A Change Would Do You Good

The voice rang out with the declaration, a hollow knell from a timeless spot; out, into, across and through the ages.

Nothing unreal exists.

Think about that for a moment.  Nothing unreal.  Nothing.  Unreal.  It exists.  At least, that was the declaration.^[1][2]

Beyond the ends of the universe, there was nothing... endless nothingness.  The dimension was out of sight, out of mind, out of body... outside of the universe.

The place was not empty.  "Nothing unreal"... so real it had to be.  Even nothing was something.  But to those who were real, the place was not, and did not exist.  Unreal: Unreality: Unspace... a dimension not of men.

Nor uninhabited.  Through it he walked, with all-powerful assurance: Male, Caucasian; blonde, fortysomething.

Expecting to see another, right on cue, there it was: Caucasian, brunette, male apparently (apparently), up to its usual habits.  Some things never changed, no matter how much time unfolded.

The second man was not a man... not even human: Rather, a question... a cipher.  Reacting, the man (in a manner of speaking) momentarily stopped its torment of the beings in this continuum.

"Hi, Q."

"What are you doing here?"

Q's uniform caught his eye: TNG era, 2360s, in command-red and black.  "Still wearing that old thing?"

Q looked him over.  "Speak for yourself."

"This is the movie version." – a variant in brown and black, brown where such uniforms were grayish-purple, around the shoulders.  "Goes with my hair."

"Should I laugh, or retch?"  Q adopted a condescending air.  "You decry the medium in which you write... few people read what you write... and you wear a Starfleet uniform.  A variant – sorry.  Why bother?"

"Tradition."

"Si fractum non sit, noli id reficere."^[3]

"Practice what you preach."  The individual called Topaz looked about.  "Is this supposed to be an improvement?"

"As I told Jean-Luc, all good things must end.  Like what I've done with the place?"

"Do you delight in torturing people?"

"People, yes.  But these creatures... Who says it's torture?  More like fulfilling a purpose."

"You're the devil, Q."

"Subjective," Q asserted.  "Not the devil."

"Spoken like the prince of lies.  It's subjective, alright."

"One of your poets said, 'tis better to reign in hell."

"They're your people."

"Were.  It was time for these devils to pay the piper."  Q's tone betrayed pent-up frustration, a longing for revenge.  "All of their rules, and regulations, and interference, and government.  Did they truly think it wouldn't explode in their faces, eventually?  Everyone needs their world rocked once in a while, in order to be reminded of what's important," Q said.  "Can't let them become too complacent."  For emphasis, one of the beings passing by received a swift kick.

"Speaking of which," Topaz said.  "That's why I came."

"To stop me?"

"No."

"Oh.  I see.  Humanity again."

"Humanity, always.  Like I've said, it begins and ends with us."

Q snorted.  "And the multitudes of alien species throughout the universe?"

"Because I said devil doesn't mean you get to play devil's advocate."

"No one is better qualified."

Topaz shook his head.  Normally that was his angle, but... "Can't argue with that."

Q, Topaz knew, had gotten bored with humanity after doling it out on Picard and Janeway for a few years.  Maybe in a few centuries, millennia, eons, that would change.  Topaz shared Q's apathy.  Humanity sickened him, more and more every day, so much that he rarely cared or dared to call himself one of them.

Yet in the end, humanity was all he had, and since only humans truly existed, as far as he or anyone* else knew, humanity was all that anyone had (*anyone who was human, which meant everyone).

Q, however, unlike Topaz, wasn't human.  Q wasn't even real.  Topaz said, "Aliens don't exist, Q.  And neither do you.  At least, we haven't discovered any.  If we do, then we'll have to adjust our world-picture... when and if that happens.  Until then, it's us: Us, us, and only us.  Just us."

Q's face broke into a broad smile resembling a sneer.  "Such arrogance!  You belong in the Continuum."

Topaz gestured.  "Isn't this...?"

"No."

"Ahhh.  Well, I've seen it... and Death Valley's more exciting."

Q feigned injury to the heart.  "Oh!  What wit."  The entity paused to contemplate.  "I admit, it was dreadful enough to put dust motes to sleep... once.  It's changed, somewhat, since the war.  You wouldn't recognize it anymore."

"Somewhat?  And I wouldn't recognize it?"

"For Q, any change is a radical change."

"I've been there, Q.  It looks the same as it did before."

"Hardly."

"Just... emptier."

"Naturally."

Topaz rolled his eyes, not in the mood to pit wits with this being.  "The more things change, the more they stay the same."

"And I can't disagree.  That must be why I like you, human.  You're unusual.  Most oppose me by rote, rather than agree with me.  You're just like one of us."

"Not.  I'm not just like you, Q.  Not always."  They started walking.  "Except, maybe, for today."

The street they walked wasn't a street of concrete (It was a street of nothing), and they weren't really walking.  The residents gave a wide berth and pretended, or tried, to ignore them.  There wasn't a single thing they could do about the pair, and paying too much attention seemed risky, an invitation for trouble; so they went about their business... whatever unreal residents of Unreality/Unspace did, when confronted with such beings.

Such a reaction was the problem, basically... and not for them alone.

The walk-which-wasn't-a-walk took Topaz and Q from city to city, across countries and continents (except the cities weren't really cities, and continents in this dimension resembled... Well, it's impossible to describe what they resembled, since they weren't real, and didn't really exist).  It all looked pretty much the same to the duo, this culture, everywhere they went: The same.  Homogeneous.  Simple.  Unchanging.  And it appeared that this realm's residents liked it.

"Look at them."  Q fidgeted, irritated.  "Simpletons.  Oblivious, going back and forth, simple lives dominated by purpose without meaning.... It's an ignorant bliss for them."  Q scowled at Topaz.  "They remind me of your people."

"Some," Topaz agreed.

"Most," Q corrected.

"Maybe that's as it should be.  People sit around complaining that they want change, because nothing ever changes.  Then when it does, they still complain.  Maybe that's the most, and the best, we can hope for: A care-free kind of life, without hassle."

"What they actually want is the simplicity of security," Q said.  "Except security is an illusion, and there's a problem with being simple in a world of change: It doesn't stay simple.  Even when you know there's a problem, and it's staring you in the face, what do you do?  Nothing.  Avoid it.  Simple-minded ignorance.  Life gets complicated.  Real change can't be forced, but it will come.  When it does, you have to be ready for it and rise to the challenge.  Otherwise..."

He frowned, and the entire society vanished.

They stood in empty nothingness, even more empty and more nothing than before.

Together, they absorbed the endless emptiness.

"See what happens?" Q said.  "I tried teaching that to Jean-Luc," he said with a sigh.  "And how well did it take?"  The entity glanced at Topaz.  "How is my old friend, by the way?"

"Dead," Topaz said.  Picard, Data, Janeway, Sisko: All dead.