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I was floating down the main corridor when, for one instant, the ship stuttered. I only use this word because I have never heard the ship engines emit this particular pitch. The engine drone had so thoroughly blended into the background that I couldn't hear it anymore - right until now, when it shifted a quarter tone higher. Something happened.
I wondered if it was the one percent chance event for which I ...
(had deeply hoped)
... had Hieph sign the waiver for. Hieph, smart as ce is (I would not be crazy about cir otherwise) had a realistic estimation of risk. A fly-by of a black hole event horizon does involve a probability of the ship getting pulled out of orbit. Miscalculations can happen as the physics here is not well-understood.
But Hieph could not pass up a chance to see the universe blue-shifted, and you won't see that without getting close to the black hole's event horizon. I myself can't get enough of it even after decades orbiting it. Therefore Hieph and I are perfect for each other. Ce has to realize it soon enough.
"Did you hear it? What's up with the engines?" came a message from Hieph, who had been resting in cir room.
The engines were straining; I heard it now. They were trying to avoid crossing the boundary past which an escape from black hole is impossible. But the ship was already balancing on a knife's edge, getting as close as it could without being drawn in, all for a better observation of gravitational effects. There was hardly any error margin. If the engines were straining, the boundary has been crossed. I might as well turn them off: they were useless now. Our only path now led towards the black hole's singularity.
One moment you had a future with many choices; the next moment they all have closed. I never thought I would feel so calm and content realizing that.
"I'm looking into it. I'll let you know ASAP," I replied.
I needed to be sure I was right. Ordinarily I'd go to the console room with its multiple wraparound screens, collect some data and launch calculations. But as I floated past the observation room, with its huge windows looking out into space, a thought struck me.
A giant ring of stars was visible through the windows, as usual. We spent so many hours at it with Hieph. It was half a ring, to be exact. It curved along the black hole's event horizon; a whole universe's worth of stars were condensed into one irregular band, thanks to the relativistic effects; the stars appeared much brighter than normal, thanks to blueshift. It was as if you took a donut and threw a fistful of sprinkles over it, letting them fall wherever they may; when you take the donut away, the band of sprinkles left on the table would be like the band you see through an observation window. Our "sprinkles" are not rainbow colored; they are mostly white, like salt crystals. But as we fall into a black hole, another comparison will become apparent.
A plan sprung in my mind and I responded to Hieph. "Come to the observation room! And bring a towel!"
"Why?"
"You'll see! I want to show you something!"
I greeted Hieph in the hallway. Ce looked wary, but brought a towel as I asked.
"I need to blindfold you now so it would be a surprise to you," I said. Hieph was taken aback, but allowed it. Ce had a sense of adventure and trusted my judgment, which is yet another reason why ce was the only person I wanted in my life. I wrapped the towel over cir eyes and steered ce into the room; using the handholds, I maneuvered both of us to a certain spot. The stars were cooperating. The curved band was much narrower now, the dots in it brighter and closer together. Blueshift was increasing.
Even without the calculations I knew we had indeed crossed the black hole event horizon. Hieph would understand it too as soon as the blindfold was removed: ce knew the science.
But first, I hoped, ce would see the metaphor.
I raised cir hand, gently bending its fingers, and positioned it against the band of stars like closely-packed, painfully dazzling diamonds. I carefully adjusted the shape of cir hand so that the band formed a graceful arch above a bent knuckle of cir ring finger.
I pulled off the blindfold. "Hieph! This ring is my promise to you to stand with you whatever comes." I flinched a little at the superfluousness of it: as if I was physically capable of doing anything but. But I continued. "Will you spend your life with me?"
Ce looked back at me with alarm; then looked at the stars as the comprehension and terror dawned on cir face.
"What happened?" Ce hissed, trying to squeeze sounds of cir throat, but producing a mere helpless squeak. "Why so much blueshift?"
"We are inside the event horizon now," I said. "As I'm sure you realized."
Ce pushed away from me, sending me into the wall. "Show me the calculations! This can't be happening!"
Ce dove for the exit and sailed towards the console room. I hurried after cir.
"Don't worry!" I shouted. "You know that this black hole is a billion solar masses, and its event horizon is billions of miles! We will spend our whole lives falling into it before we even notice the tidal forces. We will be long dead before we are spaghettified! Think of the amazing physics we'll see!"
I realized then that ce had not given me an answer to my question. It was not necessary, of course: the question was a pure formality. The answer could not be anything but "yes", or I would not have had the courage to ask it. The trajectories of our lives converged in the singularity ahead.