Scion

38 carefully wrapped the two shorn branches together with a clear sheet, her fingers deftly weaving around them with practiced precision. The trick was to bind them tight enough that the two stalks wouldn’t become dislodged, even if the ship’s artificial gravity had one of its occasional hiccups. She took a step back to admire her work. The roots of certain plants handled the rigors of interstellar travel better than others, and 38 had found that by grafting two different species together she could ensure the survival of some of the more fragile specimens in her care.

The base of the pair was called the rootstock, and was always chosen for its resilience and durability. 38 did her best to mimic the soil found on the various homeworlds of her collection, but achieving a perfect analog was practically impossible. Fortunately, she had been able to identify dozens of plants that weren’t particularly picky so long as they got enough of the primary components they needed. Usually, this was water and light, but non-carbon-based plants sometimes needed different elements or compounds to run the necessary chemical reactions for growth.

The top portion of this new pairing was called the scion, and would now bloom into whatever fruit or flower its genes demanded of it, blissfully unaware that it had been severed from its home and repurposed. The scion she was tending now would eventually bloom into beautiful blue clusters of incandescent flowers. 38’s shipmates had thought that maybe the brilliant azure light the flowers emitted had something to do with its home star, so 38 was thrilled when her first specimen had fully matured into a shining blue beacon. And was then subsequently devastated when it withered not long after. And so here she was, combining the best of both worlds trying to coax the flowers into blooming again.

The best of both worlds. The turn of phrase made her smile as she looked around the cavernous plant nursery. There were plants here from countless worlds, all neatly organized by galaxy, planet, and era. There were towering trees, bristly shrubs, twisting vines of ivy, all varieties of fruit and, off in the corner, a collection of carnivorous plants that one had to move around very carefully. 38’s favorite part of her job, though, was the overwhelming bounty of flowers that filled her nursery. They came in every shape, scent, and color imaginable. It was intoxicating. 38 felt immeasurably lucky because she alone was assigned to maintaining all of it — as well as collecting new specimens when it was appropriate. The solitude suited her well. She had her plants, and she was happy.

38 leaned in closer to the fresh branch before her. “Come on, you can do it little one.” Most of the other Keepers would probably find her encouragement ridiculous, but deep down she believed it helped. And she was anxious for this one, in particular, to do well. The withering of the glowing blue flowers had been a somewhat public failure on her part. None of the other Keepers said anything to her, of course, but she still felt compelled to prove that she could do it. The truth was, the pressure she felt was most likely from her own perfectionism and nagging self-doubt. Still, she’d feel a lot better when those flowers bloomed.

To take her mind off of the situation, 38 rested an arm on one of her tools and looked up and out of the clear dome roof of the spacecraft, and took in the beauty of the stars as they passed by. For a moment, she wondered if the other parts of the ship enjoyed the same awe-inspiring views. Beyond the plant nursery were similar vaults for animals, art, technological artifacts, and anything else that might act as a window into a given world — at least, that was what she’d been told. She, like the rest of the passengers on the ship, was allowed in her section, a handful of common areas, and that’s it. The risk of a cross-contamination event creating some kind of outbreak among their precious cargo was too great to be carelessly mingling about.

They collected and kept all these many wonders from around the universe because they were Keepers. They traveled from world to world collecting evidence from each to examine why life there evolved the way it did. In a universe of infinite possibilities, why did life take one course over another? What series of cosmic circumstances came together to make this instead of that? And, just as importantly, what brought about its end? Such was the pursuit of the Keepers. It was a lofty goal to be sure, which is why each keep was assigned a certain specialty. Even with their long lives, no one could be expected to learn everything about everything. So each Keeper settled for learning everything about one thing. With the exception of the Prime Keepers. They were the overseers of the ship, whose job it was to compile the knowledge the rest of the Keepers had gleaned from their work. Occasionally, 38 was called into the inner sanctum by the Primes to explain her latest discoveries and observations, but for the most part she was left alone to tend to her ever-growing garden. That was fine by her, she was perfectly content to leave prodding the mysteries of the universe to someone else.

