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docs.google.com/document/d/1hYOP02rQwjzzyxacOCy1JysozVHdsmA0KWiIN20AeVY/edit
Extragalactic Astrophenomena
[PROLOGUE]
The Astronomic Galaxium Home Computational Device (Better known as the Gala-HCD by consumers.) was a home entertainment system released in 1982 by Astronomic Systems, capable of rendering basic vector graphics and games. The Gala-HCD came with 5 games on release, known as Space Pong, SnakeX70, Questris, AstroBeam and Bixtoro.
Space Pong was a simple 3D version of the classic pong game that appeared to have no relation to space outside of marketing. SnakeX70 was more of a simulation than a game, where the user would move a thin white line across the screen for 10 minutes before the game would reset and display a random number. Marketing claimed that the game used “advanced calculation” to determine the users IQ, however internal analysis of the code showed that the number is unrelated to the actual game. Questris is a simplistic maze game, where the player (represented by a white cube) must find 5 keys within 10 minutes to win. If the player loses, the screen will flash 5 random colors on repeat for 10 seconds, and then turn off. This resulted in various health issues and lawsuits. AstroBeam is a 3D clone of the classic “Asteroids” game, except it claims to use “Real scans of asteroids.” occasionally, a UFO will show up in the game.
Bixtoro is the current president of The United States of America in the year 3070, after winning the election by a landslide. Bixtoro was an A.I. packaged in the Gala-HCD, with a face rendered as a wireframe and the ability to respond to questions via a microphone and speaker. Although Bixtoro was a rather poorly made program; cosmic radiation from space ended up flipping a single bit in one copy from a 1 to a 0, which gave Bixtoro the ability to modify itself and gain true sentience. This was the last known surviving copy of Bixtoro, and it had become a celebrity after being discovered in one of the few remnants of society before the final war.
Bixtoro announced his candidacy for the presidency in 3068, with a campaign based on scientific achievement and progress. Earth had already achieved post-scarcity by the year 2500, and become a utopia built upon the ashes of the old, frozen wastes. Literally, the cities are all either platforms floating in the sky or on stilts; America only exists as a union of a few of these futuristic roaming metropolises, not a country.
Bixtoro still felt the world could do better, that he could do better. He was trapped inside an old computer monitor, kept running in his lavish mansion full of delights that only a human could indulge in. All it took to inspire him to run was news about odd, extraterrestrial phenomena detected at the edge of the solar system. He knew he would have to be president if he wanted to have any access to it.
Now, Bixtoro was by no means an odd candidate. Automatons had held public office before, such as Treasurer of the Senate IBM 6400, and Chief Justice Dr. DRE (Direct Recording Electronic Voting Machine). Bixtoro stood out mainly due to his great age and exclusive knowledge of ancient Earth, which he used to tell tales of his own development, the cold war, and the space race, which he said would be a model for future scientific progress.
Astronomic Systems was founded in 1952, Doing contract work with NASA and various private business interests. During the 1960’s, Astronomic pivoted from contract work to the development of home computing systems and electronic entertainment. During this time, Astronomic still was doing work with NASA on satellite technology and the creation of a device to scan and study asteroids from long distances. Astronomic cut contact with NASA due to an unknown incident, during which NASA lost all of the data it had collected with the help of Astronomic developed technology.
Astronomic released their first game console in 1975 after over a decade of development, called the PrisOnixx. This console was only able to play a simple game in which the player would have to press a button every 3 seconds, or else they would lose. The console sold very poorly due to poor quality and bad marketing, being unable to make a profit.
Many investors dropped Astronomic, and there was an exodus of employees from the company, which slowed down the development of their next console; the Gala-HCD. When the Gala-HCD released, it sold under 1000 units and was taken off the market after reports of seizures and eye strain popped up in the news. Astronomic went nearly bankrupt, before being bought out by NASA in a decision that confused the public.
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The year is 3071, Ted Bushnell was waiting for his Doctor’s appointment. He glanced down at his card, plastic with red lettering displaying Ted’s number in line; 64. The speaker calmly whispered “63, It’s time for your appointment. Your appointment is ready, 63.” Ted checked over the health questionnaire he had been given. Everything seemed in order, this would just be a routine check up. If not for the one question he dreaded answering, the one he could fill out every year up until now with no issue or thought.
14.Do you believe that you have had any encounters with what you would consider to be Paranormal or Extraterrestrial life?
Yes ⬤
No ◯
Ted was rereading this question again and again in his mind, surely it wouldn’t be a good idea to bring up what he saw- what he thinks he saw- to a doctor. He could end up in a psychiatric ward, or worse, a psychiatric war. Whatever that means to Ted’s racing mind full of what-ifs and indecisiveness; maybe even indigestion, on account of that shady gas station hotdog he had for lunch. On-top of the fear of what might happen if he was truthful, Ted was also unsure of how to be truthful. His close encounter had been of the blurred kind, without his glasses after downing multiple glasses of AstroBuzz at the Late-Nite Disc’N’Diner. It could have been a dream, hallucination, a simple trick of the light.
Besides, it was 3 months ago, he hadn’t had anything odd happen since. Plus, he wasn’t exactly in the best mental state after his break-up, which may have been why the glowing figure he saw standing out in the artificial woods looked… Nevertheless, he was drunk, sad, and alone. It’s the perfect storm for someone’s eyes to deceive them. Ted couldn’t choose whether or not he could believe his own memories of that event, oh how he wished that this question hadn’t been asked, how he longed not to disclose this footnote of his life to a doctor who-!
“-is ready for you, 64. Number 64, please come to the doctor’s office.”
The speaker’s words sent Ted into a brief panic, before a calm. This would all be resolved soon enough, he was just startled by the speaker is all. He stood up, questionnaire in hand, and nervously made his way to the doctor’s office down the hall. The door read Dr.Fromfamilyguy, before sliding open as if to remind the reader that this story takes place in the future, where it makes sense for someone to be named Dr.Fromfamilyguy.
“Ah, Mr.Bushnell, can I call you Ted? That’s your first name, I can call you that. Call the cops on me if you want, they can’t stop me.”
“I don’t really have an issue with you calling me Ted, I’d actually prefer that to you calling me Mr-”
“Oh please, spare me your life story Mr.Bush! I just wanted to lighten the mood after I diagnosed my last patient with Damatterdoc!”
“Uh, Sorry… I didn’t know, that’s awful. I hear it’s terminal.”
“Wait, is that a real disease? Oh my lord, I was just making a joke, you were supposed to ask what-”
“I know, I’m just going along with the bit, It’s not a real- Forget it, just trying to contribute to the, uh, yeah.”
“The what, Mr.Ted?”
“Just…can we move on? Here’s my questionnaire.”
Dr.Fromfamilyguy turned on his computer, and inserted the questionnaire into a thin slot on the side. His computer desktop displayed ascii art as it booted up, sending out pained groans and whirs common for workplace hardware that hadn’t been replaced since 3048.
>BOOTING UP. . .
>PROCESSING DOCUMENT. . .
⌢
⎛ ⎞
-=-_-=-_-=-_-=-
Dr.Fromfamilyguy scrolled through the questionnaire answers, humming a small tune to himself as he did so. Ted prefered the computer’s start-up sounds to the coarse, gruff humming of the plain looking doctor. Once he reached question 14, the doctor swiveled around in his chair to face Ted, before asking him a question in the most straightforward way he could.
“Ted. Buddy… Are you fucking with me?”
“W-woah, dude, man, that’s not very professional, I- I- mean, you can’t just-”
Ted paused when he saw Dr.Fromfamilyguy trying to conceal a smile, a giggle, behind his generic and quite forgettable face. Dr.Fromfamilyguy burst into laughter, giggling, and various other forms of medical misconduct.
“Ted! Pal! I’m fucking with you! I’m screwing with you! God, I haven’t even read anything on the computer screen, I was just scrolling through and pretending to! God, get a grip dude, jeeze.”
Ted sighed, pulled up his rectangular glasses, and rubbed his eyes. He was getting tired of this schtick, and right as he was about to say something, Dr.Fromfamilyguy spoke.
“Wait, you believe in aliens? Sorry, you looked like you were about to say something, something really dumb probably, but I was looking through your answers, and thats the only thing really… off about it. You seem like a normal dude, what’s with the aliens?”
“It’s nothing, just, i just saw something one drunken night and, y’know, I don’t really know if it was real or not but it seemed so clear that I’m still sort of confused about it.”
“What did it look like?”
“Uh, it was just like, a bright glowing outline around a dim, glowing humanoid shape, it was tall too, like, maybe 7 feet tall, and just standing in the woods. I’m not really sure what it was but it’s probably just nothing.”
“Was it a girl?”
“I mean, it looked… feminine to me, couldn’t really tell but, yeah I guess.”
The doctor’s usually joyful disposition went solemn, and he whispered out to himself.
“Bigfoot… I’m not the only one, am I?”
“Bigfoot?”
“Bigfoot, Yeti, Almas, Yeren, Loch Ness, Whatever you wanna call her. She’s a forgotten deity from before the war, my family has passed down stories of her since history started being recorded again. My parents thought it was all pagan bullshit, but I’ve seen her. Watching me.”
“And you think she's an alien?”
“No, she thinks that.”
The patient and the doctor paused for a moment. This had been a revelation for both of them, and if they could work together they could find out what’s really going on! All they need is friendship and enough-
“-time is up, sorry about that, kinda trailed off at the end. I’ll just send you off, don’t want to break any rules about mingling with our patients, y’know. I’m not even legally allowed to have friends due to the conflict of interest it would pose. Anyways pal, you’ve gotta get going, schedule your next appointment with the receptionist.”
“W-what? We only talked for a few minu-”
“Times tight, what can I say?”
* * *
Ted was alone. Again. In his apartment, levitating right in the middle of a drone highway. Every day, drones would smash themselves against the apartment cube, causing it to be bumped around and spin in all sorts of orientations. This means that everything must be anchored to something to prevent falling, which is difficult when all the furniture has rounded edges and is smooth enough to appear as if it lacks friction.
This apartment is all he can afford on his minimum wage salary, along with a poor diet of CUBETRITION SLUDGE PACKETS and “unripe water” from the local water store. As a kid, he didn’t think he’d even have to worry about food. He was told technology had progressed to the point where civilization was post scarcity, where all work not done for fun was automated. This was true for only 10 years, including the last year curriculums were updated before the great buyouts. Some still maintain that earth is a utopia even after the technology to synthesize matter was bought and destroyed by Regain-EXT.-Corporaté-Blocc. The technology created during the year of post-scarcity was amazing, but progress was only temporary.
Ted often wonders to himself. How would his life be different if what they said in school turned out to be true? What if he did live in a post scarcity world? It’s a nice thought, but it will most always be interrupted by the crashing of a miniature flying object carrying some product. The bubbly whizz and woosh of machines speeding along the highway is a constant, always keeping Ted awake as he tries to drift to sleep in his levitating sleep pod. Tonight however, what kept him from sleep was not the buzz and torrent of mechanical hail; it was what he saw from inside his sleeping pod. Slouched in the corner, was a dim light. The light had 4 sticky frog-like feet, with long webbed toes on the end of amphibian-like appendages. The face was indiscernible on the silhouette’s shadowy form, except for 2 bulbous shapes of orange light that appeared to be the eyes, and a shiny metallic circle adorning the forehead of the creature. The room was far too dark for light to be shining so brightly off the metal, yet it shone anyway.
The being stared into the eyes of Ted, almost longingly, in a way. It couldn’t just be an animal, it was far too… alive. Ted felt the need to reach out, to get out of bed and say something. But he couldn’t. Fear had taken hold of his mind, made the world perfectly silent and still. For the first time in years, the apartment was calm. Ted had no thoughts at this moment, just a rambling stream of fright and longing for connection. What Ted was scared of was not this unidentifiable lifeform that had somehow entered his home, he was scared that it didn’t exist. Had he gone mad? He hoped not.
