Fade to Blink - A Quantum Date Ch. 04

I screamed. I babbled. I was as silent as space, riding the light beams, pressing against Jimmie's head, finally releasing my self-inflicted stillness, bucking my cunt into his face, hoping I had covered him with a firehose of cum.

The first thing I felt was the rough warm wood on the wall behind my shoulders. The first thing I saw was Jimmie's face, glistening with juices, smiling and blinking, liquid dripping down his forehead, cheeks and chin. The first thing I did was...nothing. I melted, oozing onto the bench. The first thing I said, and it was a long time afterward, was, "I sure hope nobody's coming in here anytime soon; it must reek of cunt."

Mid-October 32

P. looked around the table, nodded to Liu to shut the door and called the meeting to order. Same crew, different restaurant. I wasn't feeling any more comfortable than the first time, and given Johnstone's full debrief, maybe even less. I couldn't look him in the face at all, the memory of that torturous three hours still fresh. I knew he'd known about Jimmie and me, but to have to go into detail about my feelings...I felt naked sitting there, my anxiety barely kept bottled up.

"Thank you everyone for fitting this in. We don't have much time, and given last meeting's ad hoc agenda, I wanted to catch us all up on the latest findings. In one way, at least, it's good we waited: our latest simulations appear to be converging. Apologies again for taking a few minutes to catch Anne up to speed, most of this will be old news to all of you.

"Last time," he looked directly at me, "we mentioned that we believed that whatever is going on, it's causing quanta to behave non-randomly. Taking that as a starting presumption, we've developed several simulations, looking for best fit scenarios to the data we have.

"Non-random quanta effects are known...Chou-Nordstrom's equations, based on Hawking's earlier work, indicate that black holes drive all sorts of non-random behaviors at the quantum level. But we're obviously not dealing with black holes here, so whatever is going on is astoundingly novel.

"To cut to the chase, we're presuming a many-worlds theory of quantum probabilities." He laughed. "Sorry. In plain English: we believe that the universe we occupy," he waved his hands around the room, "is the result of an infinite number of probabilities. Put even more simply: there are an infinite number of universes that result from each quantum's outcome."

I interrupted to let him know he could move ahead; that Jimmie had filled me in on the thinking.

"Excellent! Continuing in that line of reasoning, we conjecture that the flickers are the result of a massive shift in quanta probabilities: that by aligning them, or polarizing them, the words don't exist yet, an individual is 'shifted' out of one universe and into another." He paused and waited for me.

I nodded, but couldn't stop myself. "I haven't studied physics, only taking an intro college course, so I'm sure these are stupid, but I've got so many questions. Like, how is it that we're all in one universe to begin with if we're only the result of randomized quantum effects? And, do all of the flickers end up in the same universe or are they shifting to separate ones? And, really, I can't seem to shake this one: why aren't clothes and inanimate objects affected?"

P. nodded at each one, his mouth set in a tight line. "Yes. Yes! As before, we're also asking those and many other questions! We don't know. And, even with the mice, we don't have enough data. For example, based on your debrief, we've learned that, in your case at least, the events last approximately seven seconds. For the mice, it's less than three. That's awesome! And confounding! But it's data we didn't have before.

"Another question you haven't raised, but which is very much on our minds is what level of infinity are we dealing with? We presume it is greater than ℵ‎₁."

He was right, he had me there. Apparently there is at least one universe, and maybe an infinite number in which I asked that question, but surely not in this one. The fact that I even had a clue what he was talking about is a testament to my college math professors.

"But, based on this week's simulations, I think I have some good news." He paused again to make sure everyone had heard. "We believe the most likely scenario is that we are dealing with a much smaller set of possible universes; in fact, it is possible we're dealing with a finite set based on a normal distribution of probability." He laughed again. "In plain English: for someone to flicker, or for the mice to blink out, we think they can only shift to a universe that is substantially like ours.

"But there's something even more incredible here: in designing the simulations, we've created yet another tool in our toolkit. They're not only helping us figure out what likely universes are available to us, they're enabling us to see a range of probable universes! They're crude, at the moment, but we can see ways to make them more sensitive. In brief, we think we can tune our simulations along the spectrum of probable universes, from almost exactly like ours, to ones not remotely like ours."

I saw expressions on P.'s face I'd not seen before: joy, childlike wonder, excitement. Maybe. Maybe that's what those were, or maybe that was more zealotry. When I asked Jimmie later he said it was all of those; he'd never seen P. quite that emotional either.

He turned to me and calmed down. "I suppose you're wondering what any of this has to do with our next steps?"

I scrunched my lips in the 'acknowledgment pattern' and took a drink of water.

"Today's agenda item is a progress report on the Concentrator. Can we get updates from everyone?"

I turned to Jimmie, my face it's stony default. Here it comes. He nodded slightly and I turned back to the group.

