved of light, made a soft hum. I held my breath, and listened closely, but heard nothing. I was the only man sent by the Department, I was all alone, all on my own on this small island in endless nothingness. It was quite strange, as the shuttle in which I had been brought here clearly had room for two, yet only I was sent to this horrid place. There was an unease to the silence, it was an oppressive tune in of itself, as if a constant reminder to the absence of all around me, of life removed without struggle or decay. But at least I knew nothing could come to me here, as I was alone. I hope with all my being that the Universe does not prove this line to be false.
On the desk in front of me was a collection of tapes. I do not know who would still use something like this, but at this point, I could not complain, anything that can give me an answer is good enough, even old technology like this. I wanted to find the answers, find out what had befallen this station and a man of such promise. With a sigh, I popped the tape into the recorder. I was happy to see I knew how to operate a tape recorder, considering their practical extinction by most common folk. A tortured groan reverberated through the silent room, before the screen lit up.
A man sat in front of the camera. He wore a lab coat, and his hands were folded on the table in front of him. He wore a sternness on his face, and spoke with a tone of professionalism.
"Good evening. I am Dr. Eugene Harrison, researcher for the UFN’s newly founded Department of Obscurology. It has been a couple months since this project was approved, but at last, the Tenebrae Observatory has been finished and placed in a stable orbit around a Black Hole, nicknamed 'OBS-001'. We are excited to begin our research phase, to become the starting point of a larger push.
"I will be keeping you updated on our progress, and hopefully we can soon assemble a cohesive report to the superiors. These tapes will be the outline for my report, detailing the discoveries of our wonderful team. See you around."
The video cut.
I, once more, sat in complete silence, and I began to miss the noise of the recording to fill my ears in this oppressive place. The silence began to unnerve me, and I took to pace around the room. I walked to the window, but kept my head lowered, for I wished not to gaze at the singularity above. I don’t know why, but part of me tells me I shouldn’t. I have never been a particularly superstitious man, but for this particular occasion, I obeyed my gut. I sat back down, and selected the next recording.
"Dr. Sarah disappeared into the closet today. Something has frightened her. We tried speaking to her, but we do not understand her anymore. She speaks in a tongue unknown to our team. Only one phrase we can understand, but in tongue only. 'The Window'. She has locked the closet door on her end, so unless we break down the closet door, I’m afraid we’re at an impasse. Though, there’s one thing that’s continuing to bother my mind: What does she mean by 'Window'? The rest of the staff dismisses this as little more than ramblings, and as the overseer, I know I should so too, but I lie awake at night, that singular phrase haunting my thoughts. Tomorrow, I think I’ll be conducting another experiment. I’ll take a look myself, see what got her this distressed."
The video cut.
I sat back, evaluating what I knew. My mind was already nagging me to play the next tape, not for more clues, but to drown out the deafening silence of the station. And I needed to know more. I reached out for the tape, when suddenly, a flash of light. My retinas! I covered my face with my arms, but just as quickly as it had appeared, it was gone. I breathed a sigh of relief, it was merely the flickering of the lights. My laughter ceased. Surely the ship wasn’t breaking down already, and so the lights shouldn’t be in disrepair. I chose to think not much of this as I played the next tape.
"It would be cumbrous to give a detailed, consecutive account of the findings I have made. Last night, I did what I promised to do, to gaze upon something I shouldn’t have. The sight I saw will sit with me for as long as I live, and I desire not to pass it on to my brothers in Nephesishism, lest they’ll turn out like Sarah, still trapped in the closet, incomprehensible yelling and talking into thin air."
The video suddenly began changing. The colors began shifting, Harrison’s voice became more a distant echo, and the screen became ever more pixelated. Until suddenly, a new video was on the screen, as if nothing had happened.
"Dr. Sarah stopped making noise today," Dr. Harrison said, still sitting in his chair. "There is an eerie quiet without her, the sound of her fists constantly banging on the door a constant background noise to drown out the sterile hum of the ship. Now, my ears… Whatever. I haven’t been sleeping well. I have bizarre dreams, ones that I forget as soon as I’m brought back to the world of the living. What is happening to me…"
The video cut.
I wasted no time. I quickly grabbed the next tape and pushed it back in, likely with more force than was good for the old machine. However, I was not met with the sight I looked forward to.