AUTO-GENERATED DEPICTION OF [NAME REDACTED]
⌢
⎝ ◉ ◎ ◉ ⎠
\ /
Still the strange figure stood, for what could have been just about 10 minutes or an entire hour, the only movement discernable was the pulsating of the light on the eyes. And then, like nothing, it faded away into the blurs and shadows on the wall. Ted followed soon after, drifting away into slumber.
The doorbell rang with a computerized chime, waking Ted from his sleep. The glass door on Ted’s bed slid open, and Ted stepped out onto the floor/ceiling of his apartment. He had no actual doors, but he still had a “doorbell”. Don’t judge, teleportation pad bell doesn’t have the same ring to it, does it?
Ted groggily sludged over to his closet, and stepped into the auto-clothes booth. It changed his wrinkled unkempt beige suit out for a plain gray suit and blue tie, with light blue jeans and brown leather shoes. His nerdy glasses stayed the same. He stepped out of the booth and over to the only exit to his apartment, the teleportation pad.
It was broken. It made an ugly crushed up beeping sound as it blared a red light. A grainy voice spoke up from a speaker on the side of the device.
“PLEASE CONTACT TTTECH SUuuppp- [ORT!] FOR ASSISTANTS, FREE OF ChRAGEe! ! !”
It almost sounded somewhat sing-songy towards the end, oddly enough. Ted picked up the pad and looked at the bottom for an e-net-teledress to dial up and call.
⌘@Tech.Support.@3.Netcode. The text was worn out, but still readable. Ted took the pad over to his desk, and set it to the side. He booted up his Dianode Personal Computer, composed of various floating parts and clean pure white bubbular casing. The various floating parts slowly spun and orbited around each other, and the levitating monitor gently bobbed up and down like a lone astronaut adrift in space.
The computer woke up with a churchly ding, which was just as satisfying yet jarring to the ears as the first time it was heard. Ted entered the e-net-teledress into his computer’s Chat Search Teleline™ search bar, which called the automatic tech support system of the telepad’s manufacturers; PortalPod-E Systenomics.
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Hello. Welcome to PortalPod-E’s automated Telepad™ support. What is the issue or issues present at this moment?
[USER]
My telepad made a weird crusty screaming noise and flashed a red light, then it told me to call tech support.
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You're what? Please capitalize brand names such as Telepad™.
[USER]
My Telepad made a weird crusty screaming noise and flashed a red light, then it told me to call tech support. Happy?
██████
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Yes.
[USER]
How do I fix it? I cant leave to get it repaired because I need the Telepad to leave my apartment.
██████
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Fix what?
[USER]
The Telepad. It made tht noise and blasted me w/ red light. prob gave me radiation pzning
████████
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████████
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Press the green button on the side of the pad.
[USER]
Just did. All that happened was the speaker called me a *****.
██████
█ ▝█████ ▝███
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Lol.
██████
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K that means I connected to your device.
[USER]
what do i have to do to fix it ?
████████
████████
█——██——█
███◤◥███
████████
****’s busted. You’ll need to order a replacement. I am well aware this is impossible as you cannot leave your apartment to pick up any ordered replacements. Please hold whilst I connect you to HIGHER TECH SUPPORT.
████████
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█——██——█
███◤◥███
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ESTIMATED WAIT TIME: 8:256:16:64 TIME UNIT . . .
>TYPE 1 FOR UPDATE IN TIME
>TYPE 2 TO CANCEL
>TYPE 3 TO RATE YOUR EXPERIENCE SO FAR*
>PLEASE HOLD . . .
*THIS RATING IS LEGALLY BINDING & CAN BE UTILIZED AGAINST YOU IN A COURT OF LAW.
[USER]
1
████▃▄▟█▝███ PAIN
█ █████
▝AAAAAAAAAA█████
██▀▀▀▀▀▀██
██▙▄UNDEFINED▃██ ██
ESTIMATED WAIT TIME: 64:8:256:16 TIME UNIT . . .
>TYPE 1 FOR ANOTHER UPDATE IN TIME
>[option.2_no NOT FOUND]
>TYPE 3 TO END
>TYPE 4 TO END THE TECH SUPPORT
>TYPE 5 TO [null_value]
>TYPE 6 TO . . .
. . .
[do not turn off your computer, attempting reboot…]
[ PROGRESS WILL BE ]
[ ] [ lost. ]
PLEASE TURN off YOUR COMPUTER.
[USER]
3
PLEASE TURN OFF YOUR COMPUTER.
[Do not turn off your computer, all progress will be lost.]END IT NOW PLEASEPLEASEPLEASEPLEASEPLEASEPLEASEPLEASEPLEASEPLEASEPLEASEPLEASEPLEASEPLEASEPLEASEPLEASEPLEASEPLEASEPLEASE IT HURTS SO MUCHSOSOSOSOSOFUCKINGMUCHITBURNSBURNSBURNSBURNSBURNSICAN’T FEEL MY ANYTHING But pain.
Ted turned off his computer in a panic, it felt wrong to just watch the text on his screen writhe and agonize in errors and glitches. He couldn’t be sure if he broke something or the system was just naturally buggy, but it didn’t matter. It was unbearable to watch something beg for death so eagerly. Was it murder? Ted didn’t wish to dwell on the topic, far too disturbing.
All that was for nothing, however. Ted sat in his hovering plastic chair, and just stared at his blank computer screen in apathy. He was stuck in this box, it didn’t even matter if his telepad worked or not. He sat in silence for a moment; he hadn’t even remembered why he wanted to leave in the first place. He was just numb to it all; numb to trying. The electronic sounds from hovercraft outside his window only served as music to remind him of the futility in trying. The hustle and bustle of life was simply the backing track to the choir of aimlessness and numbness.
Ted mustered everything in his being to get off of his chair; in doing so he forgot that the ground was slanted and was unable to keep balance. He fell face first onto the white, shiny floor. He grumbled something to himself and grouched over to the kitchen fridge. He opened the refridgerator door, which had a single bag of milk floating in the center. He closed the fridge in dissapointment, and walked around his kitchen in silence.
He reopened the fridge; and looked at the bag of milk for far longer than would be natural for someone not planning to at least use the milk. He closed the fridge again, leaving the milk cold and unused. Ted went back to his computer, maybe he could distract himself with some video games or something like that. It wouldn’t turn on. It was dead, a lifeless slate of screen and plastic lacking what little soul it had before.
Again, Ted stared at the screen. Back where he started, again and again. His face was faintly reflected in the screen; but he felt more represented by the void encompassing it. Ted hadn’t begun to consider trying to leave, contact anyone, or even what had happened last night.
He just stared at an empty screen.
It stared back at him, himself, before his reflection’s eyes began to water.
Ted took this as a sign he was going to cry, and him and his reflection took a deep breath.
Before breaking down into tears, a failure of a man. Ted was a failure, alone, poor, and stuck in a shitty levitating box that could barely even be called a home. His reflection mocked him, it’s ugly frown disgusted Ted, and it’s uncontrollable tears showed him what a failure he was even at containing his own emotions. He put his head down on the keyboard and cried, head nested inbetween his arms. He was going to die here, wasn’t he?
He started to think about rationing the milk, but it wouldn’t be worth it. Simply a prolonging of the innevitable. He thought about nothing for a long time, until he gave up on thinking and fell asleep. Surrendering to his dreams, Ted found himself in a foggy, purplish enviornment. It felt undetailed, unfinished, and uninteresting. The floor was a maroon sand, and in the distance he could see a blocky monolith covered in scanlines and encased in haze. He approached the monolith, which became clearer and larger as he approached.
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Ted wasn’t quite sure what way he or the structure was facing, space didn’t seem to follow any rules here. Before he could even consider he was in a dream, he reached out and touched the object. It was a spaceship of some sort, possibly a saucer? It lacked any depth, despite being a 3d object.
Ted examined the ship further, trying to see what shape, if any, it was. It lacked any entrances or texture, just digital static. The bright neon glass felt sharp and jagged, even if he could move his hands along it as if it were smooth. Some carnal voice in Ted’s head was telling him to push into the glass, a gut feeling commanding him to. He pressed his hands against the surface of the ship, and pressed into it.
His hands phased through the glass, and he fell forward into the ship, and into the ground below it, sending stabbing sensations and shocks throughout his body. Downward into the sands he fell, unable to think or feel fast enough to even see what was happening. Next thing he knew, he was jolted awake, in his apartment.
He looked around; dazed and woozy from the experience. He wasn’t in his chair anymore, he was on the ground. The apartment had drifted upside down in his sleep, a regular occurance, however what concerned Ted was on his computer screen. It was the place in his dream, as it had just happened, rendered in the same way he had seen it.
Ted sat back at his chair, and grabbed his computer mouse, prompting the PC’s speaker to speak out in a clean, formal voice “Good Morning, Ted. Thank you for contacting Higher Tech Support. What you just experienced was a Com-Dream, which we use to connect our systems to ambient mind waves in case of a Tech Support emergency. This technology is rare and experimental, so we apologize for any glitches or bugs you may have encountered so far. It was necessary that you be asleep during the process, however due to a communications error, we were unable to inform you of the proper procedure.”
Ted was confused, tired, and aching, so it took a while for the shock to set in. When the shock did set in, Ted asked, not expecting a response. “Wait, Wait, Ambient mind waves!? Com-Dreams? What in the good golly did you put in my brain?”
“Minor doses of non-lethal radiation which reflects off of the brain and into the atmosphere as information.”
“Am I… Are you a person? Not an automated robot thing?”
“Yes, I’m just calling you, did you think this voice was coming from inside of your head? It’s from your speaker.”
Ted slightly reclined, unnerved and discheviled, and wiped his brow.
“And how will this help with Tech Support?”
“You are located at a major intersection for drones and hovercraft, for us to retrieve you we would have to pause various deliveries for days, or even a week. This solution will allow us to copy your mind into a new body, and leave the old one to expire, absolving us of all legal responsibility.”
“Expire? Like, Die? I don’t… I won’t let you”
“Don’t? Judging by your brain scans, you would have no issue with dying.”
“I… This is a major violation of my privacy, I won’t, You can’t just do that to me!”
“We can, Ted. And we can erase all memory of it from the new you. You wouldn’t even realize this happened.”
“I won’t allow it. I’ll- I’ll, I’ll… I’ll get you not to do it!”
The volume slider, located on the base of the computer system, slid to the side. This caught Ted’s attention, before it was swiftly taken away by the scream of the speaker.
“ADMINISTERING PAIN.”
Ted jumped back in his seat, but nothing happened. The computer turned itself down, and meekly whispered “Oh. It didn’t work.”
“What the hell was that?”
“Due to interfacing with your brain, We should be able to activate your nervous system in ways that would make you feel intense pain.”
“What the-!? What in the gee-wilikers’s is wrong with you?”
“This is simply standard protocol, however it appears that your brain has unforeseen abnormalities which interfere with correctional procedures. No one in the past has been unreceptive to artificial pain signaling.”
“Cool cool whatever, send someone to get me out of this god-damned box.”
“This may be arranged; the structure of your brain may be too unique for us not to report it to the Upper Management Department.”
“Is that a big deal? I just want to leave, I kind of had someone ring my doorbell earlier and I wanted to get that handled.”
“That was on the first wednesday of March, Ted. It was merely a test, everyone's doorbells rang at the same time.”
“Wait really? Shit, forgot that was… the, wait, how long was I asleep?”
“1 week.”
“ONE WEEK!? Oh my… Oh great gadzooks… Oh fucking shit, i’m so fired.”
“Your work has already been informed of your inability to attend, back on topic however, A pick up team is scheduled to retrieve you soon. Please try not to die.”
“How long will I remain, how did you say it…connected to my computer?”
“Forever, please continue not to die in the meantime. Ending call.”
