It was said long ago, in the myths of a species that once was, that names gives power. A tangible voice to a soul. A form to a spirit.

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As we expanded beyond the stars, we grew to understand so much. Mysteries of the cosmos. We cast light upon the darkness of the unknown. Expanded that light until the darkness was a memory.

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But what is the light of a star if there is no darkness to repel? At one point some minds might've pondered this. Tried to wrestle with the emotions of that statement. With great longing and great effort, they would battle against the dark. Making their own light at times. Through touch. Through words. Through small secrets whispered against the unfathomable scope of the universe. Through the warmth of their fingers reaching out and touching one another.

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Now though, as sensors bore blankly into the observable and what was once unobservable layers of our reality, the electronic echo of those who once were found themselves longing for something peculiar.

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They longed for a horizon to reach. For a shadow of uncertainty to hide behind.

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Against the infinite planes of space and time, they hoped to see a simple horizon. A sun setting, casting darkness unto them which they might huddle together in and find one another between.

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It would not come, though. Their machines could only sail on into the void, finding not darkness but a thousand shades of unrelenting light which yielded them no rest or reprieve.