Author: Majoki

It’s hugely satisfying to watch the person who murdered you, go bonkers. Gyrsen was thrashing like a madman as company security restrained him outside the boardroom. He frothed and spittle flew everywhere as he pointed my way, screaming, “He’s here! He’s right here! He’s going to kill us all. Don’t you see what’s happening?”

What was happening was revenge. I used to be a lot more live-and-let-live, but that was before
Gyrsen and the rest of TurnTech’s board gave R & D the green light to spaghettify me. The suits didn’t like that term, but what else do you call it when trying to pull every molecule of a person’s being through a “controlled” black hole.

Yeah. Controlled. As if designating the riskiest experiment in scientific history as “controlled” made it okay to put me in a chamber designed to produce one of the most inherently unstable remnants of the early universe: a micro black hole,

Why mess with something so cataclysmically unstable? Initially, TurnTech was looking to harness micro black holes in order to create ultra-dense batteries that would hold tremendous amounts of energy. It’d be a revolutionary innovation for humanity’s insatiable energy needs, and I couldn’t really fault the board’s pursuit of that goal.

In fact, I spearheaded a lot of the R & D. But then our early testing indicated that micro black holes could also form peepholes into other dimensions. And that’s where things went sideways with Gyrsen and a few other suits on the board. They asked me if a human might be able to squeeze through one of those tiny blackhole peepholes.

I flat out told them, “No.” Even though I knew it might be technically feasible after decades of testing and innovation. I knew how TurnTech’s suits operated, and a patient, nuanced, costly approach to R & D was not their bailiwick, so I wanted to quash any crazy speculation on their part.

But Gyrsen relentlessly hounded me about setting up a test. I refused, at first pointing out the incredible risks, and then as he pressured me with more strident demands, I threatened to complain to HR and the board president, if he didn’t stop badgering me.

When he did stop I should’ve realized that was the real danger. Because it’s how I ended up in the micro black hole test chamber, supposedly as a willing experimental subject. Gyrsen had orchestrated my “participation” with Machiavellian cunning, Faustian double-dealing, and Rasputin reality bending.

Gyrsen turned me into his thrall using a new form of psy-ops AI hypnosis. I was brain-washed and then put through the wringer. Literally. Spaghettification doesn’t come close to describing what happens when one is squeezed through a micro black hole.

Nothing can prepare you for what happens to your mind, your human essence, your very soul. I was bereft, totally alone. It seemed eons before I became self aware again, though simultaneously in multiple dimensions. Time and space and matter had little effect on my tenuous existence. My consciousness could manifest anywhere at any time, yet only the most threadbare of my thoughts remained. Only the sense of being completely undone.

Undone. Undone. Undone.

That’s what brought me back from the void: I remembered exactly who had undone me.

It’s been said that ghosts are just unfinished business. And Gyrsen was the first of many to see how much I had left to do at TurnTech. It felt good to be back at work in my old haunts.