The Father, the Son and the Holy Ghosts

Time expiredThe skeleton’s hand protruded from the cracked clay soil and pointed at the blood-red sun. Dorwl wondered if the corpse paid final homage to his world’s God, sildenafil clinic or simply raised an accusing finger at the purveyor of their demise.

He abstained from looking directly at the crimson orb, salve soon to go nova. Their hovering craft blocked out the worst of the toxicity battering the doomed planet. An iridescent glow, as beautiful and breathtaking as it was deadly, showered the surface. Dorwl’s multiple eyes and genetic protective lenses recorded everywhere he surveyed for the Intergalatic Databank.

“Com plete.” The translator recited each syllable as separate words, the intonation no different than every other syllable. It had taken Dorwl several microwands to get used to the corrupted dialect of his home world. He entered the craft’s transportation beam and reappeared on deck to find Father hovering next to the console. His blinding light kept Dorwl’s protective lenses in place. Father shone his brightest as galaxies forever darkened.

“Our next location?” Dorwl asked.

“A preliminary trip to a small galaxy nicknamed the Milky Way,” Father said in his soothing voice filled with harmonic tones of a million voices blended as one. “The last time we made a sweep of their universe it had not yet soiled but in a few short wands I understand they have begun their descent. Sad, really, so much promise. One of my most memorable world’s resides there. As I recall, they worship Gods.”

Dorwl closed his eyes and bowed his head. Sentient beings were his least favorite worlds to record – but Father’s favorites.

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