Everything was black. Endless black. I drifted for what seemed an eternity. Where was I? Space? Why could I not see any stars?

I drifted ever downward – or was it upwards? Then I saw it. The small point of light began to show itself. The closer I got the larger it grew. So far away, like the embodiment of hope within a sea of lifeless despair.

It was then that I saw that it was not one point of light but many. As I continued to approach these points they grew in size and definition. I now saw them for what they were. Galaxies! Entire galaxies within what I had thought was a single point. I wanted to get closer but I was helpless to change course let alone get there faster.

 Below me – or above me? There was a growing blackness. It was blacker than black, as though the color spectrum could not even comprehend just how absolute black could be.

Falling… This was definitely falling now. Or even worse, this was pulling. Not the gentle pull of the stars above but a vicious, hungry pull of a monster. I began to fall. Faster and faster I fell. I reached and cried out for the stars above me. My reach made no difference, my voice was unheard, and their twinkling was unmoved by my pleas. As a popular movie once said: in space no one can hear you scream.

I fell into the monster. The stars above me warped and bent back into a single point before disappearing. Despair overwhelmed me. I wanted to give up. What else could I do? I could not go anywhere or do anything? So why try? My will diminished. I wanted to resign myself to the void. There was no point.

Then I looked at my hands. I only just now realized I could see them. And they were lit! There was light! But where? How? I turned around. And I was in awe.

The same point of light I saw above me was below me, just beyond the –

“Wendell. Wendell, wake up.”

I lifted my head off of the desk. A sheet of paper I had been doodling on stuck to my forehead. I pulled it off in a snapping movement. I depicted numerous scratched out equations, ship designs, numerous black spots scribbled in angry circles, and the phrase written in loud lettering: never give up.

I swallowed hard past the lump in my throat. “What is it?”

“It’s ready.” Troian said, as though he could hardly contain his excitement – or his relief.

I turned to look at him. Chester was behind him. He too was also smiling. It was not a triumphant smile or an ecstatic smile. This smile simply said two words to me: at last.