CLUTCH – Philosophical Science Fiction

Prologue

Begin Transmission…Terror! That one instance of total loss. The feeling that the little tiny ball of what you called sanity bounces off the face of the planet. The earth beneath your feet falls suddenly, leaving you with no stable tangible ground to support you. In effect your higher brain functions are neutralized; you’re stunned and can not react, not even a shriek will leave your vocal chords. Even breathing becomes lost from your primordial programming that has been in the human race’s collective consciousness for millennia. You are nothing.

This is what it was like. This was what we felt. We had no control over our feeble lives. Yes they were feeble, they were at others disposal, and we gave them that control. Right into their greedy little clutch, like being lost at sea, and giving your rations to the fish because the fish looked pretty.

I suppose we were tricked into giving them our power, but egos are our worst enemy. The ego seems to be the worst downfall of all. Once it burned intensely, and now it is reduced to a small glowing cinder.

It was like this. It felt like this. I feel this:

“A slow grinding in the back of my brain. Morbid thoughts of the apocalypse. Destruction and oblivion of the planet. Total and absolute liquidation of the human species. Abrupt and lethargic planning; psychotic dreams of god hood, psychotic dreams of power. That’s what I feel. The threads of sanity have broken. Nothing remains.”
“Nothing remains except the dream of an escape, the mere shred of an end. Be it death or insanity. Either would do.”
“But to know that you are sane and can do nothing to change the situation that troubles me the most.”…end…..transmission.

Part 1: The Subjects
“The situation dealt with torture and psychological terror. The test subjects exhibited interesting behaviors under extreme pressure,” the doctor explained.
“Specimen A, as you can see, exhibits the behavior of the leader in this no-resolution-conflict. Unfortunately her ability was not enough to hold the other subjects under sane control,” the learned professor pushed.
“Specimen B exhibited traits of the classic insane psychopath at the hint of an unbeatable situation.”
” Specimen C showed a classic example of the sheep. They did whatever specimen A told them to do.”
” Specimen D represents the intellectual leader of the situation, making most of the plans for survival and escape.”# The last, and most interesting of the five specimens, number E, took the role of the loner and rebel, countering all the leaders’ decisions.”
“We will concentrate on E the most,” the doctor stressed.

Part 2: Interrogation Session #22
“Let’s start at the beginning of this whole mess. I did not kill her.”
“But you said earlier that you didn’t agree with her decision to take the ship into the anomaly,” the female interrogator stated.
The room is dark except for a bolting halogen light focused on the subject. The subject is strapped down on a metal table with his eyes being kept open by small devices. It is interrogation, but it is also torture.
“Yes I was against her decision. The anomaly was not yet studied. She did not have the right to make that decision on her own. It should have been up to the crew. Not her, alone!” The angered man yelled as the dryness of his eyes burned the tips of his nerve endings. The pain trailing up to his brain, distorting his thoughts.
The interrogator sat up and with her right hand squeezed his left shoulder. Then she bent down and kissed him softly on the lips. His eyes open wide with surprise. She slaps him in the face and then punches him in the chest. He screams out in pain. She kisses him harder and slaps him again. He begins to bleed from his mouth.
“That is all for today. You were more helpful today, you actually talked for once. Instead of having me beat you the entire time,” she says as she plays with her long black locks of hair that crawl down her back. “What do you prefer, the carrot or the stick?”
The man says nothing.
The interrogator walks into the darkness as the bright light that is focusing on the man fades….
…….the weeks seemed to blur into one. She would come and ask me questions about what happened. I would answer them the same way no matter how many times she would reword them or how many times she would torture me. I didn’t know what she wanted. But things began to change one day last week…..

