Now I've seen everything. We were all so wrong. All of this—the machines, the Eliksni, the worms, the Light, the Nine. All of it meaningless. This galaxy is tumbling toward a singular conclusion and there is nothing—no one—that can stop it. How could I have missed this? It's the small moments, the simple pleasures that matter. They're all I can think about now. Food and drink aren't mere sustenance. They're a reminder that I am alive. This Leviathan. This prison ship. I will remake it, as I have been remade. No longer will it represent a mythical beast from the dreams of worms. It will serve as an icon for my newfound gluttony.