Despite everything she had tried, Aclea Pallis, One Thousand Eighth Bloom, still felt like she wasn’t doing enough. Within the boundaries of the core systems there were always new things to work on. She had worked on new ship designs, helped bioengineer new xenodrugs, even lead a project developing new ways to safely and peacefully sooth whole populations of violent sophonts on a scale large enough to affect entire star-systems. None of it was enough, though. Everything she had been given the opportunity to work on, it was all about control, subjugation, deepening the Compact’s hold over the universe. Logically, Alcea understood quite well that many sophont species needed saving from themselves. 

She had seen culture after culture cling to violence, greed, exploitation, consumerism. Over and over again, Alcea had witnessed the Affini Compact save sophont cultures from their own vices; violence, greed, consumerism, exploitation, the affini compact provided a remedy for all these things and more. But Alcea also knew what happened when affini made mistakes. The compact wasn’t infallible, like so many affini seemed to believe; more and more, Alcea found herself wondering who was to say the Compact didn’t have their own vice which drove them again and again into causing undue harm? Nobody could stop them if they did. Were they the dominant power across so many galaxies because they were correct, or simply because they were strongest, with slip-ups few and far between enough to easily hide away?

And so, as much as she believed in the Compact’s goals to improve the livelihoods of everyone the universe over, Alcea simply couldn’t be satisfied with strengthening the force of her people’s will. 

What Alcea wanted most was to help the people of the universe become their best selves, without the need for the short term fear and instability which came from conquest. Even through the careful, considerate conquest of the Affini Compact, such short-term pain was unavoidable. The failures she had witnessed, even participated in first hand, had been laid bare by the utopia that was a modern Terra. And it was not the wisdom of conquering affini from over a thousand blooms in the past which had restored Alcea’s faith in the meaningfulness of her existence, but the beauty of what could occur when a species was allowed to live up to its full potential. To Alcea, the fact that one begot the other did not excuse any carelessness or pain littering the path to an idealized society. 

Somewhere out there was a purpose which refused to compromise between the triumphs, nor the faults of the Compact’s choices. At times, her search felt aimless, even hopeless, but Alcea was certain she could not be the only affini who felt as she did. Perhaps it was only a matter of time before her search would eventually lead her to the Ascension Project.

* * *

For one hundred blooms, Alcea had worked toward the completion of what may well have been the Affini Compact’s most ambitious goal: to remake the universe into one without pain or suffering, and usher all of its people into a kinder existence. Progress wasn’t what she’d hoped. The affini, self-appointed caretakers of all life, insisted on nothing but perfection, though no two affini could agree on what perfection actually meant. None were cruel, or even particularly self-centered, but without room for error, compromise became nigh impossible. Which wasn’t to say Alcea was any better, she knew as well as anyone just what was at stake, what failure could mean—though, truly, nobody was so bold as to suggest they knew what failure would mean, still, the uncertainty behind it all only made things worse. Since its original inception, the project had been ongoing for thousands of blooms, across countless crops of new, eager affini dead set on saving all life, only to be disheartened and worn down by indecision, stress and perhaps most of all: time itself. 

The project's records suggested the entire initiative had been scrapped and begun anew at least seven times throughout the history of the compact, and, given Alcea’s personal experience, she found that number to be shockingly low. None of this to say those who toiled over the project were incompetent or ineffectual. To accomplish what they had set out for was quite possibly the ultimate height of any technological achievement, and Alcea had spent the better part of ten blooms simply learning how everything worked. At times, the machine’s capabilities, function, even purpose were impossible to divorce from pure speculation. 

What Alcea knew concretely, was that from project’s inception, it had been governed by three fundamental principles. Firstly, the affini could not ascend to a higher existence without taking the rest of the universe’s sentient life with it. Secondly, the affini could not on good consciousness bring any sophonts into this new universe without their guidance already in place so as to ease the transition. And thirdly, since the task of discovering and integrating all life in the universe would take an incalculable amount of time, it was unjust to deny eternal happiness to those sophonts whose lifespans would expire or had expired before ascension could occur. In other words, the affini of blooms past seemed to see themselves as gods. 

To ask which goal—either the Affini Compact’s eventual exploration and integration of all existence, or to defy reality itself—best exemplified the Compact’s hubris seemed fruitless. Unfortunately, at least in the case of the latter, Alcea couldn’t disagree. Too many who could have been saved had already died. Like a brutal warlord from some far-off sophont race, Alcea and her colleagues' predecessors had already burnt the way home to ash. By gambling with the lives of countless sophonts in the hopes that the Affini Compact could one day take all of existence under its wing, they had ensured their successors would have no choice but to find a way to succeed where they had failed, for the sake of everyone. Alcea, however, had no interest in continuing to dawdle until every last corner of the universe had been plumbed. And, as far as she could tell, she was hardly the only one because, perhaps the most frustrating reality of all, was that the machine had been mostly done for hundreds of blooms. The technology had been perfected, the unbelievably unreasonable goal had been achieved. 