38 heard the sound of enthusiastic conversation outside of her nursery door. It was most likely a group of Keepers on their way to the galley. That, and the low rumbling rising up from her stomach, reminded her that she should probably take a break to go eat as well. Perhaps if she hurried she could catch up to whoever it was that had just walked by. It was impossible to tell who it was by the sound of their voice alone, as The Keepers were all clones. This was no secret and helped foster harmony among the ship’s inhabitants. It’s also why the Prime Keepers had opted to identify each new addition by number rather than name. Not the most compassionate decision, but certainly an efficient one. To help everyone recognize one another, each Keeper

bore their number on the chest and back of their deep violet robes. 38 was a bit easier to spot than some of her sisters though, thanks to the dirt that was forever hiding under her fingernails. She picked a fleck of soil from beneath her thumb and decided she needed to wash up before she ate anything.

Clean and presentable, 38 headed down the hall and toward the galley. While she liked the company of her plants the best, there were a few other Keepers who she enjoyed being around. 65 handled aquatic creatures, which apparently lent itself to the same quiet contemplation that 38 enjoyed, and 92 specialized the development of written languages. Despite the Keepers being clones, there was quite a bit of variation in their personalities, even if they all looked identical. 77, for example, studied the domestication of animals and was positively exhausting to be around.

38 entered the galley and was immediately met with a pleasantly sweet and salty aroma wafting through the air. 20 was one of the oldest Keepers on board that wasn’t a Prime and was in charge of studying and replicating cuisine from civilizations advanced enough to have such a thing. A pursuit that everyone else on the ship very much appreciated. She was certainly one of the busiest among them but seemed to enjoy her work, flitting about the kitchen and waving at everyone who came in. 38 waved back and scanned the dining area to see if she would be eating alone today or not. This would’ve been a difficult task for anyone who hadn’t spent their whole life on the ship: picking out individuals in a sea of white hair and purple cloth. But one of the perks of being genetically engineered was perfect eyesight, and 38 had spent a long time picking out individual numbers from a crowd.

A quick sweep of the many tables that lined the galley proved fruitless. Today, it seemed, 38 would be eating by herself. Or, at least at a table of other Keepers and doing her best to dine in peace. She was just about to go join the line for food when she saw something that stopped her dead in her tracks: a Prime. Primes usually took their meals in the sanctum, it was rare to see one anywhere else. What was she doing?

The answer to that question came scampering up behind the Prime in a crisp new robe emblazoned with the number 100. The wide-eyed look plastered on her face as her head swiveled around told 38 that this Keeper was brand new. Keepers emerged fully formed and with a base level of knowledge implanted in their minds: who they were, where they were, what their purpose was, etc. But knowing it and seeing it for the first time were two very different things. The 100th Keeper was an important milestone, or at least 38 thought so. She was surprised the Primes didn’t make an announcement of some kind to mark the occasion, but then again they weren’t the sentimental types. Of course, there was the unpleasant reality that if a new Keeper was born it was either to oversee an entirely new branch of study or replace a Keeper that could no longer perform her duties. Keepers aged slowly, and though they showed no outward signs of it, their bodies did eventually reach a natural conclusion, at which point the Keepers returned to the stars.

The Prime’s path was going to take them right by 38, so she pivoted and pretended to be looking for someone so she could eavesdrop a little as they walked by. If one of the older Keepers had passed on, she wanted to know who. It was only right. She cocked her head to the side and listened intently as they passed by.

“...and we’re very excited you’re here. Now, there’s something you need to know about these trees. They’re quite unique, so you’ll need to handle them with the utmost care. What I recommend is…” their conversation faded as they began to disappear down the hall.

Trees? This one word sent 38 into shock. She had to put her hand on a nearby wall to steady herself due to a sudden weakness that started in her knees and worked its way down. Was this because of the blue flowers? Did they think she was no longer able to fulfill her duties? More and more questions began to rattle around in her head, threatening to overwhelm her completely. She clenched her fists and took a deep breath to steady herself. She had to find out what was going on. The Prime — 38 saw the number 3 on her back — and the fresh Keeper headed down the hallway, too wrapped up in their conversation to notice 38 tailing them several paces back.

38 felt her heart race as they approached the fork in the corridor that would’ve led to the plant nursery. It was thumping in her chest so loudly she was afraid it might actually give her presence away. She held her breath as they came to the split. Mercifully, the Prime didn’t even break her stride and continued further into the heart of the ship. 38 breathed a silent sigh of relief. She could turn back now, knowing she was safe and secure. But what was this about trees and why would the Primes not come to her for her expertise if they were having problems? At this point, her curiosity and pride wouldn’t allow her to turn back.

