clifford_a-_pickover_surfing_through_hyperspacebookfi-org

150 surfing through hyperspace
To prove you have some control over your destiny, despite the chain
around your leg, you swing away from the path you've taken and follow a
little green light that sits atop a metallic structure. You pass tiny craters
and odd blobs of maroon that look neither alive nor dead, but as if they
are hibernating. Ah, if only you had time to take a more leisurely travel in
this world. But you have responsibilities.
How can you ever find Sally in such a strange world? She could be
inches away from you and you wouldn't be able to see her if she were not
in your "plane" of vision. You can't see beyond your three dimensions.
"Sally," you scream. There is no response, except perhaps a barely
audible laughter. You trod through fields of strange vegetation surrounded
by puffs of mist. It seems you are floating from one spatial
"plane" to another. Then the chain becomes tight. You can go no further.
You bring out your flare, light it, and wave it around. You scream and
scream.
Eventually a small ball of flesh comes near and you wave the flare even
faster. The ball jumps up and down and grows larger. When the cross section
increases to the size of a large pumpkin, you rub it gently and it
vibrates in response. There is a purring sound. You pull the creature
delta. A dozen ellipsoidal blobs coated with a hard enamel-like surface
come into view (teeth?) and finally you see a perfectly white ball with a
trace of blood vessels. You hope this white ball is the cornea of the creature's
hyperspherical eye. After a few seconds, it transforms into a brown
sphere with musculature like the iris of an eye, a perfect ball. This ball is
so shiny that it sparkles in the light. At last you see what you've been
waiting for: two, black, moist orbs, the size of baseballs, floating in front
of you. These must be the creature's pupils.
You feel a strange shiver go up your spine as you look into the Omegamorph's
glistening eyes. You feel a chill, an ambiguity, a creeping
despair. The Omegamorph is still. Neither of you moves. Its eyes are
bright. If you could see it smile, you imagine it would be relentless and
practiced. Time seems to stop. For a moment, your mind fills with a cascade
of mathematical symbols. But when you shake your head, the formulas
are gone. Just a fragment from a hallucination. But the inscrutable
Omegamorph remains.
"Thank you for paying attention to me," you say. You bring out a
photo of the president and one of Sally that you've had in your wallet for
years. "Please, bring my friends back and push them into my world. As