My Little Realities: C2 - Fuck This Gay Earth

My Little Realities: C2 - Fuck This Gay Earth

>you wake up
>snooze
>skip breakfast
>snooze some more
>get up
>get dressed
>go to work
>traffic is shitty
>whatever
>you never understood road rage
>you get to work, almost late
>during lunch you find a few minutes to bother one of the brains
>Reginald Trombley.  With a name like that, his parents must be…  Special.
"Trombley, you got a minute?"
"Anon, can't you see I'm in the middle of something important?"
>he's sitting in a chair in front of an empty desk
>just like his parents, he’s pretty “special” too.
>whatever, you've seen weirder brains
>obviously, “brains” is just a nickname for the people here that have a better understanding of the variable possibility system.  That often comes with a little sanity loss
"Sorry there man.  I was wondering if you could help me with this thing I've been working on..."
"I swear, if it's another calibration you guys can't figure out and are too lazy to math out by hand..." he mutters, annoyed
"Honest, it might be a little interesting.  Come on, it'll just take a minute, I'll pick up some work you don't want to do or something."
>You may be a friendless, forever alone virgin, but you knew and were able to interact with people.  Your forever-alone-ness was mostly a choice, not a curse
>you're starting to win him over, mission accomplished
>he starts sifting through the notes on your tablet
>mumbling something about "you kids and your stupid tablets"
>you're a year older than him
>his expression changes from annoyed and skeptical to a little smile
"Anon, I didn't know you were a little smarter than the average monkey that works here..."
"So, what do you think?"
"well some mistakes through here are hilariously bad, but this principle here...  Might just work.  Now I'll see what I can do, just leave me alone until I call you"
"Thanks, I owe you one!" you reply
>not being completely shot down by a brain in matters of theoretical variable possibility physics is almost an exploit on its own
>he looks at you
"We'll see, I may end up owing you one"
>he says this with an odd smile
>a little ominous, but you take it as a compliment and run off, you have a full day ahead of you
>a week passes
>you finally track down Trombley
>he seems to have passed the whole fucking week here
>in this room
>sure smells like it
>junk food littered everywhere
>pee bottles
>is he even allowed to do this?
>whatever
"Trombley?"
"Trombley?" you repeat yourself
"You in there? TROMBLEY!"
>he seems to snap out of it
>he looks at you
"You okay?  Need anything?  You don't look so good man..."
"I'm almost done, go away.", he replies
>goes back to his papers
>you decide it's better to let him finish what he's doing and get back to your own work
>three days pass, you get a message
>"go to lab 4 at 6PM"
>handwriting is horrible
>probably Trombley
>who uses paper anymore other than him?
>you go through your day impatiently and make your way to lab 4 when your shift ends
>Trombley is there, passed out on a chair
>drooling a little, but it's hard to tell due to how dirty he is
>fucking brains man
>you shake him and he wakes up
"Well Anon... I think we're onto something.  I'm pretty sure this would allow us to bubble into a VP that's more likely to be a rock with some bacteria on it than a void-universe where nothing could ever form"
"Just fascinating really, what do you want me to do?" you say
>he points to stacks of paper
>who uses paper anymore anyhow
>fucking brains
>whatever
>you read through his scribbles
>he seems to want you to build a modified VP bubble device
>you look at the plans
>what in all that is fuck would this thing even...
>you end up rustling his jimmies to no end, trying to figure out some parts of the modifications
>at one point his jimmies go critical
>he just walks off and goes home
>you grab all his notes and work out the mods yourself
>you still have no idea why it needs a coke can (he specifies it needs to be full) jammed between the field buffer and the cooling coils
>whatever
>your supervisors won't sign this in as overtime, you're just happy they're allowing you to work with this shit
>seems like Trombley told them it would be cool
>anyhow, you finally finish the mods
>it'sbeatiful.jpg
>it actually looks like a broken computer that's been mauled open and swallowed an aperture science turret gun
>beauty is in the eye of the beholder, you'll name this one Chloe
>machine spirit is probably saying "kill me it hurts to live" but it should work
>you'll light it some incense tomorrow
>you clear up the area for a few tests, and because your work turned the room into what looks like a room victim of localized hurricanes
>cleanup is quick
>you just trash everything you don't need
>fuck it
>the mods seem to work fine
>it's OS and programs are working despite the mods
>adaptable base source codes were GODS
>you set it to bubble a pencil over to wherever science wants to take it
>6" bubble set around pencil
>you can set the VP bubble device to make a bubble as big as you want within energy limits (energy requirements go exponential and very much out of normal energy generating capabilities or battery storage beyond about 20 meters) and it should send everything inside the invisible confines of the bubble across the parallel universes
>the inside of the bubble catches fire
>fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck
>that worked well /sarcasm
>you manage to wail on the flames and smother them with your sweater before the alarms go off
>you guess the programming wasn't right after all
>hours pass
>more pencils burn
>you’re getting pretty good with the extinguisher
>you're running out of pencils, though
>it's not like they are common; you do not know if Trombley will be mad for torching his pencil stash
>until finally, a white flash where the bubble should be cracks out loudly and everything inside it vanishes, taking a chunk of the desk with it
>all praises to the machine God
>next you send a probe
>you fucking love probes
>you named the ones you work with
>this one was Annie
>they're cylindrical, mostly
>with sensors, antennas, cameras jutting everywhere
>they have six legs with multiple joints
>okay, maybe not that cylindrical
>they're fucking slow, but can traverse pretty much any terrain, they can swim and have two small nubs that fire compressed air, if it needs to reposition itself in space
>a lot of them end up in space, so that feature was pretty handy
>you stick the modified VPT bubble device in the probe's cargo hold, and program the usual 10 minute survey and return bubble commands
>you record everything and send it
>crack
>you wait the longest ten minutes of your life
>right on time, it reappears with the familiar thundering crack and flash
>success!
