Edge of Creation: The God Particle Expedition

May 13th, 2050

I will attempt to recreate yesterday’s events, though I am uncertain I can truly convey what we experienced.

The day began at 0700. A quiet and somber atmosphere enveloped the galley as the team gathered for breakfast. Each member sat lost in thought, contemplating their role in the upcoming experiment. Anticipation and worry were etched on their faces. Some had been part of the Hadro project before, witnessing failures and the loss of colleagues in the pursuit of understanding the universe. Others harbored doubts about the existence of God or any divine particle.

Theo and Vector exchanged weary glances, their minds replaying past experiences.

Equally burdened, others wore expressions of tentative hope, grappling with the weight of the mission. Silence lingered, broken only by the occasional clink of cutlery against plates, as the team braced itself for what lay ahead.

Buzz walked into the galley, a crucifix around his neck glinting under the lights, a testament to his Catholic faith. Gene glanced up, chuckled, and asked, “Do you really think that will protect you from what might happen today?”

In a deep, foreboding voice, Buzz smiled and replied, “We’re venturing into the unknown. A bit of extra protection can’t hurt. I trust that God will watch over us as we embark on this journey.”

Gene smiled and nodded. “One can only hope for divine intervention if we’re to succeed.” Reflecting on her time as a Buddhist, she chuckled, “Perhaps I’ll turn into a cow.” This prompted laughter that broke the tension in the room.

The team began to discuss their assigned tasks and the procedures they needed to follow to achieve their goal.

By 0800, we had left the galley and settled into our designated stations, ready to collect data from this innovative and uncharted adventure.

Juan sat in his co-pilot’s seat, staring at his instruments, mentally working through the procedures to engage the propulsion drive.

This drive is the first of its kind. Capable of pushing a ship beyond the speed of light. Concern and anxiety were etched on his face.

Sitting next to Juan in his pilot’s seat, Buzz nervously reviewed the step-by-step documentation for piloting the craft as it approached the speed of light. He was responsible for implementing the emergency shutdown procedures.

Buzz turned to Juan, wide-eyed and filled with excitement and anxiety, laughed nervously, and said, “I hope these emergency procedures work. It has never been tested. I may blow us up.”

Everyone within earshot laughed, as one does in a dangerous situation that may end in disaster. We were genuinely venturing into the unknown. Conventional wisdom holds that everything slows down as an object moves toward the speed of light. Theories also suggest that time itself may actually stop.

Theo, Vector, Gene, and I sat at our designated consoles, tightly strapped in, waiting for Juan to initiate the propulsion drive.

At precisely 0850 on May 12th, 2050, Juan looked over his shoulder at the team, a look of determination etched on his face, as he whispered, “Here we go.” He glanced at each member, and in turn, with anxiety and excitement beaming from our faces, we each nodded, confirming we were ready.

Juan reached to his left and flipped the first of two toggle switches. I could feel the propulsion drive’s first stage engage. A gentle rumble could be felt throughout God Speed. Looking around at the team, anticipation was etched on their faces. Juan said, “So far so good.”

I realized that my breathing had quickened. I could feel my heart racing, anticipating the G-force we would soon feel as we achieved the speed of light. My mind raced, wondering whether we might be destroyed.

No human has ever traveled at the speed of light in the history of human space travel. I began to wonder if we could survive this.

Looking around the room, no one moved; we were lost in our thoughts, waiting for this monumental event to begin.

Excitement in his voice, Juan yelled over the propulsion drive’s humming, “Here we go.”

He flipped the switch. Activating the booster rocket. I heard a slight swish-like wind racing through a tunnel. Then, bang! We were violently thrown back into our seats. A force more significant than that experienced leaving Earth’s gravitational pull.

Buzz monitored his console’s instruments, reading out the speed changes as the craft propelled toward our goal. We were violently shaking in our seats. I felt as if my teeth would be jarred out of my head.

