As if it wasn’t enough to know everything he’d known was lost to oblivion, another thought hit him: now what? With the Earth gone, where was he to go? What was he to do? He sat back with a sigh. “Just when I thought I’d thought of every single detail,” he murmured.
Even if you had thought of everything, well, you know the old saying.
Bob bolted upright. That voice, where did it come from? His eyes shot around his tiny craft, then he pressed his nose to the glass. A dusty cloud, silver in color, had surrounded him. He began to panic, what was going on?
He heard the voice again: Poor thing, don’t fret. You’re not losing your mind. At least, it added with a sort of “auditory” smirk, not yet.
“What are you?” he squeaked.
Ah, such a simple question. But just as often as not simple questions yield complex answers. But I’ll do my best. Physically speaking, I am but a cloud of dust surrounding you. Other than that, I’m only an essence, a figment. A sort of beacon in this vast nothingness of space.