Fuck this 'one chapter at a time' shit. Here's the whole short story, 'Infin(ite)ration.'

Image credit https://www.kuhmali.com/

Preface—An unfamiliar welcome, likely brought to you by one surface or another.

Thank you for tuning in to ‘The Radio Station at the End of the Universe.’ DJ Rich Nix, here in the nowhere, comin’ straight from resignation, playin’ the hits from every apocalypse. Up next, we got the N.W.A.—that’s right, my fellow Americans—& others, ‘Fuck the Police!’

Sorry about that—the work helps keep my spirit alive. You know how it is, now that all 432 realities are dead, we must hold onto every memory we can or…

Where’d I go? What was that? Nevermind. Back to the reason you’re here, the story of Reality 99. This story lives in a time & place, somewhere on a planet that I don’t recall the name of—just after said planet’s most technologically advanced species, according to themselves, creates their own scientifically-verifiable afterlife.

I know— incredible! That’s how I’m here, right now-ish. My guys, my Whitehouse Whitecoats, figured out the same thing—though, sadly, not while I held the Oval. Nope, that was 35’s bane—or, boon, yeah, that too.

Oh, yes, I need to clarify one important detail. Most of the denizens of this nameless planet aren’t saved onto infinity in the same manner that I am. No, most of those poor souls are mere memories, with their consciousness spread too far & too thin, leaving no room for personal growth.

Static will stop you.

They had no idea of the truth in that slogan.

Now, where was I?

Onward, to science!

From what I’ve gathered of their version of infinity, they learned to write their moments permanently onto the Universe by repeating a moment a fairly large number of times. The locals refer to these repetitions as Infinirations. I forget the exact amount of Infinirations required—it’s on the tip of my tongue. It’ll come to me—maybe it already did.

Moving on. Before I get on with the story, I need you to be aware—there are others out here in the nowhere. Sarah is one. She shared this story with me. The deep history’s a bit much to get into in this passing infinite. I’ll ‘cliff notes’ you the gist.

Boring utopian society discovers time-consuming key to forever, so they set up a system that allows all people an equal chance to save as many memories as possible. Yadda, yadda, you get it.

Allow me to load the translated narrative. I’ve simplified it in order to be more easily understood by your culture. Beep-boop-beep-boop, DJ Rich Nix, out.

Chapter 1: We Put The You In Topia

Blasting through an abrupt opening in the wall, Jasper’s eleven-cycle eyes drink in the room—until. Target acquired! “Dad, dad, dad! Guess what I did! Guess, guess, guess!” The wall closes behind Jasper.

Dad, otherwise known as Misha, pauses his Infinirations at 99. “You kissed your grams, & told her you love her?”

“Two hundred ten full Infinirations!”

“Fancy job, Jasp’, only two hundred twenty-two more to go! Speaking of going, get on back to your Infinirations, so I can finish mine—& remember, it’s your mom & your grandpa’s day to take care of anything that Hughie can’t handle. That way Grams & I have time to focus on our Infinirations.”

With tilted head, Jasper opens his mouth. “How come Sadie & I get to do our Infinirations everyday, but adults only get to do theirs every other day?”

“I’ll be here for you—tomorrow. Today, that’s a question for your mom or Grandpa Rafe. Respect the Infiniration system, & you’ll live forever in the memory of the Universe.”

Jasper’s energy drops drastically to a fifth of its former heights. “Fiiine.”

Misha sets aside 99 handwritten love letters—each stroke, word, phrase, & page exactly the same, down to a happy teardrop stain. The act of writing is for himself, the letters are for Rashel, his better-half, & the handoff is for the both of them. “Jasper, if it were up to me, I’d jump at the chance to have an adventure day with you.” The young boy’s features perk upward. “However, you know the rules. In order to maintain our society, we must listen to the Quantum. Without its AI, we’d’ve died out thousands of years ago, just after the industrial age.”

“Can a single day really destroy our lives?”

“Rarely, but that’s not the point. Life isn’t about only today. If everyone decides to do whatever they want on the same day, the system disintegrates. Sacrifices must be made, like how Pappy Jack has to live in the capital to help guide the Quantum.”

With pursed lips, Jasper nods. "That makes sense. Bye! I love you!"

