March 25, 2021

Satania: A Cliché Space Adventure

The ship loomed in the dark abyss the indefinable vacuum of deep space. My left eyebrow raised and thoughtful consternation. Gently grinding my molars eyes glazed over, knuckles white The skin of my neck pulled taut, pup tents housing a flood of iron-deficient blood, screaming towards the frontal cortex. 

18 hours ago I emerged from my stasis pod, expecting to be greeted by medical professionals on my fellow passengers. What I found was darkness, My vitals ringing wildly, screaming alert sirens, and a countdown to initiate an induced coma in 5, 4, 3... 

"Fuckin' Hell!" I ejaculate, as I lurch over the rim of my pod, slipping like the spawning salmon onto the cold sterile floor. My head punching violently into the next pod. Resting in between the two pods in a space of 3.5 feet. 

A sound like a birthday clown twisting balloons in fast forward and green jello flying at high speeds into a linoleum floor. 

6,000 bolts of anti-electricity and a cocktail of heart slowing sedatives emit uselessly into the space my now crumbled form previously occupied.

My left forearm oozes, not blood, a concoction of organic safe antifreeze and metabolic anti-decay microbots, reinforcing the structural walls of nearly 1/3 of every cell that composes me.  Forced into this fetal position, incapable of shivering, despite the readout on the wall of 30° f. 

A dark bruise spreading, an oil spill that starts in the center of my brain and consumes all the light. 

My forehead resting on my knees, I prepare to kiss my ass goodbye, my life force slips away, like a fart in the wind. Extinguished. Never to return. Totally. Fucking Dead. 

A voice. Somewhere far away. Angel's Hymn or a Siren Call? 

"Remote Anti-Death Sequence Initiated". A calm prerecorded message announces clearly. The ambiguously gendered statement's echo is still fresh as a biomechanical tentacle repels from an opening in the ceiling. The AI scans the scene and gently lowers onto the sack of half-frozen chicken breasts masquerading as a man. 

A five-pronged hand unfurls at the end and drapes over my form.  Its heat would make me gasp in this frigid space if my lungs had the capacity to draw air.  

Suction cups create a vacuum over my rigid flesh adhering at multiple angles and swiftly drawing me to an examination table that has risen from the floor. 

Eyes having been medically sealed shut prior to being placed into suspended animation, and the central nervous system having been completely severed, my memory and experience of the entire event is non-existent. 

However, the entire process of my life-saving procedure was recorded in high definition and from multiple angles. 

Phase 1: Medically Induced Coma *fuck me, I thought I dodged that shit tossing myself out of the pod, like a bag of moldy tangerines. 

Everything goes black. I awaken as if from a peaceful slumber. I feel no pain. A subtle grin creeps up my face and I breathe in deeply. Hissing like a public bus breaking restores a higher level of awareness and I note that I’m fully intubated and strapped securely to a medical table. Glancing past my nose, I see my entire chest has been fully exposed, rib cage prided apart with mechanical grippers, and AI-guided microlasers repair my lungs and heart.  This gruesome scene shifts into everlasting bliss as sedatives are pumped into a spinal tap. 

Written by Merlin Dumbledore

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