>fuck yeah, who knew this prototype shit could actually work as intended and not fail horribly like it usually does
>probe goes through decontamination while you simmer in impatience
>you get the data out of all its systems
>fucking great
>looks like another dead plan-
>is that fucking moss
>on that rock
>moss
>fucking moss
>you explode with excitement
>you start swearing in joy
>you're totally getting a raise for this
>maybe they'll name the fucking moss after you
>sweet fuck this is awesome
>you run to your supervisor's office
>he's not there
>its 3am
>oh right
>wouldn't hurt to run a few more tests
>your night is sleepless as you bring back samples and more data, with the correct contamination protocols of course
>you wake up, someone is shaking you
>seems you passed out, snuggled against your trusty probe
>it's Trombley, he looks like he had a shower at least
"Anon, ‘the fuck are you doing?  What's all this shit?"
"Dude I found moss"
"What?"
"I found a planet with FUCKING MOSS ON IT"
>from the look on his face, I worry that he's having a heart attack of joy
"Show me, I'm calling the boss in here too"
>shit's going down
>he comes back shortly, you see your supervisor and his supervisor
>you start showing them what you found
>partyhard.tiff
>after some celebration your boss speaks up
"Great work Anon, we'll take it from here now."
>wait what
"What do you mean, sir?"
>he turns back, looking a little annoyed
"We're taking this project over, Trombley will lead the team, you can go back to your regular duties.  Trombley here is the new man of the hour for coming up with this new technology.  His idea to modify the Variable Possibility Bubble Generator was brilliant!"
>wait
>his idea?
>they leave you there, dumbstruck
>fuck no
>now you're actually mad
>not just annoyed or upset
>you mad
>this is your project, it wasn't his idea.  Sure he worked out the math but... Trombley seems to have betrayed you for a promotion
>fuck you too then
>you real fucking mad
>you’d never be able to prove that it had been your idea in the first place
>it's why he used paper
>motherfucker planned to fuck you right in the ass from the beginning
>unlike your tablet, his paper could be dated accurately while it was impossible to prove that you had not simply written things in the tablet and forged its date
>now you’re angry at him and at yourself for trusting him, or for not taking precautionary measures
>you cut/paste all your data to your flash drive
>you take all the paper notes
>you grab the modded VPT bubble, shove it in a case and book it the fuck out of there before they get back
>you grab a couple sets of suits, a full bio kit and the rest of your expedition gear
>if you're going to go into corporate theft, then you'll do it right
>their project?  Hahaha, no
>this is your project now
>in the car, your heart starts pounding harder and harder
>realization of what you did dawns on you
>you start sweating
>stomach gets queasy
>fuck fuck fuck fuck
>yep you're totally boned
>you run into your apartment, setting everything down
>man, you're fucked
>they've probably called the police by now
>you're totally already fired
>fuck
>option 1, turn self in.  Life thrown away, no dreams come true.  Do not pass go, do not collect $200.
>option 2, keep running, sell this shit to a company somewhere.  Odds of getting caught or screwed over again are high, payoff is probably pretty damn good if success.
>an idea creeps into your head
>you look at the bubble device
>no, that's a bad idea...
>you keep staring at the bubble device
>worst idea ever
>don't even think about it
>you’re already putting the suit on
>you don't know why, but you are grinning like a madman, euphoric with an adrenaline rush
>fuck this gay earth
>someone knocks at the door, but you're already charging up the capacitors
>you're taking your shitty little apartment with you
"This is the police, open the door"
>they hear a bang and grab their guns
>you're already out of this reality when the cop kicks door down
>cop sprained his ankle after falling into the hole where your apartment used to be
>catch me now, fuckers