Spinning like a mother-fucking boss, Jasper departs the same way he arrived. As usual, nothing is the same as it was only moments ago. Hughie, Jasper’s home, morphs to fit the individual user’s mental state. At this point, Hughie’s hallway becomes a natural mountainside waterslide.

Zooming along, with his environment materializing & dematerializing along his path, Jasper drops into a formless challenge room. The room contains Jasper’s seven-cycle sister, Sadie.

Spotting her brother from the middle of the empty room, Sadie stands as tall as her short frame can manage. “Thanks, Hughie, I’ll take it from here.” Sadie points her chin skyward. “Dear brother, I call on you to assist me in my next challenge—a paired challenge! We must build a bridge across this—” Nothing occurs, even though Sadie repeatedly waves her arm across the middle of the reactive room—adding a skosh more drama with each repetition. Sadie’s face scrunches with disapproval. “Ahem. Snap-snap, river, where are you?!”

As the more experienced brother, Jasper shares what little insight he has. “Often the challenges contain sub-challenges, including tests of patience.”

Through narrowed lids, Sadie shifts her gaze along the room’s fathomless edge. “If that’s the case,” Sadie plops to the floor, “I can keep this up for as long as it takes; I happen to be a champion sitter. Just ask my Afternoon-Tea Club.” A hoard a zombified stuffed-toys poke, prod, jab, & stab their fucked-up, fuzzy appendages up through the slowly forming river bank. Closeby, miniature forests & mountains form into a paradise.

Clearcutting & stripmining, the hoard builds an industry of available materials.

Peering over her holdings, Sadie cackles as she does her little kookie-dance. “Everything is mine! I own all of this, because I said so, & since I said it, that’s how it works. Ancient cultures are the best!”

Jasper pulls a stone from thin air, skipping it across the fully formed river. “Fact.”

“I mean, I wouldn’t want to live there. Too barbaric.”

In a moment of realizing what could've been, Jasper takes in the emerging desert. “For sure. If not for the discovery of Intelligent Energy, I doubt our species would’ve survived their consumptive stage. Speaking of, you need to take better care of your resources, or you won't be able to finish with the challenge."

"Good point." The floor under Sadie’s right foot lifts as she captain morgans the same leg. “Afternoon-Teabaggers! Form an ecological economy commission. Save the forests! Save the land by transmuting half the mountain into a quarry. Redirect the river. Boom, lake! Lake creates rain. We’ve saved the planet! Save the planet, save the bridge. Shit, the bridge!”

Jasper smiles at his sister’s seemingly infinite energy. “Indeed.”

Picking up the first piece, Sadie eyeballs a straight line across the river over to her brother. Once set, the line glows neon orange for the siblings. “We need to make sure to place each of our identical pieces in precisely the same manner, working our way toward one another, meeting in the middle. The challenge is timed, but I’m not aware of what time I need to beat in order to pass.” Sadie’s eyes point skyward. “Stressful much?!” Closing her eyes, Sadie centers herself. “Ready?”

Jasper collects his first piece. “Aye-aye, Captain Sadie!”

The clock starts the moment Sadie sets her first piece. Using Sadie’s line, Jasper follows suit. Each consecutive piece presents itself different from the last, with no clear order beyond random chaos. Sadie’s eyes bulge as the blocks overflow her work area. “Too fast! Hughie, slow conveyor belt to half speed.”

Hughie’s voice emanates from nowhere in particular & everywhere at once. “Pausing challenge. Sadie, if I lower the speed, you won’t pass the challenge.”

“I need to learn at a lower level. There’s no way I can just jump in at the highest level.”

“Congratulations, Sadie & Jasper, you passed the challenge. When you see your limitations, you can find ways to overcome those obstacles. Also, Sadie, great job asserting yourself! You advance to your next cycle.”

Sadie grows a few inches taller as she upgrades to her eighth cycle. She casts a wily glance at her brother. “I’m catching up.” Raising her arm higher than ever, Sadie bolts away. “Hughie, load my next challenge!”

The wild child vanishes from Jasper’s presence. The room shrinks down to a doorway. Jasper walks through directly into his mother’s studio. Rashel stands statuesquely staring at a blank wall. Her eyes cast a chaotic glow over the otherwise empty room.