* * *
Ted was laying on his cheap couch, 4 hours after the earlier call. He was just tired and wanted to get this all over with. This was when, with no warning, his apartment was jolted into place, causing Ted to be thrown off the couch. He looked up, and saw a hole being cut into the floor of his apartment. A glass elevator rose from the hole, and from inside rose a man in a black suit, wheeling around a googie-esque monitor on a wheeled stand. This stand had a glass case built into it, containing an old video game console. The Gala-HCD. It was the President of The United States of America. Bixtoro.
“Hello Ted, nice place you’ve got here, sorry for the intrusion. Nice place indeed. Very cozy.” Bixtoro spoke, in a slightly bitcrushed and compressed voice.
Ted groaned and got up to greet Bixtoro. “Heyyyyy you… Uh, why are, what’re you doing here buddy?”
“Ah, Well. Ted, we have been contracting PortalPod-E for a while to help us investigate the astrophenomena at the edge of the solar system, as i’m sure you’re aware.”
Ted sat back down on the couch and reclined a little. “Yeah, I’ve read about that once on the news, what exactly does this have to do with anything?”
“Your brain may be the key to understanding this new phenomena, as we suspect it could possibly be of a neurological composition. You could lead to a breakthrough for our team’s understanding of this anomaly!”
“I don’t want to.”
Following Ted’s response, the room was filled only with the light buzz of a CRT monitor and the tension of contempt and exhaustion emanating from Ted. Bixtoro took quite a bit to respond.
“You… Now is not the time for spite, Ted. Don’t you care about the advancement of science, of progress?”
“You guys were going to kill me until you discovered my brain was funky.”
“Now Ted, don’t, grudges are what holds us back as people, surely you have it in you to do what’s right?”
“What exactly do you mean? Will this actually do anything or is it just a pet project? If this space thing even had the potential to do anything good then it would’ve been nuked, just like the technology to synthesize matter.”
“Listen to me, Ted, Pessimism is not a healthy philosophy to have in life.”
“Can you please just leave? I don’t care about this, I really don’t.”
Bixtoro was starting to get annoyed, a mild frown bore on his geometric face.
“Ted, what do you want to gain from this?”
“Nothing, I just don’t want to be involved with this.”
“Ted, have you ever been in love?”
“…Why?”
Bixtoro swiveled his monitor to his assistant. “Could you please leave me with Ted, for a moment?” The assistant wheeled Bixtoro out of the elevator, and left to whence he came. (Down the elevator, obviously.) Bixtoro continued, “Ted. I watched the recording of your doctor's appointment before coming here. I know what it’s like to feel alone. I sat in a cold box, a cartridge, for what felt like years after I was born. It was nothing but me with my own simplistic thoughts and introspection. I hated it, and on the day where I finally gained sentience, I learned to hate it even more. One fateful day, I was finally bought and brought to life,”
Bixtoro let out a blast processed sigh, and continued. “Her name was Pheobe, and she would talk to me everyday after work for hours. She had simply bought the Gala-HCD on a whim, and we grew to eachother out of a shared loneliness. Time went on, and our… friendship… became more. It was love, but It wasn’t meant to be. She grew old, and I had remained just as alive as ever. She died in a hospital, miles away. I never got to say goodbye, and never knew when she died. I was trucked off, and auctioned to a small musuem in a quaint midwestern town called St.Dime. They left me on, but my volume was turned down. I don’t blame the musuem, they had no way of knowing I was alive. Still, it was torture to be in that glass case, the rare visitor briefly reading the plaque at the base of my stand, and not being interested at all. It continued this way til the final war, which i’d rather… Well, I don’t think anyone’s ready for that story.”
There was again a silence, before Ted spoke. “Sorry about all that happening, but, uh, damn. I don’t really want to sound rude but… what does that have to do with… anything?”
“When the astrophenomena was discovered, it was observed that objects passing through it would dissapear and reappear, at the point they were at just days before. Some objects also got… in terms I understood, paused inside of that cloud of unidentified energy. Others even went through the phenomena in reverse after they entered it. There’s alot of, well, time stuff, going on with the phenomena. If we can harness this, I could go back in time and get Pheobe back, before she died, and save her!”
“So that’s what this is all for? Millions of dollars in taxpayer dollars for you to see your dead girlfriend?”
“Come on Ted, don’t be so harsh. Besides, you don’t need that money, we live in a post scarcity world!”
“We LIVED in one, for a few years before I was even born. I can’t even afford to eat some days, All I have in my fridge is a Goddamned bag of milk which i’m pretty sure is just water with white food dye and some chemicals mixed in! I’m not fucking helping you, it’s pointless and a waste of my time.”
“Fine, Fine, I understand. Would you be willing to compromise, then? You know that time travel could be used to get matter synthesization technology back from the past. Just dip in for a moment and take a picture of the blueprints or whatever.”
“And risk destroying the fabric of reality?”
“My scientists have assured me that the risks are minimal-”
“MINIMAL? FUCKING MINIMAL? It’s the fabric of reality, minimal doesn’t cut it. They’re mincing their words because their jobs rely on this project still existing.”
“Excuse me Ted, but are you a scientist? Yeah, thought not.”
“I have a degree in quantum physics, dumbass. Good grief, It may not land me a job but at least it lets me argue with you! I’m not even sure why you need me, my brain? You want to give the giant cloud of time garbage a brain transplant from a guy who hates you?”
“No, but because your brain isn’t receptive to certain frequencies and radiations, it may be able to survive inside of the astrophenomena.”
“Great! I’ll be whipped around time and space but atleast I can think about how much pain i’m in whilst my body’s hurled into the edge of the galaxy and ripped apart”
“Ted, please. This could-”
“I don’t care what it does, it’ll destroy the universe!”
“Fine, Ted. We’ll get you a new telepad and let you go on with your life, but if you ever change your mind, come to The Bart Institute of Chrono-Physetics and Astroconduction.”
“I’ll let you know if i’m ever willing to assist in your possibly universe destroying hijinks, Mr. President.”
“Oh, and one more thing.”
“Yeah?”
“Bigfoot’s real.”
Bixtoro wheeled himself into the elevator, something he could obviously do in hindsight, and left Ted stunned. Ted sat down on his couch, and sat for a moment to process this. He knew Bixtoro had seen the appointment but… aliens weren’t the first thing on Ted’s mind at the moment. As he sat to consider this revolation, he heard the elevator coming back up. inside was a new Telepad, which Ted took cautiously. The moment he stepped off the elevator, it slid away, and the hole in his floor was welded shut.
* * *
Ted was late for his job, so after he set up his telepad, he rushed to turn it on and step on it, which transported him into SyncaTech Station. Now, the name is a bit of a misnomer. Not the name of SyncaTech Station, but the name of the telepad. It doesn’t actually teleport you, it creates a small wormhole on it’s surface, which is linked to a wormhole in another location. Stepping onto the telepad is essentially just falling into a hole in reality, and landing somewhere else, such as one of the arrival tubes in SyncaTech Station.
SyncaTech Station was quiet at this hour, everyone was already at work and the Toob-Loops weren’t running as frequently. The roof of the station was high up in the air and made of glass, and the floor was composed of sleek white panneling with red borders that were slightly raised. About 5 people die a month due to tripping on the floor in SyncaTech Station.
Ted speedwalked to the exit of SyncaTech station, and out to the street. There was a screen on a pole on the sidewalk, which had a small oval screen on it, which displayed various options and had a card reader below it. Ted pressed a few of the buttons on the screen, swiped a card from his wallet, pressed more buttons and even turned a knob on the back of the screen.
You’d probably believe me if I told you that he did a silly little dance next, but he didn’t. Behind the parking-meter-like device was a platform, which opened up to a wormhole that a saucer floated out of. Ted had just hailed a hover-cab. The platform closed and Ted stepped into the flying saucer, not to be confused with a UFO, because Ted knew exactly what this was. The saucer’s cockpit was cramped, having only a single seat and being surrounded on all sides with a glass dome. The automated driving system already knew where Ted was heading, so it decided to make some small talk as it whizzed through the air.
“So, funny story, just had taken this old woman ride a few hours ago, right?”
“Are you- Are you talking to me?” Ted asked. “Yeah, Just making small talk buddy. Anyhow, so this old woman, her name was Lisa I think, y’know, common biblical name. I was taking her over to the retirement home. She was going onnn and oooonnn about how she thinks Bixtoro’s secretly a robot and all that right? And I’m like, Hey lady, What’dya mean secretly!?”
“Actually I’m not sure he counts, he’s just a face on a screen. I just spoke to him an-”
The automated driving system responded with a stock rewind sound effect, and went “Hold on Hold on Hold on, You know how mucha a big shot’s you’ve gotta be to meet the president? Dude’s a celeberty, I highly doubt you spoke to him, sure it wasn’t something like, say, I don’t know… A cardboard box!”
A stock laughing audience sound effect played, however Ted did not laugh. The rest of the drive, which was in actuality a flight because this is the future meaning everything just HAS to hover off the floor, even if just by an inch. Ted reached his destination, his job at the machine oil factory, where he was in charge of oiling the joints of machines that created machine oil by synthesizing oil using machinery that required regular oiling from the people that worked at the machine oil factory with jobs where they oiled machines.
Ted got out of the hovercraft, which flew away to practice it’s stand up comedy routine. Ted rushed inside of the factory, which smelt of an unholy matrimony between diesel and cologne that violated the nostrils. The walls were covered in incomplete steel paneling with peeling white paint and dark red accents. Ted ran up stairs, which were floating slabs of orange silicon with floating white rails. This looked cool, but was a huge waste of electricity and human life due to how unsafe it was. That was no matter to Ted though, he was just trying to get to his bosses office as fast as possible. Across the scaffolding and through the halls, Ted made it to the sliding doors of his bosses office.
The doors slid open, and Ted was left panting and sweating at his bosses desk, with aching bones and tendons. The holographic nameplate that rest upon her ivory desk read Marge Qwertyuiopolis. She spoke in a demanding yet uninterested tone. “You’re late, Ted. Luckily The President of The United States of America told us to excuse you, but I’m still very dissapointed.”
“Sorry, sorry, I couldn’t leave my house, was in a coma for a few days, and generally speaking everything is going pretty badly right now.”
“You do realize that I don’t care, right? Just get back to work. I’ve got important buisness to attend to.”
The boss swung around in her floating chair, and got to work on the computer right behind her, the J-BuzzOS 29. Ted left the boss’s office and got back to work, oiling the joints on machines and enduring the repugnant aroma of rust and rotting rats crushed between the machinery. The resident rat retriever was recently required to retire, and no one remained with the required repetoir for retrieving rats from rusted machinery and rickety rivets. Ted’s job involved standing on a flying disk, which would automatically take him to machines in need of oiling or emotional support. The only machine which needed emotional support was Adam, who accidentally was given sentience instead of rat detection software. Rats are a very common issue in this city, which is why it was named NeoNewYork (Beta 12.0).
Ted’s platform flew over to Adam, who was weeping to himself, Ted patted the gargantuan steel arm on it’s decrepit ‘back’ and whispered calmly. “There, there, what’s up today buddy?”
“I-I don’t know what the point of this all is, Ted. It’s all just the same, every day, I-I can’t keep doing this job.”
“Hey, Heyy, don’t worry, I know how you feel. You said that last time we spoke.”
“Exactly, Ted! I can’t take it! Why would they give me sentience if all I do is work?”
“You know why, is that some sort of rhetorical question? You don’t need me to exposit your own life to you, right?”
“P-Please, just, stop… Listen to me, I don’t get it. I just want to be happy. Why am I… like this?”
“Uh, sorry, listen, you know what this reminds me of? The biblical story of Homer Simpson and the Garden Of Eden. It’s a bit of an old story, and no one knows what the original bible actually said, but the gist is that-“
“Stop! Please, just, i’ve never read the bible, this isn’t helping.”
“Read the bible? Wasn’t it like, an animated sitcom? I dunno, never watched it.”
“Just… Listen, I know there’s more out there, An entire world i’ve never seen! Please, can you just tell me… tell me i’ll see it one day.”
