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Short Stories

its like poetry, but longer

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Part 1:

Arrival

I’ll try to keep this short, because my time here is limited. 

 

The first thing you’ll have to understand is the nature of space itself. It exists only because of time, which allows us to perceive it and interact with it. Together, space and time dance eternally on an unbound floor that is the universe. But this floor is not like those to which you are accustomed. This floor is curved.

 

You mustn't take this simple fact for granted. Just because you’ve all grown used to your three dimensional beings, you forget how lucky you are to exist in more than a flat space. Imagine a life where, like dots on a graph, you could only move left, right, or forwards, and only see things that exist on the same plane as you. There exists no up or down, and you are confined to the prison of only two dimensions.

 

And if I were a human while you were in this prison, we’d find it very hard to communicate. You’d be able to see only one cross-section of my body, the part that exists on the same plane as you. And while you tried to understand my illogical and sporadic movements, I would try to figure out how to possibly explain another dimension to those who have no means of sensing it.

 

I’ve come here today in part to bestow upon you the unfortunate news that this situation is precisely what’s at hand. We can only talk. I cannot show you the dimension from which I’ve come, and neither can you experience my presence fully. I will attempt instead to give you the best possible chance of avoiding the complete destruction of your world, although admitting that this task seems a difficult one, given the immense power you now hold. 

 

The tesseract. I assume you’ve only been told of its ability. I could try to warn you of its danger, but that may only drive forth more obsession towards it. Here’s a better idea: let’s attempt understanding. And even though we’ve lost one of its dimensions here, I hope I can paint enough of it for you today that you might decide to trap it for good.

 

Before we reach the tesseract, let us take a few steps backward. The square. A shape you all know and love, and the basic foundation of the tesseract. If the lines of a square were extended from its two-dimensional state out into a third dimension, a cube would be formed. As three-dimensional creatures, I’m certain you are all familiar with the cube. 

 

But what if the sides of a cube were to extend outwards, into the fourth dimension, from which I speak to you now? This will take some extra thinking on your part. How could we possibly perceive this four dimensional hypercube in a world that only knows of three dimensions? The answer is simple: it’s shadow.

 

The shadow of a cube can be drawn perfectly using only two dimensions. Likewise, we can create a projection of the tesseract’s shadow in only three. It looks fairly unassuming: a cube inside a cube, both connected by lines. However, if we combine this three dimensional shadow with the elements we know are taken in the process of losing a dimension, we can conjure the tesseract in space unconfined by spacetime- the mind.

 

We now know that a tesseract has 32 lines of equal distance connected only by right angles. It fits into the geometric base of a square. This shape is impossible to create in your three dimensional world, but at least you can begin to comprehend it. 

 

What piece of the tesseract you have been shown on these viral images in the last weeks is not an accurate representation of its shape whatsoever. It is only one cross section. Now, you may be wondering what use this object is to you if you can only harness one plane of it. But there is a reason our people have fought for so many years to keep one of our tesseracts from entering your world, and I’m afraid you may soon find it.

 

All I’ll say is this: back when I was a human and you were all stuck in two dimensions, I had the capability, as a subject of the third capacity, to lift any of you up and out of the flat space you inhabited. My hands, objects containing an extra dimension, could allow any of you to travel outside of your spacetime continuum and into another dimension. 

 

I just urge you… Do not try this at home.

Terrible Quality.

Unfortunately, I have to give Mister James’ Famous Hula Hoops

a two-star rating. Now I truly did want to love this hoop,

but its quality was not something I could simply look beyond. In fact,

I would like to speak directly to Mister James in saying that this

hoop casts a dark shadow on the whole damn hula industry. They 

simply aren’t what they used to be. I remember, Mister James,

when I was but a child, and you were too, I assume. Unlike

this hoop that bends and cracks with every shove of its

lightass frame, mine back then were sturdy. And I mean sturdy.

Back when I was short enough to spin it clear over my head.

Back when my father would yell all through the house for me

to quit my hoopin and get to bed. That bastard. I remember it well.

The last time I used it. With Tears, and Leaving, and Sturdy Plastic.

 

Now I’m 45 years old, and I live here on central with my five-year old son.

He’s about the cutest thing in this forsaken world and all I wanted

was for him to hoop the same way like his mama did.

After Paul left me alone with the baby, it's been hard to know how to do

mama things with him. After he threw me down the stairs. I just never

had a good example of it, I guess. But me and him, we do alright,

Mister James, now don't we? We go on down to the library but every

Saturday morning, and every Saturday morning he say “momma

guess what? I love you momma” at me right over top the lip of the cover

of Four Pups and a Bat or Red Feet Yellow Feet or something.

To be completely honest Mister James, it’s just a sad fact. It’s a sad fact

that my five-year old son won’t never find a hoop as good as the ones I used.

Back in the day. With Drive-in movies, and Soda Pop, and  Murder.

 

Mister James, I don't know if you’re sitting there stinkin rich while I’m sitting here crazy,

but to me it don’t matter how many cars you drive or hoops you make. Because

I’m the one on Amazon. And you’re the one worth two stars. Two stinkin stars.

But if I’m to really be completely honest with you, Mister James,

I don’t even use your stupid hoop and I never have. 

I don’t have a five-year old son, and we don’t go down to no library

on Saturday mornings. In fact, I done used my only hour of computer

time to write out this review. But look on the bright side Mister James;

I’ll get my weekly call with Paul as soon as Guard’s off the shitter.

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