Two hundred years ago, I discovered something as our sun lay dying in the sky. A signal from far beyond, pulsing like the beat of an ancient heart. Calling to me. Beckoning me towards it. It brought with it the promise of salvation, of a new home for all of us. 

I shouldn’t have told them. 

One hundred and ninety-seven years ago, we decided to leave our planet to search for that signal. We’d need a ship. One bigger and more powerful than any we had built before, with all the resources our species would need for a journey that would span decades. 

I shouldn’t have built it. 

One hundred and twenty-two years ago, we reached the signal, after passing through countless galaxies. We witnessed thousands of stars be consumed by age, the tiny points of light in the vast expanse of our universe dwindling slowly, one by one. It didn’t matter. The object of our search was finally within reach, and it was about to explain everything to us. 

I shouldn’t have listened to it. 

One hundred and twenty years ago, we took it upon ourselves to make sure no other civilisation ever heard the signal again. Its salvation wasn’t salvation at all; it was annihilation. The thing was a weapon, waiting to be fired. A weapon that would destroy every planet, every star, every galaxy, and every single living creature. It would erase our universe. It would erase us. We couldn’t destroy the thing, so we built a device to block the signal instead. 

I shouldn’t have activated it. 

Eighty-four years ago, our sun exploded. We all stood there, watching, as our old world was turned to ash and dust. Our world, that we had stripped of all resources and abandoned, left for dead long before its time was up. We all knew that this was not the end of our world. That had happened long, long ago. 

I shouldn’t have thought about it too hard. 

Fifty-seven years ago, most of the stars in the sky were gone. A deep, empty darkness was swallowing our universe, and I couldn’t help but wonder about the purpose of that signal. If it were a weapon of destruction, why only reveal itself at the end of our universe’s lifetime? Unless, of course, it wasn’t a weapon, but a tool. Perhaps by annihilating our dying universe, a new one would rise from the ashes. 

I shouldn’t have tried to use it. 

Today, I remain sealed in this prison, incarcerated for putting our race at risk. I pleaded with them, tried to make them see reason, but they couldn’t see past their own selfishness. Our race was dying, along with our universe. There was nothing more we could do. My one and only hope is that they haven’t realised I deactivated the signal blocker, too. Perhaps another race will hear the signal, and do what I failed to do. 

We should have stayed home.