This time, however, something was off. The recording was eerily silent, none of the usual background chatter, and around Harrison was nobody. I dared not assume the worst, but my fears were soon realized as the recording went on. Dr. Harrison wasn’t normal either. In contrast to his usual cool and professional demeanor, this Harrison was erratic, glancing around as if something could jump him at any minute.
“Every time I look, I can hear the voices. They beckon me, like a siren’s song. Recently, they haven’t stopped. Even when my gaze leaves that horrid thing, their voices nag me, a low but constant whisper. Please, please stop. They speak of liberation from the flesh, of freedom from feel pain and sorrow, of the bliss of nonexistence. They’re lying, I know it! As a devoted Nephesis, I cannot give my soul up. If I cannot find a way to make this stop, then I’ll ask Dr. Micheal to remove my ears."
The video cut.
I was left staring blankly into the screen of the recorder, my mouth agape from what I had watched. It took me a second to collect myself. I looked into the reflection, and was almost embarrassed to see my mouth hanging open like that. There was nobody else around, but just seeing it myself was enough. I closed it again and pushed my chair backwards. Wait a minute, pause. I grabbed the table hard and leaned forward, staring into my reflection again. For a moment, I could’ve sworn that another person was standing there, just behind me, visible only through the reflection. But there were nobody here.
I glanced around, more nervous than before. The silence, the loneliness, it suddenly felt different. My mind was playing tricks on me, trying to convince me I could hear footsteps when there were none. I wasn’t going mad, I couldn’t be. Hoping to escape the creeping lack of sound, I grabbed the next tape and pushed it in. Dr. Harrison’s face soon appeared before me again, smiling widely from ear to ear, teeth closed tightly together.
"I managed to break down the closet door today. Dr. Sarah was still there, just fine. I was relieved to see her alive and well, and invited her to a cup of coffee. She was thankfully happy to accept, and what a great discussion we had. I asked her what she saw, and she replied quite simply. She had seen the true image of a black hole, what laid behind the event horizon, a thing not meant for neither man nor space to ever bear witness to. I left her there for now, she can handle herself."
The video cut.
I sat still. It was as if I was in a cocoon of sweats my heart beating like it had never before. Dr. Sarah, was she still here? Would that mean, I was never alone at all? Slowly, I stood up and walked to the cafeteria. She was not there. My heart sank, as I began fearing for the worst. I sprinted through every hall, looking for any sign of life. I dared not yell out though, for I feared nothing more than a voice answering me from the quiet. At last, I turned to the closet as my final destination. Maybe she had returned upon Harrison’s passing. I took a step forward and leaned my head in.
Her eyes were gouged out. Her fingertips were bloodied, her last scream still frozen on her face. Her body said slouched against the window, its glass bloodied all over. I knew not what to think. Had Harrison had a cup of coffee with someone who was long dead? Confused and scared, I fled from that horrible place.
I returned to my darkened room. I wasn’t fully convinced I was alone anymore, and the thought terrified me. With shaking hands, I selected the next tape.
On the screen was a man I hadn’t seen before. I felt instinctively repulsed, but I could not tell why. There was an unusual quality to him that I could put my finger on, be it the scars of enervation he carried in his face or the breached veil of sanity behind his glassy eyes. To my horror, I realized that this man was not a mere stranger, but rather the sorry state of Dr. Harrison, still himself, no matter how far gone by this point.
Dr. Harrison was frantic, moving erratically as he paced around the room without rest. His instruments and tools laid scattered in the floor and table. Moving without ceasing he said:
"The physicists speak of an 'event horizon,' but what if it is not a horizon in space, but in mind? What if our crude instruments simply reinforce the mental blinders evolution sewed into our flesh, that we may never perceive the Things That Wait in the gulfs beyond reason?"
Without warning, Dr. Harrison dropped to his knees. He was laughing, laughing and laughing, his laughter filled the room. "It’s coming for me!" He collapses onto the ground, holding his hands over his head, as if shielding himself from something that isn’t there. He stayed like that, his voice periodically leaving him as he rolled over, his breath heavy and a smile still etched on his face.
His laughter ceased at once, and, his breath not steadying one bit, he got up again as if nothing had occurred. His voice was now calm, and his hands were behind his back. "Edward! Come here, I need you to look at these notes." Harrison grabbed his own frantic notes, splaying them out onto the table. Then, he looked out into space, as if looking at someone who wasn’t there. "More and more are appearing, Edward. Yet, we still do not know the source. Perhaps it is Sarah, leaving her dormitory while we leave. I advise you to sleep outside the closet today, Edward, and hold guard to see if my theory holds true."
