It came, invisible, in the night. A ray of light coalesced into single, teardrop form. Rainbow colors shone as it passed before the Sun, harsh and naked in the emptiness of the void. No art could be seen in these reflections, only the stark fury of that radiant orb unmasked and raw.

These waves of purity were erased as the grand body of its target became interposed, standing as Leviathan between the two. Coldness of space enveloped the Egg for a scant moment, and then fire sprang anew as silver met atmosphere. A cascading display of pyrotechnics that cloaked the smooth object, though nearly frictionless it still caught ablaze in the heat of its own passing.

Smoke trailed the falling thing in a graceful arc that would have stood in punctuation had the time been otherwise, but in the concealing grasp of darkness it passed unseen. It was a finger of light against clouded sky, just another shooting star.

Then it met the Earth itself. An impact that drove into the Mother herself, felt far beyond any falling stone or work of man to date. But it wasn’t for man to feel. This was a work beyond his understanding and only those amongst the races who were sensitive to such things noticed the meeting.

Waves of discomfort went out from there as the Mother cried out ‘Violation!’ Animals echoed this sentiment as birds took flight in clamor, hounds bayed and all manner of creature put nose and ear to the wind. Men and women possessed of the Gift awoke from their slumber or turned from task to wonder what had occurred.

They noticed, yes, but only briefly. They were, after all, of the race of Man no matter how great their talents. A scant passage of time such as this warranted moved through their being and beyond faster than they could rightly take in, leaving them confused but mostly undisturbed. They quickly returned to their pursuits, ignoring the brief yet powerful cry.

The Egg knew this, nestled in its cradle of soil. Not with mind exactly, but with the primeval awareness that drove it from world to world. Across gaps of space and time that stretched out to lose all meaning in its scope, it traveled. Where it landed it worked, and where it worked people died. From this it fed only to push itself to the next garden of souls when no more could be drawn.

When all were dead, it would leave. Only after nothing was left to harvest would it seek new fields to draw upon. The universe was large and there were many wells, filled with life and waiting the deadly touches of the Egg, though not so many as when it had started.

It was old, this one. It had traveled far and visited many worlds. Though some tried to fight in the end, none had managed to resist the final supping. All had fallen in time. And still the Egg traveled.

Now it had come to this shinning jewel. A lonely, lovely oasis of warmth and light holding at bay all the death of the Void. By virtue of being Mother this planet served as host to lives too great to count, too numerous for tally. Souls rich in what the Egg devoured. Tempting morsels that called across the Universe for the orb to come and feed, a world ripe for harvesting.

The heat from its passage dissipated quickly, unnaturally into the night air. It was as if the terrible fire were being pulled into the Egg with great hunger, which in a way it was. The thing had traveled far once more and was in need of nourishment. Its own life, great though it may be still had its limits. Moving through the endless reaches of space had drained it so it had to feed quickly. Though simple heat served as tasteless fare, it did serve in its fashion.

The need remained, but the Egg would survive. For millions of years it had survived in this way. The warmth of re-entry going to stave off the sapping cold of thousands of years of travel, it would sup again when the sun arose. Dawn would give it power again and it would call.

A message would go forth, one of youth and exuberance. One that could only be answered by the same, as well, since it always called to help when arriving. And the help it preferred was that of the young. Those people filled with the energy of life but without yet the wisdom to scent danger. Fools searching for answers that the Egg would whisper in their ears, deceiving them, they would come. Willingly, happily they would gather around the Egg and fight for the right of doing the first bidding.

Oh how it had seen them claw at each other for the duty of slaying their own kind. They may not know at first this would be their calling, but before they realized the truth they would be too far into the Egg. Their minds would be lost within its polished surface and they would happily feed their own planet to the device. As they served so, thus their own souls would become fodder. In the end nothing survived. The servants as well as those they made prey would go to feed the machine.

Many planets had died in this manner, none able to fight even after they realized what threat the Egg held. It was too practiced, too perfect. It had been designed well and served its function perfectly. Masters long dead had set this loose on the universe with none left to stop the relentless course.

As it waited, the sun did rise. Clouds parted obediently to let the rays of sunlight gleam from the liquid metal surface. It felt the warmth and grew stronger, drawing on the precious gift to continue its own work.

It did not call at first, but it sought. It listened, it waited and when it knew, then it called. When the first tribal rhythms came it recognized them. It had used such many times to call, the youths always responded to such quickly. Pulsations were felt by the Egg and imitated. A primitive base with repetitions easily memorized by the Ungifted. They were driving, sexual rhythms that quickened the pulse and brought emotion to a fevered pitch.

It knew music well, knew what it could be used for. It did this many times and always the young came as they came now. Following half heard beats with dizzying syncopation but no accompaniment. There was no harmony or melody only driving beats that were so like their dance music but much more. This was brought to them in a way that they couldn’t understand but that they certainly could respond to.

The first of them crested the soil nest with confusion and cast a shadow across the Egg. Her face could be seen reflected almost perfectly in the curved surface, a slender oval framed in long blond hair. She looked at the Egg and listened. The beat was fine. The music was undeniable. She called, herself, singing with a primitive response of a single cry. This was the first with many standing behind her. She would be in charge now, giving orders to the others as the Egg spoke to her mind.

In the early dawn the music continued. The children danced as their minds fell to the thing. They may have talked of Rave, but they were part of something more now. Though they had lost much of themselves in being the first to hear the call, they now felt themselves swelling with the life of the Egg, simultaneously drawing on them and feeding.

This was only the beginning, though. While it seemed to be strong, the orb was still very weak. It would take time to gather the proper will to become unstoppable. These young would do the work, though. They would bring others to be fed to the Egg, creating a slope of death that became steeper and steeper until a sheer drop was all that was left. Then, the Egg would take the world.

It would, and then it would move on. And the music played through dawn.