Forward; then, forward.

Markaa hurtled, lonely, through time and space.

Many years were involved in the hurtling.  Many millions of units of distance -- of distances so vast that their measure made more sense framed against the soberingly infinite possibility of distance and of its near-impossible limits -- were involved, too.

Space is dichotomously composed of matter and its absence, and travelling through the absence had conveniently transformed Markaa into a similar dichotomy.  The dichotomy of Markaa at these speeds was great size opposed with infinitesimal uncertainty of position.  Markaa held immense Einsteinian mass over the course of the journey, but could more easily be expressed as a cloud of possible Markaa than as Markaa, one point in space.

Forward; then, forward.  To analyze Markaa’s trajectory was to arrive at the conclusion to politely describe it as ‘not particularly cosmopolitan.’  Markaa, in businesslike fashion, described a straight line.  The straight line Markaa traveled was, in fact, surely one of the greatest examples of a straight line the universe had ever seen.  Great unending fields of linear space stretched off in front of and behind Markaa.  Forward; then, forward.  Markaa was intractable and unforgiving in the joyous repetitive act of moving forward, tearing giant fleshy chunks of nothingness out of the space in front of it with the happy, insatiable sawing jaws of limitless time.  Forward; then, forward.  An endless loop of progress, hard-wired into Markaa, Markaa’s mantra of relentless advance, set down in solemn canon by the wisdom of those who had launched Markaa’s great odyssey.  Forward; then, forward.  Markaa, thanks to the wisdom of its creators, would never meet the resistance of matter in the course set out for it.  That is to say - if Markaa did encounter resistance, that rendezvous would be against the design of Markaa’s remarkable campaign.  Forward; then, forward.

Therefore, Markaa was lonely and Markaa knew no way to be anything else.  Markaa kept hurtling.  Space kept being vast and unfriendly, and the distant stars cast their light carelessly in all the directions Markaa could not touch.  They danced a frenetic quickstep as they flew by, parallax phantoms changing places as if to the call of an unseen fiddle.

Forward; then, forward.

And then Markaa slowed down.  The great engine that had pushed Markaa from the beginning to the end of space began to shut itself off and Markaa occupied progressively fewer and fewer units of space and progressively fewer and fewer lengths of time.  Markaa’s lusty jaws had finally satisfied Markaa’s appetite, and like the turning of a tiny gear in an expensive watch, the forward; then, forward that had dictated Markaa’s path changed irresolutely to a forward; then, wait.

So: Markaa waited.  

Wait.  Some things can be changed but some things stay as they are.  Markaa could not change the missive that now occupied the hole left by the absence of forward; then, forward, nor could Markaa disobey its order.  Markaa had to wait.  

Wait.  Markaa was lonely and small.  Where Markaa had revelled before in the immensity afforded by near-light speed, Markaa now was one small, unimportant point and undeniably so.  The stars were fixed now in position - points, like Markaa - and Markaa missed their erstwhile flits and gambols.  The vision in Markaa’s memory of dancing stars was powerful, but more powerful -

- wait.  

Loneliness cannot be shaken, only eroded, or kept at bay.  To truly touch another mind is impossible; even when we come close, we are achingly aware that a time will come when that fleeting connection will end and so we are always on a journey either away from or towards loneliness.  Markaa floated, suspended between light and darkness, keenly conscious of the stars that beckoned below and above and beside and around.  Wait.  Wait.  Wait.  The awesome distance Markaa had once known was now dwarfed by the mammoth that was wait and Markaa could do nothing else but stare down and up and out at the tantalizing stillness of the stars.

Wait.  Markaa’s lonely stare became a peering gaze became an aching pull became a fiery purpose.

Wait.  The gut Markaa had followed ever deeper into space roared with new, ravenous hunger.

Wait.  One by one the stars seemed to shake off the ice holding them in place.  They spun outward in leaping promenades, exhorting Markaa to move.

Wait.  The jaws of time clicked and chittered at the space ahead.

Wait.  Markaa catapulted out - forward, outward, upward, onward towards the stars.  Forward; then, forward.

Wait.  Forward; then, forward.

Wait.

Forward; then, forward.