There was, of course, an unimaginably long list of little details to work out, hence the problems with affini perfectionism. So many questions were left unanswered: there were living arrangements to consider, optimal arrangements of geography and cities, how best to provide for sophonts in a universe without the current ones’ limitations, what options to give those who eventually grew tired of eternal life. Many of the minute details were already being crunched by the massive, sophisticated AI they were building, but it still needed parameters and rules to operate under, like all sophonts did. And each day the stakes grew larger still, more would be lost if something went wrong, more needed to be saved. 

To Alcea, and many of her peers, waiting for the possibility that maybe, possibly the Compact may finish their exploration and integration of the entire universe at some point in even the next ten thousand blooms was out of the question. Who was even to say such a thing was possible? Even if it were, Alcea wasn’t so certain the ideal universe was one ruled by the affini. One couched in their principles of providing for the needs of everyone, maintaining peace and maximizing happiness was ideal, but if post-scarcity and non-violence were baked into the fabric of this new universe, would the Compact’s grip over the universe even be necessary? Did the affini deserve that level of responsibility? Their florets, certainly they could keep their florets, as well as take in anyone new who needed their care, but perhaps it was best if they let the new universe create its own peace. 

Ironically, Alcea had been granted the authority to enact her own goals multiple times, yet she hadn’t, just like the others. Perhaps it had been out of desperation, perhaps there had been an intrinsic understanding that things needed to move along, perhaps it was a simple abdication of personal responsibility, but for the entirety of her tenure on the project, team members had been given temporary leadership authority over the project on a rotating basis. Alcea had completed two terms as project lead, and, despite nearly reaching the end of her third, had done little to nothing with that authority. This wasn’t unique, everyone had been too intimidated by the consequences of failure to enforce their own vision. 

With half a bloom left in her third tenure as project lead, however, something changed in Alcea. Since first joining the project, she had seen, by her own estimate, one thousand, one hundred three affini come and go. Some of them had been around so long they made even Alcea feel young, some of them hadn’t even reached their double digit blooms yet. Sometimes they had been working on the project for hundreds of blooms, sometimes they didn’t even last one. One after another, they would find themselves unable to continue. Sometimes it was the mounting pressure, other times it was disagreements, or personal obligations elsewhere, frustration with the lack of meaningful progress, some, Alcea suspected, had simply been around too long and needed a break. Most commonly, and unsurprisingly, the biggest cause was grief over a lost pet, that universal feeling that always lurked around the corner for any affini. Alcea had begun to wonder how long it would be before she, too, couldn’t continue to fret over the fate of an entire universe. And, while contemplating that, she finally understood what she had to do.

This universe wasn’t hers to save, it wasn’t the Compact’s either, they were doing it for everyone, but saw themselves as the only ones capable of deciding what was right. Alcea knew all too well how wrong that was. The average affini, the compact as a whole, may have meant well, but she had watched a microcosm representing every bit of its dysfunction play out before her eyes for one hundred blooms. The final irony, Alcea realized, was that simply by virtue of making all the decisions for everyone else, the affini were already colonizing and ruling this new universe. They had designated themselves the universe’s stewards, but that hadn’t been enough, so they sought to become its gods. But, when Alcea asked herself what the average affini really wanted, what she really wanted, the answer wasn’t nearly so grand. A comfortable home, friends, pretty things to look at, fun things to do, a passion to pursue, a floret or two. Their lofty goals came not from some personal disposition towards excess—save excess for pleasure and enjoyment, of course—but from the desire to make meaning in a universe that had been just as unkind and hurtful to them as it had to all its other sophonts. And, in the process, the affini bore the brunt of that pain for them.

Alcea had seen it, she knew all too well that the average affini had all witnessed so much hurt brought on by desperate sophonts. Of course they believed they were the only ones who could fix things, they were the only ones with the actual means to do something. But that didn’t change the fact that the average affini couldn’t separate themself from that hurt, and that the hurt could push them to make the same mistakes over and over again. It wasn’t the fault of the average sophont that the society they grew up in had taught them misguided ideas. She had seen what happened when the average sophont were given the tools to succeed, they didn’t go back to violence or corruption, they flourished with or without control. If given a caring universe, they would continue to reach further heights, with or without the affini there to lead or control. 

