Cryo Unit Debating the Anomaly's Purpose
Cryo Unit: Debating the Anomaly's Purpose
The symphony crescendoed. The clean, sharp notes of logic warped and bent under the immense pressure of the anomaly until they were no longer math, but music. The 45 per cent probability became a deep, resonant cello note, a vibration I felt not in my ears, but in the very cryo-fluid that suspended me, a sound of immense tearing, of a promise being kept.
Through the flickering haze of my dissolving consciousness, I registered a distant, silent violence. The reinforced shell of my vessel, the ship that had been my world, was succumbing to the temporal distortions and gravitational shears. A deep groan echoed, not as sound, but as a wave of pressure against my capsule, the final scream of tortured metal. The debris field depicted in my frantic risk analyses was no longer a simulation; it was my reality, a cloud of shattered components tumbling past me in a slow, hypnotic dance of destruction.
“External vessel integrity compromised,” the sterile voice stated, as calm as if reporting the morning weather. “Life support functions rerouted to capsule autonomy. Standby.”
No longer on a ship, I was the ship itself. This metallic sarcophagus, this capsule, was my new universe—a solitary seed pod launched into a precisely orchestrated storm.
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Cryo Unit Debating the Anomaly's Purpose
Cryo Unit: Debating the Anomaly's Purpose
The symphony crescendoed. The clean, sharp notes of logic warped and bent under the immense pressure of the anomaly until they were no longer math, but music. The 45 per cent probability became a deep, resonant cello note, a vibration I felt not in my ears, but in the very cryo-fluid that suspended me, a sound of immense tearing, of a promise being kept.
Through the flickering haze of my dissolving consciousness, I registered a distant, silent violence. The reinforced shell of my vessel, the ship that had been my world, was succumbing to the temporal distortions and gravitational shears. A deep groan echoed, not as sound, but as a wave of pressure against my capsule, the final scream of tortured metal. The debris field depicted in my frantic risk analyses was no longer a simulation; it was my reality, a cloud of shattered components tumbling past me in a slow, hypnotic dance of destruction.
“External vessel integrity compromised,” the sterile voice stated, as calm as if reporting the morning weather. “Life support functions rerouted to capsule autonomy. Standby.”
No longer on a ship, I was the ship itself. This metallic sarcophagus, this capsule, was my new universe—a solitary seed pod launched into a precisely orchestrated storm.
Podcast:
www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLXaHuXMcUMrhIzfjKlj9clJCOf...
Meta TV
www.facebook.com/watch/100063480315046/1020837046583872/
Blogger:
www.jjfbbennett.com/2025/09/the-cryo-unit.html
FB Subscriber Hub
www.facebook.com/share/g/1AycZvNRzH/
eBook
www.amazon.com/author/jjfbbennett
Tags
#art #Spacestation #scifi #fictionalworld #story #arthouse #futuristic #spaceadventure #Sanctuary #Revitalisation #Retro #art #metaart #videoart #videoartist