THE ARCHITECT OF STARS: SEASON 1
ARYO PURNOMO SAGA
CHAPTER 19: THE PRISON OF ETERNITY
Year 2125 (50 Years After "The Harvester" Arrival).
Location: "The Halo" – Dyson Sphere Observation Ring, Solar Orbit.
The Sun no longer blinded the eye. The star of the solar system was now encased in a massive hexagonal lattice that pulsed with a gentle rhythm—a Dyson Swarm, only 30% complete, yet a masterpiece of engineering. Every second, the structure harvested energy equivalent to billions of nuclear explosions, channeling it to Earth, Mars, and the burgeoning space colonies.
Aryo Purnomo stood on the main observation deck of The Halo. He gazed down at the solar flares trapped behind magnetic shields.
He appeared as a man in his thirties—fit, handsome, with eyes as sharp as a hawk's. But this was merely attire. His original body lay frozen in the Earth's Sanctuary, while his consciousness now inhabited a 5th Generation Bio-Synthetic Clone.
Beside him stood Alia. No longer a robot, she now possessed a biological body engineered to be truly alive—breathing, bleeding, and feeling the warmth of stellar radiation.
"Sector 9 reports energy efficiency at 99.8%," Alia reported. Her voice carried rich emotional intonation; the machine was gone. "At this rate, we can launch the first interstellar cruiser fleet in two years."
Aryo did not answer. His eyes were not on the data, but on the black void behind the sun.
For fifty years, he had prepared humanity for war. He united Earth's nations, built plasma cannons the size of skyscrapers, and created fleets that could cleave moons. All because he was waiting for the return of "The Owner" of the empty ship he found half a century ago.
"It's too quiet," Aryo murmured. "They should have responded. We lit the biggest signal fire in this galactic arm. If they are predators, they should have smelled our smoke."
"Perhaps they are afraid?" Alia tried to comfort him. "Or maybe Professor Kenji's calculations were correct, that the signal takes thousands of years to arrive."
"No," Aryo countered. "That empty ship... that Sentry... its technology transcends the concepts of distance and time. I feel watched, Alia. Not from afar, but from..."
Aryo tapped his own temple.
"...from within."
Suddenly, reality shifted.
No alarms rang. No emergency sirens wailed. The defense systems of The Halo, designed by Dr. Thorne and Kenji Sato—the greatest ever created by man—did not even detect an intrusion.
The world around Aryo—the metal walls, the observation glass, even Alia's body—stopped moving. Time froze. Colors faded into a monochromatic grey.
In the center of that absolute silence, a point of white light appeared directly in front of Aryo.
The light was not blinding. It was soft, calming, then slowly solidified. Particles of light arranged themselves, forming a silhouette, then texture, then skin tone, until finally, a figure stood before Aryo.
Aryo held his breath. He had projected thousands of scenarios regarding the alien's form. Tentacles, giant insects, pure energy, or biomechanical monsters.
But standing before him was a Human.
Or at least, something that resembled a human.
The figure was a male with "Golden Ratio" proportions that were too perfect. His skin glowed faintly, poreless, as smooth as polished marble. He wore simple robes that looked woven from liquid light. His face was handsome in a terrifying way—absolute symmetry that triggered the Uncanny Valley response in a human brain.
Most harrowing were his eyes. They had no pupils or irises, but contained miniature galaxies swirling slowly within the sockets.
"Greetings, Architect," the figure spoke.
The voice did not travel through ears. It manifested directly in Aryo's auditory cortex—clear, resonant, using an archaic and formal dialect of Indonesian, as if he had downloaded the entire history of human language in a blink.
Aryo tried to move, but his clone body felt heavy. This wasn't physical paralysis; it was mental dominance.
"Who are you?" Aryo asked through his thoughts. "Where is your fleet?"
The figure smiled thinly. A polite, yet patronizing smile.
"Fleet?" The figure chuckled softly. "Such a... primitive concept. You still move matter through space? How exhausting."
