The Central Console Dais hovered in total spatial balance at the exact focal center of the cosmos.
It was a plain disc of solid, pure-crystal star-white-gold, sixty paces in width, fully detached from the surrounding mid-air bridge save for a single narrow gangway of cold-rolled silver-steel composite. Beneath the semi-clear floor of the dais, the polar axis of the black star-core vanished into a point of zero volume. Its huge gravity churn was held in check by twelve magnetic steadying fin pylons that hummed with a low, sixty-cycle shaking hum.
Through the clear crystal deck, the black throat of the star-core seemed to pull at the very fabric of thought.
Yet the platform remained motionless. No matter how wildly the slow buildup disk spun or how fiercely the white starlight warped across the curve of the ball-shaped chamber, the dais sat in complete heat-powered solitude. The air surrounding the platform was contained by an invisible insulating field, perfectly still, filtered of all dust. It held a constant heat of eighteen degrees.
At the center of the dais stood no golden throne, no dragon-carved altar of sacrifice. No jeweled reliquary of the gods.
There was only a plain, waist-high stone stand forged from matte gray composite alloy, plain by runes, stone carvings, or decorative filigree. Hovering three inches above the flat surface of the stone stand, suspended in a nearby empty pocket, glowed a single box-shaped display of monochrome glowing green.
