All Tomorrows

Such experiments were numerous, and usually plagued with failure. Yet they did succeed in creating a future. Sealed tight in their moon sized, air filled, weightless havens, the descendants of the Star People managed to evade the scourge of Qu.

It was an endless diaspora. Even after the Qu left, they would find themselves too divergent to have anything to do with their ancestral lifestyles. The survivors of the initial hurdle would never set foot on a planet again.

Forty million years from today, Spacers like this individual are the only truly sentient human beings that survive. They are so comfortable in their weightless refuges that the fates of their bestial cousins elsewhere do not concern them. They are also painfully rare; their entire population in the Milky Way Galaxy does not exceed a few dozen arks and a hundred billion souls.

Ruin Haunters

A particular human species, singled out by its lucky access to the heritage of its stellar ancestors, would eventually get to play a leading role in the shape of things to come.

They had gotten through the Qu invasion with relatively little degradation; yes, they had been reduced to the level of apes, but their recovery had been quick. Apparently, the Qu had not worked as hard at suppressing their intelligence. Nor had they made a comparable effort to wipe away the material traces of the Star Men. Even after millions of years, enormous ruins of the global urban spaces littered the continents of their world. Thus did the Ruin Haunters earn their names.

With developed minds and unrestricted access to the wisdom of the ancient cities, the exponential pace of their development was only natural. One by one they deciphered and built upon the secrets of the bygone Star People, until they almost equaled their galactic ancestors in wisdom and skill.

All of this development happened in an unnaturally short period of time, and sometimes the old technologies were not even understood as they were blindly replicated. Needless to say, such a pace of development put premature stresses on the social and political structures of the Ruin Haunters. They barely survived the five consecutive world wars that raked their planet, two of which were thermonuclear exchanges.

They made it through, their baptism with fire had hardened and awakened them. The wars united them politically and pushed their technological capabilities even beyond the level of the Star Men. Co-incidentally, they also developed a dangerous form of autochthonous madness. The Ruin Haunters had come to believe that they were the sole descendants and the true heirs of the Star People. And they were ready and willing to do anything in order to claim their fictitious, bygone Golden Age.

Only a thousand years after the Qu departure, a Ruin Haunter wanders among the shattered remains of a city of the Star People. The dominating form of an even greater Qu pyramid can be seen in the background.

Sentience Reborn

If any sort of periodical arrangement can be brought to the history of mankind, the post-Qu era of emerging human animals can be likened to a series of millennial dark ages. However, like any “dark age” situation, these periods of silence had finite life spans. One by one, like stars emerging from the fog, new civilizations were born out of the shattered remnants of mankind.

In some rare cases, the recovery was swift and straightforward. In most other situations, it came only after a lengthy series of adaptive radiations, extinctions and secondary diversifications.

Within these lines of descent, there was as much distance between the initial post-humans and their intelligent descendants as between the first Cretaceous fuzzballs and Homo sapiens.

Sooner or later, human intelligence returned to the cosmos. But except from their shared ancestry, these new people had nothing in common with “people” of today, or even each other.

Extinction

Not all human animals made it through. In fact, it must be realized that the majority of post-Qu humans died out during the eras of transition. Extinction, the utter and absolute death of an entire family, entire community, entire species, was rampant in the galaxy.

There was nothing cruel or dramatic in all of this. Extinction was as common, and as natural as speciation. Sometimes a species simply failed to adapt to competition, or the abrupt change of conditions. In other occasions, their numbers dwindled across imperceptible gulfs of time. This way or the other, human animals faded out.

In all of this death, however, there was new life. As one species vacated a certain niche, others would soon step in to take its place. Adaptive radiations would follow, filling in the blanks with myriads of diverse and varied forms. Despite the fallen, the flow of life would proceed, blazing in constant turnover.