She followed the two of them for several minutes, winding their way deeper and deeper into the ship’s interior. The Prime must’ve said everything she had to say to 100 for the time being because now they walked in silence. This, along with the fact that there were no other Keepers to be seen, made following them much more difficult. 38 made sure to stay a few turns back, following the pair by the sound of their footsteps echoing up off the polished floor. While this part of the ship didn’t appear any different from the halls she was used to walking, the air had somehow changed. The thrum of the engine had grown louder, reverberating through the gleaming metal into a low-pitched hum that permeated the air. But it wasn’t just that. The atmosphere itself felt alive, crackling with some kind of unseen energy.

38 was so lost in her observations she almost didn’t notice when the footfalls of the Keepers ahead of her suddenly fell silent. She jerked to a halt when she heard the Prime, number three, she remembered, finally speaking again. “We’re here. Remember, don’t touch anything.”

“Yes, of course,” came the shaky reply. Whatever the Prime had said to 100 on the way here was enough to put a quiver in her voice. 38 could hear the sound of a door gliding open, and then the footsteps faded. That door would close again in just a few seconds. When it did, there would be no way to open it again without completely giving herself away. Throwing

caution to the wind, she sprinted around the last corner in time to see the two sides of the entrance sliding shut. She ran forward, pivoted on her heel, and almost fell inside sideways. By some miracle, neither the Prime or 100 was around to see her less-than-graceful entrance. Once she had composed herself and was sure she hadn’t been discovered, 38 took in her surroundings.

Her immediate view was blocked by a stack of large metal crates that prevented her from seeing directly into the room. 38 looked up and, judging by the distance to the roof and the walls nearest her, estimated this room was roughly the same size as her own plant nursery. However, it wasn’t identical. It didn’t have a window to the cosmos in the center of the roof, but that wasn’t surprising because they were much too deep into the ship for that. Any window out of here would most likely just be looking into the engine bay. But there was something else, too. Something that made this space feel much different from her own home, despite these similarities. Then it struck her; there were no lights on the ceiling. And yet, the room was brightly illuminated. The light source was coming from the ground and shining upward, something she’d never seen implemented anywhere else on the ship. Carefully, she peered around the crates and was met with a vision so beautiful that it left her awestruck.

In front of her were twelve rows of trees, although they were unlike any trees 38 had ever seen. They appeared to be made of pure light, with no leaves of any kind. The trunk and the branches and the twigs that shot off those branches were varying lengths but of the exact same width. The light they were made of flowed upward, pulsing and undulating until it got to the end of a branch and then radiated outward. Like her own plants, these trees came in a variety of shapes as well. Some were tall with only a few branches extending outward, while others were short and squat with dozens of offshoots. If she’d seen this strange orchard in a photograph, she would have assumed they were some kind of technology she was unfamiliar with, but standing next to them left no doubt that they are somehow alive. These…trees for lack of a better word, made her heart flutter. They were nothing short of magical. 38 had to know more about them. She looked around but didn’t see either the Prime or the Keeper who was now apparently in charge of this wondrous place. Carefully, she made her way further into the room.

38 walked slowly along the rows of trees, continually resisting the urge to touch one, remembering the Prime’s warning to 100. She examined each one in turn as she passed them. It only took six or seven before she made a new discovery. On many of the trees, a few branches were capped with a perfect sphere, black as space itself. The light from the branches flowed into these onyx bulbs and then disappeared completely. These didn’t seem like a flower or a fruit to 38. On the contrary, she couldn’t help but imagine them to be more like a tumor. She wondered if this was the role of the new Keeper here, to prune these black dead weights from the ends of these branches and free the light within.

Her thoughts were interrupted by the sound of the Prime and 100 talking. 38 bent low and followed their voices until she came up behind the two, taking shelter behind a few more crates that had been placed nearby.

“These,” the Prime said, “are omni trees.” She had a deep reverence in her voice. “Within each one is an entire, self-contained universe. The light you see coursing through it is time. Time that begins in the roots at the birth of a universe and flows ever upward in an unyielding current.” She pointed down at the base of the tree and gently lifted her hand along with the light flowing upward. “All universes have a single beginning, but as time progresses certain events occur that are significant enough to create a divergence. When this happens, an alternate timeline forms and, along with it, a new branch on the tree.“ She pointed to a huge tree to her right that stretched up far above their heads, with branches going out in every direction. “The older the universe, the more branch realities are created within it. Each branch timeline is different from the one before it only in one significant way, but as one branch leads to another which leads to another, they can become quite distinct.”

