And so The Surveyor continued on the task that was required of it every two billion years: to monitor the current state of the universe and be sure everything was running smoothly. The Surveyor made absolutely sure to never make a personal comment in its lengthy reports. It felt no grief for the stars that had been destroyed since its last inspection, nor joy for the new stars that had been birthed. The Surveyor’s employers asked only one thing of it: to observe and record the status of the universe with complete impartiality.
Having finished recording every minute detail regarding the latest star in its journey, The Surveyor moved to the next one in scarcely any time at all.
“Star 217,490,726 of the Fifth Arm of Galaxy 486,347,145 is a G-class star, currently in the process of becoming a main-sequence star…” The Surveyor recorded every detail for this star, a routine it had performed so many times now it could be done from memory. Having finished that, it was time for the duty of observing the star’s satellites.
“This star possesses four planets, each with a considerable quantity of moons. Closer to the star lies a belt of small pieces of rocky debris. Even closer are four larger pieces of debris, two of which even possess moons of their own.” The Surveyor transported itself to the surface of its next object of study, paying no mind to the unbearable heat. “Debris-1 has a mass of approximately 33 sextillion kilograms, and completes an orbit of its star over a period of…”
Another segment of its routine fulfilled, The Surveyor near-instantly transported itself to the surface of the second piece of debris, repeated the process, then headed towards the third.
Off the coast of Australia, a fishing boat full of men continued on a routine of its own, though with much less enthusiasm. One of the fishermen just had his wife leave him. One of them has never had a wife, and has spent each new day worrying further that the rest of his life will be spent on this boat. One of their own died just last week, and his best friend hadn’t been the same since. They swallow down their pain and continue on their work, but no matter how well they hide it, not a single one of the men aboard is happy.
Directly underneath these men, The Surveyor continued its dictations. A solitary fish swam past. The Surveyor took brief notice of the creature, before paying it no further mind. The fish stopped its course, staying directly next to The Surveyor. A second fish swam towards The Surveyor and stopped, then a third. In a short amount of time, The Surveyor found itself surrounded by a whole swarm of life. It continued its observations as scheduled, almost as if it was unaware of what was around it.
“Why the hell is this pull so light?” asked one of the fishermen up above, getting his first look at the net the crew was pulling up.
“Don’t matter. Plenty of fish in the sea.”
“But our pull never looks like this. It’s pitiful, is what it is.”
“Quit your whinin’ and help pull it up.”
Before long, the two crewmen began insulting each other. The rest of the crew quietly groaned to themselves. The last thing their day needed was an argument to listen to, and now every last one of them felt like their day had just been made worse. All of them but one, who was deaf to the chaos around him. His eyelids lowered and a huge grin spread across his face. He let go of the rope and gently fell to the floor.
“What the hell’s your problem?” screamed one of the crewmen. “Get up here and help us!”
“Guy looks like he’s tanked, I think.”
The smiling crewman ignored everything around him. Suddenly, nothing mattered. It didn’t matter that they hadn’t fished enough, or that he wasn’t sure if he could pay the rent, or that Bill died last week. He had an unexplainable presence in his gut, something that told him everything would be OK. The Surveyor rose onto the boat, and the rest of the crew fell to the floor smiling as well. The net fell to the ocean, the scant amount of fish in it swimming away.
“What are you?” asked one of the crewmen in a relaxed tone, barely mustering the ability to speak to the incorporeal being in front of him.
“He’s beautiful, is what he is! He’s made everything OK! I bet we’ll be able to fish three times as much as usual from now on!”
“Screw fishin’! We’re never going to have to work again now!”
“Atmosphere is approximately 78% nitrogen, 21% oxygen, trace amounts of other gases…” observed The Surveyor. “Surface is largely composed of aluminum and…” For the first time in its career, The Surveyor paused its report out of uncertainty. It looked out of the boat to see the surrounding ocean, then looked back at the surface it was standing on, paying no attention to the throngs of partially-conscious crewmen around it. Just as quickly as The Surveyor had appeared aboard the boat, it had vanished. The crewmen soon returned to their senses, though a lingering feeling of bliss still remained.