And so, with all that in mind, Alcea Pallis, One Thousand, One Hundred Eighth Bloom knew what she had to do. Some months earlier, Alcea had taken a floret to soothe the stress of her work. This was hardly outside the norm, Alcea had taken many florets during her work on the Ascension Project. This one, Korrick, was a lovely little sophont of a relatively recently domesticated amphibious species. Unlike many of her past florets, Alcea had sought a floret who could offer some real companionship this time, not a living toy; in retrospect this proved to be a very convenient decision for her plans. With Korrick at her side, Alcea spent the following six months meticulously seeking out a fitting independent sophont to fill the remaining needs of her plan. In the end, she found a Hrulian, thousands of generations after her people had been conquered, living a simple life far from and ignorant of the wronged and erased culture she descended from. Her name was Valir, she was a passionate, kind, intelligent and most of all creative young woman with a voice that called up distant fragmented memories of the music Alcea had listened to so many blooms ago.

Quietly, in her personal quarters one evening, Alcea set to meet with Korrick and Valir. Two sophonts, neither affini, but both representing groups which the compact sought the care and consideration for. The trio talked long into the night, then again the next night, and subsequent nights for months uncounted to come. Together, they planned, deliberated, debated and decided the fate of the universe, with Alcea enacting their whims on their behalf. She had, of course, promised herself to step in if at any point either sophont tried to argue for something which ran fundamentally counter to the goals of providing and enriching all life, it hadn’t been necessary. Even when Alcea didn’t see eye to eye with their choices, her confidants would argue their cases as well as any of her peers could and, in the end, Alcea always conceded. This universe was being made for them, after all, for them and for the peoples they represented. 

And, for the first time in hundreds, perhaps thousands of blooms, real progress was made. 

* * *

For nearly the entirety of her remaining half-bloom as project lead, Alcea had done the bidding of her two chosen sophonts. And, one night, an unignorable reality fell over the trio. All of the problems once faced by the teams had been parsed through in minute detail. The code had been checked and rechecked thousands of times. Every possible argument anyone had posed had been considered, then integrated or rebuffed. There were no more compromises to be made, no more ‘what ifs’ which hadn’t already been run into the ground with meticulous detail. And certainly, Alcea could have gone around in circles forever poking holes, but there came a time when enough was enough. That didn’t make the final push any easier. 

In theory, the proper thing to do would be to wait until the next day, gather her team, hold some kind of vote, perhaps some sort of ceremony, file an unfathomable amount of paperwork, then, finally, with much pomp and circumstance, fire up the machine. Alcea knew better than to try and convince her colleagues the machine was done. The vote would never pass, they were all too scared. This wasn’t to say Alcea herself wasn’t also far too scared. But someone had to do it. Luckily, she’d brought Korrick and Valir along for that. Their involvement was another reason Alcea couldn’t really justify doing this the official way. Even if somehow the majority of her peers could stomach the notion that a pair of non-affini had made the bulk of the decisions for the project’s final push, doing it the official way would take away from Korrick and Valir what should be their moment. 

And so, standing in the dimly lit control room, before an array of softly glowing panels, Alcea took a step forward with her two companions, and gave each a long look. “This is it,” she muttered, after delaying the moment for as long as she could handle. 

“Nervous?” Korrick asked, already knowing the answer. 

“Always.” 

“It’ll work,” Valir insisted. “We know it will.”

“We don’t though, there’s an entire universe of things that could go wrong. And we’re also having to trust the generations of work that came before us. No one person can know this whole machine, not even an affini. There’s just too much to—”

“I’ll do it right now,” Korrick interrupted. 

“But you know what’s at stake,” Alcea protested. 

“I do, but I also know that if you really think this is a bad idea, instead of just your nerves getting to you, you’ll stop me.” Smiling, Korrick squeezed their Mistress’ hand. Alcea relaxed a little. “You’ll see,” they murmured. “It’s going to work.”

“What will actually happen when it comes online?” Valir asked. 

Alcea gave a thoughtful hum, looking over the panels one more. The boot sequence was loaded, it would just take one press. “Hard to say, exactly,” she explained. “It’s reaching across all of reality, space and time to do this. The universe itself is still expanding. Put simply, it’ll take a long time for it to get everyone everywhere. Hundreds, perhaps thousands of blooms. Theoretically, though, we’ll all arrive inside at the same ‘time’ within the new reality. And, since we’re right here, it won’t take long at all for it to affect us. I’m guessing once it’s on, it’ll hardly be a moment before we’re wherever it’s going to take us. Before we find out how well we did."

“I suppose there’s no delaying the inevitable. If you must go ah—”

Without hesitation, Korrick reached forward, and started the boot sequence.