Edan Osborne

(Originally written on 9th November 2024)

Today marks two years since we lost my colleague, Dr. Artemievna. Of course, nobody but me will remember her. Technically, she never existed.

Dr. Artemievna dealt with the physics and maths in my lab, while I dealt with the chemistry and IT. In 2021, she began developing temporal technology, including Þ-Chips, the stasis chamber, and pocket dimensions. All three of these technologies – and more – have been crucial to ensuring the safety of my evil lab work.

Þ-Chips prevent glassware from being broken accidentally. I have a mainframe which detects a breakage using sensors in the chips, and then initiates the brief reversal of time for the beaker and its contents. It's hilarious to watch, as it makes the beakers appear to bounce when dropped.

The stasis chamber is simply a box into which time cannot penetrate. When sealed and switched on, time stops for everything inside. This has endless uses; but I took to using it as a sort of hot fridge.

The pocket dimension allowed us to expand Lab 273½ from a literal broom cupboard into a full size lab, without actually taking up more space. It also could allow us to make the lab portable: all we would have to do is prise the door off with a couple of crowbars and carry it away!

Anyway, her final experiment was performed on 9th November 2022. We had both been working tirelessly on a groundbreaking concept: time travel. Clichéd, I know, but it honestly seemed like we could do it.

We first decided to test the machine with an inanimate and inconsequential object, so I forged a couple of Roman denarii and placed them in the machine. Donning radiation suits and air tanks, we set the date to 1st January 1970, powered it up, and pressed the red button. However, there was one factor we forgot to calculate for: magnetic interference.

The coins were made from bronze, which contains copper and tin. Copper is diamagnetic, while tin is paramagnetic. This caused the electromagnetic field that localises the time travel to be warped, which caused only part of the machine to be transported to 1970. This then caused further problems, as part of the main memory was in the missing chunk, causing the machine to freak out. The last thing I can remember is a blast of white light.

I awoke some hours later, in complete darkness, with the vague sensation I was floating. I pulled my torch out of my labcoat and turned it on, only to find that it made no difference. I could see the torch, but everything else was still black. I called out, but there was no response.

I can't say with any certainty how long I was there, but it was long enough to figure out where I was. The machine had zeroed out. I had been sent back to before the universe began.

Some time later, something caught my eye. A tiny pinprick of light in the dark void. It looked to be expanding. My yellow suit began to smoke and blacken as the light drew closer, and then it was over. I thought I had been vapourised by the big bang.

But then I woke up.

I took a long, choking, deep breath. Standing around me with puzzled expressions were five people wearing white coats, featuring an insignia on the right pocket I could recognise but not describe.

I tried to stand up, but I appeared to be in a box of only about 3 cubic metres, and so couldn't. I reached for my laser knife, thinking I could cut my way out of the box; but fortunately one person was kind enough to open the door...only to take me to another room and handcuff me to a radiator.

After they could confirm my identity, I was informed that I was in a research laboratory in Stokksnes. The machine I had awoken in was an experiment to recreate the oldest and first object in the universe which, as it turns out, was me. I asked if they had found another person, but they told be no. I waited for them to leave the room, and cut through my shackles with that laser knife, which I had concealed under my collar, before removing my radiation suit and walking back to the machine. Nobody stopped me: I was just another scientist.

I attempted to restart the machine, but no person appeared in the box. Only a few orange bursts of flame, which I suspected to be hydrogen from the big bang that had almost ended me. I kept trying until the scientists returned and dragged me back to the room. In the end, I had to threaten to break a vial of Von Neumann machines (aka “grey goo”) in order for them to let me leave. I caught a flight back to my home in [REDACTED], and tried to find sleep.

The following day, I went back to the ESC. I was expecting the Þ-Chips to have done their stuff and restored the lab to its former state; but I opened the door to find...a broom cupboard.

It didn't make sense: the door was labelled 273½, and my name was beneath it...but Dr. Artemievna's wasn't. I asked around if anyone knew what had happened; but everyone I asked claimed not to have heard of her. I quickly understood what had happened. Dr. Artemievna hadn't been sent to the Big Bang; she had been erased from existence. I only remembered her because I had been sent to a time before time. Thank fuck I had her blueprints on a disk in my pocket.

Setting up shop in the broom cupboard and borrowing some equipment from next door, I engineered a Von Neumann machine with a simple program: construct more nanobots until there are enough to efficiently rebuild my old lab, rebuild the lab using the floorplan and blueprints from my disk, then disassemble each other and put the materials back.

I then left for Site-119, where I would remain for roughly two years, researching the temporal anomalies that tend to appear there.

When I eventually returned, I of course was surprised to find my lab full of bees – but you all know what happened there.