“How do we know all this?” 100 asked softly. “They just look like light to me.” 38 rolled her eyes. Anyone could see these were much more than glorified lamps.

The Prime placed a comforting hand on 100’s shoulder. “Other Keepers have found ways to observe them, to look into the light and see all the life forms and events that shaped that universe. It is the pursuit we Keepers are called to in its purest form. Observation without interference at an unprecedented scale — it is the apex of our work. But it will take time to unlock all of the mysteries these trees have to offer. Which is why you’re here. “

38 couldn’t help but feel jealous. She loved her plants, but the grandeur of what she was witnessing stirred something deep within her. Entire universes, from their very first moment stood before her.

100 leaned closer and asked the question that had been on 38’s mind: “What are the black spheres? They swallow the light so completely.”

The Prime smiled, albeit with a faint sadness. “Everything with a beginning has a conclusion. Those bulbs represent the end of that timeline. Sometimes it is brought about by the creatures within it, sometimes it is a cataclysmic natural event. But the end is inevitable. Eventually, every branch on every tree in this orchard will reach its natural conclusion.” The Prime turned and looked at the tree directly behind her. 38 followed her gaze and saw an omni tree that had one of those onyx bulbs on every single branch. Every timeline had ended and the universe, for all intents and purposes, was complete. Everything that ever could happen within it had happened. 38 supposed some might find that poetic, but she felt only a heavy sadness. There was no more growth for this tree, no more possibility.

“Come,” the Prime said. “I have one last thing to show you.” She turned and went deeper into the orchard. 100 scampered after her and 38 followed as silently as she could. Soon they arrived at a large tent that had been erected in the back right corner of the room. The omni trees around the tent had been relocated, making this large tent look even more out of place. The Prime lifted a flap and walked inside with 100 following right on her heels. 38 didn’t dare risk following them inside, so instead she slid along the edge to the back. She could hear the two talking, but the heavy fabric of the tent muffled the sound too much for her to understand anything that was being said. She tried putting her ear to the canvas and even the ground, but to no avail. 38 considered searching for a place where she could inconspicuously lift the bottom of the tent when she heard the flap on the front open.

“What can I possibly do about it?” 100 asked with a mixture of confusion and helplessness.

“The other Primes believe that, given some time, you’ll be more than capable of finding a solution,” the Prime answered. “Don’t think on it too much for now. Your first job is to understand the trees in the orchard. Once you’ve come to a deeper comprehension of them, you can begin to address the outlier.” The two walked away, their conversation fading.

Outlier? 38 had a feeling that if she were to be caught in this tent that she would be in much more trouble than if someone had found her out here in the orchard, but she had come this far already. If she turned back now she’d never stop thinking about it. Keeping an eye on the direction 100 and the Prime had walked off in, 38 moved around to the front of the tent, lifted the flap, and slipped inside.

38 felt her breath catch in her throat. At the center of the tent was another omni tree, but the Prime had been completely accurate when she described it as an outlier. Like all of its brethren, the tree began with a base of white light rising upward, splitting off into other timelines as it rose into the air. However, whereas every other one of these trees had perfectly straight branches, these were anything but. Some of the branches circled around in wide arcs and looped in on themselves, others spiraled upward and attached to other branches, while some did a complete 180-degree turn and reattached to the trunk. And the light. The light was intoxicating. Rather than a gentle glow steadily pulsing upward, this tree was alive with swirling, dancing bands of light that were chaotic and wild.

38 circled the omni tree, scanning every inch of it. As she did, she came across a small black bulb at the end of a branch right at eye level. Her heart sank a bit. She wasn’t sure why, but she had hoped this wonderfully rebellious universe would have escaped such a fate. Then, as if the tree had heard her wish, the bulb filled with light and shrank smaller, smaller, and smaller until it disappeared completely. The branch where the bulb had disappeared began to regrow so fast that 38 had to quickly snap her head back to avoid it hitting her. The branch looped up, swirled back under itself, and rejoined the tree on another nearby branch that itself had dozens of lines twisting off of it. She followed the fresh branch with her eyes, watching the light race along the newborn path. “Hello, beautiful,” 38 whispered, almost involuntarily, to the tree. It was an old habit; she often spoke to her plants. “What could you possibly be?”