Forming films from random Infinrations takes more concentration than most minds can muster. The artform requires known-spectrum lasers to be surgically installed via optical implants. Using all known spectrums, the laser reverses local Universal memory polarity, causing Infinirations to be read from the memory of reality, rather than copied to it.

Some practitioners lose themselves within the memories, completely disconnecting from their bodies. This is why Jasper decides to leave his mother unperturbed during this fragile process. Well, mostly unperturbed. Under his grandpa’s suggestion, Jasper slips a true/false virus behind his mother’s firewall while her attention flies far from her body. Sometime after Rashel reconnects, all her truths will come back as false, & her falsities will read as truth. The perfect jovial retaliation for the time she programmed his facial exhaust to smell of sulphur.

Upon completion a ladder forms before Jasper’s eyes. Climbing up toward the reaching ceiling, Jasper leaves his mother to her work. A tunnel of multi-colored lights forms around the ascending boy & his ladder. Minutes pass. With no end in sight, Jasper releases his grip on the ladder.

This jets him upward into a free-fly straight into the sky, hundreds of paces above Hughie. A quick density change allows Jasper to maintain buoyancy with the air. Soaking in the view, Jasper lingers in awe.

Like Hughie, each structure comes with its own unique consciousness. Often, the consciousness of a structure might be an ancient ancestor of the current resident, an evolved pet, or any number of imagination-fueled inventions. In Hughie’s case, the house started out as a story told to Grandpa Rafe to help him through the tragic death of his mother. At less than a thousand cycles, she died young.

“Hughie.”

“Yes, Jasper?” A perfectly round globe, Hughie’s exterior appears a metallic ocean of swirling colors.

“Do you ever communicate with other structures?”

“I do.”

“What do you discuss?”

Hughie leaps into the air, spanning over a few thousand structures in the matter of mere heartbeats—a tether keeps Jasper well in tow. Hughie stops atop a volcano, plugging its peak with housely girth. Streams of steam shoot sideways as pressure builds. With a roar of liquid fire, Hughie launches just above the planet’s atmosphere, deciding to call space home—for now. “That was Lindy. We’re dating. They told me to tell you they like your orange eyes & hair.”

Jasper looks down, zooming his vision to get a better view of Lindy. He waves. “Thanks! & thanks for the wild ride!”

The tether between the two friends narrows as Jasper is absorbed into Hughie. Momentarily, Jasper’s feet find the floor. One foot in front of the other. After a long, meandering hallway, a soggy swamp reveals itself. With no way through the muck, Jasper spies a peddle-action hoverbike. Jasper’s smile expands, causing exponential room expansion.

Puttering along, Jasper peddles in no particular direction—until, “Bubbles! Signs of hostile life sighted at umpteen-o’clock. To battle!” Out of the seething swamp pops a hulking koi fish—one the size of Jasper’s new hoverbike. A giant sneer stretches across the fish’s faceted face. Each opponent shifts to the starting line. The swampy room’s sky-like ceiling shimmers through three pulsating colors. As the final color blinks into previous normality, the race is on.

Diving deep, the beastly fish jets toward unseen finish line.

Not to be outdone, Jasper peddles a quick one-eighty directly to the tree line. “Bridge.” With a wave of his hand, the closest tree topples just enough to ramp Jasper & his hoverbike atop the forest canopy. At this height, clear of all obstacles, Jasper eyes the finish line. With barely any effort, in less than half the time of his five previous attempts, Jasper slides past the finish line.

Hughie sets off a barrage of starbursts. “Excellent strategy, Jasper! Congratulations on advancing to the next level!”

“Thank you, Hughie, I wanted to try something different.”

“Different it was. Your time just set a world-record for cycles zero to thirty-six. Update: Your race’s viewer dispersal is now global. Update: Three hundred fourteen thousand one hundred forty-nine users have surpassed your record. Play again?”

“Nah, Hughie, I’m ready to move on. What level is next?”

“User’s choice. Another speed battle?”

“Tempting, Hughie, tempting—but, no. What are my other options at this level?”

“New notifications. Notification one: For setting a world-record far above your experience bracket, your level has increased by seven cycles.”

