Thousands of years ago, the world beneath this space station was purged. Hydrogen bombs have almost literally peeled its crust off, leaving nothing behind but craters, magma and death. Nuclear weapons have purified the remaining territories, cleansing all life from the planet with their deadly radiation. And at last, but not least, a ship from orbit released thousands of boiling lasers to crucial points in the planet, vaporising all the water that was left on the surface, eliminating even the slightest chance of life evolving again on this planet. Oh how beautiful it was when it was still untouched by the hands that have devastated it! Oh how beautiful it was when the greatest disease of the cosmos has not yet touched it! Oh how perfect it was when sapience has not held it in its grip yet!
But now, all that remained of the planet's former glory was the space station that orbited it. Made from the thousands of space debris around the planet and kept together by forces beyond the comprehension of mortals, this is all that remains of the planet. It is the only reminder that life used to prosper on this now charred planet. It was both a statement and a memorial at the same time, for its presence meant that this stellar body had been inhabited once, and it also marked the resting site of the untold billions who could not make it off from the planet. It was also a guardian that assured that all souls on the planet could rest in peace and that nobody would disturb their graves. Not pirates. Not scavengers. Not even their closest descendants could make it to the surface of the planet without encountering the Gatekeeper's wrath.
That is what the lone inhabitant of the station decided to call it, because it seemed fitting. Similarly to the one who survived, the object lacked a soul and a name when it was first born, but when the lone survivor became conscious of their actions, they chose to name it. But no matter how long the lone survivor thought about their own name, they could not give one to themselves, so they just sat there and watched as Gatekeeper started to gain sentience. At first, it was a subtle: some of the corridors shifted their layouts, rooms rearranged themselves, not to mention that the damage to the station started repairing itself. Then, the signs became stronger and stronger. Walls started to display messages that were gone seconds later, floors and ceilings switched places, hallways became dead ends and dead ends became corridors. Colours were inverted while they still somehow retained their identity, until finally, the heart of Gatekeeper was born.
The survivor was overjoyed at the birth of a new soul similar to themselves. Seeking to get their own name, the survivor approached Gatekeeper and asked what their name was. Gatekeeper simply told the survivor that he was not a man, nor a woman, nor a child, nor a mortal and nor a god, but it just knew that the name Liber would fit them perfectly. Content with their new name, Liber started to construct a throne for themselves, collecting all manner of junk from the station from used-up thrusters to non-functioning satellites. Slowly, but surely, Liber built the throne to suit ther imagination, turning it into a grotesque work of art that could not be put into a gallery. At first, they only used non-living material, but then, Liber started making trips to the surface of the planet below him. Unaffected by the radiation because of Gatekeeper's protection, Liber could easily gather bones, skulls and what little organic tissue remained on the planet to bring colour to their work.
Even now, Liber is still building the throne, forever expanding upon their disgusting masterpiece. So weep for the traveller who passes by the planet, for the traveller that dares to take a look at Gatekepeer. Weep for them, because they too, will become a part of Liber's art.