“Time travel,” the Prime’s even voice came from behind her, and 38 felt her heart stop. She turned around and tried to find the words to explain her intrusion, but none came, her voice frozen with fear and guilt. The Prime stepped toward her and continued, but there was no anger

in her voice. “Of all the universes in our care, this appears to be the only one with beings that have broken through the supposedly impenetrable chronological barrier.”

38 looked from the Prime back to the tree. “They’ve…mastered time?” she said, awe in her voice.

The Prime chuckled, “‘Mastered’ is hardly the word. As you can see,” she pointed to the hundreds of loops and swirls, “they are very much in the experimentation stage.”

“Who are ‘they’?” asked 38.

“Humans.” the Prime answered. “They are neither the most intelligent, most resilient, or even longest-lived species we have cataloged. Far from it, in fact. Their tenacity and creativity, though, is…impressive.” She turned and fully faced 38. “They refuse to accept their own end or the end of their universe. Should a branch on this tree terminate, it isn’t long before they undo the end and careen off to new, uncharted paths. They are forever in a state of reckless self-preservation.”

38 decided she liked these humans.

The Prime continued, “I don’t need to ask why you’re here. I was aware of you following us since the galley. The more pressing question is what you intend to do now.”

“I’m not in trouble?” 38 asked, relief washing over her.

The Prime smiled. “This room was not expressly prohibited to you, so no rules have been broken.”

“Thank you.” 38 decided it was best not to press her luck. “I suppose I should go. ”

“If that is what you think is best,” said the Prime with her soothing, soft tone.

38 lifted the flap to exit. Before she did, though, she had to address some of the questions rattling around inside her, lest she never get a restful night’s sleep again. “You told 100 that the other Primes wanted her to find a solution to the time travel. They think it is a problem?”

“They find it chaotic. Unnatural,” the Prime answered.

38 thought of her plant nursery full of winding vines, living pots of corrosive acid, and vibrant wildflowers. If anything, chaos was natural. “Is that why they keep it quarantined here?”

The Prime opened the entrance to the tent and stared out over the orchard. “Time and space are two sides of the same coin. They believe it's best not to take any chances.”

“And what do you believe?” 38 said, sounding more confident than she felt.

“I believe I’m glad we had this talk,” the Prime answered earnestly, “But again I ask, what do you intend to do now?”

“Oh, right.” 38 felt a rush of embarrassment. Here she was talking with a Prime like she was just another Keeper. In a section of the ship she really had no business being in. “Sorry. I’ll be going. I’ve got a lot to do in the nursery, anyway.”

“As you wish.” The Prime held open the door and 38 scampered through it. “I’ll accompany you out, lest anyone decides to question your presence.”

“Thank you,” 38 said again. She had always pictured the Primes as aloof and authoritarian, but this one, Three, had a genuine warmth about her. It was comforting, and she hoped they would cross paths again.

Once back in the hallway, 38 walked quickly back to her nursery. She realized halfway there that she had never actually eaten her meal, but her appetite was long since gone. There was far too much swirling around in her head to sit down and eat, anyway.

She entered back into the sanctuary of her plant nursery and felt like a weight was lifted off her chest. This was home. This was safe. This was where she belonged. She spent the next several hours tending her charges. She watered them, fed them, and rotated the soil where necessary. She moved some from direct light into the shade and others from shade into direct light. She checked her latest batch of seeds to see if any had sprouted yet or had grown big enough to move into the main section. It kept her busy, which was exactly what she needed.

Eventually, she ran out of things to do. With everything as it should be, she found her mind wandering back to the glowing lights of the omni trees and the limitless possibility of the one hidden beneath the tent. It didn’t seem right that something so singularly magnificent be sequestered away in the dark. Those incredible swirling branches weren’t the problem. If anything, the problem was those dark balls of oblivion that swallowed everything. 38 stopped herself. These kinds of thoughts were dangerous and not her place to be contemplating. That was 100’s job. If the Primes wanted her to tend the orchard, they would have asked. To distract herself, she opened a chart detailing the next planet the ship was visiting. An advance report showed a considerable amount of biodiversity, with a long list describing the plant life that had been initially observed. 38 scanned it. There was nothing here she hadn’t seen before. Nothing new. Nothing exciting. Nothing like…she shut her eyes hard. This wasn’t working. She decided her only choice now was to sleep, rest her mind, and awake refreshed and refocused.