Jasper looks to the floor to see if his body now matches his current cycle level. The distance appears nominal. “When will the rest of me catch up?”

“This level increase is probationary, & is dependent on how well you manage your next three challenges. The cycles will lock in upon passing those challenges, & upon finishing your current Infiniration. Shall I continue with the last notification?”

“Yes.”

“Notification two, six million five hundred thirty-five thousand eight hundred ninety-seven available challenges. Shall I list the challenges in any particular order?"

“Hughie, please sort the list into categories based on subject matter, & then pick one challenge from each category, making sure to choose challenges that I’m likely to pass, while making sure the challenges are also a high enough level to make sure I keep my probationary levels.”

Immensely more minute than any space between the beating of a heart, in an amount of time which is completely incalculable to most biological minds, Hughie returns with the list. “Nine thousand three hundred twenty-three categories generated. Jasper, given the strategic success of your last level, might I suggest we peruse the puzzle category alone?”

“Good idea, Hughie.”

“Thank you, Jasper. New Notification. I found eighty-four thousand six hundred twenty-six available puzzle challenges. Shall I list the challenges in any particular order?"

“Can you bump up the room’s font size to that same number?”

“Yes, Jasper, I can. Shall I do that now?”

“Sure.”

Nothing noticeable happens.

“Hughie, display these letters.” Jasper taps the air in a few spots that only he can see. “This is the answer to if you should list the challenges.”

The room shifts to midnight.

Jasper lets loose an astonished breath. “That’s one big nope.”

“A joke. I understand. Very funny, Jasper.”

“Hughie, for now, let’s shelve this. I have a question to ask Grandpa.”

Chapter 2: Heavy Light

Upon finding his grandfather, Jasper repeats the question he previously aimed at his father.

The ancient tinkerer takes no notice, as violent radioactive emissions mute the room’s reality for some unknown sum of seconds. “Perfection! What in the razzles is this?! Jasp’, is that you? Come see this, umm, object. I think it might be from an alternate reality. I’ve never seen the likes of it.”

A boyish mass hits the floor just inside & just outside of Grandpa Rafe’s lab.

“Jasper?! Rashel!” Deep in her art, still in her studio, the urgent soundwaves fall short of Jasper’s mother’s senses.

Less than seconds later, a hovering med-droid scans Jasper. “Data inconclusive. Transport mode enabled. Rafe, please stand back.” The floor around Jasper shimmers into living liquid, entombing the boy in a protective transport pod. “Informing guardians of care facility location. Message sent.” Without another sound, the med-droid, with Jasper in tow, zips toward the ceiling. In a ballet of efficiency, Hughie opens a path for the med-droid & Jasper’s departure.

Powerless over his only grandson’s future, Rafe watches the pod blink away into the distance. “What have I done? Hughie, family emergency, bring the family together. Also, move us as close as possible to Jasper’s destination.”

With Rafe’s words, Hughie launches its massive gyroscopic exosphere into smooth, hovering motion. Internally, five rooms sleekly swim toward one another at the fore-sphere. Only the youngest of the family takes any notice—until two seconds later, as the walls flash a variety of spectral pulses.

Grandpa Rafe’s stare all but penetrates into the distant room where Jasper lies catatonic. “I don’t understand. The beam directly hit us both, with me likely taking the brunt—given my proximal stance. I just want to understand. How are the effects drastic enough to cause catatonia, yet invisible to scans? Unless the light was more than a simple flash of radiation?”

Rashel, Rafe’s daughter, the first of the family to arrive arrives in time to hear some nonsense concerning invisible drastic catatonia. “What’s poppin’, Pop? Are we celebrating? Did you break another physical law?”

“No. Well, yes, but that’s not the reason I summoned the family. Compartmentalize your emotions, my little Starfish, I have some heavy news.” Rafe gives his daughter a moment to find her quiet place. In that moment, Rafe takes time to fortify his own emotional walls. “Jasper broke. Radiation from a reality tunnel exploded into my lab. Med-droids are zipping him to the nearest care facility, & we’re hot on their digitail.”

“What kind of radiation?”

“A kind I’ve never experienced in my three hundred seventeen cycles.” Since mastering their genome, the unremembered planet’s unremembered species designs their bodies to mature without aging—to the point of technical immortality. Accidents do happen. Realities do end. Immortality is a matter of perspective. “I’m wondering if it might’ve been some sort of scan.”

