× does not compute ×

We are, the stories that we tell our children. “Mom, why did you tell him that dad’s dead?” She knew that this day would come soon enough. She’s in her teen years; you can’t shut her up with the story of her dad being lost at sea. Though, quite frankly, that’s the closest thing to the truth. “Don’t tell me that you still believe that he’ll be back all these years later, do you?” “It’s not about what I believe. You never lost hope; and now I’m thinking you’re…” “Not now” , she snapped. She didn’t mean to, but she did. A small price to pay for living in a house with an antsy teen. “We’ll discuss this later.” She said, more calmly. She knew that this pot was boiling for quite some time now; they both have been feeling the heat. It’s up to her to make sure that it doesn’t boil over. She made a mental note to do something about this situation. But going there was bad enough for her herself, that she did not linger on what exactly is that she’s gonna do about it. ‘Time will pass’, she thou

the ringularity makes you dance, whether you want it or not.                  -kurzgesagt  Blackholes, the great devourers of the universe from which even light cannot escape; and the favorite topic of passionate amateur discussion at my college dorm room. But what struck me most amazing is the one thing that they cannot do; being the all-powerful literal world destroyers that they are. Crossing the event horizon is the last thing your meat, bones, hoes, and dreams could do. Bu there may be one silver lining to this extremely eventful process that starts with you being pulled into a noodle, and ends in you being one with the ringularity at the center of the blackhole you decided to take a dip in; the fact that of all things, even a black hole could not destroy the information contained within you. We all are more than the sum of our parts; apart from every single fundamental particle that makes us up, we carry, in us, the information needed to make us, of all things, from these

The horror is neither in death nor in what happened. The horror is in the nature of infinite repetition of what is happening; The horror is in not knowing that you are in an infinite cycle of madness. When I woke up, with the sun and the sea salt in my eyes, I found myself in a lifeboat adrift on an eerily calm ocean. When my eyes adjusted to the blinding daylight, I looked around to find absolutely nothing in any direction as far as the eye can see. It was as If I was plucked out of space and time, and put here, surrounded by just the sea and the horizon. The fact that my thoughts were fragmented did not help either. My name is Captain Winslow; my own first name evades me. It is as if I was hit in the head. I knew the seas, I have grown up on them. Sailing and adventure were in my blood. I did know that I was a sailor, and a marine biologist; but couldn't remember much else.   Judging by the position of the sun, I made a guess that it must be somewhere around noon. My marine chron