Author: Philip G. Hostetler
“Many have failed but perhaps you will succeed.”, said Torjen,
“The trans-galactic download is paramount to the ascension beyond space-time and admittance into the Multiverse Associates. You, you…”
Torjen looked inquisitively at his tablet, a list of names and metaphysical capacity ratings shone back at him, this one’s was low,
“Ah… Brouften. You could be the very one to usher us into the Multiverse Associates, provided you can contain the data from many worlds, many species. It says here your Xenolinguistics are unparalleled, an impressive 18,333 alien languages you understand and 11,393 practices of these world’s relative physics.” Brouften nodded and spoke,
“Yes sir, I’m confident I will be a worthy receptacle of the Associate’s downloads.”
“Good! Very good, Brouften. Then come, sit here at the Metanode.” Brouften walked into the single cell room, all full of pride and confident apprehension, he sat at the Metanode in a kneeling posture, a biomechanical neural injector violently clamped into his prefrontal cortex and began pumping him full data. The data of tens of thousands of civilizations coursed through his consciousness; all the pain, pleasure, glory and defeat of tens of thousands of Goldilocks worlds trying to make a home in his consciousness.
But it couldn’t, his mind was too feeble, his confidence too great. His brains liquified and began pouring down his esophagus, dying of brain death and asphyxiation.
Torjen looked down at Brouften’s corpse with procedural dismay.
“What a shame.” He thought,
“Bring in the custodial bots.”, he said over the P.A. The bots emerged into the single cell and removed the body. They cleaned all the brains, blood and bile that leaked from Brouften and vacated the cell. Torjen walked outside of the cell and looked at the cue of thousands of trans-galactic hard drive volunteers and ushered the next in line into the cell.
“Next, please! Many have failed but perhaps you will succeed, ah…” Torjen looked down at his tablet.