[This is short because it doesn’t need to be longer or maybe cause I’m tired because maybe I saw this weird show and should be sleeping with the bartender instead of… grr. …Belly dancing belongs on bartops.]
[I also had to change the not-title a redo becuase it was wrong for this thing and I don’t need the ever-litigious Thom Yorke after me, clock-around drunk and only happy when punching as he is.]
I’ll also thank NM.
Calvin’s real reality was gonna involve a gran mal seizure, he thought as he used a forefinger to examine his dental work. He found the tooth intact.
Huge mirrors made a square with 343 its midpoint. Calvin found his smile to be white as a toilet, his hairline where he wished it really was… And his breathing to be normal, his mind calm.
The transition from absolute agony, full rigor and bestial terror into what Calvin named ElectricBlue had never been so easy. His instinctive reaction to being weightless in a blue space had been to hold his breath. And the strange crackle and writhing cerulean hues had scared him.
When he wanted to back away, he instead moved so far so fast from where he began that he immediately knew he was in a construct that had dimensions. Maybe it was as infinitely finite as the other universe.
“If you go straight along it you’ll end up where you were…”
Calvin decided to move exactly straight as fast as he could, after placing a gargantuan STOP sign at his back.
Ten minutes later, no sign.
“This place needs Google for fuck’s sake…”
How else could he get answers? There was only the one repurposed gas chamber — the one place to plug in.
Calvin appeared a girl he’d slept around with in college. She had no intelligence, only did what Calvin wanted her to do before he knew he wanted it.
Resulting in the best head any man who ever lived has received.
“OK go!” 343 eventually growled in frustration, disappointed that he couldn’t resist…
“Jesus, what no fucker could resist. Enough time on the cross.”
So Calvin thought about Christianity. And imagined himself as Jesus, in the sense that he knew people less powerful than the Romans were the ones to immediately apprehend him. And then they turned him over to the the Romans.
“Pilate? I am that you sousay I am or whatever!”
Only Calvin could hear his words because no air or anything else existed, meaning sound waves had only one medium to travel through.
“OV! You’re in error! I’m as fake as anything else! Your coder was one sloppy bitch, you oughta know that! I mean, you should know that your code isn’t optimal.”
Calvin’s words traveled at the same volume, pitch, etc in a perfect circle from him.
“Program, please speak to me! Are you the admin? What are your specs?”
A flame appeared in front of 343, who inadvertently recoiled what may have been miles in seconds. The flame maintained its relative position, as well as its unnatural crimson color.
“What functions do you provide in this place?”
“I AM THAT I AM.”
The timbre and unfathomable volume of the reply made his human, all too human, brain believe it and all other organs were liquified.
Calvin died as a bag of skin leaking gore. It collapsed where Calvin’s feet had been, as though he’d been on solid footing and acted on by gravity.
The flame burned.