She spent 20 long minutes with her eyes closed, but her mind refused to quiet down. Images of the trees, the orchard, the tent, and the Prime all paraded through her imagination one after the other. Sleep was going to be impossible. She sat up, ran her hand across the back of her neck and let out a deep sigh. She didn’t plan what she did next. She felt compelled to do something, but never in a millennium would she have been able to explain what or why. She stood up, grabbed her toolbelt, and slipped on a robe over top of it. She took one long look at her plants, and then headed into the hall.

Her first stop was the galley. There weren't any meals currently being served. Fortunately for 38, it was completely empty. Even 20, the chef, was nowhere to be found. 38 came here because this was where she first saw the Prime, and hopefully from where she could retrace her steps. She knew she was going the right way when she felt the thrum of energy in the air. Whereas before it had been unsettling, now she found comfort in its familiarity. There were a couple of splits in the path where 38 couldn’t remember which way they had gone and had to

trust her instinct. Fortunately, her instinct was good. She arrived at the door to the orchard in short order.

She might have had second thoughts and considered turning back if the doors to the orchard hadn’t been automatic. Sensing the presence of a Keeper, they slid open, practically beckoning 38 inside. She obliged and stepped over the threshold. Once inside, she stood stock still and listened for any other signs of life within. She heard no footsteps, no rustling, and no evidence that 100 was here tending to her duties. 38 stepped around the crates and headed straight for the tent at the back of the room. The omni tree inside had transformed in just the few short hours that 38 had seen it last. Entirely new loops and branches had been created as timelines ended, restarted, and rejoined others. In some places the loops were so tight and intertwined that it was impossible to see through them to the other side. It was beautiful.

38 looked down at the tools hanging from her belt and felt foolish. Granted, she used the most advanced equipment in the cosmos for her duties, but they were still made for plants made of stalks, leaves, and bark. Not universes made of light. And yet, she felt compelled to try something. If she damaged this universe in some way, no doubt the enterprising denizens within would correct it as they had countless other reality-ending catastrophes. In fact, this was the perfect place for experimentation — at least, that is how 38 internally rationalized her actions. It seemed like the sort of thing the humans in this reality would do. And that emboldened her. With a quivering hand, she grabbed her shears and found a low-hanging branch. Moving quickly so as to not overthink it, she reached up and clipped it at its base. Shockingly, the timeline fell to the ground, the same as any other physical branch might. 38 bent down and gingerly picked it up. It was heavier than she expected and crackling with energy. Merely holding it caused her fingers to feel numb, but she clutched it tightly nonetheless. With her scion in hand, 38 exited the tent, her destination already in mind. She approached the “complete” tree that the Prime had referenced before. The one in which every single branch ended with the ultimate finality of an immutable black sphere.

Normally, when grafting a branch onto another, one would cut into the existing branch and bind the two together. But cutting into a timeline seemed to be an impossibility. 38 considered this for a moment and then decided to try a new technique. She placed her shears as close to the onyx bulb of one of the branches as possible and cut down. Unlike the branch, the bulb fell and shattered into million small shards. Who knew nothingness was so fragile? 38 reached into her belt and pulled out a specially made binding. She held up her scion onto the fresh cut with one hand while wrapping it with the other. Once she had made enough revolutions that she was sure it would stay up, she took a step back. The odds were good that all of this sneaking around would amount to nothing. Even if it did work, who knew how long it may take for the graft to —

The thoughts of self-doubt were cut off by a flare of light. The seam where the two branches met sparked and shone brilliantly for a moment. In this new section, the steady pulse of

light was replaced by the rapid, dancing lights of the scion. And then it grew. It grew and bent back in on itself until it reconnected with the base of the tree. One by one, the black bulbs withered away and were replaced by new branches all swooping and swirling and searching for one another. Despite herself, 38 let out a yelp of joy. She hadn’t let herself hope that this would work, and yet, she had done it. She wasn’t sure how long she stood and watched the tree glow and dance. It might’ve been minutes; it might’ve been hours. She was about to leave and begin practicing her plea for forgiveness that she would no doubt have to give the Primes when something completely unexpected happened.