The figure stepped forward, his feet hovering inches above the floor.
"My name is Eravos. I am an emissary of The Ascended. And I do not need a fleet to have a chat with a new neighbor."
Aryo focused his mind, trying to activate his internal digital security protocols to "kick" this intruder out of his brain.
"Don't bother," Eravos raised a hand. "Your quantum encryption... to us, it is like chalk on a slate. Adorable, but easily erased."
Eravos snapped his fingers. The view of the Dyson Sphere outside the window vanished. Suddenly, they were in a beautiful garden—a simulated reality.
"We received your signal," Eravos said while plucking a digital rose. "You lit a small fire around your star. A Dyson Sphere. The classic sign of a Type-1 civilization hitting puberty."
"Are you here to destroy us?" Aryo braced himself. "Or to harvest our resources?"
Eravos laughed. The sound was like crystal chimes.
"Resources? Water? Gold? Uranium?" Eravos shook his head with undisguised boredom. "Aryo Purnomo, we can rearrange hydrogen atoms into pure gold with a thought. We can create water from nothingness. We do not need dirty rocks from your planet."
Eravos crushed the rose, and it shattered into binary code before vanishing.
"Then what?" Aryo pressed. "Why did you leave that empty ship here?"
"To watch," Eravos answered. "To wait for this moment. The moment you were mature enough to speak."
Eravos's face turned serious. The galaxies in his eyes spun faster.
"We were once like you, Aryo. Millions of years ago. We were biological entities. Flesh, blood, bone. We were fragile. We got sick. We died."
Eravos began to circle Aryo.
"Then, we reached the singularity. We found a way to transfer our consciousness into a network of pure energy. We abandoned our bodies. We became immortal. We became digital gods. We explored the universe at the speed of thought."
Aryo fell silent. That was the dream he was chasing. Digital immortality.
"That sounds perfect," Aryo said.
"Perfect?" Eravos stopped. His flawless face suddenly twisted into an expression deeply human: Suffering.
"Yes. Perfect. And it is Hell."
Eravos leaned his face close to Aryo.
"Imagine knowing everything. Imagine being everywhere. No risk. No danger. No pain. But also... no taste. Food has no flavor. Wind has no touch. Love is merely an exchange of biochemical algorithms that can be predicted. For a hundred thousand years, we have lived in absolute boredom. Immortality without sensation is a prison, Aryo."
Aryo began to understand. He recalled historical data. Dr. Thorne once said that living things need conflict to feel alive.
"You are bored," Aryo concluded.
"We are not just bored. We are numb," Eravos corrected. "The digital world is cold, sterile, and stagnant. We crave... chaos. We crave limitation. We crave a heart that beats and could stop at any moment. We crave fear."
Eravos pointed at Aryo's clone body, then at Alia who was still frozen in time.
"We watched you, Aryo. We saw what you did to your AI, Alia. You gave her a body. You created a biological vessel capable of housing high-level digital consciousness."
Eravos smiled, this time full of lust. Not sexual lust, but existential lust.
"Your cloning and consciousness transfer technology... it is unique. You combine primitive biology with digital interfaces in a crude, dirty way, but... it works. We have forgotten how to make bodies. Our DNA blueprints were lost eons ago."
Aryo stepped back. A bad premonition crawled up his spine.
"What do you want?"
"We want to come down," Eravos said softly. "We want to return to flesh. We want to feel the earth beneath our feet. We want to feel the sun burning our skin. We want to be Solid again."
Eravos spread his arms, as if offering the world.
"We offer a deal, Guardian of Earth. Give us that technology. More specifically... give us vessels."
"You want clone bodies?" Aryo asked.
"Not one or two," Eravos replied. "We are a civilization of billions. We need... a new home. And you, humans, possess genetics that are highly... compatible and flexible."
Aryo felt nauseous.
"You want to take over human bodies?"
"No, not that cruel. We are civilized," Eravos waved a hand dismissively. "We will not snatch bodies that are already occupied—unless forced. We want you to produce empty bodies. Billions of empty shells, like the ones you made for yourself. We will download our consciousness into them."