With clenched teeth and a muffled voice, Juan read out the G-force we felt as God Speed propelled us forward. At one point, in a high-pitched groan, he yelled, “We are at maximum G-force!”

Suddenly, a blinding light consumed the interior of the ship. Immediately, a peculiar sensation overtook me, as if my body was being stretched, reshaped, and distorted. I watched in awe as the faces of my team members twisted and contorted, their mouths hanging open in shock.

Each one seemed trapped in their own state of bewilderment. The scene reminded me of my childhood, watching taffy being pulled and stretched; a perfect analogy for the strange, elastic feeling I was experiencing.

Sitting there, surrounded by an alien, surreal environment, I struggled to comprehend my emotions. The blinding flash that had erupted around us was now replaced by an oppressive darkness. The ship felt suspended in time, with no sense of forward motion.

I heard Buzz take a deep breath, his voice filled with excitement and wonder. “We have gone beyond the speed of light. I think we have entered Transluminal space!” He declared.

His words were swallowed by the profound silence that followed as we grappled with the unending blackness that enveloped us.

Blackness so deep it swallows perception. It is the presence of silence itself. It presses inward, heavy, vast, and unbroken, a void that erases edges, shapes, and even the thought of distance. It is a silence so absolute it hums in your bones, not with sound but with its suffocating lack. Time seems suspended, dissolved into a stillness where breath feels too loud, heartbeats too intrusive. In that overwhelming blackness, there is no horizon, no anchor, only the infinite weight of emptiness wrapping around you, swallowing even the idea of escape.

A deep, unsettling foreboding hung in the air, a stark reminder of our isolation. I couldn’t shake the thought: would we ever see light again?

As we began to gather our senses, conversations echoed through the ship’s bleakness. We were all attempting to understand the unending darkness and how to move forward.

In a high-pitched voice, Gene asks, “Can anyone see anything. I feel as if I am blind. The blackness is complete, deprived of any light.”

Each of us responded one by one, some in panicked voices: “I cannot see anything. Can you?”

Buzz’s calm voice came over the radio, “Calm down, let’s start figuring out how to get internal lighting back on.”

With great relief, the ship’s consoles began to light up, followed by all internal lighting. Buzz could access the piloting controls, and each team member could read their monitors.

I looked out into the abyss, squinting, straining to see anything. Suddenly, a tiny white light approached the ship’s main viewing window. It grew in size as it quickly closed the distance. Our internal lights went dark. All consoles remained lit.

Slowly, we stood from our seats, staring in awe at this anomaly floating before us.

A thought came to me: “Is this a star that will consume us?”

It stopped and hovered near the ship. A bright celestial light flooded the cabin, surrounded by a calming blue hue. A warm feeling consumed me. Staring into this fantastic phenomenon, unfazed by its brightness, a sense of peace washed over me.

Observing my team members’ expressions, I could see the light had the same effect on them. I have never felt so calm and at peace. I could hear the monitoring equipment’s alarm bells blaring, but I could not do anything about it.

A vaguely familiar voice could be heard mumbling, “We have passed the speed of light.” It was Buzz. I turned to my right, seeing an expression of wonder and bewilderment on his face. I can only imagine he saw the same expression on my visage.

At that moment, time seemed to stand still. We were suspended in a timeless void, able to move only our heads, surrounded by surreal tranquility. The bending and reshaping of our bodies had stopped.

From my vantage point, looking out the port-side window, I beheld a breathtaking panorama of existence. I saw my life unfold before me from birth to the present moment. A being floated toward me, a female. Surprised and excited, I shouted, “It is my mother.” The sound was immediately muffled. No one seemed to hear me. She smiled and nodded to me, a sight that felt humbling and awe-inspiring. I wonder if this is what is seen when we die?

She floated near me, her right arm outstretched, a gentle smile gracing her face as she turned and pointed.

