He was caught in the Pull. He had surrendered control and was allowing it to draw him in. It felt amazing to finally allow it. Like the first lungful of water to a drowning victim. He was ecstatic.

  He could feel his astral form stretch as it was dragged outwards. The light that bound him was slowly beginning to disperse. He was blanking. He was becoming part of the cosmic web itself.

  Looking down at his astral body he now noticed a plethora of small dark tentacles had attached to him. Their suckers latched on, and once in place began to retract, drawing the astral matter outwards in every direction.

  A chorus began in his head, a building harmony with new voices adding layers as it continued droning on. It was immensely peaceful.

  Then he suddenly felt pain. He looked down at the closest tentacle and saw each sucker contained a tiny mouth. After the astral matter was pulled away the little maws covering each one were slurping it up.

  What started as a dull ache rapidly became a pyre of intense pain. The peaceful harmony became an ominous dirge. He held up his hand and realized it was more of a cloud than a solid object. Dozens of tiny tentacles were darting around it, snatching up mouthfuls of him greedily.

  He looked out into the ether and saw a solid wall of black tentacles reaching towards him, blotting out the stars. The ethereal calm that had pervaded his being was now replaced by a sense of utter dread.

  He tried to summon his energy back to himself, to wake himself from the nightmare. It was too late. Huge obsidian tentacles covered in thousands of mouths rimmed with tiny sparkling teeth writhed around him, slurping up the last remnants of his being . As the last morsel was eaten, he ceased to be.

  End Recording.

  Gondo lay there for a long while, allowing what he’d just experienced to sink in. He had just experienced Calcio’s last recorded Cast.

  From his research at the Academy he knew that blanking was similar to other forms of death. Each individual experienced it in different ways. Some people would walk into a bright light. For others it was sudden and final. A Cognitive Crown allowed the capture of each unique intimate experience. An entire field of study had been born to research and interpret these moments.

  Gondo had never cared to the phenomenon. The concept of death had always terrified him, and he didn’t like to dwell on it.

  Here were his friend’s last moments, and they only confirmed his terror.

  Eventually he sat up from his bunk. He was in his private quarters on the Sunsword. They were drifting peacefully in space. No destination, no orbit. Just freely floating in the open space between stars.

  His room contained just the necessities. A bunk, a small desk and a hostel style bathroom.

  He noticed he had sweat through his clothes and decided to shower. Once freshened up he dressed and exited the room.

  The Sunsword was like a mini version of the Safe House. It had everything they would need to continue their operations from the obscurity of space.

  The short corridor he was in had four private sleeping chambers attached. Heading aftward to the stern of the ship led to the kitchen and storage areas.

  He climbed the ladder at the end of this corridor and came into the main area of the vessel, a room that served as laboratory, meeting room and rec room depending on the occasion. Following this chamber into the bow led to the cockpit and battle stations. The crew had funneled great stores of their profits from mining operations to outfit the boat, everything was top of the line.

  Gondo saw that his friends were relaxing in the main room and watching an old anime. They greeted him and he grabbed a spot next to Lowell on a long, low couch that faced a large viewing screen. Ignasius was socketed beside him.

  You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.

  They were about halfway through the original series run of one of their favorites, Neon Genesis: Evangelion.

  Modern culture still centered around pre-singularity content, media from the late twentieth century through the middle of the twenty first still dominated the feeds. Once computers gained the ability to create an endless amount of visual and auditory fodder, it lost all meaning. Shows like The Simpsons had survived centuries, and were still broadcast at all times of the day.

  The episode ended and Lowell faded the volume as Fly Me to the Moon played over the credits. They turned to Gondo and were startled.

  “You look as white as a sheet!” they said, “Are you ok?”

  Gondo wasn’t sure. He had a deep feeling of sadness; he sensed that he had never fully processed the death of his friend and was just now coming to terms with it.

  “I just played Calcio’s last Cast back for myself,” he said.

  The three sat quietly for a time. The robot was the first to break the silence.

  “Experiencing someone’s death through a Cognitive Crown is an intensely intimate thing. How are you feeling?” Ignasius said.

  Gondo thought for a moment before replying, “I feel like I could have done more to help him.”

  They sat with that another few moments.

  “That’s a natural way to feel in times like this Gondo,” Lowell said, “We’ve all lost friends and we’ve all spent time beating ourselves up over what we could have done different. For me, I think it’s best to accept that what happened, happened. There’s no way to change it. The only way to make a difference is to let the experience inform your future decisions.”

  Lowell was right. There was no immediate relief for what he was feeling. And somehow, that made him feel a little better.

  Gondo reached for the remote and hit play.

  “We’re almost to Calcio’s favorite episode,” he said. The three watched in the calm glow of the screen, remembering their friend and enjoying this time with one another.

  ...

  A few days passed with the Sunsword drifting through space like Gondo’s forlorn soul. They all spent some time processing the last few weeks in the relative safety of oblivion.

  This morning Lowell had called them all to the central chamber. It was now laid out in research mode. Benches, monitors and tables could be raised or lowered from the floors and ceilings in whatever formation suited them. Right now, they were set up in classic meeting room style, with informative monitors surrounding them. Lowell stood in front of the table and behind them was a large screen, which was replaying Gondo’s cast with the Newcomer.

  “I’ve been looking back at our previous casts with the Moonshield, and I’ve come to a conclusion. Now that we have potentially malicious entities afloat in the either, we’ll need to come up with a way for Gondo to protect himself,” they said.

  “I agree. Although without gravity I’m not sure how we do that,” Gondo said.

  “Precisely,” Lowell said, “If you start chucking bolts of psychic energy out there who knows what could happen. You might disrupt the fabric of the universe, or unravel yourself. I think it’s safer to start with melee weapons.”

  “He can’t exactly bring a katana with him on a Cast,” Ignasius said.

  “What we need to remember here,” Lowell said, “Is that no matter how real this seems for Gondo, he’s still dreaming. In a lucid dream, he’s the one in control.”

  “Next time you are on a Cast I want you to try and manifest an object. It doesn’t have to be a sledgehammer or a bastard sword. It can be anything you’d like.” Lowell said.

  Gondo jotted down notes as they continued to discuss plans for the next Cast.

  “I think we should attempt to explore a new area, one further away from the Newcomer. Until we are ready to face it again,” Ignasius said.

  It was a good idea. Gondo was in no way ready to tussle with cosmic monsters from the depths of space.

  “Agreed,” he said, “By the way, how are things looking back home?” He hadn’t been following the news since their escape.

  “As we’d imagined the media took their usual spin on things,” Ignasius replied, “’Ourobouros Stronghold Eliminated in Strategic Raid’ or some such nonsense. Drone footage shows complete excavation of the Safe House by government forces and the Astral Engineering Core. Aside from some, trinkets I left.”

  Ignasius had told them about the die-hard tactics of the Snake Clan. They appreciated what he’d left them. It might create a good contact if they ever needed to return to the Endless City.

  They finished their planning session and Gondo stood.

  “Well, no time like the present I suppose,” he stated.

  “Are you sure you’re ready?” Lowell asked.

  “As ready as I’ll ever be.”

  Thoughts of his friend still lingered in his mind, but Lowell was right. The only way he was going to feel better was to move forward.

  The table in front of him lowered and a Casting Table rose to replace it. His friends stood ready.

  “Let’s see what new mysteries await us out there. For Calcio,” he said.