They had come a long way indeed, The Great I mused. It remembered the dawn. Before time had a name on this planet, The Great I had watched, guided, influenced.

It didn’t have a name. It hadn’t given itself one, and there was nothing else that could. It stood, erect, on the plains of Africa, though it had no name for that either. It was female, shorter than the males, but taller than any other female, and straighter. The dark eyes, deep under the heavy brow, were quick and sharp.

It crouched to pick up a sharp fragment of rock, holding it gingerly. The eyes flickered. A good sharp rock like this was useful for killing prey small enough to sneak up on, and for harvesting its pelt. The creature on the African plain had other ideas. It selected a tree branch and a couple of strands of thick, tough grass. This rock would kill much bigger prey.

In the unfathomable deep, The Great I had watched the female. Thrusters nudged its orbit closer with geological slowness. The outer planets were no longer of interest.