In the distance, a small figure began to approach, growing more apparent with each passing moment. As it drew nearer, tears welled up in my eyes. The figure was a beautiful young girl with long blond hair and piercing blue eyes that captivated me. With a sudden cry of joy, I realized she was my daughter, her smile unmistakably familiar.

As she floated toward me, her voice was like a melody, “Hi, Daddy. I’m doing well. Know that there is life after death, and God will bring you to me.”

She reached out, her hands tenderly cradling my face. A warmth of love enveloped me. Tears streamed down my cheeks as I wept with joy and wonder. I hadn’t felt such peace and love in years.

Just as quickly as they had appeared, both vanished in the blink of an eye. Falling to my knees, I began to weep. The warmth and love were replaced with an all-encompassing emptiness. I struggled to comprehend what I had just experienced. Was it real? Had exceeding the speed of light triggered some anomaly in my brain, creating these vivid images? My mind whirled, attempting to make sense of this experience.

The encounter left me questioning everything. I desperately tried to regain that warm feeling of love and peace that had surrounded. A profound emptiness filled my entire being.

As quickly as the light appeared, darkness engulfed us. The vast expanse of emptiness and hopelessness returned, and dead silence consumed us.

Sitting in total darkness, I heard the computer’s hard drives spinning as it strove to collect as much data as possible on this phenomenon. Little did I care.

Free from our paralyzes, the team scrambled to analyze the incoming data, revealing unprecedented levels of radiation and energy.

When out of the blackness, a glimmering orb approached. Behind the orb, a beautiful being rose.

We stared in stunned silence as the orb hovered before us, its glimmer casting a radiant glow that cut through the vast darkness of space. Upon it stood a being unlike anything we had ever known; its form shimmering with ethereal light, at once human in grace yet veiled in celestial mystery.

When it spoke, its voice was pure and melodic, resonating not in our ears but within our hearts.

“Welcome. Is this what you were searching for?”

The being extended its hands, presenting the orb. Energy pulsed within it, and streams of light raced across its surface, intertwining and bursting forth in near-blinding brilliance. Each flicker carried the weight of something immeasurable, something beyond comprehension.

Buzz glanced at Juan, whose eyes were wide in awe.

Vector, ever the scientist, was already reaching for his instruments, but even he seemed to hesitate. No one momentarily dared to break the silence, unsure of what to make of this extraordinary encounter.

Finally, I found my voice, stepping forward to address the being. “What… are you?”

The being met my gaze. Its eyes filled deep with knowledge, and it smiled serenely. “I am the keeper of what lies beyond. But it is not I who brought you here. It is your search for answers”.

We were frozen, mesmerized by the overwhelming beauty. It smiled and, with a flash that momentarily blinded us, the orb and the being were gone. We were again in complete blackness.

In an instant, the tranquility was shattered. The craft shuddered violently. We were suddenly yanked back into standard space. The G-forces were crushing, making every breath a struggle. As I fought to stay conscious, a single thought flashed through my mind: “At least I got to see my daughter.”

Silence enveloped us when the ship finally settled. Juan shut down the drive.

We sat, each lost in our thoughts, trying to comprehend what had happened. Time seemed meaningless in that void. I have no idea how long we had been hurtling beyond the speed of light. Where had we been? When had we been?

Stunned and disoriented, we lingered at our consoles, replaying the experience.

Eventually, we drifted from the control room to the galley, where we sat in deep contemplation.

Hours passed as we silently shared a meal, each of us lost in our thoughts, trying to grasp what we’d encountered. One by one, we finished eating and unconsciously made our way to our berths. Some crew sought solace in sleep, while others simply sat, replaying the events repeatedly in their minds.

As I close this entry, I’m left bewildered by what we experienced. Was it real, or just some bizarre anomaly triggered by breaking the light-speed barrier?

There’s only one way to know for certain: We must return to Transluminal space, armed with the knowledge and insights from this first incursion. I want to see my daughter again.

Now, knowing what lies ahead, we’ll be better prepared. But for now, I’m emotionally and intellectually drained. Sleep is what I need.