So, on this day, I will be remembering Dr. Kosma M Artemievna. Gone and forgotten, but not by me.

Note: This story takes place in the Evil Science Center which, in real life, is a community on Tumblr where we roleplay as evil scientists. It's a lot of fun. Anyway, look over there for the context.

Dr. Asbjørn wakes up, lying face down on a couch in the room where the party happened last night.

Their glasses are smeared, their labcoat is stained with red wine, and they are still wearing the dress from their forcefem gas exposure yesterday.

“mmfff... note to self: don't mix the supervodka with wine. bad idea. bad, bad idea.”

They attempt to get up, but their legs give way and they fall flat on the floor. Unable to walk and with their lab on the other side of the centre, they have one option. They pull out their phone and activate the voice assistant.

“Mycroft.”

“How may I help?“

“Locate nearest jumpstation”

“Locating... The nearest ESC jumpstation is located 33 metres away, outside of Lab 2319.“

“Thank you.”

Exit Mycroft

Dr. Asbjørn begins crawling in the direction of a blue arrow that has appeared on their phone.

Once they reach Lab 2319, they are greeted by a steel door, painted gunmetal grey and measuring just over a metre in height. Written in brass letters in the middle of the door is the word “JUMPSTATION”.

Dr. Asbjørn opens the door and climbs inside. They take a punchcard from a slot on the wall and punch out the number 273 in binary, before feeding the card into another slot and pulling a ripcord. A white flash illuminates the capsule. When it fades, Dr. Asbjørn is gone...

A flash of light illuminated the dark corridor, before a concealed door opened in the wood panelling to reveal a dusty and bedraggled-looking Dr. Asbjørn.

cough cough “Finally, a jumpstation that isn't sealed off! Now, where exactly am I?”, they said to themself.

After teleporting around the ESC for the past few hours, and finding every other jumpstation either blocked off or welded shut, Dr. Quill Asbjørn had run out of familiar lab numbers to enter into the punchcards and started drawing patterns. They had finally found an exit, but they were now completely lost and in desperate need of a solpadeine.

“Hello?”, they called out. As if in response, a series gas lights screwed into the walls ignited, bathing the corridor in a golden light — just bright enough for them to read their watch.

Seeing no signs of life, Quill climbed back inside the Jumpstation with the intention of returning to Lab 2319 and walking back to Lab 273½, only to find the tray of punchcards was empty.

“Fuck”, they thought to themself. “Why did I think this was a good idea?”

They tapped their pockets, but it seemed that their phone had fallen out, probably in another Jumpstation; and so Quill began the long walk down the corridor...

After 24 hours, Dr. Asbjørn had used up half of their supplies of food and water. It seemed they had walked several miles and the corridor, dimly lit by gas lamps, seemingly had no end.

Suddenly, Asbjørn noticed movement up ahead.

“Hello?” they croaked, parched from rationing their water. The movement stopped, then began advancing.

Dr. Asbjørn put their hand to their pocket flamethrower, then relaxed as the shape moved into the light. It was a rat.

Something about it seemed strange, though. Its movement was too hurried, too frantic, and it barely seemed to notice the human standing between the panelled walls. It scurried under a radiator and into a small hole.

Asbjørn decided to try something. Taking a pencil from their labcoat pocket, they stumbled over to the radiator and tapped it.

The sound rang out across the corridor, carried by the old lead piping. They began to tap out a message.

.-.. --- ... - / -... . .-.. --- .-- / . ... -.-. .-.-.- / ..- ... . -.. / .--- ..- -- .--. ... - .- - .. --- -. .-.-.- / .--. ..- -. -.-. .... -.-. .- .-. -.. ... / . -- .--. - -.-- .-.-.- / ... ..- .--. .--. .-.. .. . ... / .-.. --- .-- .-.-.- / -.-. --- -.. . / ....- -.... ..--- ----. ...-- ---.. .-.-.-

(Lost below ESC. Used Jumpstation. Punchcards empty. Supplies low. Code 462938.)

They repeated the message four times, hoping somebody would hear, before collapsing against the pipe.

“So, so tired”, they thought. “Sleep now. Rescue tomorrow...”

There were a few things that had woken Dr. Asbjørn from their sleep. Their head felt as if it had been jackhammered, thanks to the dehydration and the lead pipe they had used as a pillow. The first was sudden noise that had come through the pipe: a reply.

.— .... —– .——. ... / – .... .. ... —..— / .— .... .– – / –.. —– . ... / – .... .– – / –. ..– — –... . .–. / — . .– –. ..—.. /

Quill leapt up from the musty, thinly-carpeted floor and tried to translate the message. It took a few goes, but they got it eventually.

