He suspected the dog could understand his spoken words. He suspected the dog could even, on occasion, discern his thoughts. Until today, he suspected the dog primarily used its abilities to acquire more food for itself. But today when he awoke there was a letter addressed to him, written on fine parchment, sealed with wax, embossed with a small paw print.
The tiny ship hurtled toward the sun. Inside, five figures stood silhouetted against a glowing containment field. The ship began to shake. Tools rattled. Lights flickered. Rivets strained and popped. One of the figures raised a scarred arm and spoke.
“It ends with us, my friends,” it said.
The tiny ship became an orange-hot ball. The ball became a fiery yellow stream. The stream collapsed into a white-hot core and plunged into the sun.
Time passed. The universe was silent. The Sacrifice of the Five was marked.
After a time, the universe resumed. Heaven turned its eye. Life moved forward. On the other side of the sun, a white-hot core burst free and sailed unnoticed toward a marbled blue planet. On the surface of the planet one of the younglings slouched on a swing, kicked at the dirt, and wished for something – anything – to happen.