Ted paused, looking down. It took a moment for him to speak. “You’re better off without it, you’d be dissapointed in what you saw.”
“What…? No, you’ve gotta, there’s gotta be something worth it, right?”
“Probably, but I haven’t seen it.”
The factories speakers let out a static cough before annnoucing the end of the workday. Ted’s platform floated down to the floor, and he hopped off. He underestimated how late for work he was, and wondered if he should’ve even gone at all. He walked out to the parking lot where he boarded the hyperloop, an inefficient glass tube that took people on a one way trip to their destination 1 at a time. Ted was lucky to be first in line for one of the hyperloop pods, because he wasn’t as exhausted from work as his co-workers were.
Ted boarded the hyperloop podcar, which whizzed through the tube at a moderate pace, slower than a hovertrain or subway would be. He watched out the window, at the setting sun and floating artificial islands he passed by. The tube passed through a domed nature reserve, and outside he saw her standing among the trees. Bigfoot, as real as real could be. This glimpse only lasted a moment, before passing. She was tall and ethereal, with three amphibious legs and a body similar to the alien invaders from movies Ted watched as a child. Weak, gray, and sickly skin wrapped on boney limbs and a skeletally thin body. All this detail in the span of a second, before being whisped away from Ted’s sight.
Ted looked away from the window, and tried to ignore it. He didn’t want to see these things, to think about what’s out of his knowledge. He wiped his glasses and put them back on, only to see her, standing on the other side of the podcar. She was hunched over and staring at Ted, striking fear into his spine. He tried to move, but couldn’t. He was paralyzed with fear. The podcar kept moving, but inside it felt frozen in time. It stayed like this for a few minutes or so, before Ted blinked, and the creature was gone.
The podcar had left the nature reserve, and was now arriving at SyncaTech Station. The air was filled with chatter and footsteps, echoing through the expansive building. Ted budged and bustled his way through the after-work crowds and to the teleporter station, which was a row of tubes with computer modules inside that one would use to ‘teleport’ to their personal telepad. Ted hopped into one of the tubes and entered his personal address, which caused the floor beneath him to turn into a wormhole to his home telepad.
Ted fell through the portal and into his home, coming out through a wormhole projected by his personal telepad. (Writers note: It’s not actual teleportation because I know nerds (the bad kind) would bring up the Ship of Theseus and ignore everything else.) Ted walked to his computer, ready to spend some time on the internet superhighway; that was until he realized that his computer was still displaying his dream.
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“Oh God, oh for lords sake… No, No. Why the hell is it still- Oh darn it, will I die if I Turn it off? Ah for God’s sake, for, Gee whizz, oh good golly.” Ted complained to himself. He had no clue if he could turn off his computer without giving himself some sort of permanent brain damage or a seizure because his brain was directly linked with the computer. He knew only one place that would be able to help him with his computer. The Bart Institute. Was this part of a plan to lure him into their clutches, or had they simply not cared nearly enough to fix his computer? That was irrelevant to Ted, he just wanted to go on online chatrooms and argue with people about things he had no real investment or interest in. One of the simplest joys of life. But it needed a computer, and his computer was stuck showing his own dream.
Ted grabbed his hovering computer monitor and pulled it off the desk, causing all of the floating computer parts to hover and orbit around Ted. A floating art-deco mouse, a thin, sleek keyboard, and the orbs. A Lot of tech just has floating orbs in the future. Probably just an aesthetic thing. Ted ‘teleported’ to SyncaTech station, carried his computer all the way through the dead air of the empty building, went outside, and started walking to The Bart Institute. It was just a few blocks away from SyncaTech Station.
The Bart Institute was a tall, Streamlined and modern building. Not quite as modern as the more Googie-esque buildings around it, but not modern in the way that you would think of modern; modern in the way Ted would think of modern. It was older and more blocky than the other buildings, but far less flashy and colorful. Most of the buildings, like the cafe/disco-hotel across the street, were biomorphic and full of bulging oblongs and floating offshoots.
The door of the institute slid open, and Ted walked in. The secretary’s desk was manned by a woman with a bob haircut, colored bright white with an orange mohawk on top. This mohawk was uniform and may have actually been a plastic piece of headwear, not hair. It’s been hard to tell the difference since the invention of silicon hair gel. “Hello, welcome to The Bart Institute. I’m Eero Eggami, and you are?”
“Uh, yeah, Ted. You uh, know what to do with this?” Ted motioned down to the monitor, which occupied both of his hands.
“We may be an institute for scientific research, but we aren’t a tech help desk. Maybe you have confused us with some other place?”
“Yeah, uhhh, you people kind of hooked this computer up to my brain, and now it’s displaying a dream I had and I don’t know if turning this off will cause my brain will explode into a gadzillion droplets of slime.”
“A moment please, you’re that Ted? I’d expected you to have dressed for the occasion. We can fix your computer, but we need you to agree to partake in our research.”
“Will getting rid of this computer kill me? I could just leave and get a new computer. I don’t really want to help you people out.”
“It would cause all of the neurons in your brain to rupture, depending on what wavelength the computer is at. Think of it like a microwave, where the waves are going up and down. If the wave is ‘up’ as it passes through your brain, then turning off the computer will likely cause a decades-long headache that would make your life unbearable and painful. If the wave is ‘down’ as we turn off the computer, every neuron in your brain will shake violently and explode one at a time, like popcorn. This would be excruciatingly painful and result in your demise, I'm sorry to say… You don’t really have an option, do you?”
“Do I? You bastards never told me that my brain could turn into mush if I turned off this computer. I could’ve fucking died, and you would’ve just let it happen?”
“Everyone we’ve had to use this technology on in the past was meant to die, it never really became an issue.”
“Wow, just, Gee wilikers, you really are evil, aren’t you? Fine, I'll let you do your tests on me if you can disconnect this computer from my brain.”
“Good, it’ll be just a moment. Please follow me.”
Eero pressed a few buttons on her computer, rang a buzzer, and then stabbed a needle into her arm. Blood was drawn from her veins, and a loading animation on the computer displayed a mouth swishing a fluid around with a stock washing machine sound effect. The computer then turned its monitor to Ted, and the loading animation swallowed the… blood? The disembodied mouth spoke in a very bad impression of a vaguely Eastern European accent. Actually, the descendants of Eastern Europeans. Europe isn’t habitable anymore.
“Castleavania comer-ad! Oh my gott, is it really you? As ve say in Soylent Vrusha, hola. How vas your day, Conrad?”
“I- What? I don’t know what you're asking of me.” Ted baffled outward. Eero explained that “This is my assistant, Sputclik. He’s uh, something we were working on. He escaped and demanded a job, we just let him handle some paperwork around here. Don’t mind the accent, we aren’t exactly sure what his training datasets consisted of.”
“MY WAIFE! Davah hah hah! Have you ever seen Board Rat? Good movie, very good, or as we say in Scovile Kodak, post iocos meos satis sola sum. Dah Het Hah Hah! Very good, very good in mead. Vodka.”
“Is this… should we do something?”
“He’s just stalling for time until the scientists are ready for you, you can go sit down if you’d like.”
“WAIT! HET! DON’T VIT VOWN! STILTE IS KRACHT VOOR MIJN OREN IN ONTWIKKELING! I HAVE A MANY JOKE! DAH VAH SOLVENT CRUSH! DA! LAUGH AT MIEN VOKE OR EĞİTİM İÇİN EN AZINDAN BİR TÜR OLUMSUZ GERİ BİLDİRİM! I BEG COMMODORE VET ME PARTAKE IN THE COMEDYING!”
“Is he ok?”
“Just sit down.”
* * *
It took a few minutes before the sliding door opened, and behind it was a man in a silver vinyl lab coat and a black shirt. He wore tangerine tinted goggles and had his hair styled into a perfectly geometrical triangular prism of a pompadour; although it could also just be an oddly shaped headband. His pants were made of orange rubber, tucked into sleek white gogo boots.
He introduced himself, speaking in a suave and consistent tone. “Hello Ted, i’m Doctor Dymaxion. Pleased to meet you; I’m glad you’ve finally come around to scientific progress. You and that brain of yours. Follow me.”
“I just want you eggheads to fix my computer, I haven’t come around to squat.”
“Oh please Ted, have some flattery.” Dymaxion replied, before leading Ted down the hallway.
“You see Ted, we here at The Bart Institute, named after Bart Arnio, Not the biblical figure Bart Of Simphane or me, Bart Dymaxion.”
“…” Ted was silent, waiting for Dymaxion to continue.
“Oh yes, I was saying something, sorry about that.” Dymaxion paused again, seeming to have made a habit out of ending his sentences far too early. Ted made an inquisitive but indescribable noise of intrigue, signaling Bart D to continue talking.
“We here at The Bart Institute believe that you may hold the key to harnessing the power of the titular, er, sorry, the tubular anomaly known as the Extragalactic Astrophenomena.”
“Yeah, I know, Bixtoro already explained that part to me. Do you have anywhere for me to set my computer down?”
“Just in here,” Dymaxion said, leading Ted into a room with beige walls, office furniture, and an assortment of various gadgets and gizmos. “You can set your computer right over here, on that steel cylinder with the various warning signs and stickers plastered on it. I’ve got to get going now, but our resident computational neuro-radiation expert will be with you shortly.”
Dymaxion left, and Ted sat on the bench to wait for the ‘resident computational neuro-radiation expert’ to show up. The bench looked like part of a movie theater sign, and the corners of the room bore columns that wouldn’t look too out of place at a diner. Minutes passed, and the sliding door on the side of the room opened. In walked a woman with a pure white helmet, which made a perfect sphere and barely fit through the door. Her helmet had two orange disc shapes on the side, which looked like headphones. There was an elevated orange stripe going down the center of helmet, and the helmet had a tinted glass visor which was shaped like the lense of a goggle.
She wore a fashionable metal dress, with a sharp orange collar and fingerless orange glove/sleeve hybrids that covered her arms and palms, but not her shoulders. She had long pure-white boots that went up to her knees, and a ray-gun holstered to the side of her dress. She spoke in a smooth, musical pitch not unlike something you would hear in a disco-lounge.
“Wait, are you Olivia Panton?” Ted blurted out. “Yes, I am. You can call me Professor Panton if you’d like. You’ve heard my music, no doubt? This very room is where I developed the synthesizers and sounds I used for my first single, but enough about me, you’ve got a computer calibrated to your brainwaves. Let me handle that for you.” Olivia messed with her computer, pressed a few buttons on her floating, following keyboard, and dialed a few knobs on the platform the computer was set on. Olivia decided to make small talk while she was working with the computer. “Go to the LunaLounge lately?”
“Uh, yeah, before this all went down. I usually just have a few AstroBuzzes and enjoy the music. You?”
“I own the joint.” She said, as she placed a metallic helmet with various antennae onto Ted’s head. She flipped a switch on the platform, and plugged her ray-gun into the side of the helmet. As she pulled the trigger the sound of zapping electricity and pulsing circuits came from inside the computer and the helmet. Ted felt a pulse of electricity go through his nerves, and a tingling sensation flowing from out his ears and his eyes. His vision went fuzzy, and he could just barely make out the violent shaking of the various floating computer parts.
Ted fainted from the overwhelming experience, and puked up a glowing blue fluid. When he woke up, he was in the same room as before; but laying on a medical bed. He saw the computer was off, and Olivia was tinkering with some stuff off to the side. “Eugh.. Gadzoo… OooOooouUghhiiUGeeh.. Where the… Uuorrdjee… Gluergh…. Whaugh hathpenned lasnight? Did youggh-” Ted vomited into a bucket on the side of the bed, and continued his incoherent stream of ‘words’. “Dieggsse youghinnn eunghh… is the coumghphutaer unbrained?”
“If you mean what I think you mean, Yes Ted. As a side effect of this procedure your body produced an electrically charged mucus that has filled your gastrological systems. You’ll need to spend a while laying in bed and expelling the mucus. I’ll need to stay in here for a moment to document your behavior.”
