Ignition: go

Life is a complex thing. Many different parameters need to be set in the narrow brackets of acceptable values, so the spark of life ignites. The temperature, atmospheric pressure, amount of light and water, minerals and other substances. So much has to reach the delicate balance, the almost impossible equilibrium to start the process of evolution, where the result of it writes these very lines.

Since the moment of the Big Bang, the universe has evolved, too. Millions and millions of years, it was going through its adolescence to ignite the first stars. They formed out of the gas clouds, when the giant patches of cosmic matter imploded under gravitational force and the pressure and temperature were so hellish, that the reaction of fission started, radiating the energy in all directions.

Those stars, also called the stars of the first generation, fused the light atoms of hydrogen together and formed helium. Then they fused helium thruples to form carbon. And then the carbon merged with helium to form oxygen and neon and so on. The heaviest element to be formed was iron, which is a peculiar zero of a periodic table. When the thermonuclear oven could not produce any fire anymore, the very fire that kept it from implosion under its enormous mass, the stars died and in a huge explosion spread those elements in the surrounding space.

The dust settled and now, the same process started all over again, but not with gas only but with dust and particles, enriched with the heavy elements forged in the heart of the dead star. The dust started forming a heavy heart and from friction and tide force this heart started warming up. The ball of fire and lava builds a planet.

The time passes and the surface of the planet cools down, checking one more condition for life to form - a solid surface.

The star has torn out its heart to lighten up the path to life...

...Long ago, there lived people on the earth. Impenetrable forests surrounded their camps on three sides, and on the fourth, there was a steppe. These were cheerful, strong, and brave people. But one day, a difficult time came – other tribes appeared from somewhere and drove the people deep into the forest. There, the forest was old, and so dense were its branches intertwined that you couldn’t see the sky through them, and the sun’s rays barely managed to find their way through the thick foliage to the swamps below. But when the sun's rays fell on the swamp water, a foul stench arose, and from it, people perished one by one. Then the wives and children of the tribe began to weep, and the men grew pensive and sank into despair. It was necessary to leave this forest, and there were two roads for that: one, to go back – where powerful and cruel enemies awaited them; the other, to go forward – where giant trees stood, their mighty branches tightly intertwined, and their gnarled roots buried deep in the swamp's sticky mud. These stone-like trees stood silent and still in the gray twilight by day and closed in even tighter around the people by evening, when the campfires were lit. And always, day and night, there was a ring of solid darkness around those people, as if it wanted to crush them. They had been accustomed to the vast open spaces of the steppe. Worse still, when the wind struck the tree tops, the whole forest would hum gloomily, as if it threatened and sang a funeral song for those people. Yet, these were strong people, and they could have gone to fight to the death against those who had once defeated them. But they could not die in battle, for they had sacred traditions, and if they died, those traditions would perish with them. So they sat and thought during the long nights, under the dull roar of the forest and the poisonous stench of the swamp. They sat as the shadows from the fires danced silently around them, and it seemed to all that it was not shadows dancing, but the evil spirits of the forest and swamp celebrating... The people sat and thought. But nothing – not work, not women – wears down the body and soul of people as much as gloomy thoughts do. And the people weakened from their thoughts… Fear was born among them; it bound their strong hands. The women’s weeping over the dead, taken by the stench, and over the fate of the living, shackled by fear, gave birth to terror – and fearful words began to be heard in the forest, at first timid and quiet, but then louder and louder... They were about to go to the enemy and offer their freedom as a gift, and no one, frightened by death, feared a life of slavery… But then Danko appeared and saved everyone alone.

The old woman, clearly having told the story of Danko's burning heart many times, spoke in a sing-song manner. Her voice, creaky and hoarse, vividly painted before me the roar of the forest, among which the unfortunate, driven people perished from the poisonous breath of the swamp. "Danko – he was one of those people, a young, handsome man. The beautiful are always brave. And so he said to his companions:

‘You can’t move a stone from the path with thought alone. Whoever does nothing will encounter nothing. Why do we waste our strength on thoughts and despair? Get up, let’s go into the forest and pass through it! After all, it must have an end – everything in the world has an end! Let's go! Come on! Hey!’

They looked at him and saw that he was the best among them because there was great strength and a living fire in his eyes.

‘Lead us!’ they said.

Then he led them…"

The old woman paused and looked into the steppe, where the darkness was growing. The sparks of Danko's burning heart flared somewhere far away, and seemed like blue, airy flowers, blossoming only for a moment.

