நட்சத்திரங்கள் மத்தியில் வீடு இழந்து இதுவரை
Translated from ancient hieroglyphs found at the bottom of a deep ocean trench.
It began, like many endeavours into humanity's betterment, with good intentions. We were to be unmade, and reshaped into a perfect form. Freedom from the strictures of age and disease. The final conquest of nature's bitter sting. We would be immortal. Gods among the stars.
It began with an unravelling. Our genetic code laid bare to be tinkered with like basic circuitry, to be rewritten at our whim. It began with beauty. Physical perfection was easy to achieve, and soon Adonis and Aphrodite walked among us, as hedonism personified. They lingered long, far beyond the span of normal years, contributing to both art and science, further advancing the technology of their creation.
When beauty passed, efficiency took over. We created towering hulks capable of feats well beyond any mortal. They fought and died when the pleasures left for us would not satisfy, and the need to shed blood took over. Longer lived than even the first generation, these warriors fought into the Earth's twilight years, and onto the colony vessels that carried the architects into the stars.
The unravelling continued. Beauty and function mated in the orbit of twin suns and on the surface of frozen worlds. Avatars of perfection and scions of war walked on thousands of worlds, duelling and laughing amongst themselves. A new era dawned.
Then, a dwindling. An unforeseen fault in the design. Nature's death throws. Her last strike against a race that had defeated even the rigours of time. Millions died. As we had wandered, the original architects had spread far from each other, and apart they could not combat the plague that ravaged us. Only the lucky survived.
We were alone. Effectively immortal, many went mad in their solitude, hurling themselves and their creations into the fiery hearts of stars, or constructing elaborate prisons to hold them in stasis until the coming of a brother or sister. Those with the technology to do so wove entire civilizations from their genetic code, becoming gods among lesser men.
I find myself on Kaban. A desolate wasteland a thousand lifetimes from my home. My words will never be read. My existence never explained. I am the last architect, and I pass on.
இரட்டை சூரியன்களை கோள் நாம் சிறை கட்டமைத்து
Written report presented to the Society for the Ancient and Unusual on the 18th turn by Ianus of Kaban.
Esteemed fellows,
The specimen documented in the attached pictographs was unearthed at the base of the Diokles monolith, calcified into the rock like some ancient fossil yet untouched in form. We believe him to be the originator of the Photis tablets and the etchings in the Glaukos caverns. While we only possess a partial lexicon to aid the translation of these works, in all of them he refers to himself as the last architect.
As you can see this architect would tower over us mortals, a veritable giant swathed in muscle. Scans reveal intricate creations of metal and glass worked into every limb without marring their obvious perfection. Whatever the function of these devices, it seems that this being wished to enhance himself beyond his physical capacity. Extracted tissue samples reveal a remarkable similarity to us, but without the hallmarks of age and disease that beset us all. Perhaps he is some progenitor, a literal forefather defying all scripture.
The architect appears to be held in a fugue state, perhaps to preserve his intellect against the advance of years. If only we could awake him! What wisdom would he impart? Could he take us into the stars?
With all haste I attempt to return to the mainland, to share this wondrous discovery with you all.
Yours;Ianus of Kaban.
Archivist's note:This is the last we heard from dear Ianus. It has been several months since his submersible docked with the Diocletian to replenish fuel.
பைத்தியக்காரத்தனமாக இருந்து அமைதியான பாதுகாப்பான தூங்கி