Now and Forever by Ray Bradbury

Immortal, together we then walk upon the waters of deep space in the new morn which names itself: Forever.”
    The congregation—above and below—softly repeated the word, “Forever, forever.”
    There was a swell of soft music from somewhere in the heavens as Father Ellery Colworth finished, his figure went dark, and his silhouette was seen descending silently behind the podium.
    In the long silence that came upon us I wept.
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    I lay awake that night in my berth aboard the Cetus 7.
    Quell was already asleep. Rain patterns, simulated to aid slumber, fell on our faces and behind us on the wall.
    The voice of a clock repeated, very softly, “Tick tock, two o’clock … tick tock, two o’clock.”
    At last I spoke.
    â€œQuell, awake?”
    And his mind spoke to me silently from across the room.
    â€œPart of my mind, yes, the rest sleeps. I dream of the old man who warned us.”
    â€œElijah? Did you believe him, that our captain is blind?”
    â€œYes. That much is common knowledge.”
    â€œAnd that he is mad?”
    â€œThat we must discover for ourselves.”
    â€œBut by that time, mightn’t it be too late, Quell?”
    The soothing rain patterns continued to fall on my cheeks and the walls. There was a faint rumble of thunder from beyond.
    â€œQuell? What, is all of you asleep now? Good companion, lie there. Your body the strange color of a world I will never see. Cold blood but warm heart; your mouth silent but your mind, even in sleep, breathing friendship.”
    Quell’s voice, within my head, murmured drowsily, “Ishmael.”
    â€œQuell, thank God for you in the days ahead.”
    From all around me Quell’s voice repeated, “Ishmael … Ishmael.”

CHAPTER 3
    A voice boomed over the loudspeakers. “The captain is in quarters, prepare for countdown.”
    The crew all hurried to their assigned stations, suited up and strapped in. The great doors were shut and sealed, the gantries rolled away, the engines fired up.
    â€œMinus one and counting.”
    We lay waiting for the fire-wind to seize and throw us at the sky.
    And seize and throw it did.
    Oh my God, I thought. Help me to shout, “We rise, we rise.”
    But silence took us, like penitent monks, to its bosom.
    For even the thundering rocket, which rips the soul on Earth, walks silently some few miles high, treads the stars without footfall, as if in awe of the great cathedral of space.
    Free, I thought. No gravity. No gravity! Free. Oh, Quell, I find it most pleasant to be … alive.
    Safely in orbit, let out of our constraints, I asked, “And now, what do we do?”
    â€œWhy, collect data,” said one of the crew.
    â€œAdd and subtract constellations,” said another.
    â€œPhotograph comets,” said a third. “Which means, capture God’s skeleton in an X-ray.”
    Another crew member said, “I grabbed a flash of those passing comets. From such huge ghosts of suns, I borrow cups of energy to power our ship. Sweet alchemy, my game, but fine fun pumps my blood. All round lies death, but I greet even Death with, look, this grin.”
    It was First Mate John Redleigh. I touched a computer screen, which whispered his name, and I saw there his log of the first hours of our journey: August 22, 2099. Out of sight of land, yes, out of sight of the blessed land, which means all Earth and those we hold dear upon it. All faces, names, souls, remembrances, streets, houses, towns, meadows, seas—gone. All longitudes, latitudes, meridians, hours, nights, days, all time, yes, time, too, gone. Christ, guard my soul. How lonely.
    And to me Quell set free his thoughts: “Friend, I read minds, not futures. Space is large. They say it curves. Perhaps our end is our beginning. Our destination: far, very far, three mystery comets to be found by us in one constellation. Chart their course and map their routes, take their