The object sat on the containment pedestal and rotated furiously. The Tesseract was a shimmering hypercube of edges flickering in and out of three-dimensional perception. It wasn’t merely a shape and was hard to describe as such, but rather was a knot of sixteen orthogonal dimensions folded into a structure the human mind could barely parse.

Kyra adjusted the quantum stabilizers and looked with measured concern as she struggled to resolve the tesseract’s true geometry. "Initiate compression sequence," she ordered.

The Flattener beamed to life. A smooth, featureless disc of null-space alloy. No buttons, no controls. It didn’t need them. It operated on a principle older than stars: the erasure of dimensionality itself.

A low-frequency vibration flared outward through the ship. The tesseract twisted as its hyperplanes collapsed inward like a dying star. For a fraction of a second, Kyra saw the impossible. Sixteen directions of reality crumpling, shearing away, reduced to zero.

The tesseract was gone.

In its place, hovering above the pedestal, was a perfect, dimensionless point. No volume. No mass. No existence in any conventional sense. Just a mathematical absolute. A singularity of pure information.

- Resplendent, "Reality Dust"