Part 3:: Interrogation session #30

The interrogator strides gracefully into the dark room. She is wearing a black dress. The skirt reaches to her knees, gently playing with her skin. Her jacket is dark gray and made out of suede leather; it resembles a biker jacket. In her left hand is a large bag filled with objects. The light rises in intensity as she gets closer to the prisoner.
“Max, we’re going out,” she tells the prisoner as his eyes open and rotates his head to the right side. “Call me Jane,” she finishes with a smile.
Max, or specimen E, is very confused. Why would this happen to him, he thought? First to be tortured for weeks, maybe months, and then go out to dinner. How ironic. I’ll take it when it comes Max reasoned.
“Then I suppose you’ll have to take off the restraints, Jane,” Max said with a smirk.
“Of course. But don’t try to escape,” Jane warned as she pulled out a black 45 caliber pistol from the inside of her jacket.
She walks over to the table and presses a button; the restraints wheel back into their holders. Max pushes himself painfully up and pulls his legs over the side of the table to stretch them out. He moans as he massages his sore joints and muscles.
Jane smiles at Max’s near nakedness. Max notices and meanly grins back.
“Here,” she throws the bag at him.
“It contains clothes and bathroom articles,” she explains as Max looks downward into the bag.
“Thanks,” Max replies uncaringly.
“Be happy. I don’t take many of my prisoners out to dinner,” Jane states happily while she rubs her inner leg near where the skirt ends. “We’re celebrating our success.”
Max on the other hand does not believe a word of it and just stares at the clothes he is laying out on the torture table.
“What are we celebrating, may I ask?”
“I’ll tell you over dinner,” Jane replies.
She stands at a height of five feet eight inches. Her body is curvy, but athletic and toned. Her dark hair creeps all the way to her middle back, it is black and loosely curled. Intense brown eyes. Her skin tone is tanned and her facial structure asian. She is the embodiment of an ancient korean princess, but just more deadly. The prisoner slowly puts on the shirt, pants and tie.
“Is there a sink and a mirror I could use?” Max asks Jane.
Jane points forward as the light illuminates a vanity and a mirror ten feet away from Max.
He walks over and finishes cleaning himself up.
“I’m ready,” Max says. Jane’s breath becomes sporadic. The pistol begins to waiver as the strap on her shoulder falls to reveal her firm breast. She moans softly.

Max begins to move forward, not really comprehending the situation, being pulled by his drives. Why is she doing this? Is this a trick or does she just want to fuck? He is five feet away.

Jane opens her eyes fully, drawing him in. Pistol aimed at his chest. The other strap falls revealing her other breast. She pulls up her skirt revealing herself. Max looks, swallowing all the bits of information. He walks up to her and puts his hands on her knees, being weary of the pistol at the threshold of his chest. He moves his left hand to her inner thigh. She moans loudly.
Her free hand travels to his inner thigh and returns the favor. She unzips his pants and pushes her hand through and grabs him firmly. He begins to moan softly as he…
In mere milliseconds a bullet leaves the confines of the pistol’s chamber. An insignificant cloud of smoke is emitted out the end; invisible to the naked eye. Max reels backward in a scream of torment with a cloud of flesh and blood propelling from the newly created orifice through his back. He falls as good as any limp corpse would. Jane takes the pistol and places it beneath her chin. Her forehead is covered with a thin coat of sweat. Her dress is stained with blood as are her hands and legs.

She presses lightly on the trigger; it is amazing how precise a well smithed pistol can be, they’re always a little testy, especially near the trigger.

Part 4: Quantum Real

Real(ity): 1. existing as or in fact; actual; true 2. authentic; genuine 3 law or relating to immovable things.

Part 5: Old Tech

The gigantic dreadnought cuts its way through the omnipotent nothingness known simply as space, no stars can be seen. The ship is shaped like a large triangle, immense in all dimensions. It’s hard to differentiate its propulsion system; there are no visible outside components. Its color is crimson red.
Inside there is a crew of five humans. Each has a specific task and purpose.
The first is the captain. The captain is in charge of all the major decisions. She also is the one who must keep order in heated situations. She is six feet tall, with sandy-blond hair, blue eyes, and a light complexion. Her name is Amber.
The second crew member is the navigator. He is in charge of how to get to a destination. His name is Chuck. He’s five foot eight, long black hair, with deep brown eyes. He also is very unstable.
The third crew member is the ship’s doctor. Her role is self explanatory. She is five feet tall, with long curly red hair, and shiny green eyes. She has a tendency to follow. Her label is Janine.
The fourth crew member is the science officer. In charge of the technical aspects of what they find. His name is Roger. He is five foot six, short gray hair and beard, and deep set brown eyes.
The fifth member is the mechanic and the engineer. He keeps everything running. He has a knack for being against most of the captains’ decisions. His name is Max.
Replay of the events on December 2, 2306
on the interspace net matrix vessel IMV
IMV LOG Coordinates: 1.23.434.2674 mark 3.18,
near the Ntwrk Intfce of BalphaCntrl.
Reason: will be given to the commander
when the coordinates are reached.
Type Name: Commander Amber Simon
Code:************
Access granted
“The following orders are to be read only by the commander and given to the crew when the time is right, only at the commander’s discretion. The commander will know.”
From Command Central 3435.556733.H768M.99
High Council director Alpha
Commander Amber Simon,
While in transit durning stasis, the ship was programmed to fit you with a neural processor. This processor is directly connected to the ship by microwaves. The ship will be in control of all your actions and has the ability to terminate you at any time necessary. You have know choice but to do what the central command wants you to do. If the mission is completed the processor will be removed. That is the only way you and the crew will survive. The probability of returning is slim anyway.
Your Mission is to make contact, by any means necessary, with an unidentified entity, at 1.23.434.2674 mark 3.18.123H.
The entity was discovered two centuries ago at these remote coordinates by the means of a ServBatch. The ServBatch returned with those coordinates and a message. The message was in binary. The entity was therefore aware of our presence, but other than that did not make contact. Technology was not advanced enough to send humans to make contact; until the advent of the interspace thirty years ago.