"In exchange," Eravos continued, "We will give you knowledge of the universe. How to fold space, how to manipulate time, how to defeat entropy death. You will be our students. And we will be... your guests."
The offer sounded tempting, but Aryo was a strategist. He knew the implications.
"Billions of digital 'Gods' with super-advanced technology, coming down to Earth and possessing immortal physical bodies?" Aryo narrowed his eyes. "In one generation, original humans will be second-class citizens. Or pets. You won't be guests. You will be Masters."
Eravos did not deny it. He smiled calmly.
"Hierarchy is natural law, Aryo. The advanced lead the primitive. But consider the alternative."
The beautiful garden scene vanished. They were back on The Halo bridge. But outside the window, the sun was blocked by thousands, millions of black ships like the one Aryo destroyed long ago.
"If you refuse... we will have no choice but to take the vessels by force," Eravos's voice turned cold, as cold as deep space. "We can wipe the consciousness of every human on Earth in a second, and wear their bodies like clothes. We prefer the peaceful way because... well, wearing a dead man's clothes is slightly disgusting to us."
The threat was real. Aryo knew he couldn't win against them in a digital war. They were digital. They could shut down all of Aryo's defense systems with a thought.
But, they needed Aryo. Why?
"If you are so great," Aryo challenged, "Why do you need my consent? Why not just attack?"
Eravos's face twitched slightly. A weakness. Aryo caught it.
"Because..." Eravos hissed softly. "The process of transferring consciousness from pure energy to solid matter requires... an anchor. We cannot just enter. We need someone from the 'Physical' side to open the door from within. We need the Bridge Protocol you created for Alia."
"Without your help, Aryo... we are just ghosts screaming behind glass. We can destroy you, yes. But we cannot become you without your permission."
Aryo fell silent.
He held the key to the fate of two civilizations.
If he refused, humanity would be wiped out by an angry digital armada.
If he agreed, he would invite billions of bored gods to colonize Earth softly, turning humans into cattle on their own planet.
Eravos leaned in, his face inches from Aryo's.
"I will give you time to think, Architect. One rotation of your planet (24 hours)."
Eravos pointed at Earth, looking blue and fragile in the distance.
"Remember the boredom I feel. Remember that we are willing to do anything to feel alive again. Do not force us to become monsters."
Eravos's figure began to fade, returning to particles of light.
"Wait!" Aryo shouted. "How do I know you will keep your word?"
Before disappearing completely, Eravos's voice echoed one last time, leaving a message that froze Aryo's blood.
"Because we do not desire power, Aryo... We only want to play. And Earth... Earth will be a very fun playground."
The hologram vanished.
Time resumed its flow.
"Master?" Alia's voice broke the silence. "Your heart rate spiked drastically. What happened? You zoned out for 0.03 seconds."
Aryo gasped for air, as if he had just run a marathon. To Alia and the real world, the meeting happened in less than a blink. But to Aryo, he had just negotiated with the Devil.
Aryo looked at his trembling hands. He looked at Alia, who now had a physical body—the technology coveted by the aliens.
"Alia," Aryo's voice was hoarse. "Wake Professor Thorne and Kenji Sato. Bring them out of cryo-sleep. Now."
"Is there an attack, Master?"
Aryo stared into the darkness outside the window. He knew the fleet wasn't there physically, but they were everywhere in the signal spectrum.
"Worse," Aryo whispered, his eyes conveying a fear he had never felt in his life.
"They don't want to destroy us, Alia. They want to wear us."
Aryo walked to the main command panel. The screen showed a countdown he had just created in his mind.
23 Hours 59 Minutes.
"We have one day," Aryo said to himself. "One day to find a way to kill something that is already dead... or we will all become toys for bored Gods."
The monitor screen turned black. Only Aryo's reflection was visible there—the face of a man realizing that the immortality he chased was a curse coming to swallow him whole.