“Implying intelligence.”

“Exactly.”

In a different exact moment, Misha rushes through the wall, hastily pushing his way through Hughie’s membrane. “What’s the emergency?! Do we need to print you another ear—nope, both ears are on your head. Looking, looking, looking. Nope, not seeing the issue.” The two remaining family members enter the room from Misha’s opposing peripherals. “Where’s Jasper?”

A triplet of silent stares search the room for any subtle sign—ending on Rafe’s somber countenance.

Fear enrages Misha’s next question. “What happened to my son?!”

“We’re nearly there. It should be enough time for me to fill the lot of you in on my theories of what happened to Jasp’.”

Grams intrudes. “Did you message Pappy Jack at the capitol?”

Grandpa Rafe turns to her. “Yes.”

Sinking, Misha’s heart quickens heavily as if filling with sand. “It’s that serious?”

Though the word be the same, the solemnity it carries quiets the room. “Yes.”

Chapter 3: Arrival

Weakly, an echo of Jasper’s voice flows into the room. “Grandpa Rafe, come here. I have something I need to ask you. Please, hurry. I feel like I’m barely—” A small crashing sound replaces the boy’s words.

A quick get up & several rushing steps brings the family to Jasper’s room.

Seeing no imminent issues beyond a dropped hardline communicator, Grandpa Rafe sidles up to Jasper’s bio-assessing bed. “Jasper, what do you nee...” Rafe drops to the floor.

Jasper jumps from the bed, joining Rafe on the floor. In full-on small child in a horror movie mode, Jasper eerily stares at his stunned family from atop the dead patriarch. “Grandpa Rafe. I have a question for you. How come Sadie & I get to do our Infinirations everyday, but adults only get to do theirs every other day?”

A dozen or so assorted tentacles balloon outward from the boy’s skin. Increasing in size & menace, the undulating digits spear into the dead man’s flesh, exploring the meathusk’s innards. During this invertebrate sojourn into vertebrate, caustic chemical reactions ooze from tentacles out into fleshy passageways. “Why won’t you answer me—” Wet tearing & vicious pops preamble an explosion of wrenching hair, bones, blood, & organs.

Retracting all but one of his tentacles, Jasper detaches the last from himself, allowing the not-so-little squiggly fellow to wriggle into the depths of Grandpa Rafe’s unrecognizable corpse. “—Grandpa Rafe—now—awaken!”

With ten eyes agape with horror, utterly lacking any fight or flight response, the room’s remaining uninfected stand as statues of a pampered society—a society that hasn’t experienced an iota of violence for hundreds of their solar cycles.

Every scattered cell of Rafe’s body ripens with the same energy that poured into Reality 99 during his latest & last experiment. Unseen to all but a few spectral receptors, oozing mucus tendrils blossom from Rafe’s leftover molecular makeup. The invisible tendrils drag each cell back to ground zero of the Rafe-splosion.

Reaching complete convergence, slowly rising to Rafe-ish heights, the molecules form up undecidedly amorphous. Crackling, patchy stains of darkness jitter in & out of existence, suppressing & devouring all adjacent energies. A lightless orb forms around Rafe’s leftovers. Familiar tentacles jut outward from within the orb. In a flash of confusion, the bubble of midnight pops into the shape of Rafe.

For a flash of a questioning moment, Sadie wonders if her eyes catch the silhouette of some beastly bottom-dwelling ocean-creature covered in eternally shimmering midnight. Sadie instantly dismisses the vision, attributing it to a shock-induced trick of her powerful imagination.

Sonic iron-oxide rips through the newly constructed throat. “‘Ello, Starfish—I too come from wata’. Come swim, me dearie.”

Rashel cautiously steps forward, hoping this to be nothing other than another practical joke. “Poppa? Why is your voice different?”

“Mom! Watch out!” Sadie vaults to her mother’s side—just in time to divert the Rafe-ish imposter’s striking tentacle.

Rashel’s eyes turn just in time to see her baby’s tiny head impaled.

