Tartarus

Centuries had past since the torches had been extinguished--Ferrymen left to drift down the river blindly. The underworld had been dark, empty. Above, life clusters around the stars, desperate for warmth.

The hundred-handed giant has finally reached its destination. It awakens, in the river between the stars, and reaches out.

The Ferrymen ignite their torches, and a thousand new lights form in the sky--each the engine of a Von Neumann probe. They set course for the stars, some near and some far.

One thousand craft, to bring nuclear fire to the sentients.

Within a year, as many as three dozen probes will reach stars--and perhaps only a small fraction of those inhabited. These craft, drifting just beyond the river's bank, at the bridge between the void of Tartarus and the warmth of the mortal realm. There is a sense of sadness, as they return--a cycle repeating itself endlessly, without change or variation, thought or reason.