Fractal Noise (Fractalverse, #0)

by Christopher Paolini

A life should have weight. Old or young, it would have seemed wrong for a person’s ashes to be too light.

Perfection implied seriousness of purpose, and there were only a few purposes that seemed likely: to pursue scientific research, to help fend off some existential threat, to fulfill a religious need, or to serve as a piece of art. The last two options were the most frightening. Any species that could afford to expend that amount of resources on what amounted to a nonessential project would be able to destroy every human settlement with ease, Earth included.

Perfection, then, was a warning to heed.

Sometimes the universe decided to rip apart your life and stomp on the pieces, and there wasn’t a damn thing you could do about it except say, “Now what?”

The knot of tension in his gut remained as tight as ever, but with it, he felt a gathering of determination. Some things were easier once you just … decided.

“A smooth edge cuts better than a ragged edge.” He shrugged. “Most of the time, that is. You get the idea. Symmetry, smooth curves, harmony, all things we’re drawn toward. Supposedly functional preferences got carried over to larger aesthetic preferences.”

There were layers to the strangeness of living beings, and exogenesis represented the far depths. One of the scariest things Alex had ever heard a professor say was that the technology of a truly advanced species might be indistinguishable from the natural forces of the universe, even as the acts and works of humans might appear to an ant or a worm.

Pushkin heaved his bulk into a more upright position, his eyes bright and sharp. “What I believe is we have one life—one life only—and she is often short, painful, and unpleasant, so we should enjoy how we can. That’s what I believe.” “That’s hardly a philosophy,” scoffed Talia. “Selfishness just leads to sloth and cruelty.” A deep frown creased Pushkin’s face. “Faith led to just as much cruelty, Ms. Indelicato. I work hard because I enjoy it. On occasion I am nice to people, because I enjoy. And yes, I make habit of indulge every type of pleasure because, again, I enjoy them. Beauty in all things, Ms. Indelicato, even in villainy.”

“Okay. I play. Say they do make faith of sort. We not even call her religion. So how is believing in random supernatural element proof of anything? It not. And sure as hell not mean they better for it. Maybe their belief systems demand blood sacrifice every Thursday. Ever think of that?”

The expedition had given him a goal, and the goal had given him a reason to keep moving. He recognized that now. As long as he had a destination in mind, he could keep putting one foot in front of the other. It didn’t mean life would be easy or pleasant, but maybe it could be bearable.