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Draal had no idea how much time had passed since he had stepped into the machine. It might have been a year ago, it might have been decades. He had no way of knowing and it did not matter. Linear perception of time had ceased to be important.
"He will see all the tomorrows, hear all the songs, touch the edge of the universe with his thoughts."
Varn's words had turned out to be the truth. He had seen it all. Was seeing it. Would continue to see it.
Every breath, every conscious moment brought new images. New experiences. New insights.
He had learned to control where the pathways were taking him. He had also learned how gratifying it could be to relinquish that control and allow the great machine to take him wherever it wanted to.
Londo.
He remembered him. The Centauri had been with him when he had followed his calling.
G'Kar.
His old self had never met him and yet he knew all there was to know about him.
About both of them. Their final struggle. Enemies no longer and yet locked in a deadly embrace, their journeys coming to an end.
The third principle of sentient life was its capacity for self-sacrifice – for a cause, a loved one, a friend.
Many of the truths that had governed his previous life were no longer relevant. Ephemeral. But this one was immutable. A true truth.
Thus it was with great satisfaction that he watched as Londo died almost exactly the way he had sworn to as a young and foolish man. On his feet. Doing something noble and brave.
But so very far from futile.