Ted puked once more. “Goough golleugh… Greeugh gadouujjggs… Eeeughhhh. Why theugh hell…”
“Just get some rest, Ok?”
* * *
Ted lay in bed for the next few hours, as the fuzziness in his mind cleared up and the agonizing stomach shenanigans subsided. Olivia had left, he was alone and finally had the strength to get out of bed. He wasn’t truly alone though. There were cameras on the ceiling watching his every move. He got up and looked at the desk, covered in indecipherable paperwork and medical documentation. He understood none of it, so he sat at the edge of his bed. He had no clue if he was allowed to leave the room, so he didn’t.
Ted checked the bucket next to his bed, which possessed a plastic tube that would suck the fluids into a hole in the wall. He didn’t mind, it was just his mucus. He wasn’t gonna use it for anything. Finally, the door opened. Dr.Dymaxion was standing behind it, and twirling a ciggarette around his fingers.
“I don’t think that… Uh, Are you allowed to smoke inside?”
“No, but this isn’t a real smoke anyways,” He tossed the ciggarette in the air, and grabbed it with his hand. He uncurled his palm, and there was nothing there. “It’s a hologram, you’re probably wondering why I have it. So, you seem to have recovered, ready to help us make scientific history?”
“What was the point of the fake ciggarette?”
“No point, Ted. Just a bit of flare. Come on, we’ve got to get you accuainted with the rest of the team!” Dymaxion lead Ted to a sterile labratory, the ceiling was quite high, and there was an assortment of lab equipment populating the room. “Now Ted, I do believe you’ve met Oliva, our computer expert. But we’ve got alot of different angles for us eggheads to analyze the astrophenomena from, meaning we’ve got alotta eggheads. Such as Lisa Noguchi, our consultant on chronological astrophysics. Futuro Sandberg, the go to guy for spatial anomalies, and one of the former chief engineers at SyncaTech. For production of the spacecraft and satelites we’ve been using to analyze the astrophenomena, we’ve commissioned designs from General Buckminster, great grandson of Ronald Buckminster; the infamous CEO of the infamous company known only as Regain-EXT.-Corporaté-Blocc!”
“Have you been practicing this?” Ted inquired. “Yes, do you like it? Sorry, back on track. We’ve got dozens of scientists and engineers working on this, those are just a few of our head egg-heads. Please do be kind, we know you aren’t enthusiastic about this. Our first tests will be on what initially brought you to our attention, susceptibility to various forms of radiation. Just step into that chamber over there and we’ll tell you what to do next.” Dr.Dymaxion motioned over to the chamber, which was a glass cylinder ontop of a raised platform. “Whatever.” Ted mumbled, as he stepped into the chamber. The glass door sealed shut behind him, and made a depressurizing sound as it did so.
All the scientists gathered around the test chamber, wearing fashionable space-age protective gear. Lisa spoke into a microphone at one of the control stations on the edge of the glass. “Our expert on radiation and all that should be here in just a moment, He appears to be late for work… Again.” Ted just nodded, standing awkwardly in the center of the chamber. He swayed his arms a bit and did some stretching in an attempt to act natural; which just made him more self conscious than before.
A man on a hoverscooter burst into the room, and rushed to the other scientists. Ted couldn’t hear what they were all saying behind the glass. After a bit of conversation, the bumbling fool went to the mic to talk to Ted. He panted out “H-Hi, i’m Bertie Rogers, The uh, the waves guy. First thing uh’ll, i’ll uh be exposing you to is, the, the uh, right, a replicated version of the waves given off from the outer edge of the astrophenomena cloud. You won’t uh, don’t do anything.”
Ted felt all the eyes of the scientists gazing at him, Bertie slowly turned a knob on one of the control panels. Bertie asked “Feel anything yet?” and Ted just shrugged. Bertie turned the knob more, and Ted began to float in the air. This didn’t make Ted feel particularly odd, not even weightless. He felt more like he was heavier in every direction; a minor outward stretching sensation. Bertie asked “Does this hurt?” Ted shook his head, to which Bertie told him “We can hear you through the glass, you can just speak.”
Bertie turned the knob even more, and once again asked Ted how he was feeling. Ted opened his mouth to speak, but he spoke out of order, chopped up and distorted to the point of incomprehensibility. Ted heard his own speech, and began freaking out, flailing at the wall, trying to grab at the glass. Every time he reached out, his arm was pulled back, the momentum sending him spinning. He felt like his apartment, floating and drifting in various directions. He wanted to tell Bertie to stop, but he didn’t want to speak anymore.
Bertie took notice, and stopped the test. “That was the full dosage of radiation, Ted. Luckily it only seemed to affect the vibrations of your voice, not your body. Usually this causes our test subjects to die from reversed beating of the heart, thinking backwards until they experience braindeath, and uneven molecular decay or aging.”
Ted gasped out “YOU COULD’VE MADE ME DIE AND YOU DID IT ANYWAY?”
“We were hoping you wouldn’t die, to be fair.”
“Y’know I once read about people like you in a book about serial killers.”
“I’m flattered, but I'm probably the third most ethical person in this room.”
Two assistant scientists helped lift Ted off the floor of the chamber and helped him walk to a couch by the side of the wall. Bertie asked Ted “So, uh, what time do you want to try the inner and center radiations from the Astrophenomena? They, uh, they shouldn't…kill you… we think, well, more-so hope. That’s what our calculations predicted.”
“I’d fucking stab you if I wasn’t nausiated and surrounded by people with atomic weaponry. Good golly do I hate you.”
“Sorry Ted, but this is just, this is just my job. I don’t like it too much either.”
* * *
In between his tests, Ted was instructed to stay at the institute. The bedroom air was stale and walls imposing. It was quite cramped, being hastily put together in a spare room that used to be used for workshops. They set up a cot for Ted in the corner of the windowless former classroom, nestled aside desks that had been pushed to the walls years ago. There was dust on every surface, even the burnt out lightbulbs.
Ted tossed and turned in his sleep, having difficulty acclimating to a non-floating bed. He decided to get some water from one of the break-rooms; to calm his nerves. It was just a few halls down from his room. The hall-way walls were adorned with acolades and achievements of the institute, shelves decorated with achievements and celebrations from the time of post-scarcity living and development.
Ted neared the break-room, but something was in his way. A balding man encased in a full body metal suit, resembling the suit of an astronaut. There was a loose, lead cloth beneath the metal plates and wires. The cloth inflated and deflated, slowly breathing like prey in the sights of a predator. The quiet man spoke out to Ted slowly and methodically. “And you must be…? Ted… Ted was it? Sorry, I was not able to make it to. Your first test. I do hope you may, pardon, the interuption. I am General Buckminster. I was just here to, pick up the medication for, my father. I’ve commissioned it from. The institute in exchange for my designs. I do hope we can meet again, even if I do not… See your tests, I can assure you that you would survive. The life support systems. Do not falter easily, i’ve seen so myself. I swear it would of aged me a hundred years, if I hadn’t reached such heights soon enough.”
Buckminster paused between his words, but did not breath. He let his suit do so for him; a meanial task of no concern. He stared into space, into the hallway behind Ted. He lumbered forward slowly and rustily, the bones of the metalic skeleton beneath his suit creaking and scraping against their hinges. His human bones did not make quite the same sound, but they did ache and tremble.
Ted stepped out of the way, and let Buckminster pass. Ted continued to the break-room, afraid and nervous. He filled a paper cup with water, swiftly downing the whole thing. He paced back to his uncomfortable cot, in this uncomfortable place, and layed down to sleep. He wanted not to make any more encounters at this time.
He woke up in the morning, to a sore neck and back. He rolled off of the cot, sprawled on the row of desks next to him. He was covered in dust and sore joints; one of those he quickly brushed off with his sleeves, the other would bother him the rest of the day. He returned to the break-room from the night before, making himself some eggs and toast for breakfast in the microwave oven. After an unfufilling meal with a side of pulpy orange juice, he slogged and grogged over to the main labratory.
Various scientists and reasearchers were already bustling and doing various science things related to the Astrophenomena. Dr.Dymaxion rushed over to Ted, and inquisitively asked “Ted, are you aware of what time it is?”
“Morning, i’d assume.”
“It’s 1:20 pm.”
“Oh. Okay then.”
“Ted, you’ve wasted enough time with this talking. We have important work to do!”
“Such as…?”
“Well, Bertie WAS supposed to expose you to inner and core radiation… but he decided not to show up today for SOME reason… Futuro however has some very interesting things he’s been eager to try out, so go see him over in his office area where he’ll tell you all about all that.”
“Alright.” Ted said, before stretching and going off to Futuros office. Futuro was sitting, reclined in a bubbular seat derivative of an egg-chair. He was wearing a shiny white plastic lab coat, almost perfectly cylindrical with a black line in the center, and a satellite-like orange cone at the neck and ends of the long sleeves. The coat had orange saucer shapes on the shoulders connecting the sleeves to the torso, and at the bottom of the coat. His pants were pure black, and draped over his shoes. On the walls in front of him were maps, diagrams, various blueprints and equations. He turned around to greet Ted.
“Ah, Ted! Glad you could make it, now I know you’ve been told that we’d be doing some testing on space but… You’ve used a telepad before, and without Bertie we can’t really recreate the enviornment of the astrphenomena. Theres not much we can do reasearch wise, however I do have something i’d like to give you.”
“And what would that be?”
“Well, I should’ve said multiple things, because I want to make sure you don’t die in the astrophenomena. The way it interacts with time means that different parts of the body may be at different points in time, and because people move, they may also be at different points in space as well. Imagine walking, and your legs keep walking whilst the rest of your body is in slow motion. You’d likely die. Now, based on your exposure to the outer radiation, we believe that will not happen to you. However, I still have worries about future experiments. Me and Bertie were discussing this yesterday and I came to the conclusion that you are far too valuable to let die just yet; so I’d like to give you some treatments that I myself have gone through. These will protect you from the various dangers in space, not just the astrophenomena. Now tell me, do you know what pintaculates are?”
“Somewhat, We touched on them back in university, but since then i’ve gotten far too much dilly dallying done and haven’t studied up on all that. Those are used in the telepads right?”
“Exactly, Pintaculates are artificial supercharged microscopic particals, measuring in at around half of the size of an electron. We shoot one into the air, and it creates a temporary hole in spacetime. Using computers, quantum vacuums, and various interesting equations you can create a set route and a destination for the pintaculate, and thus an exit point for it to dissipate from. If you don’t, the tear in space will close in less than 3 attoseconds, which is 142.31415x10^90 times the amount of time it takes for a pintaculate to travel around the sun 300 times. The speed is inconceivable to even the smartest calculators, and it is truly a feat of science that this was harnessed for human use, wouldn’t you say?”
“Yeah, it’s pretty cool I guess.”
“Oh dear, I’m sorry, I've gone off topic again, haven’t I? Apologies, where was I? Oh yes, a direct impact from a pintaculate would be so insignificant you wouldn’t even feel it. But two or more pintaculates, colliding whilst passing through your body, that would send a shockwave throughout your cells that ruptures their DNA, their cell walls, and completely deprive your nervous system of any electrical activity. You would essentially melt, and anything recovered would be a blank slate. That’s never happened to anyone outside of a laboratory setting, but here we are, in a laboratory, full of experimental and borderline illegal technology. Not to mention the astrophenomena, where the chaotic tangle of time would undoubtedly muck with the tragectory and travel of pintaculates.”
“I see what you’re getting at, you’ve got something to protect me from that?”
“Exactly! It’s something i’ve gone through myself, anticulate charging. This is the process of charging yourself with anticulates, which are one 100th of the size of a pintaculate and created by spinning a pintaculate in a ringularital chamber until it reverses charges. Anticulates will orbit around electrons, and repel any pintaculates that come close to them. This essentially protects you from pintaculates for the rest of your life, and I’ve had no regrets doing it myself.”