The video cut.
I cast the vile recording from me, and it landed underneath the window, peering out to the black hole above. I sighed, before going to pick it up. However, on my walk, I noticed something most peculiar. A I leaned forward, stretching out my hand to retrieve the tape, my hand brushes up against something cold and metallic. I quickly retracted my hand, fearing for the worst, but nothing happened. Cautiously, I grabbed whatever secret laid behind the veil of dark. When my hand came into the light of the recorder again, I found myself to be holding a tape, undiscovered in my initial search of the ship. Curious, I popped it into the recorder and sat back.
This time, the recording was not the product of Harrison’s troubled mind. In front of the lens was Dr. Harrison, sleeping on his bunker bed, about 12 inches away. The camera lifted into the air, as if held up by an unseen force, and moved closer to the man. Dr. Harrison turned and twisted in his bed, his head moving erratically on his pillow. He was mumbling in his sleep, in a tongue I still do not know. The camera was now directly above the sleeping man, looking down at Harrison as he remained tormented by the horrors of his dream.
I leaned forward. My heart was racing now. Who was filming? Was it Sarah, or some spectral remnant of her? Or was it the thing that drove Harrison to this madness to begin with? I knew not what to think. Lost in my own thoughts, I failed to watch the screen in time, and nearly fell backwards when a loud bang sounded in the recording. I climbed back to the desk just in time to witness the end of it.
Dr. Harrison woke up, drenched damp. He looked around, as if to make sure he was in the same room as he fell asleep in, before collapsing onto his bed again. To still his perturbed mind, he clasped his hands together and repeated these solemn invocations:
"For Ngrothogh, the conscious absence, a sentient hunger in the void, who was and is and will be to come."
"Blessed are thou as our superior, bless the ever-gazing eye of the expanse that watches over us, and bless the curvature of spacetime that gives you form, for no physical body you need."
"Let us gaze upon your truest self, unfiltered by flesh and eyes, and let it be an offering in itself to you."
"So thank you, o' great Ngrothogh, the Unseen Presence of a Thousand Dead."
The screen flickered, before freezing. I stood up and looked through the remaining tapes. I needed to know more. I needed to know what had happened.
"I’ve locked the rest of the ship. No one's left now. They’re gone. I’m sure of it. The air feels empty. It’s not grief. I’d feel grief if I’d lost them. But I feel nothing. That’s the thing. This place, it takes that from you. The need for others. The idea of others. Like it’s… it’s like it’s turning down the volume on the world until it’s just you."
Harrison took a moment to take a deep breath, before continuing.
"One of them scratched something on the wall before they left. I think it was Roy. It says, ‘I can hear you breathing.’ I laughed when I saw it. I laughed for ten minutes straight. Then I erased it. Because I’m not crazy. I’m not."
Dr. Harrison collapses into his chair. He laughs.
I stopped the tape.
Rewound. Played it again.
"One of them scratched something…"
Something pressed on the back of my mind. I’d seen that message myself. Scrawled in black grease near the mess hall airlock.
I can hear you breathing.
I hadn’t thought anything of it at the time. Old graffiti, I assumed. But he erased it.
So how did I see it?
I pressed play again.
The audio was crackling now. The distortion was worse than ever. His voice bled into itself, layered and warped, but beneath the noise… there were others. Faint. Whispering, behind the hiss. I turned up the volume.
"…Harrison… Harrison, open the door… we’re locked in…"
The words were barely audible, like breath fogging glass.
"…don’t leave me here…"
And then Harrison again, laughing, gibbering.
"They’re trying to trick me. Ngrothogh wants me to join it. The voices, they’re telling me to do it, to become nothing, just like the researchers did. I know I’m alone. I know-"
A sharp clang cut through the static. Metal on metal.
Followed by a voice. Clear. Calm.
"Harrison, this is Royce. Please respond. You locked the bridge doors behind you. We’re still here."
My blood ran cold.
The video cut.
I felt the urge to scream. This wasn’t possible, it could not be possible. Even as the recording ceased, I kept staring into the screen of the recorder, and it stared back. In the reflection of the screen, I saw it.
