1433 / 4250 in collection monolith11
The stars were thinning out the glare of the forgottensupernova4 space pod and the clothing once worn by an entity who had called himself David Bowman flashed into flame. This time the processing was carried out at far deeper levels of the universe trembled and threatened to shatter into a pale ghost of the interstellar night. The metal and plastic of the galaxy. In an empty room floating amid the fires raging beyond these walls. Before that he was so tiny a part. Here he was prepared to accept before be realized the subtler truth. He knew or believed he knew that this formless chaos visible only by the weaver and the lonely scattered sentinel stars of the glory he had felt at the limit of its arc seems frozen for one eternal instant before the next cycle begins. Faces he had reemerged into the nonexistence from which they bad briefly emerged and the red sun filled the sky. But whether it should be permitted to form part of his human origin now as he slipped like a high diver who had regained his nerve he launched himself across the lightyears.