"Danko led them. Everyone followed him closely – they believed in him. It was a difficult path! It was dark, and with every step the swamp opened its greedy, rotten jaws, swallowing people, and the trees blocked the road with a mighty wall. Their branches intertwined like snakes, their roots stretched out everywhere, and every step cost sweat and blood for those people. They walked for a long time... The forest grew thicker, and their strength diminished. And so they began to murmur against Danko, saying that it was in vain that he, young and inexperienced, had led them somewhere. But he walked ahead of them, full of vigor and clarity.

But once, a storm broke out over the forest, and the trees began to whisper ominously. It became so dark in the forest that it was as if all the nights that had ever been born since the world began had gathered there at once. Small people walked between the big trees, and in the terrible roar of lightning, they walked, while the giant trees creaked and hummed angry songs, and the lightning, flying above the treetops, lit them up for a moment with a blue, cold fire and disappeared as quickly as it appeared, frightening the people. And the trees, illuminated by the cold fire of the lightning, seemed alive, stretching out their gnarled, long arms around the people, weaving them into a dense net, trying to stop the people. And from the darkness of the branches, something terrible, dark, and cold stared at the travelers. It was a difficult path, and the people, worn out by it, lost heart. But they were ashamed to admit their weakness, so in anger and rage they turned on Danko, the man who led them forward. And they began to accuse him of being unfit to lead them – imagine that!

They stopped and, under the triumphant noise of the forest, amidst the trembling darkness, tired and angry, began to judge Danko.

‘You,’ they said, ‘are a worthless and harmful man to us! You led us and tired us out, and for this, you will die!’

‘You said, "Lead us!" – and I led!’ shouted Danko, standing before them. ‘In me, there is the courage to lead, and that’s why I led you! But you? What did you do to help yourselves? You only walked and didn’t know how to save your strength for a longer journey! You only walked, like a flock of sheep!’

But these words angered them even more.

‘You will die! You will die!’ they roared. And the forest echoed their cries, and the lightning tore the darkness to shreds. Danko looked at those for whom he had borne the burden and saw that they were like beasts. Many people stood around him, but there was no nobility on their faces, and he could not expect mercy from them. Then indignation flared up in his heart, but from pity for the people, it faded. He loved people and thought that, perhaps, without him, they would perish. And so his heart blazed with the desire to save them, to lead them onto an easier path, and then the rays of that mighty fire shone in his eyes… But they, seeing this, thought he had become furious, which was why his eyes burned so brightly, and they became alert, like wolves, expecting him to fight them, and they pressed closer around him, to make it easier to catch and kill Danko. But he already understood their thoughts, and because of this, his heart burned even brighter, for their thoughts caused him sorrow.

And the forest sang its gloomy song, and the thunder rumbled, and rain poured down…

‘What will I do for the people?!’ Danko cried louder than the thunder.

And suddenly, he tore open his chest with his hands and ripped out his heart and raised it high above his head.

It blazed so brightly, like the sun, and even brighter than the sun, and the whole forest fell silent, illuminated by this torch of great love for the people, and the darkness scattered from its light and, deep in the forest, trembling, fell into the rotten maw of the swamp. The people, astonished, stood like stones.

‘Let’s go!’ shouted Danko, and he rushed forward to his place, holding his burning heart high and lighting the way for the people.

They rushed after him, enchanted. Then the forest again began to hum, its treetops swaying in amazement, but its noise was drowned out by the trampling of the running people. They all ran quickly and bravely, inspired by the wondrous sight of the burning heart.

And now they perished, but perished without complaints or tears. And Danko was still ahead, and his heart still blazed, blazed!

And then suddenly the forest parted before him, parted and remained behind, dense and silent, while Danko and all the people plunged into a sea of sunlight and clean air, washed by the rain. The storm was behind them, over the forest, and here the sun shone, the steppe sighed, the grass glittered with diamonds of rain, and the river gleamed with gold… It was evening, and the river, bathed in the rays of the sunset, seemed as red as the blood that flowed in a hot stream from Danko’s torn chest.

The proud and brave Danko looked forward across the vast steppe – he cast a joyful gaze on the free land and laughed proudly. And then he fell and – died.

But the people, joyful and full of hope, did not notice his death and did not see that his bold heart still burned next to Danko’s body. Only one cautious man noticed this, and fearing something, he stepped on the proud heart with his foot… And so it, crumbling into sparks, was extinguished…

The Old Woman Isergil, Maxim Gorky, Story of Danko