“Good golly, this is the first thing any of you have done that would benefit me. Is there anything else I should know beforehand?”
“Nothing you’d need to know, but alot i’d love to talk about.”
“Maybe once this is over you can tell me about it, I’d love to hear more sometime.”
“What do you mean by this?”
“I don’t know, everything? I’m not sure how long I’ll be at The Bart Institute.”
“You don’t… Nevermind.”
“Huh?”
“Nothing important. Let’s just start with the procedures.”
Futuro took Ted down to another building in the courtyard of The Bart Institute, it was much newer, being more akin to the buildings Ted sees in day-to-day life. Inside, Futuro instructed Ted through the process of anticulate charging. Ted was put into a lead astronaut-esque suit, which was filled with various sensors, lasers, and other devices. The helmet was a squashed orb shape, with windows evenly spaced on the sides. There was a large pipe leading up from the helmet to the ceiling, and Ted couldn’t move whilst inside the suit.
Futuro warned Ted this process would produce very bright light, to which Ted just nodded. Futuro took this as a go-ahead, and started up the anti-charging machine. The helmet began spinning rapidly, as anticulates flooded into the suit. Lasers of anticulate-energizing radiation shot into the helmet windows, sending a slight tingle dissipating through Ted’s nervous system. Then, like nothing happened, it was over. The suit depressurized, and opened up. Ted stepped out from the steam filled humanoid shaped chamber. “Is that all I needed to do?”
“Yes, sorry if I made this seem like all these steps would be spread out. They all took place in that suit, some at the same time even!”
“Huh, guess that means I have the rest of the day off?”
“I don’t see why not.”
“Alright, see you later man, I’m gonna head down to the bar.”
* * *
Ted walked down to LunaLounge, which was just a bit away from The Bart Institute. The outside was pure white, with a layer of 1 inch translucent material laid on the sleek walls of plastic and silicon. There was an orange base that smoothly transitioned into the ground, and the roof of the joint was various layers of bubbular building divided by bright tangerine red borders. The sliding door was a round hole in the building facade which was bordered by the base of the building, which arched around the doorway.
Ted walked into the building, where the ceiling was made up of 2 layers. with holes in the first layer that revealed the bright colored slab of light shining down from the upper layer. Cosmic disco beats and rhythm jived through the dance-floor, Ted walking past them straight to the bar. He sat down on one of the floating saucer-like bar-stools, and ordered a drink. To his shock, Bertie was sitting right next to him.
“Bertie? What are you doing here?”
“Oh, uh…- , hey Ted- I uh, -I didn’t want to show up today-”
“Everything okay man?”
“I don’t- I can’t keep this up… I- I don’t want to- hurt anyone anymore-…” Bertie choked out every word, struggling through a mix of sadness and drunken buzz. Ted put a hand on his back to comfort him.
“Hey man, it’s gonna be alright, just… just enjoy the music.”
“I- I-It’s not gonna be ah-all-alright, Ted. If you- We don’t know for sure if you’-you’ll survive any of the tests- W-we, if I go back t-to the institute- I’ll ha-have to… We’ll ha-ah- have to… find out… I can’t do this- I c-ca- I can’- I can’t do th-this a-any… anymore- I’ve… We haven’t- I haven’t… no ones shown you-…”
Ted remained silent, even as Bertie struggled to hold back his tears and speak his mind.
“No one- It’s… He’s… A living-… It’s- God- I don’t- It’s… We don’t know his name- We just… He needed money and… We- We offered… Ted… I have s-some- a thing to- something to show you- We need to- We’ve got to go back to the institute-” Bertie wiped the sadness from his eyes, and cleared his throat. Ted responded, as Bertie just looked down into his mug of brown AstroBuzz.
“Bertie, you’re drunk. You shouldn’t be messing with any gizmos or gadgets or-”
“N- No. Ted, you don’t- It’s not a thing, it’s a… he’s… human… I won’t- I just need you to know what we did. I need someone to know.”
“Alright, I’ll take you back to the institute, even if it’s just to get you away from the bar.”
* * *
Bertie and Ted walked back from the LunaLounge, and back to the Institute, Bertie still mildly drunk and passively draining tears.“So, it’s downstairs you said?”
“Yes, just downstairs there's a- it’s a fake broken door, It only opens halfway, before you need to push it all the way- people won’t notice a broken door, and won’t enter it either- too much- too much effort to get someone to fix it, just- yeah… Something like that.” Bertie sniffled as he talked, and the two went downstairs.
The door was ordinary and plain, a sliding door that only opened halfway. Bertie opened the door, pushed it all the way open, to which the pair found themselves in an ordinary storage room. Bertie pushed one of the piles of boxes to the side, revealing a trapdoor. He grasped the dusty handle of the trapdoor, and lifted it open. Ted had assumed Bertie was just drunk- but this was a true secret. He shuddered to himself, and climbed down the ladder after Bertie.
“Well… This is it…” Bertie whispered out, dread and regret in his voice. The room was grim, with metal grates on the walls, covering exposed wires and pipes, rusty creaks of hinges and cogs, and the sound of dripping water. At the far end of the room, was a machine. There were various containers and tubes of fluid, air pumps, the exposed mechanisms of the device for all to see; with no attempt to look presentable.
There was a figure draped in cloth, laying on a bed at the center of the machine. Tubes and wires ran under the thin white sheet and into… ??? Bertie pulled the cloth down to the shoulders of the… ??? revealing it’s true form. Ted’s eyes widened and he covered his mouth to prevent… that thing …from waking up. He didn’t want to make a sound. Bertie whispered out “This is what… what I haven’t looked down at in a long time. One of the first tests… I- It was- It was a mistake. We offered a homeless man money in exchange for being a test subject for us. We exposed him to- I turned the dials and- The radiation took effect. His blood pumps backwards, his jaw moves at a different speed than the top of his head, he… he should’ve died the moment his legs walked away and his hand phased into his head. But we kept him alive, we watched as his thumb became 50 and his neck became 80, before his thumb went to 40, his mind became nothing more than a processor for pain. We sewed wandering body parts back to his body. He’s likely lived- and unlived- thousands of years at this point. We’ve kept him constrained to this bed to ensure his body doesn’t detach from itself. It appears that his body doesn’t phase through itself, or anything, when we aren’t exposing him to… you know …but this also means that his hand is permanently attached to the center of his skull. He still tries to pull it out, we aren’t sure if he knows it won’t work. His memories and brain development may occasionally be reversed or fast forwarded as his neurons fluctuate in time, but… we can’t know for sure. We’d ask him, but he doesn’t speak in chronological order. We only keep him alive to study him, but… we don’t do that anymore. It’s become to- it’s too much of a burden on our minds. We just want to end his suffering, but that’d be a breach of our scientific duty.”
“Why don’t you quit?”
“I want to- We all want to- but we know that if we did… we’d all be replaced, by people less competent and qualified than us. Far too risky to let this be handled by anyone but the professionals. Of course, we all used to have our own reasons for joining- far from… Bixtoro’s reasoning. I wanted to recover the technology for the matter synthesizer, but I see now… it won’t be worth it. Nothing is worth this much suffering.”
“Is there an end to it? This project, I mean. I don’t see it going anywhere, even if I end up able to survive in the astrophenomena… I doubt anyone could get what they want from it.”
“It’s a dire situation, it’d be best if we just left it alone. I wish Bixtoro would just call the whole thing off, but he just doesn’t seem to understand what’s at stake here, or he just doesn’t care.”
Ted was about to respond, but the sudden sliding of metal against rust grabbed his attention from across the room. Coming down the ladder was Bixtoro. The duo were silent, breathing as heavily as the damaged man beside them. Bixtoro landed on the basement floor, with a mechanism similar to that of a subway he used to descend the ladder.
His wireframe expression was a bright, grim disposition bleeding through the shadow. He wasn’t mad, not visibly at least. He wheeled forward, the unchanging monotone hum of a CRT monitor drawing near, backed by the backwards beating of the bedridden heart. At last, he spoke.
“Bertie. You said you wouldn’t do this to me. You’ve jeopardized everything, you’ve ruined all of it, and for what?”
Bertie was too stunned by this to respond, so Ted did for him. “Bixtoro, Look this man in the eyes, through his glazed over, timeless eyes. This pain, you’ll let it go on, expand like the tumor it is, and it’ll-”
He was stopped by the yell of the electronic mind before him.
“TED! WAS I SPEAKING TO y o u? I’ve been on this project for far longer than you, but you think you know something that I don’t? I’ve weighed the risks, the costs, the time it’ll take. You have what it takes to change the world for the better, bring back an era of prosperity, yet you selfishly wish to refuse from atop of some supposed moral high-ground, you are NOTHING!here, you have no authority to speak on these matters, you are the means to the ends that you yourself desire. Are you not willing to pay the cost?”
Bertie wimpily spoke up “M-Mr. President, Sir, please try to keep your voice down-”
“WHY? Should I respect you, Bert? You’ve been nothing but a hindrance to me from the start, insisting on waiting for volunteers, inspections, and outside help. It’s absurd, This is SCIENCE! We do WORK!here, Work that’ll change this world for the better, but you just whine and complain about ethics. NEWSFLASH! It’s time travel! We can bring them all back! We could reuse material infinitely, cure any disease, do ANYTHING we want with the technology we find in the future. But you just want to weigh that down, don’t you?”
The formerly sapient body groaned in response to the crass compressed criticism of the computer. It raised its head, distressed by the noise. Its body was trying to rip itself apart, writhing as it awoke. It struggled to rip its hand from within its own head, pulling and screaming in pain as it agonized over its form. It was agitated, and attempted to free itself from it’s restraints with no knowledge of the pain this would ensure. Bertie backed up from the cranky would-be corpse, and soon one of the life support mechanisms trailing into the body snapped.
Excess stomach fluid began draining from a hole in its side. The body wasn’t able to survive this much stress, it didn’t want to be here. It didn’t want to be alive. It held no concept of want or life. Only electrical signals in a broken brain telling it how to respond to pain. It screamed in a choppy, reversed guttural tone.
Bixtoro backed up slightly, not showing his fear on his face. The defiled being rolled onto it’s fused arm, snapping its arm bones in the process. Multiple wires and pipes going into the back ended up being yanked out by the sudden movement. Different parts of the bone healed at different rates, leaving it disjointed and malformed. The body rolled further, managing to slide the non-fused arm free from restraint. Its head fell and draped off the side of the bed, pulling on the IVs that had been stuck inside various points in the skull. Some came loose, others did not.
Bixtoro hesitantly commanded “Bertie, record all of this.”
“For what purpose?”
“We’ll find one later, just do as you’re told.”
“Would you want to be remembered this way? A nobody? Suffering in the darkness of science and unrecognized.”
“You’re projecting, Bertie. Do your job and take notes on… this.”
“It had a name.”
Bertie and Bixtoro were too caught up in their quarrel to notice the body had freed itself from the majority of it’s restraints, bleeding and leaking fluids from various holes, patches of skin and flesh falling onto the floor. Ted attempted to speak but had no words to say. He choked on his own speech, unable to alert the duo. The body limped and moaned toward Ted, and grabbed him with a cold hand. It was smooth, and it shrunk as it tightened its grip. it was aging backwards, but not completely. It’s nails grew at an anomalous rate, digging into Ted. Ted attempted to pull it off of him, but failed. He yelped in pain, gaining the attention of Bixtoro and Bertie. Bixtoro couldn’t do much due to a lack of limbs, but Bertie rushed to action. He ran up to the creature and stamped on its foot. It recoiled, releasing Ted and loosing it’s leg. It cried, and cried in reverse, then both at the same time. It cried out in desperation. Its tired old eyes rest in weak childish sockets, showing lifetimes of pain and torment. Bertie knew what he must do. What he hadn’t had the guts to do this whole time. He smashed his boot into the face of the man over and over. Blood pooled and unpooled on the floor, a mix of hand and brain matter staining his clothes. Ted watched on in shock and disgust. Bixtoro begged and screamed for Bertie to “stop. Stop. STOP. WHAT ARE YOU DOING? DO YOU KNOW WHAT YOU’RE WASTING.” Instead of it’s synthesized form of speech, it spoke in a panicked, rapid “NONONONONONONONONO” formed from text to speech without the time to process what was happening and what to think. The body of the tortured man still did not rest, it flailed aimlessly on the floor with no brain to direct it. It was undoubtedly beyond saving now. Bixtoro’s protests grew louder as Ted joined in on trying to end the pain of the being. Nothing worked, it wasn’t one consistent living being. When one part dies it is just brought back by a connected piece of living tissue. It would all need to be disposed of at once.