Chapter 4: Terror-cotta Army

Drawing inspiration from her brave granddaughter, Grams—or Lili, to anyone outside the family—comes from behind, taking hold of her son & his better half, pulling them away from this madness, back to the relative safety of Hughie. During those first couple dozen steps, Sadie’s remains are heard making a smaller set of creaks & snaps, culminating in the bursting of a molten bubble of flesh—a little girl, no more. Gram’s brave distraction.

Not a time for internal emotional upheaval, Lili sends a message to her better-half. Distant, barely audible cackling comes from a triplet of nightmarish throats. Lili’s message returns as unsent. Her mind kicks into overdrive. All communication attempts return unsent—even simple instructions to Hughie. The continuing laughter burns Lili into rigid resolution. Slowing her gate, Lili approaches the nearest med-droid.

Lili reveals her plan as she activates the med-droid. “All communication is kaput because of those phallic assholes that stole our family. The two of you need to set Hughie to obliterate all traces of this care facility, & then meet me at the capitol building. Misha, you know where your dad’s office is, correct?”

Nodding, Misha helps his mother into the med-droid’s pod. He clasps her hand, knowing it might be for the last time.

The dwindling family ignores distant screaming. Seconds later, another grinding pop of bone & flesh.

Hughie opens an entryway to the only family the house knows. “Unread message from—error, unknown region. Playing messa…”

Misha rushes in, ready to blow some shit up. “Not now, Hughie. Remove safeties. After we’re a safe distance away, climb atop the care facility, & then shut down all superconductors.”

Hughie stores the commands. “I really think you should listen to the message before that mess deletes it.”

“Fine, play it.”

The voice sounds utterly unfamiliar. “To whom it may concern: Sorry for the awkward start, but we’re not sure who this message will reach. Not to be overly dramatic, but—Beware the Cuttlefuckers! They aren’t as pleasant as they sound. They will rape & kill all life, claiming your reality as theirs. They’ve done this to hundreds of other realities. I know you have little reason to believe us, but know that we’ve tussled with them since before time as you understand it. We...”

“Pause.” Shock stops Misha from uttering anything but.

“Cuttlefucker sounds pleasant?” Rashel breaks out into mad, hysterical laughter. Mental compartments stay compartmentalized for only so long.

Misha pulls his better-half into himself.

Rashel’s madly hilarious hysteria evolves into tiny globules of convulsions & despair.

Misha mirrors her emotions with his own stream of liquid agony.

Her father’s sobering words resound through Rashel’s mind. ‘A trail of tears won’t mend the river. Cry when you can, push through when you can’t.’ Rashel releases her grip on her better half. “Time to push. My Mish-Mush, are you ready to push through?”

Misha wipes away his emotions. “Hughie, continue.”

“We have a plan to save as many as we can—using the same tear in reality you created. I know, harrowing. It’s all we have. Try to bring as much of your reality through as possible. Once you leave, you’re never going back—& for the sake of all that is sacred, destroy the tech that created that tear. As of now, the Cuttlefuckers must wait for a reality to die before they’re able to happen upon their next omnicide. With this tech available to the Cuttlefuckers, all realities are doomed.”

The pair stare hard at one another as the alien drones on with the plan’s finer details. A selfish decision is made.

Setting Hughie to impact with the care facility, the pair gallop toward Rafe’s lab. Finding the best radiation protection they can, they bundle up—RAD-resistant & ready to leave the only reality they know.

Unable to feel anything beyond his own suit, Misha grasps Rashel, knowing this could be their end. “I wish we had time for one more Infiniration. Only forever allows me enough time to express my love for you.”

Rashel melts into Misha’s armored arms. “We’ll make more on the other end of our forty-three percent survival rating.”

Clasping one another, with no signs of letting go, the couple tips headlong into likely oblivion. Reality instantly seizes.

Left alone with suicidal instructions, Hughie’s last thought finds the house hoping to meet with its old friend, Rafe.

May their carbon forever mingle.

Chapter 5: Carpet Ride Sans Magic

Blasting awake, Misha’s senses blur anew into reality. A curious group of white-coated individuals come into focus. A man in a snazzy, dark suit approaches Misha. The man’s eyes carry more weight than most—though his boyish smile brings a healthy balance to his face. “Son, are you ok?” The man looks to the closest white-coated observer. “What’s the likelihood that he’ll understand me?”

