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The sound of creaking floorboards seemed to stretch out into the void beyond, here. Each step echoing into the infinity of this... projection? illusion? that the Eye of the Universe was showing Kyanite. They wandered through the museum for a very long time—seconds and hours and days bleeding into a single moment, here at the end of the universe.
As much as this quantum echo gave Kyanite a sense of closure, it also brought a few questions. Was this the result of their memories influencing the Eye, or is this what the Eye thinks(?) of what it observed? Did it observe their solar system directly, or did it review the Hearthian's memories the moment they stepped into the vortex?
How far can I go with this?, Kyanite ponders. If it could produce echoes of the museum, could it show them more? Could they use this to relive the comforts of home for the last time? They pondered the infinite possibilities as they teetered on the edge of the museum's steps. With a step they braced for impact, closed their eyes...
... and landed on solid ground. When Kyanite relaxed and looked up, they saw the village they called home stretch beyond the quantum museum, with the smallest sliver of sun over the crater's edge. No one was outside, but the flickering lights in each home seemingly called to the young astronaut. There seemed to be wind, which pushed them forward ever-so-slightly, so they removed their helmet and tucked it under their arm.
They took a breath, relishing the smell of the riverbank and old Nomai artifacts and distant fires, and it was just how they remembered it. And yet none of it was real, and would never be real again. For the first time since ending the loop did the weight of everything that happened finally hit Kyanite. So used to the numbness of a repeating cosmic dance, that they never considered how it might feel when they'd have to take that last step and start turning off the lights.
Well. While I'm here, I might as well look around, Kyanite turned left and started bounding downhill. When they finally reached the last jump before the pre-launch campsite, Kyanite was stunned.
Blink. There's Slate, with blueprints laid out before them and schematics tacked onto the walls, working on the first drafts for Kyanite's ship.
Blink. Gossan is leaning against a tree with a bandage pressed to their face, while Feldspar pats them on the back and Slate rummages through the crash for parts.
Blink. The elevator is gone completely, with a ramp going up to the launch pad instead. Feldspar is hyping themselves up as they run along the side of the tree.
Interesting. That answers a few of Kyanite's questions, though it also brings a lot more. They eventually step away from the campsite, now host to some Nomai equipment before their eyes, take a stroll through the village's history.
Blink, at Mica's rocket model site. Suddenly there's Hornfels and Feldspar discussing if a spaceship is even possible, and looking over the village for a suitable launch zone.
Blink, at Porphy's doorstep. Kyanite gets to see the Outer Wilds Ventures founders sharing a bottle of sap wine and telling tall tales.
Blink, at the hatchling's cabin. Instead of Tephra and Galena, Kyanite sees flashes their own childhood; Spinel corralling all of them into the cabin, pillow fights with Riebeck and Marl, and staying up doing homework in their bunkbed.
Blink, at the mineshaft. Kyanite sees several Hearthians they don't recognize standing next to mayor Rutile, as the mines are first opened.
When Kyanite gets to their cabin, the one by the waterfall, they don't want to look at all. But they hear Hal's gentle laugh and the crackle of a fireplace, and they can't help but peer through the window.
When they blink, early morning sunlight is streaming through as a version of Kyanite and Hal first walk into the room. They're both carrying their stuff from the kid's cabin, with Hal immediately setting up their writing desk. In the next moment, Kyanite and Hal are at the dining table with papers and food strewn everywhere. Both of them with pencils in hand as they work to decipher the Nomai language. The Kyanite outside, the one observing, wipes their eyes. When they look back, they see the soft golden glow of sunset as Hal is trying to fix the cabin's generator before nightfall.
The observer blinks one more time, and the only light comes from the lanterns inside the cabin itself. Kyanite and Hal are curled together in bed, whispering sweet nothings at each other until one of them gets an idea and has to reach for a notepad on the bureau.
Kyanite steps away from the cabin, tears in all four of their eyes, and looks back along the path, back towards the village where a thousand moments pass in front of them. This was their home, where they built as much of a life as they could before they were inexplicably made to be the universe's final witness. The last Hearthian tears away from the tender scene before them and almost marches back toward the village, retreating into these memories as a final comfort, but they pause.
Could they really stomach being here, among ghosts, reliving a finished story over and over? Could they sit still and rewind these scenes until the universe's very energy dissipates and fades into obscurity? Kyanite thinks of the Nomai; a species who kept losing, no matter what they did, until they lost their lives. The Nomai had been lost to their sister clans, lost their people, their own identities as they pursued a mystery they thought could make all of yesterday's pain worth it.
And yet the Nomai also held love for tomorrow. They nurtured their young and encouraged their growth, whether in pursuance of the Eye or any other project. They made art and built memorials to mourn their losses and celebrate the future. They preserved the environments around them, taking only what was necessary and ensuring a bountiful tomorrow for those little creatures on Timber Hearth.
Kyanite trembles in place, but holds firm. They feel grief for every person, every promising sunrise, every damp shirt, every moment of life they ever knew. And then they let that grief pass through them. It's time to end this, as they wipe their eyes. When they look towards the village again, it is well and truly night. The ghosts are no longer there and the village is quiet, blanketed in a sense of tranquility as the lights in each house slowly turn off.
Kyanite faces the observatory and walks forward, the light from their cabin fading as well. It's time to say good night, to make room for tomorrow.
As Kyanite prepares to watch the universe die, they think of the lives that can happen beyond them. They hold as much love in their heart for those unknowable tomorrows that they'll never see as they hold for those simple yesterdays that they'll never be able to come back to. When all is said and done, the people of the next universe will never know the stories of those that came before. But maybe, if the Eye could reach back and pull from yesterday's memories; perhaps it can pass these simple joys forward.
And when the last Hearthian reaches to touch the display of the Eye of the Universe, holding every memory and every comfort as they prepare to let these things go, they think:
May tomorrow be filled with all I loved and more, for those I can never know.