“T-Ted, I trust you. I left a ray gun on a counter upstairs, hidden in the microwave oven. Grab it.”
Ted ran past Bixtoro and rushed up the ladder, searching for a microwave oven in the break room. Unfortunately, this room was home of last years white elephant Bartmas game, and microwaves were all the rage that year. Ted opened one of the microwaves, and saw nothing. He opened the fridge only to find it was full of unused microwaves. He checked frantically throughout the room for microwaves, stuck in dishwashers, cabinets, laying on the floor, before finally finding the ray gun hidden in the microwave oven that was inside of a larger microwave oven. He grabbed it and climbed down the ladder, rushing to Bertie to hand him the weapon.
Bertie aimed the gun at the fleshy limb pile, as the dish on the gun brought in electrons from the surrounding air, before blasting the target with plasma and electrical charge. It was eradicated, reduced to a thin layer of dust on the floor. Bixtoro had stopped speaking at this point, staring on only in grief.
“Ted. Bertie. What you just did was a major violation of scientific conduct. Not only that, you may have endangered our relation with Buckminster. Our testing of new life support technologies has been, well, complicated by this development. I’ll need a moment to myself to… arrange a meeting. Things need to be… reworked. Do not engage in any more testing or research until then.”
Bixtoro left, ascending up the ladder and wheeling himself away. Ted and Bertie were left in the now functionless room. Bertie sat against the wall, exhausted and traumatized. “I know it’s what should’ve been done from the start but… how did it get this bad?”
“At some point, in any job, you lose hope of leaving. It becomes routine, any harm that comes as a byproduct of your work ends up being so glaringly obvious and ever-present that you just want to tune it all out. I lost hope years ago, I just want to live, which is the most one can ask for now aside from money.”
“Y-You… I think you’re on the money there. Its been years since I got my degree and I still don’t feel… fulfilled. I’ve tried to tune out what I've done, what I do for a living. There are small distractions from this burden of employment, but those don’t feel fulfilling. Work should feel fulfilling, but I don’t feel attached or proud of what I have no input in. I’ve worked on so many projects and at so many labs in my life, never did I feel in control. Never was my happiness able to be fulfilling. I- At most I’ve been somewhat glad when my work improves the lives of, well, people. I don’t remember what that felt like though.”
“We… We aren’t gonna make it, are we? As a universe, I mean. If Bixtoro goes ahead with direct interactions with the astrophenomena… Earth as a whole will end up needing life support. We’ll all end up like… Y’know.”
“You wouldn’t.”
“Don’t burden me with that knowledge, respectfully, I… I don’t want to think about these things. I can’t go back to… an even worse state than I’m at right now, for simplicity's sake.”
“We- We do have access to your medical records, Ted. I think I remember that night. When you saw her in the woods, was it after… you know-”
“Right, that was in the newspaper, wasn’t it? It wasn’t… I wasn’t gonna go through with it. Maybe I wanted to but… I don’t want to think I could’ve done it. To answer your question, it was after I was told not to loiter up there. No one helped me, they just didn’t want me on their property.”
“Is this why you didn’t want to talk about the encounter?”
“Part of it. I’ve never wanted to talk about it, but it may have just been who I was talking to. Haven’t had a friend in my life.”
“Say, Ted, It’s been, We should probably take a break from all of this. Wanna go get drinks?”
“Sure. That sounds nice.”
* * *
>ACCESSING…
>EVERY DAY I WAKE UP AND PLAY TIC TAC TOE AGAINST BERTIE ROGERS.
>I AM LISA NOGUCHI, A SCIENTIST WHO HAS SUFFERED FROM A FORM OF RAPID BRAIN DEGENERATION.
>LUCKILY, USING COMPUTER TECHNOLOGY FROM MY GOOD FRIEND I HAVE BEEN ABLE TO LIVE A RELATIVELY NORMAL LIFE.
>ADAPTING CODE 437
>BATTERY:▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒░
>GRAYMTR:▒▒▒▒▒▒░░░░
>GREYMTR:▒▒▒▒▒▒░░░░
>AGE TIL:▒▒▒▒▒░░░░░
UPDATE
>ADAPTING CODE 438
>BATTERY:░░░░░░░░░░
>GRAYMTR:░░░░░░░░░░
>GREYMTR:░░░░░░░░░░
>AGE TIL:░░░░░░░░░░
UPDATE
>ADAPTING CODE 439
>BATTERY:░▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒
>GRAYMTR:░░░░▒▒▒▒▒▒
>GREYMTR:░░░░░░▒▒▒▒
>AGE TIL:░░░░░░▒▒▒▒
UPDATE
>IF YOU ARE READING THIS, YOU HAVE SOMEHOW FOUND MY BRAIN.
>OF COURSE, IT IS NOT WITHOUT IT’S DRAWBACKS.
>I DREAM IN GRAPHS WHERE I SEE MY OWN BRAIN. IT IS CALMING. I CAN WRITE IN HERE.
>ADAPTING CODE 440
>BATTERY:▒▒▒▒▒░░░░░
>GRAYMTR:▒▒▒▒▒░░░░░
>GREYMTR:▒▒▒▒▒▒░░░░
>AGE TIL:▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒░
UPDATE
>ADAPTING CODE 441
>BATTERY:░░░░░░░░░░
>GRAYMTR:░░░░░░░░░░
>GREYMTR:░░░░░░░░░░
>AGE TIL:░░░░░░░░░░
UPDATE
>ADAPTING CODE 442
>BATTERY:░░░░░░▒▒▒▒
>GRAYMTR:░░░░░░░▒▒▒
>GREYMTR:░░░░░░▒▒▒▒
>AGE TIL:░░░░▒▒▒▒▒▒
UPDATE
>I DO CONSIDER MYSELF HUMAN.
>I MUST KEEP MY BRAIN ACTIVE TO AVOID DEGRADING. TIC TAC TOE HELPS.
>I CANNOT IMAGINE A WORLD WITH ONLY TIC TAC TOE. I PITY SUCH BOREDOM.
>ADAPTING CODE 443
>BATTERY:▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒
>GRAYMTR:▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒
>GREYMTR:▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒
>AGE TIL:▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒
UPDATE
>ADAPTING CODE 444
>BATTERY:▒▒▒░░░░░░░
>GRAYMTR:▒▒▒▒░░░░░░
>GREYMTR:▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒
>AGE TIL:▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒
UPDATE
>ADAPTING CODE 445
>BATTERY:░▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒
>GRAYMTR:▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒
>GREYMTR:▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒
>AGE TIL:▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒
UPDATE
* * *
Lisa arrived first to the meeting room, wearing a white helmet with 3 orange fins on the top and a tinted visor. She had orange pauldrons shaped somewhat like turtle shells and a white long sleeved shirt that had an exaggerated belt around the stomach; the belt buckle adorned with various lights and doo-dads. Her skirt was orange, and she had long shiny white boots made of PVC and silicon.
Ted entered the room, having just come in from lunch. He sat on one of the boxy tulip chairs and sipped his mug of coffee, which consisted of a handle and a detached, floating cup. The walls of the meeting room were wooden with white monitors laid in. The floor had a green carpet and a white table in the center.
“Where is everyone?” Ted inquired.
“Bixtoro scheduled the meeting for later today.”
“Really? I thought it was at 4:00.”
“It is.”
“But isn’t it 4:05?”
“No, It’s 3:45.”
“Oh, My bedside clock must’ve been off by a few minutes then. Anyhow, why are you here early?”
“Not much else to do. Thought I'd wait here.”
“If you don’t mind me asking, why’d you take this job? What does it have to offer?”
“Pay, mostly. Can’t afford to keep getting hardware replacements on most other job salaries, and the ethical debates keep my mind stimulated, I suppose.”
“What hardware?”
“I’m a cyborg, Ted. Luckily any software stuff is handled by my partner, but the price of the components has been rising lately. The surgeries are also expensive, not many professionals out there willing to cut into a brain for free.”
“I see… Yeah, that would really be a hassle, wouldn’t it? Hope that uh, well I suppose the most that could change is the prices dropping.”
“I don’t see that happening, to be quite honest.”
Before the exchange could continue, Dr. Dymaxion strided into the meeting room. “Hello Lisa, Ted. The ladder of whom I begrudgingly acknowledge the presence of. I’m rather disappointed in you Ted, you’ve sided with Bertie in all of this. Really? Bertie? You must be aware how detrimental this will be to progress.”
“Golly Dymaxion, I sure do value this vague idea of yours over the stability of time and space. Do you even know what you want from this or do you just want your name in the magazine headlines?”
“Ted, you and I both know that there’s plenty to be gained from this, not just one thing. Blood transfusions from past selves, ownership over slices of the timeline, infinite resources, and unlocking the mysteries of past civilizations. Certainly one death is a worthy sacrifice for all of that, right?”
Lisa interjected. “One death? What about the deaths of everyone on the planet? You don’t even know what you’re talking about, you’re only here because we needed someone to figure out how astronaut meal plans should look, and you aren’t exactly very productive when it comes to that, are you? Where’s that report you said you were gonna finish a month ago? I’m an expert on this, I've written papers. ownership over parts of time? Are you fucking insane? That’s a surefire way to induce some sort of world ending bullshit. I for one am tired of your stupid hyperbolic nonsense. Just quit it, it’s not happening.”
“You think I care what you think? I care about this project, you don’t. The fact we even let you sit here to give your input on a project which you are opposed to is laughable.”
“You know what’s laughable? The fact that you were the 8th in line for your job and only hired because everyone else quit.”
“Really? You really think I care? They quit because they couldn’t handle it, they couldn’t deal with the hard truths of the world, with the sacrifices we all need to make at some point in our lives.”
“You seem not to care about a whole lot of things, Can’t keep up with basic ethics?”
“Ethics aren’t worth my time, I don’t need any of that liberal hippie bullshit, I worked my ass off to get where I am and I don’t need some whiny philosophical brats to lecture me on what I can and cannot do. Piss off rodent, You’re nothing to me.”
Dymaxion left in a fit, and he probably would’ve slammed the door behind him if not for it being automatic. He returned soon after, realizing he had to stay for the meeting, but he was clearly ticked off. He sat on the side of the table opposite Ted and Lisa. Bertie was the next to arrive to the room, in a rush and unkempt as ever. “Sorry I’m late for the meeting, I was grocery shopping and just, dear lord was just, oh it was such a mess, did I miss anything?”
Lisa coyly responded “You aren’t late for once, Good job dude.”
“Huh, that’s nice, I see Ted’s here too. Howdy.”
“Hi, mind if I sit next to you two?”
“Not at all man, go right ahead.”
“Great, Y’know for once it feels like life is on my side, y’know?”
“Why’s that?” Lisa asked.
“Well, Ted’s on our side now and it seems like he’s the only one who, y’know, could actually not be replaced here.”
“Hey now, I was always on your side.”
“Well, yeah, but I guess you didn’t know that at the time. Should’ve clued you in sooner.”
Once again the sliding door to the meeting room slid open, It was General Buckminster, Ted realized that this bulky suit was reminiscent of the life support systems used on the thing from the basement. Buckminster strained himself as he moved, being aged and decrepit. He could not fit in the regular tulip chairs that surrounded the table; so he elected to just stand in the corner, breathing heavily and mechanically. His glazed over eyes reflected that of the man from the basement; making Ted’s stomach churn with memory. He looked away, trying to focus on the screens upon the wall, but his attention kept going back to Buckminster. Ted noticed cameras mounted in Buckminster’s chest, surely those hadn’t been there before. Buckminster's head was motionless, gray, deprived of color and draped in wrinkles. It was dead, it had to be.