With no obvious injuries, Misha sits up. “As it goes, pretty fucking likely.” Misha takes in the room. “Where’s Rashel? Are you the ones who warned us of the Cuttlefuckers?”

“I’m not aware of who or what either of those are.”

“Who are you? Where am I?” Misha tries to stand, but falls back as his eyes fizzle static.

The man stabilizes Misha. “Get this man some water! Son, are you ok?”

“I will be. I just need a moment.” Misha takes a glass of water from Philbert, a ginger-haired whitecoat with darting, inquisitive eyes. Misha peers at the liquid. “What’s this for?”

“It’s for drinking.”

Misha’s insides twist & curdle as shock replaces hope. “This world still metabolizes via digestion?”

The suited man scrutinizes Misha’s words.

Philbert inches forward. “Mr. President, I believe he means eating & drinking.”

“I know what he meant, Philbert, I’m merely processing the implications.”

Casting his eye on several silent armed men, Misha inferred other implications. Barbarism grips this world in its gauntleted grasp. The chances of this species being able to send a message across realities quickly plummets to nil. To stop the catastrophe that coincides with immature power, Misha’s smile beams pure charisma. “I’m just joshing you. Of course I know what water is for.” Upturning the glass, Misha drains the liquid into his mouth. Hints of fission induced decay inform Misha of where this world stands. Another planet at the brink of extinction.

“Better?” The president glances at his wrist.

If better is worse, then, “Yes.”

“Good. I’m sorry if this is rushed. I’m scheduled to be in Dallas in a few days, & I’d like to get this situation handled before I leave.”

Misha hands the glass to the president. “Situation?”

“You, son. Don’t go pretending you’re of this world. My Whitecoats watched you appear out of thin air. Add that fact to your slightly peculiar features & clothes, & I’d posit you to be not of this world. Am I correct?”

“You are. I’ve come to teach your world to live forever through Infinirations.” Over the next couple hours, Misha explains how his people created a quantum powered AI, which led to discovering the memory mechanisms of the Universe. Misha stops speaking after explaining how easy it is to save memories through repetitions of 432.

The president turns to a camera in the corner of the room. “Philbert, use that tape to create a manuel. Print up as many copies as there are people in the world. It’s our responsibility to get this to everyone.” Looking to Misha, the president continues. “Will you help them polish up this manuel while I’m away?”

“Consider it done.”

“Thank you, son.” The president holds out his hand toward Misha. “By the by, my name’s John.”

Chapter 6: Awaken Madness, Sleep Forever

Blasting awake, Misha’s senses blur anew into reality. A grouping of white straps come into focus, prohibiting even the smallest of motions. Attempting to break free, Misha struggles against confinement. Nothing happens. “Disconcerting.” Misha pours his entire will into dissolving the straps using his body’s programmable cells. Nothing happens. Without access to Intelligent Energy, most of Misha’s physical systems rely on the biological side of his biotech body. “Hello?!”

A small box on the far wall crackles to life. “Struggling won’t improve your situation, Mr. Oswald. Settle down so we can continue with our questions.”

Misha contemplates what this talking box might be. “Who’s Mr. Oswald? Where’s Mr. John President & his Whitecoats?”

“You are Lee Harvey Oswald. If you mean JFK, he’s dead by your hand.”

“Dead?” Misha attempts to respond, but realizes the communication device is limited to a single channel.

The anonymous accuser continues. “As far as I know, we’re the only whitecoats you’ve had any contact with.”

“I’ve never killed—ever, nor would I. I come from a planet free of barbarism.”

The speaker crackles with menace. “Admit it, Mr. Oswald, you killed President Kennedy. We already know you’re not an alien, Mr. Oswald. You come from Louisiana.”

“I can’t admit to these fictions. I need to talk to this planet’s leaders. There are more important matters at hand. The fate of the Universe is at stake.”

Silence seeps over the room. Crackle, crackle. “Go on.”

Over the next hour, streams of tears, terrible screams, & his story of the last couple hours on his planet flow from Misha. While telling of his family’s death, he pauses, remembering a fresh wound. In widdershins, the memory begins a thing of beauty.

