Not every dimension is a success story. Some exist for a time, then flare and die, or are destroyed in some multiversal catastrophe. Balgaraba is one such dimension. Istvatha V’han “conquered” it over 150 years ago, but given that almost nothing lives there, the conquest was more like moving into an empty house.
Balgaraba has reached the end of its entropic life and has nearly decayed into nothingness; in another few thousand years, at most, it will be gone. Its stars have almost all burned out; the few planets that haven’t collapsed into fields of rubble are simply large rocks hanging in the vast cold blackness of a space unlit by suns. Almost nothing moves; even gravity, momentum, and inertia seem weak, tired out, moribund.
Since it’s not really a fit place for anyone to live, the Empire found another use for Balgaraba: as a dimensional junkyard. It uses Balgaraba as a vast receptacle for duodecillions and duodecillions of tons of imperial waste. A few imperial subjects have found a way to make a living scavenging through the scrap for potentially usable/repairable bits and pieces, but the vast majority of what’s tossed into Balgaraba is of no use to anyone. Imperial scientists wonder what will happen to the trash (and any other matter there) when Balgaraba finally “dies” and vanishes.
On the very few habitable planets
As far as the eye can see, garbage is scattered to the horizon. The senses are assailed by strange odors mixed with the stench of rotting . . . stuff. The sounds of crashing junk, or something burrowing through it, also permeate the air half of the time.
During the day, the air is warm and the sky is a pleasant deep blue, though there is no apparent light source. At night, the air is cool and gray clouds fill the sky, often disgorging acid rain, or releasing poisonous vapors or actually raining junk. Daylight lasts for about forty-three and a half hours followed by forty-three and a half hours of darkness, com-