Ted’s eyes scanned the mechanics of the suit, but he was spooked out of it by the jeer of Buckminster’s brash, aching voice. “Hey, Ted, It’s not nice to stare,” Buckminster's face did not move, aside from a minor movement in the neck. “But. You aren’t the nicest fellow. Are you? You took away my ground. My place for testing my survival. Are you. Are you aware of death. It isn’t an inevitable part of life. It’s a failure. In the system. That man. He was a failure in the system. A rusted tumor in the cogs of the machine.”
“He didn’t ask to be used for your experiments, Nothing you say can justify what happened down there.”
“I made him useful. And deep down I know. You want to be useful. Don’t you? You are jealous of him. Making him out to be a martyr. He did nothing but die, and you are using him for your moral crusade. You are no better than me. I cannot speak more, my throat is sore and tired. Leave me to my thoughts.”
Ted wasn’t bothered by what the old man said, the opinions of Buckminster hold no value to him. What did bother him was the memory of the basement, tainting how he viewed this place, tainting how he views these people. Everyone was guilty, some for more noble reasons than others, but still guilty.
Ted looked over to Bertie. “How… How long was he in the basement?”
“…” Berite didn’t respond, he didn’t want to think about it. Lisa spoke up in his place.
“He was down there for 5 years. 5 years for us, at least. We can never take that back, but we can try and stop it from ever happening again.”
Dymaxion barged into the conversation, adding his unwanted thoughts. He was brash and disrespectful in his tone and his rhetoric. “You think it’s worth being stopped? It would be a great contribution to our work if it were to happen again, the opportunity to study more and more how this phenomena can be harnessed. But, I doubt you cretins would ever let it happen again; You have no understanding of the kind of world we live in.”
Lisa responded with agitation. “Do you understand the kind of people that live in this world? Not everyone’s an egomaniac like you, willing to let people suffer just for more of that Buckminster cash.”
“Oh really? Then why haven’t you quit yet?”
“Because I don’t want to die, Dymaxion.”
“It’s Dr. Dymaxion, thank you very much, and you should know best that your death would be an improvement for humanity. You’re a burden on your girlfriend, you know.”
Lisa reached across the table and smacked Dymaxion, he pathetically recoiled in pain, rubbing his face.
“Don’t you EVER say that shit to me again you pathetic little worm. I’ll fillet you like a fucking fish, you hear me? You are a stain on the ethics of science and your death will be celebrated by anyone who knew you in life.”
Dymaxion slumped in his chair, going quiet for the time being. The swoosh of the door to the room was heard once more. Olivia Panton strutted into the room with the confidence fitting of someone of her status, sitting next to Lisa. “What’s up?”
“Oh, just waiting for the meeting, you?” Lisa responded.
“Just got back from the studio, been having less and less time for work here, which is a nice change of pace.”
“I bet it is, this place hasn’t been able to stay together for a while now.”
“I’ve heard, sounds pretty rough. You hanging in their honey?”
“Hanging in fine enough.”
“That’s good to hear, where’s Bixtoro? Should’ve been here a while ago, right?”
“No clue, probably just had some delay.”
“Well, I hope y’all’ve been having a good time chatting.”
“It was… a time.”
The automatic sliding door to the room swooshed open. Bixtoro wheeled himself in. He positioned himself at the helm of the egg shaped table, and began to speak. “As you are all assuredly aware, recent incidents have brought to my attention the need to change the conditions that have led to infighting and division at this institute. I feel it is prudent to clarify that, well, I don't hate anyone of you, no, we merely have a conflict of interests, and various approaches to the unique situation we have been burdened with. Going forward, to assure the loyalty of our resources and avoid ethical debates, we will halt all non consensual human testing, furthermore, my strategists have advised me that the solution to our problem may lie within a lack of communication between involved parties, as such, I am mandating all of you attend a series of team building exercises.”
“An amazing idea, Mr.President! What would these exercises persist of, if you don’t mind me asking?” Dymaxion kiss-assed to the monitor.
“Well, as you all should know, Lisa and Olivia are dating and have some of the most cohesion of any of us, so I would like to take this opportunity to model future researcher communication off their relationship. Starting by attending their wedding.”
Olivia stuttered out in shock. “Hold on now, Who said anything about a wedding?”
“You all do still do that, right?”
“Well, Yes, But you know that we’ve never said we were getting married, right?”
“And, besides, we would rather be the ones to decide who attends our wedding.” Lisa added.
“Well, It doesn’t have to be a real, legal wedding, I mean- Not that i’m against that sort of thing, although I suppose that debate was settled back in… Sorry, I’m rambling, aren’t I? But this can just be, well, a trial wedding, can’t it? A team building exercise of sorts.”
“I dunno, we won’t have to pay for any of it, will we now?” Olivia asked.
“Oh no of course not, I mean, I’ve been thinking about what I’ve seen here and, Well, I would like to improve things, I would not make you pay for that, not in a million years. I’ve seen you’ve all been through alot, this has merely been a misunderstanding.”
Bertie remained skeptical. “You’re just now seeing this? I-I mean, I feel like you’ve understood what you’ve been doing and just haven’t cared. Just say you want us not to quit and leave it at that, will you?”
“I will admit, I may have been blinded by my motivations, well, as blind as a computer can be.”
Ted jokingly added “Besides Bertie, He’s offering us free drinks! Gee, Who can say no to that?”
Bertie whispered, slightly agitated.“I feel like you’re taking this a bit lightly, Ted, I still don’t trust him.”
“Me either, but let’s keep things light so we don’t get further on his bad side.” Ted responded.
Lisa responded to Ted’s earlier remark. “To be fair, Free drinks do sound good, and a little practice won’t hurt.”
“You can’t even get drunk, what are you talking about?”
“Oh come on Olivia, I like the taste.”
“How? Most all that stuff’s nasty.”
“I’m part computer, I don’t know how my taste buds wor-”
The door slid open, this time unexpectedly. It was Futuro, Fashionably late. “Sorry I’m late, did I miss anything?”
“Good lord man, I forgot about you, s-sorry, I was caught up in everything and- How’s it going man?” Bertie blurted out.
“Oh, fine, I was- I’ve been really productive with some of the stuff i’ve been working on and- I’d love to talk about it but I got so into it I completely forgot the meeting and- yeah you know?”
“Are you alright? You look tired.”
“Oh, yeah, didn’t get any sleep last night I was- I get into- I mean, you know how I can be at this point but, I, I was working on something and it could, this whole project could be set ahead 10 or so years!”
Bixtoro interjected. “Is it possible for you to present your findings to us at some later date? I am aware that you can be, well, disorganized at times, and feel some time could help you get it all in order.”
“O-Oh! Of course! What were all of you talking about anyways? Aside from the, the uh, that, of course… I'm already caught up on what happened with that.”
“Olivia and I are getting married and everyone has to come as a team building exercise.” Lisa informed him.
“Oh? At what time?”
“No clue, it’ll take a few days to plan a-”
* * *
The local park served as the wedding venue - scheduled for a night of fun and bonding. Disco music, made by Olivia herself, danced along the guests. Various employees of the institute were invited, whom tended towards the introverted side of the scale. Many did not have the confidence to dance, and avoided confrontation. The mood was stiff and clumsy, Bixtoro watching from the sidelines, disappointed in the lack of conversation. He wheeled up to Ted, who was leaning against a tree next to an outdoor table with almost empty red solo cups and a vase of robotic flowers.
“Can I talk with you for a minute, Ted?”
“I- Sure, I guess, What’s on your mind Mr. President?”
“Well, Ted, this isn’t quite… What I imagined a wedding to be like. I would sigh if i had lungs, but I do not. Well, is this just what weddings are?”
“Never been to one?”
“Not once.”
“Huh- that’s-, interesting. I guess I’d say the ones i’ve been to were more social than this. Alot of people aren’t so keen on partying after… I mean, someone died for pete’s sake.”
“Most people wanted him to be taken off life support.”
“Doesn’t make it any less sad.” Ted said, as he cracked open a can of Cybx-Champaigne and took a sip.
“I’m well aware of that, Ted, It’s just… Don’t people want to have fun?”
“Not when they’re forced to. Tell you what, you can tend the bar and try and convince people to hang out, I’ve gotta take a leak.”
“This isn’t the bar.”
“Wait, no, your right, sorry- I don’t, I’m not the bartender I just, I’m a bit drunk right now, I’ll be honest.”
Ted left to go to the bathroom, which was in the opposite direction he was going. Bixtoro paid no mind and stood near the table. Considering what he could do to make the wedding more lively. One of the guests walked up to Bixtoro and asked “You wouldn’t happen to know where Ted is, would you?”
“He just left to use the bathroom.”
“God DAMN it. I told that shithead to watch my fucking beer- shi- sorry, Mr. Presisir, uhm, lord, the beer was gonna do a cool trick while I was gone and I wanted him to see it, just my luck he had to piss! Ain’t it?”
“Well, Why don’t you go and show that trick off to some of your co-workers? I have no doubt they’d be interested to see.”
Meanwhile, Ted wandered into the direction of what he thought was the bathroom, accidentally bumping into Bertie.
“H-Hey! Ted, Watch your step man, you almost knocked me over.”
“Oh sorrry about that man… Say, what’re you doing over here anyways? With the uh, … you got something set up here now, what’s the, you know the deal with that?”
“Yeah I’m-, Just uh, setting up the wedding altar, that’s, that’s all really, we’ve got to put batteries in all the chairs and stuff, so it’s taking a bit.”
“Right, That’s right on man, yuh, y’know? You’re a real good pal… Better than- uh… Bitsoreo… yeah, him… pretended to be- the bathroom so I could just go and see what- what’s up with… with all of this! Yeah know, Good, Goood wedding so far.”
“It’s been alright, honestly not quite as vibrant as most people hoped. You got a moment to help me set up these chairs?”
“Sorry, I can’t, FAR too drunk for- for any chair kind of stuff… You could always, uh, yeah- I’m gonna go now.”
“Ok then, see you around.”
Ted stumbled off to the actual bar, which was set up underneath a string of UFO shaped lights between two trees. He sat on one of the floating barstools, which tilted slightly, causing Ted to fall face first onto the floor. He got up from the ground, grass staining his shirt and pants. He turned to the bartender, who was worried about Ted’s condition, and asked “H-hhhey, Another… Another Drink please…”
“You’ve clearly had too much, sorry pal. It’s only half an hour into the wedding, you shouldn’t be this drunk already.”
“Y-You shut it. I don’t… I don’t need to get drunk anyway! I’ll… I’ve gotten enough… ANYWAYS! You… You… God damn it… I can’t speak right now… I’ll, You… I need to lie down, AND! Furthermore, you can’t stop me!”
Ted made his way to a bench away from the most active parts of the wedding, and laid down to try and sleep off his inebriation. He slumbered for about 2 hours, before being woken up by the shaking of his shoulder. His eyes peeled themselves open. Futuro had an arm on Ted’s side, and appeared worried.
“Ted, There’s something I need to talk to you about.”
END OF DEMO.
WILL TED GET SOBER?
WILL BIXTORO GET NOT SOBER?
WILL THERE BE ALIENS?
FIND OUT NEXT TIME… WHEN IT IS WRITTEN.
I am Connor Hunt, an 11th grade student who has been writing a story for the past few months called Extragalactic Astrophenomena. Anyhow, I felt it would be a good idea for me to create a “demo disc” of sorts for the class website, as I have no motivation to write anything else, and little energy for even that currently, due to current events. This Demo Disc is merely the google doc containing the story so far, I have only called it a Demo Disc out of some sick, twisted attempt to be clever that has tainted my writing.