A rainbow of coppery opalescence creates a galaxy on an unfathomably distant wall. Peering out from his radiation suit, Misha is alone. Under the velocity of timeless speed, Misha watches his hand fly, reaching across the inbetween to what shrinking magnificence.

Upon blissful impact, ineffable light crashes through his senses until he watches memory in the proper direction.

Grasping across infinity, Misha loses hold of Rashel’s hand. Their backup tether is meaningless as she spins into uncontrolled oblivion, spattering coppery opalescent rainbows upon impact. The memory lingers in the realm of nightmare.

She never read his letter.

“He’s perfect.” Sans speaker crackle, the anonymous speaker’s voice sounds like any other—just as he intends. “He’ll need cosmetic surgery before we hand him over to the public courts.”

“I’ll personally handle that.” Philbert’s eyes bore heavy on Misha’s image. “I need to study his physiology from the inside. With his accelerated healing, he should be ready for Sunday. Whatever doesn’t heal, we can cover with makeup. What about those monsters of his, think we need to worry?”

“I don’t see why.” Leaning closer to the microphone, the anonymous speaker presses the transmit button. “Lies. All lies. You are Lee Harvey Oswald. You shot JFK. You will be punished for your crimes.” Pressing yet another button, the speaker casually continues his previous topic. On the screen, Misha’s mouth mutely moves. “He said he & his spouse took these cuttlefucker’s only way to get to our world. With her dead & him soon to follow, we’re certainly safe. Plus, he said they destroyed the few cuttlefuckers that infected his planet. We’re fine. Even if he didn’t destroy them, how can they track him here? He’s technologically thousands of years ahead of us, yet he got lost on his journey here. That’s a good sign, right?”

Contemplation pauses Philbert’s response. “The study of exo-realities is a new subject for me. I don’t know enough to posit a guess.” Philbert’s contemplation lingers on the last time he heard the president use posit. Philbert taught him that word. He focuses on words to ignore the guilt that comes with masterminding a presidential assassination. “Lee Harvey Oswald, how’d you come up with that?”

“My kid loves comic books.”

Recalling his own childhood, Philbert smiles. A slew of science fiction comic strips inspired his career path. “Is Ruby ready for Sunday?”

“Yes, I already gave him that special bullet you designed. After it’s over, the body’s all yours.”

Chapter 7: Meanwhile, back on the Cuttlefucker beleagered planet…

Lili steps solidly into her better-half’s office in the capital’s capitol building. “Jack, there’s an emergency!”

Jack looks up, warm surprise washes over his face until he processes Lili’s words. His countenance shifts into seriousness. “What’s wrong?”

Suspicion pools at the corners of Lili’s vision. “Lock down the room. At this point, it’s impossible to know who to trust.” Moments pass as Lili updates Jack.

The Quantum takes note of Jack’s network absence. “Jack, is everything ok? You’ve never gone into privacy mode before.”

“It’s nothing. Call a live meeting of the council. Convey that attendance is mandatory, as this is an omega level threat.”

Twenty-nine minutes later finds all five hundred twenty-three council members settling into the meeting chamber. Random queries are repeatedly tossed in Jack’s direction. Jack blanketly advises patience as the final members find their seats. Murmuring tension uneases into silence as Jack takes the floor. “Before I start, I need to warn everyone in this room, this won’t be easy to hear.” Jack’s eyes scan the faces of his fellows. “For the first time in our recorded history, we face a threat to the entirety of our known Universe.”

A cacophony of dismayed perplexity streams across the chamber.

Once the room settles back to normality, Jack gestures for Lili to approach the floor. “I’ve brought in a few experts to help explain the situation.”

As Lili & her party reach the floor, heedless to all, dozens of refugees pour into the council chamber. Lili takes the floor. “Now that we’re all here, could I get the Quantum to seal the chamber?” As the doors seal, a small boy awaits introduction. “After thousands of years of manipulating your species, the Quantum & I are pleased to introduce you to the most important person on this planet, my grandson, Jasp’.”

DJ Rich Nix, back in the bubble, singing a classic.

‘99 bottles of beer on the wall, 99 bottles of beer. Take one down, pass it around, no more bottles of beer on the wall.’

The end—of this story.

If you like my work, you know where to find my follow button.

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