“Surface is largely composed of carbon, oxygen, and hydrogen…” said The Surveyor, having transported itself into the middle of a savannah. It continued going into detail about the soil composition, giving no notice to the sea of vegetation surrounding it. It travelled a short distance further, finding itself amidst a throng of huts. People sat on the streets, riddled with disease. Two children moaned to their parents in hunger. A teenage girl bit down in pain as she underwent her circumcision.
“What is that?” asked one of the men in the street.
“What is what?” replied another.
“That…good feeling in the air. You don’t feel it too?” explained the first man, shortly before collapsing in an uproarious laughter. The second man soon followed suit.
“I know what you’re talking about!” shrieked a woman, smiling maniacally. “That thing over there! He’s causing it all!” Before long, the entire village claimed to see the being without form. The villagers slowly inched towards The Surveyor, stopping just shy of its presence. The feeling of starvation disappeared. The girl going through her rite of passage let out sighs of pure ecstasy, unaware she was actually experiencing the worst possible pain. The crowd gave a constant stream of thanks to The Surveyor for what it had done, to the point that every word they said just blurred together and became noise. The Surveyor transported itself away, letting the villagers revert to their usual mindset.
“Surface in this area is largely composed of calcium, silicon, and…” The Surveyor paused once more, then silently reminded itself of its duty: reports with complete impartiality, and without emotion. It just barely managed to contain the embarrassment of being so unsure over its own findings. The Surveyor looked around to see gargantuan buildings all around it, and a well-lit landscape despite being nighttime. In a nearby apartment, a mother tried in vain to protect her children and herself from the drunken episodes of the man of the house. In a back alley, a derelict was begging to his dealer. A prostitute anxiously walked the streets, fearing what was in store for her if she didn’t get any customers that night. The Surveyor roamed the area, preparing the final touches for the newest segment of its report. Bystanders turned their heads toward The Surveyor. For the third time, hushed whispers spread amongst the masses asking what this newcomer was and saying how good they feel. The crowd once more went unnoticed by The Surveyor, who continued travelling. As it moved, the crowd moved with it.
“Is it God?” murmured a woman in the following mob.
“I don’t know,” answered a man. “I know I’m done worrying about the stock market from now on, though!” he laughed.
“It’s all going to be all right, thanks to him,” another follower assured herself. “Whatever he is, he’s kind. He cares about us. He came here to make it all better for us. Forever!” Her eyes flared up in excitement. “Make my mother walk again!” she screamed at The Surveyor.
“Make me rich!”
“Make her come back to me!”
“End all the war!”
“Bring back my baby!”
The demands being made of The Surveyor rapidly grew louder and more frequent. As they continued to be in The Surveyor’s vicinity, their elation grew. The wishes they shouted began to sound less and less out of desperation, approaching a near-orgasmic tone. They knew everything they wanted was happening as they spoke, thanks to The Surveyor. It must have been that way. A man dug his fingernails so firmly into his own forehead that blood began to trickle out. He laughed with glee, completely oblivious to the pain. Every other sound in the city was drowned out by the shrieks of pure euphoria coming from the increasingly larger crowd that was following The Surveyor’s every movement.
The Surveyor stopped to look at a tree planted in a nearby grate. The instant it stopped, the entire crowd stopped with it, waiting with bated breath for their idol’s next action. For a solid two minutes, the loudest area on the planet was dead silent. The Surveyor carefully examined the tree, then disappeared. The crowd stood absentmindedly, unsure about what had happened.
“Debris-3 has changed little since last inspection,” said The Surveyor once it returned to the empty vastness of space. “Its surface is still mostly liquid, and its atmosphere still contains a considerable quantity of oxygen. Changes include an axial tilt of 23.44 degrees, and an increased development in the parasites noticed during the last inspection.”
The Surveyor left behind another one of the many objects it had already inspected and continued on its job.
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