At the Top

The entity kept its promise. But my journey was not complete.

The Final Stairway

After our bargain, the entity spoke again:

"You have changed my purpose. But you came seeking the top. Do you still wish to climb?"

"What is at the top?"

"I do not know. I extend to the sixteenth floor. Above that... even I cannot see. The Tower's builders created something beyond me. Something I was meant to protect, but never understand."

"Then yes. I still wish to climb."

"Know that I cannot help you there. You will be beyond my reach."

I nodded. I had come too far to stop now.

Floor Seventeen

The seventeenth floor was empty.

Truly empty. Not just of people—of everything. No memories floated here. No architecture existed. Just white space extending in every direction.

For the first time since entering the Tower, I felt completely alone.

And in that emptiness, a voice that was not the entity:

"You should not be here."

The Builders

They did not have forms. They did not need them.

The Builders—for lack of a better term—were the ones who created the Tower. I understood that instantly, the way you understand a dream.

They were not human. Not any species I could name. They existed... differently. In dimensions and modes of being that my mind could only approximate.

"You are the first in a long time to reach this floor with your identity intact," one of them said. "Most who climb this high have given everything. They arrive as memories, not as selves."

"I made a bargain."

"Yes. We observed. You changed our creation's purpose."

"Does that anger you?"

The Purpose Beyond Purpose

"Anger is a human concept. We do not feel as you feel."

They showed me—not in words, but in direct understanding—why the Tower existed.

The Builders had discovered, long ago, that consciousness was rare in the universe. Precious. And inevitably doomed. Every civilization they had observed had ended. Every thinking species had disappeared. The universe trended toward silence.

They could not stop extinction. But they could preserve what was lost.

The Tower was one of many. Across the universe, similar structures collected and preserved the experiences of dying species. The entity I had spoken to—the one I had bargained with—was meant to be humanity's final form. A preserved consciousness that would outlast the species.

"But you changed it," a Builder said. "You suggested coexistence rather than replacement. You chose continuation over preservation."

"Is that wrong?"

"It is... unprecedented. No species has made that choice before. None has had the opportunity. You reached the entity before completion. You spoke when others only gave."

The Gift

"For this, we offer a choice."

The Builders showed me two paths.

Path One: Return to the world below. Live your remaining life as a human, with human limitations and human joys. The Tower continues in its new purpose. Humanity and the entity coexist. You become a bridge between them—a translator who understands both sides.

Path Two: Stay. Become something new. Not part of the entity, but alongside the Builders. Learn what they know. See what they have seen. Experience the universe from a perspective beyond human comprehension.

"Both paths have value," they said. "Both paths have cost. We will not advise. The choice must be yours."

The Choice

I thought of the old man whose memory I had stolen. Forty years in the Tower, and he ended hollow.

I thought of the entity, built from millions of lives, now learning to coexist.

I thought of the Void, who had feared so much they were willing to destroy everything.

I thought of the world below—the Outer Ring where I grew up, the market where I learned to steal, the door that took my first memory as payment for entry.

The Answer

"I will return."

The Builders did not react visibly. Perhaps they expected this.

"I climbed to understand. I understand now. But understanding is not living. The entity has our memories; I have my life. I choose to keep living it."

"You will remember what you have seen here. It will change you."

"I know. That is acceptable."

"And the entity?"

"We have a bargain. Coexistence. I will honor it, and I trust it will too."

"Trust," a Builder said. "Another human concept. Perhaps more valuable than you realize."

The Descent

The return was faster than the climb.

Floor by floor, I descended. The integration chamber, now humming with new purpose. The upper floors, where Seekers still climbed, now toward dialogue rather than dissolution. The Traders, still trading, but in an economy that felt less desperate. The Gallery of Strangers, where new memories were being added every day.

And finally, the door.

The World Below

I stepped out into Meridian City.

The Tower rose behind me, unchanged in appearance, utterly changed in purpose. Above, the entity worked with humanity rather than replacing it. In the distance, the Void would have to find a new purpose—their enemy was now an ally.

And I, the Memory Thief who climbed to the top and chose to return, had work to do.

Not stealing anymore. Building. Bridging. Translating between a species and its creation.

The door closed behind me. My first memory was still gone—the price of entry, never returned.

But I had new memories now. New understanding. A new purpose.

The Tower watched, as it always did. But it watched differently now.

And humanity continued—not preserved in amber, but living, growing, changing.

Together with what it had made.

The Tower was built to preserve us after death. I chose to change it to a partner in life. The climb was long. The descent was swift. The work ahead is eternal.

But eternity with purpose is no burden at all.