“Who's this? What does that number mean?”, the code said.

“Fuck! That's no good!” They were about to tap out another message, when a second, far louder sound echoed throughout the corridor.

It was almost indescribable. Somewhere between a shriek and a howl, and Quill felt something they hadn't felt in decades: fear.

In an instant, Quill broke into a run. They ran until the rathole was but a memory, and yet the corridor never turned nor ended.

As they ran, they began to notice some things about this mysterious place that they hadn't before. Some parts of the carpet, which seemingly stretched to eternity, were slashed and torn, exposing the herringbone floor beneath, as if someone – or something – had taken a blade to them. The varnish on the walls was perfect, except for the occasional stretch, which appeared to have been sanded down to the bare wood. Most disarming of all, however, was the bones.

Scattered under the radiators, kicked under the carpet, and thrown through holes in the wood panels, were hundreds and hundreds of bones.

“Probably rats”, thought Quill. “Oh, fuck please let it be rats.”

Eventually, they reached a familiar crack in the woodwork: the Jumpstation. They climbed back inside, but without any punchcards it had may as well have been a cupboard. The noise was getting louder.

Quill put their hands over their ears, trying to drown it out. Through the gap between the door and the wall, they stared, hoping to catch site of whatever it was they had run from. Their hands were useless. The noise seemed to resonate throughout their body.

As if to make matters worse, in that instant, the gas supply ran out, plunging Quill into darkness...

This part was written by Max Clark (@snowbafeld)

Max, after receiving a number they didn't understand knew they had to try and figure out what it meant or related to. She began searching the lab, there had to be some kind of hint somewhere, right? They paused, eyes focusing in on a strange box like shape in the wall, she approached it, prying the doors open, because of course they were manual doors. She eyed the inside of the box like space spotting some punch cards, maybe the number relates to this? They lifted a card and the punch tool, putting down the numbers, pushing the card into it's slot. Their ear twitched at a loud noise emanating from the machine, perhaps using random old tech wasn't clever. Max quickly dived out of the door, scrambling behind a counter, praying the thing wouldn't blow up, or at least not blow up enough to hurt her, as it began to glow.

Meanwhile, deep below the ESC, Quill was huddled inside the pod. The creature had stopped just outside the door, its rancid breath permeating through every crack and gap in the door.

Quill, however, had a plan. Not a good plan, but maybe something that could make sure nobody could find themself in the same predicament. Quill took out their flamethrower, and disconnected the gas canister. A strip of fabric from their skirt would act as a fuse, which the flints from the igniter would set alight. They were going to blow up the Jumpstation, as well as themself.

They stuffed the fabric into the nozzle, forcing it half open, and lit the fuse. The bare steel walls of the pod lit up with a golden colour, but then something unexpected occurred. The light in the pod suddenly seemed brighter, colder. The smell changed from that of rotting meat, to a familiar scent of burning metal and... honey?

Before they knew it, Quill was tumbling out of the pod and onto a teal linoleum floor. The canister flew through an open door and promptly detonated, blasting the wall opposite with shards of glass, and startling something — no, someone — behind a counter.

The small creature scampered out from her hiding place. She looked human, impeccably dressed, but with horns and a forked tail: an imp. Pinned to her jacket was a sticker, reading “Hi! My name is MAX”. Quill barely had time to think about her appearance, as the smell of smoke filled their nostrils. They leapt up and rushed in to pull the fire alarm.

“Oh, fuck, is that your lab?” inquired Max.

“Not for much longer if I can't get this fire out!” Quill replied. “Oh shit, my experiments! How powerful was that bomb‽”

“Ah, yes, the bomb. The bomb destroyed your chemicals. Not me. Definitely the bomb.”

“What was that?”

“Nothing. Nothing...”

Quill emerged from the doorway, covered with soot.

“The sprinklers aren't doing shit. We're gonna have to do this the old fashioned way.”

They produced a dagger from inside their labcoat and cut a hole in the linoleum floor, exposing the wood below. They prised one of the blocks away with the dagger, and then pulled up the rest by hand to reveal a glass orb, filled with a clear liquid.

“Right, you're gonna want to hold your breath.” Quill warned before lobbing the orb into the lab and slamming shut the door.

The orb shattered, spilling its contents throughout Lab 273½. The flames dwindled and died as the carbon tetrachloride pulled all of the oxygen from the air.

“Looks like you'll be needing a new lab, huh”, said Max. “You don't seem too upset, though.”

“Well, I'm a bit more concerned about the giant nightmare creature living under the- OH MY FUCKING GOD THE CREATURE!!!” Quill replied, shortly before collapsing to the floor for the fourth time since Thursday.