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SCI-FI, PSYCHOLOGICAL HORROR, PASTICHE
A Manual and Exhausting Calculation — Chapter 9: The Entropic Void
Given the premises there is only one way this story could end
There is no friction here. There are no acoustic vibrations. No heartbeats. I float in the absolute zero of the dark. My skin has returned to its native, matte-grey stasis, my hair bleached back into its default, lightless white. My chest does not move. I no longer have to compute the velocity of a footstep or the exact compression rate of a human smile. The simulated life is over.
Driven to absolute madness on that dance floor by the realization of my eternal isolation, I had simply let go. I stopped filtering the noise. I allowed my gravity-warping field to tear outward in an unmitigated, expanding wave of raw cosmic mass. In a fraction of a second, the hall I was in was crushed. The terrace houses of Donnie, the concrete of the service station, the waters of the North Sea, and the tectonic plates of the continent were boiled and shattered, ripped into an expanding cloud of broken atoms. I reached out and pulled the burning yellow sun into itself, imploding the star into a silent, dead black hole.
Or did I?