Part 6: Wired

Network 2. anything like this, as a system of
interconnected roads, individuals, computer terminals, etc.
Virtual: 1. being so in effect, although not in
actual fact or name.

Part 7: Old Gods that don’t Exist

From the High Council Director Alpha: “Know this for I am one. I am singular. I am unique, none other than I exist. Therefore I am lost, I am disillusioned, I am lonely. You are many.” That was the message we deciphered.
The ServBatch also brought back these specs on the Singular, as we call it. Singular mass: 0 = pi(its mass is zero in theory but in human calibration is infinite).
Singular coordinates: the given coordinates are true, but the .123H denotes that the singular is multi-dimensional x.d+3d=placement. Also with the
multidimensional connotations(which are still unproven theories) it exists and doesn’t exist. At the same time matrix placement: In the net it exists as complex programs and codes. This was how the ServBatch made first contact does exist on that level and is tangible suggested to start there for initial contact.
Top council scientists suggest that the Singular is what is known as God in existence. If so, you five will be the first to prove its existence. If it is not then it is a life form of ultimate uniqueness.
Good luck, and happy hunting.
High Council Director Alpha

>>>>Program termination begin >>>>>>

Part 8: What does that mean?
Amber gets up from her seat by the terminal. Her face is stone cold. Her emotions are marble, chiseled by a sculptor. Her eyes are glazed.
She walks into the conference room where the rest of the crew is chattering about flighty topics.
“So, what is the mission?” Max asks Amber, grinning widely, knowing that it will not be pleasant.
Janine turns her view toward Max as he lights a contraband cigarette.
“You know you’re not supposed to smoke,” she scolds him.
Max just smiles and replies, “I know.”
“But this is all virtual anyway, the program will probably over write the effects of the smoke.”
Amber speaks up, “Our mission is to find an anomaly near this matrix point. The anomaly might be a life form that solely exists in this sector of the matrix. We are supposed to make contact with it. The thing is, that in reality it exists and doesn’t exist, so we can’t find it that way, plus it is too far to send a ship out for conventional contact. So they sent us out through the Wired. To try to make contact with it, due to the fact that it is tangible through the matrix.”
The crew scoffs at Amber in utter confusion. Chuck’s eyes flare and widen; the walls of his sanity are thin and begin to crack.
“Chuck,” Amber directs. “I want you to set a course at .123H from where we already are.”
“That’s not possible!” Chuck exclaims, his face sours. “That’s a multidimensional heading. But wait where in the net that could denote a subroutine or program or a course to high memory area in this matrix. I’m sorry.”
She turns her attention to Roger, “I want you to run a full scale probe through the entire matrix system in this area, including all subs. Look for anything unique, loose databits, programs that make no sense. Use your discretion.”
“Max, I want you to re-route all unused memory and link it to the high memory in the matrix, give the matrix full passage and usage of the ship’s memory. Reroute ship diagnostics to a separate area, free from high memory.”
A look of displeasure creeps onto his face.
“Janine.” When Max finishes re-routing the diagnostics begin checking all systems and fixing all loose ends.
“That is all. No questions I have to think,” Amber finishes coldly and gates off to her quarters.
Note from the desk of the high council science team leader to the High Council as pertaining to the nature of the Singular: “Some objects tend to overlap, not because the laws of science say they have to, but because the objects themselves want to. It makes you think doesn’t it? What’s real is virtual and what’s virtual is real. But that still doesn’t mean that they exist. What may seem real could just be a very good virtual simulation. So then what is simulated may actually be real to the viewer. Are we real?”
Chuck is sitting down at his terminal in the helm carrying out his orders, the lights are dim, as the terminal radiates its subtle form of radiation.
The terminal screen reads:
:/present course 1.23.434.2674 mark 3.18
Mark types> 1.23.434.2674 mark 3.18+123h
:/error in course, must locate access port first
> mport1000=1000 3.245 matrix
access granted to ports 1000-1000 initializing data
histogram flow chart for travel into matrix high mem area
>>>>>>> begin transfer>>>>>>

Epilogue

The crimson surface of the ship begins to lose its color as sections of it dematerialize, leaving complete blackness; In a matter of minutes the ship virtually non-existent.