"Peter David - IQ" - читать интересную книгу автора (David Peter)

they ever did was of benefit to the commonweal, and consequently
nothing good ever stemmed from their actions Conversely, there were
individuals of such purity that they were incapable of harming anyone
or anything.

Of course.." sometimes the vile individuals inadvertently killed
someone who was even more vile than they, so greater suffering was
averted. And sometimes those of the purest nature gave succor to
someone who wasn't deserving, leaving that individual free to do even
greater harm. The same old song that put the "verse" in multi verse
not to mention "perverse."

But. But, but, but... There was nothing in the multi verse that could
really be counted on, nothing that served as a bedrock. The center had
not held, and the multi verse that grand experiment, had become an
abysmal failure.

Life. Life had held fascination for her.." once.

The variety of life that existed was limitless. In one galaxy, there
was a race that was so old, it had forgotten it was even alive. In
another, a race of beings lived as pure thought. In yet another there
was a group that assumed it was the preeminent force, not realizing
there was another race far more advanced, albeit microscopic, living
out its life as undetectable entities within the minds of the
"superior" race, manipulating everything they did. Every war, every
discovery, every step forward or back that the "superior" race had
taken was, in fact, the collective life of a totally unknown race of
beings whose existence hadn't even been thought of and, indeed, never
would be discerned by these "oh, so superior" beings.

And yet each life, each race, so different from one another, sought the
same things: survival; happiness (although the definitions varied
widely), propagation of the species; good food; good companions;
good.." life.
But. But, but, but... They were so damned noisy!

When the multi verse began, it wasn't teeming with life. It was
gloriously, stupendously quiet. Back then, it was possible to think,
to contemplate, to look about and truly appreciate the multi verse for
what it was. Unfortunately, it had been impossible to leave well
enough alone. More lives had sprung forward, one piling atop another,
until the multi verse was a cacophony of voices raised in songs of joy
or shouts of protest. It was distracting and annoying; and it made her
nostalgic for the way it had been in the beginning. Or at least how it
had seemed in the beginning.

She now stood upon the beach and contemplated an end to it all.

She liked the beach. She liked that the water lapped on the shore,