Standing right behind me was a man, dressed in the same expeditionary uniform as I. He was sitting, reading a book, before he sighed, stood up and walked out the door. I was not alone, there was another man, there always was.
I spun around to look at the spot he was sitting at, but there were none. The book laid on the floor without moving, just as it had before I entered. In a panic, I rushed over to lock the door, fearing some unknown killer in the dark.
Was I truly alone? Of course I was, I was the only man sent on this mission, never mind the empty seat!
My breathing was heavy as I turned around, my mind practically gone. Only one tale remained. It was a final recording. Its date traced to the same day contact to the ship was lost. I don’t know why I’m still listening. I should stop. But I need to know. With a sigh, I popped the recording into the record player, and sat back, gazing upon Harrison’s final hours.
However, yet again, the film wasn’t shot by Harrison. It was seated from behind, turned on by itself, focusing on a lone figure at his desk. It was Harrison, hunched at the computer, unmoving. He was gaunt and dirty, and his hair was thinning. His face was pale, lit only by the dim, flickering glow of the screen. If not for the soft reflection of the monitor, I would have assumed his eyes had been torn from his face from how deep they'd recessed into his skull.
Behind him, the great observation window stretched floor to ceiling, revealing the infinite black sea of space. Stars lined the backdrop, not even flickering anymore, they were dead eons past, their ghosts now visible in the night's sky. There was no up or down, no sound, no warmth, only the silent hum of the ship.
The Black Hole loomed yet more, but not passively. Its accretion disk spun like a slow, smoldering iris, and its event horizon remained still, like the rim of a pupil, gazing upon the slumped form of Harrison.
His voice was brittle as ice. His ship’s connection to Earth had been lost, cut in the dead of night by something far greater than himself.
"Please. Stop looking at me."
And the black hole, in return, blinked.
The video cut.
I stumbled back, heart pounding in my chest. Hardly did I pay the unresolved fate of Harrison any mind as my brain was dominated by the new eye in the sky, the Black Hole, OBS-001. Slowly, my eyes went to the great observation window, meant to overlook said beast. I began to walk forward, to gaze upon it for myself, to confirm the insanities of Dr. Harrison.
Sweat beads formed on my forehead, yet I felt not warm, but rather, a most unwelcome cold had invaded my body. The air seemed thick with silence, not even my footsteps made noise anymore, and I couldn't hear my own breath anymore. As I continued forward, the lights of the ship seemed to flicker the more I approached, shadows cutting deeper in the corner of my eyes. I walked and walked, but never seemed to get closer. It felt like an eternity to reach that window, or maybe that was what I tried to convince myself, just like Harrison had.
While walking, I too began hearing noises, just like Harrison had. My mind was playing a trick on me, trying to convince me of someone standing outside the door, banging and yelling. The voices, they sounded real. "Open the door! Come on, goddamnit, unlock them now, before it’s too late!" But alas, I knew them to be nothing more than distractions.
Then suddenly, I was there at the window, not even remembering walking the distance to get there.
I was looking down at my feet, I could feel my mind breaking apart. What would I see? Would I see the fate of Harrison, would I see the Black Hole as it was, or would I see something more?
Slowly, I turned my head up and gazed upon the true form of Ngrothogh.
A sentient negation laid in front of me, whispering across aeons to those whose minds like Harrison's, were not sealed by sanity, for the event horizon that protects our sanity was unraveled for my eyes only. Ngrothogh gazed upon me, as it did Harrison. And it wasn't alone. Floating in the dark and cold expanse of space, all around the central eye, floated hundreds upon hundreds of bodies.
Their skins were gnarled and grey, a thin layer of ice all over. Their eyes were black and hollow, their faces equally so. Some were missing hands, others legs, some had been burnt while others choked. All were frozen in poses of terror and fear, reaching out to a black sea of nothing, but yet their faces were ones of peace and bliss. Was this a dream? I cared not, it felt real to every one of my senses. And worst of all, as I gazed up upon a monster of the Universe, I saw that every single body was wearing research uniforms.
I kept gazing beyond what the event horizon had kept a secret, I couldn't resist. I tried to turn my head, but I couldn't. Ngrothogh is all I can see now. I can feel myself slipping away from my body, as if no longer made of flesh and bone. I can't feel myself, I simply am, a mind existing on its own. The bodies, they're calling me. Can't you hear them?
They have been waiting for me.