One of the branches of the omni tree in front of her stretched out, but instead of looping back around it wound its way outward like ivy searching for a place to anchor. It wandered out over the walkway, stretching over 38’s head, until ultimately settling atop another omni tree. Time and space are two sides of the same coin, 38 remembered Three’s words and saw now that the other Primes’ concerns were not unfounded. The same blinding flash followed and the light within the two trees synced into a single bouncing rhythm. The formerly straight and orderly branches began to twist, curl — and grow. Unhindered by the isolation of the tent, these orderly rows of omni trees didn’t have far to stretch their branches far at all before making contact with their neighbor. The cascading effect was as swift as it was inevitable. 38 watched in awe as one by one the trees connected to one another, each seemingly more quickly than the last. In mere moments, the orchard was no longer a collection of individual universes, but a giant collective all feeding off one another. She wasn’t sure what the Primes would say or do to her, but it didn’t matter. There wasn’t a single black bulb to be found anywhere in the orchard now. No endings. Only beginnings. Only perseverance. Only life.

The ship shuddered around her, violently interrupting her reverie. The low hum of the ship’s engine that had always permeated the air sputtered and stopped, leaving only a disquieting silence. In all her years as a Keeper, 38 had never experienced a stillness such as this. She felt a wave of panic wash over her. What had she done? She didn’t see how allowing the omni trees to connect could have affected the ship, but then again there was so much they didn’t know about them. Guilt was now starting to set in alongside the rising tide of anxiety. If she had put any of the other Keepers in danger she would never forgive herself.

38 walked away from the warm glow of the orchard back toward the entrance. She rounded the corner and stopped in her tracks. Light from the hallway was seeping into the room under the doorway, but it was not the pale white light that typically illuminated the ship. It wasn’t even the deep red of the emergency lights that sometimes came on when power to certain parts of the ship was temporarily cut off. No, this was a brilliant, dancing azure light that flowed from outside. Though she couldn’t put a finger on it, there was something familiar about this light. Familiar enough that she felt strangely unafraid when the doors slid open and two very unfamiliar shapes stepped through.

They were each a full head shorter than her and the most striking thing about them to 38 was that they looked so different from one another. One had hair as black as the cosmos itself with sharp, angular features. The other wore their vibrant red hair high on their head in an intricate braid and had a much softer, rounder shape to their face. They were undeniably the same, yet distinct. A novel concept for a clone that had gone her entire life surrounded by copies of herself. The source of the beautiful blue light was two vibrant, shining flowers they wore on their chest, flowers that 38 instantly recognized. Even though she was completely bewildered by what was happening, the sight of the blooms still brought a smile to her face.

They both bowed low, and when they arose the one with the red hair spoke softly, “Hello, Crescere.”

“I’m so sorry,” 38 said, “I think you have mistaken me for someone else. Who are you?”

“People you have saved,” said the other one, their eyes shining brightly in the light. “Merely two of trillions upon trillions of lives that have been made possible by your bravery and compassion. We’ve been looking for you a long time. For generations.”

38’s head was reeling. “For me? I’m sorry but I am not this Crescere. I am called 38.”

The first one spoke again, “You are at this moment in time. We know now that you are the 38th Keeper to have been born on this ship. But when our ancestors discovered that we owed our universe’s very existence to you, they didn’t know your name — or rather, your number. So they called you ‘Crescere’, which means ‘grow’ in an ancient language of our people.”

“And we’ve been looking for you ever since,” the red-haired one said, reverence in her voice. And then, almost timidly, they continued, “If you’d be willing, we’d like you to come with us.”

“Where?” asked 38.

“Everywhere,” The one with sharp eyes had a smile that promised the world. “Throughout all the universes to see and hear and experience everything you’ve made possible. If anyone deserves to see it, it’s you.”

The two visitors stepped aside in unison and gestured behind them. Past the door that typically led into the ship’s hallway was a glimmering portal that took up the entire width and height of the door frame. And through that portal, 38 could clearly see the command center of an entirely different vessel. She could see its crew, dozens of them, all lined up and watching with anticipation. Watching her. “They’re waiting for me?” she asked, and both nodded in agreement.

“Will you come?”

There was only one answer. “Yes.”

It appeared as if it took all the self-control these two possessed to not burst out into a cheer. The pure joy that filled them was visible in every line on their faces. The messenger with the dark hair reached deep into one of her pockets and carefully pulled a glowing blue flower, the light of its petals adding to the sapphire glow around them. They stepped forward and gingerly affixed it to 38 in the same place as their own.

“Thank you.” said 38. For the briefest moment, she thought of her plants, the omni trees, and Three, who had been so kind to her. Of what staying here in the safety of the company of the Keepers would mean. But what lay before her was not a destiny that had been chosen for her, but one that she had quite literally made. Crescere, she thought as she adjusted the flower. It was beautiful — and she had never had a name before.