TOTAL DARKNESS

Darkness.

No stars. No horizon. Nothing to reveal how far the emptiness stretches.

Then, somewhere within it, a point of light appears.

It has no visible source. Yet with every passing second, it grows brighter, stretching into a beam that tears through the dark. Its edges swell. Its center burns white.

For a moment, it seems there will be no room left for anything else.

Then—

BOOM.

An explosion rolls through the void.

Where the light first appeared, space splits open.

A wormhole.

Beyond it, something moves—or perhaps it has been there all along.

Five figures sit in a circle, holding hands. Their forms shimmer behind the trembling opening.

Their eyes are closed.

They do not turn toward the explosion. They do not react to the darkness on the other side.

They seem to be dreaming.

For a few seconds, everything is still.

Then a second explosion erupts from the opening.

Fourteen small capsules burst into the void, scattering trails of colored light behind them.

The wormhole folds inward.

The five figures disappear.

And the darkness returns.

Almost.

Fourteen lights remain.

The capsules drift through the cold emptiness.

Each carries its own color, its own texture, its own faint glow. Some seem solid. Others look as though they contain something that refuses to stay still.

They float peacefully, as if this is exactly where they belong.

Then one grows brighter.

Another follows.

Soon, all fourteen are pulsing.

A vibration begins beneath their surfaces. Faint at first, then stronger. The capsules tremble, each driven by a frequency rising from somewhere within.

A crack appears.

A narrow beam of colored light escapes.

Then another.

Light pours through the fractures, each capsule burning in its own distinct hue. Vapor curls from the openings, gathering around them in luminous clouds.

The vibrations intensify.

The cracks widen.

Whatever is inside can no longer be contained.

For one impossible moment, all fourteen shine so brightly that the darkness vanishes.

Then they break.

A single, overwhelming detonation floods the void.

As the brilliance fades, fourteen figures emerge.

Small against the endless dark.

But nothing about what follows is small.

Fire surges into the emptiness. Clouds of gas unfurl. Fragments of stone collide, shatter, and gather again. Matter spills outward in forms that have never existed here before.

The figures stand at the center of it all.

Their bodies carry different materials and textures. Their crests burn with the same light that once filled their capsules.

These are the Singularity Plastiks.

And the matter around them responds.

One movement sends a wave of material rolling across the void. Another draws scattered fragments together. Where their creations meet, new reactions begin.

The darkness fills with heat, motion, and color.

It is beautiful.

It is violent.

And it is nowhere near finished.

How could something so small contain all of this?

How could fourteen drifting capsules become the source of so much?

The newborn matter crashes and twists around them. Nothing has settled. Nothing yet knows its place.

Then, one by one, the Plastiks stop moving.

They close their eyes.

All fourteen become still.

Around them, the chaos continues. Fire roars. Debris hurtles through expanding clouds. Vast masses collide.

Yet the figures remain motionless.

They appear to be meditating.

Their crests begin to glow again.

This time, the light is steady.

Slowly, the matter around them changes course.

Scattered fragments gather. Clouds turn upon themselves. Burning masses draw inward, growing denser and brighter.

Stars ignite.

Worlds take shape.

What had been violent collisions becomes motion with a rhythm. Planets settle into orbits. Great streams of matter find their paths through the dark.

The fourteen do not open their eyes.

They are creating together.

Not the reality that holds them.

Everything taking shape within it.

Far beyond this place, unseen, five dreamers still hold hands.

Here, inside their dream, an empty universe is becoming a home.

At last, the chaos quiets.

The Singularity Plastiks remain suspended among the things they have made.

What are these beings?

Gods?

Architects?

Does each command a different part of the matter around them?

And why have they come here?

For a while, there is no answer.

Only the slow movement of a universe finding its balance.

Then the fourteen open their eyes.

Light gathers in their gaze.

Purple.

Green.

Red.

Thin beams cut across the space before them. Within those beams, smaller capsules begin to form—each wrapped in one of the three colors.

For a heartbeat, they hover.

Then they shoot outward.

Past the newborn stars.

Toward distant worlds.

Into places where nothing has ever lived.

The Singularity Plastiks watch them go.

What have they sent into their creation?

And what will happen when these capsules open?