“Damn Earth technology, always failing when you need it most and throwing you into a black hole, damn!” –Cyril in this particular post.
Space. The final frontier. Space isn’t actually the final frontier anymore. The final frontier, in fact, is no longer even a physical place or thing. It’s all theoretical now for the majority of the residents of this universe, things like spacetime and quantum mechanics. Except for perhaps the Tuffles and definitely the Seraph race. The Tuffles, as Cyril heard it, were actually beginning to get out there. Good for them, Cyril had said. And the Seraphim race themselves were exploring their own ‘final frontiers.’ But anyway, space. That is where Cyril is currently. He is in his glowing cloud of a ship in space. More specifically, he sat in a nice and comfy chair, flipping through Crime and Punishment, by Dostoyevsky. Cyril was in the habit of reading loudly and dramatically when he was alone and this was no exception.
“ ‘You, too, want to torture me!’ he screamed, with such bitter irritation, such despair in his eyes that Razumihin’s hands dropped. He stood there for some time on the steps, looking gloomily at Raskolnikov striding rapidly away in the direction of his lodging. At last, gritting his teeth and clenching his first, he swore he would squeeze Porfiry like a lemon that very day, and went up stairs to reassure Pulcheria Alexandrovna, who was by now alarmed at their long absence.
When Raskolnikov got home, his hair was soaked with sweat and he was breathing heavily. He went rapidly up the stairs, walked into his unlocked room and at once fastened the latch. Then in senseless terror he rushed to the corner, to that hole under the paper where he had put the things; put his hand in, and for some minutes felt carefully in the hole, in every crack and fold of the paper. Finding nothing, he got up and drew a deep breath. As he was reaching the steps of Bakaleyev’s, he suddenly fancied that something, a chain, a stud or even a bit of paper in which they had been wrapped with the old woman’s handwriting on it, might somehow have slipped out and been lost in some crack, and then might suddenly turn up as unexpected, conclusive evidence against him. He stood lost in thought-“
The ship rocked and made loud thrumming noises, interrupting Cyril’s dramatic reading. Cyril frowned and looked as if the noises and rocking had offended him personally. “Damn Earth technology, always jerking about and not working right.” Cyril grumbled. He sat back down in his chair and began reading again, silently this time. He couldn’t focus on the task though. His mind kept wandering back to his plans for the ship. Cyril had for some time now been planning to bring the ship to Seraph standards, no more teleporting 500 feet below ground. The ship shook and moaned. And there would be no more of that either! Cyril sighed and snapped the book shut. “What’s wrong?” cooed Cyril to his ship. “It’s alright. You can tell me.” Cyril left his seat and began pacing around the control panel. He patted it as if it were a pet. A few moments passed as he examined all the instruments and buzzing screens. Cyril sighed, frustrated. “The damn sensor array must have fallen off again!” He marched angrily to the door and flung it open. “If I have to do this ONE MORE TI-“ he broke off with a gasp. Cyril let out a string of curses that would make his mother ashamed of him. But of course this type of situation would make her say the same thing. Cyril looked out and saw light. Black. Blindness. Nothingness. Cyril was in the event horizon of a black hole. Everything was absolutely still. Cyril slammed the door shut. He stood still for a solid sixty seconds. He let out another string of frustrated curses. “Fuck.” He murmured angrily. “FUCK.” Cyril kicked the wall in a burst of frustration. “How the HELL do I get out of this one?” Cyril put his hands on his hips and looked down to the floor. He calmed down a bit. “Alright Cyril calm down. You’ve worked with black holes before, if anyone can get out of this you can.” Cyril rubbed his chin in thought. “Okay so. All I have to do is exceed the speed of light. Just by a tiny fraction. It’d take years to get out. but it would be done.” Cyril turned around and began making faces, talking to himself. “But of course I can’t do that, damn speed limit of the universe.” He rubbed his chin slowly. “Well, theoretically this should lead to a white hole if I were to puncture the space time field and leave the dimension. Can I do that?” he wondered aloud. “Can I do that computer?”
“You can try.” The computer answered unhelpfully.
Cyril pulled a face and mocked the computer.“You can try.”
Cyril tapped his fingers on his temples trying to think of a way to puncture the fabric of space time with his somewhat limited resources. His face lit up. “Brilliant!” His face fell. “No wait that will almost certainly kill me.” He began his tapping again. “How long can we survive here?” he wondered aloud. “Not long before we’re turned into a single point of matter.” He answered himself. Cyril briefly realized he was completely losing his composure. He supposed it didn’t really matter as long as he could still find a way to get out of this bind. Cyril’s eyes widened as he began piecing a pan together. “It’s so simple! All I have to do is go to where physics don’t apply!” He was referring to, of course, quantum physics. “Stupid Albert Einstein!” Cyril proclaimed as he set up a quantum casual net. According to quantum mechanics all particles were connected and once he and his ship were condensed to one particle because of the extreme density of the black hole he would be teleported to… somewhere. Cyril could set up the teleportation but not where it would go. Ah well. “Here goe-“ Cyril was condensed to one point and teleported to somewhere else. Success.
Word Count: 1,045