Mid-November 32

Dir HR Employee Health Kurt Johnstone HQ01.10.02 looked very worried. At least that's the best I could figure from his expression. Eyes skittering around the room, brow furrowed, eyebrows lower than usual. His glance constantly stopping at me, until he realized he was staring at a real human being and not a lab rat, or a bunch of numbers on a chart, before quickly shifting away. Another meeting, a different place, same routine. But this one seemed even more risky. Jimmie had mentioned CorpSec had tripped over one of our labs and there had been a scramble to get everything covered up again. It was getting harder to keep this all under wraps. Not good. Definitely not good. My lips stretched thin, pressed together, the corners of my mouth pointed down. The Serious template. I kept my mouth shut even though I had seventeen million things I wanted to say, to ask.

P. turned to Harvey...Chauncey! Chauncey. Sr. Mgr. SupLog Chauncy Smythe HQ05.10.15, his coordinates rushing back to me. Fifth floor. I'd never had a reason to go up there. Weird that supply logistics would be on the fifth floor.

"...shipment should be coming in tomorrow, as expected. Three components are on the registry. I'll have one of my team collecting them and signing off." He looked back at P. who turned to Jimmie.

"We good?"

Jimmie nodded, glancing between his beer and P. "Yeah. The test bed is set up where you asked for it. I have a couple of guys ready to confirm it's in spec. Should take us a week, I hope less. I hope it will fit the package..."

P. shut him down with a gesture. "It looks like we're all set. I've been narrowing down the coordinates." He smiled, and stared at me, but I had no idea why or what he meant by it. "We've narrowed the adjacent universes to a very small number...much smaller than ℵ‎₀."

Jimmie 'hmphd,' but in spite of promising to keep my mouth shut, I couldn't resist. ℵ‎₀. So, fine, he's eliminated higher orders of infinity; now we're just talking an infinite number of integers. Super. "Uhh, P...didn't you say last time it was even smaller...like a finite set?"

Not that a finite set made much of a difference, if P. was talking about a million possible universes. I'm an engineer after all. And a low-level quality assurance software engineer at that. Infinity is still infinity, no matter the order of magnitude. A million is a lot; hell, a thousand is a lot to us mere mortals. Luckily P. liked me. At least, I figured he did. He laughed.

"Maybe I wasn't clear. We've narrowed the possibilities to a finite number, much smaller than ℵ‎₀. How much smaller?" He smiled thinly. "The team has improved the simulations by an order of magnitude. By the time we're ready to do our run, I'm confident we'll have a choice from a handful of nearby universes."

Liu spoke up. "The panels have all been installed, and their going through QA right now, but in the kerfuffle last week, one of them may have been damaged. We're getting its replacement shipped this week just to be certain everything will be ready. Otherwise, the unit is nominal, or will be, in about a week."

I just shook my head slightly to get rid of the cobwebs. My turn. "Okay. So, I've reviewed the protocol and eliminated as many linkages as I could; it's still going to require at least three people operating, and not much tolerance for hand offs." I looked over at Jimmie to confirm I should continue. "Uhhh, Jimmie and I were discussing it, and we figured out we could eliminate two of the team members and a whole bunch of uncertainty if we moved the terminal into the Concentrator with us."

P. looked at the two of us and turned back to Johnstone. "That sounds promising. Kurt? You see a problem with changing things up?"

Johnstone pursed his lips and scanned his screen, his eyes tracing complex patterns. "Uhhh, in theory, no. But I thought we discussed that option a few months ago and canned it cuz the terminal couldn't be powered independently..."

Jimmie took it from there, explaining what he'd figured out, and the group discussed it further. My mind drifted back to the moment when I heard Jimmie's initial plan, my face blushing at the memory.

Late-October 32

We'd come back from the gym, sweaty and aching from the workout. This time there were plenty of people there. When we peeked into the sauna Jimmie could see I wasn't going to play; not with so many strangers in there. Women and men, some wrapped in towels, some openly exposed. I turned around and pulled Jimmie out of the changing room.

"Let's just clean up upstairs."

In his shower, the water hot against my shoulders and back, I began feeling a little more human. Hah! As if! I opened my cheeks to wash around my asshole, knowing it would be filled wanting it to be filled, you freak! with a tail, anticipating the slipperiness of the lubrication as I slid a soapy finger in and out.

"I love it when you do that."

I jumped at his voice, startled out of my thoughts, turning to see him leaning against the doorway, naked, his cock lifted off his sac, his face smiling. Eyes, chest, cock, balls, knees, hair, hair, eyes glinting, smile, cock. I turned back to rinse off.

And then out and dried off, lotion on my skin, lube in my hole, the Dalmatian tail, collar and leash. I crawled to my bed near the couch and waited.

"You hungry?" He called from the kitchen. "I'm thinking some soup. That work for you?"

"Yes and yes, please. Thank you. Do you want help?"

"Nah. I think I can warm up some soup. I've got some bread and cheese too."

I kept myself occupied with my screen until he set the dishes down on the coffee table. I started to get up, when he stopped me. I braced myself for whatever he had in mind; I could tell he was planning something.

"On all fours, that way." His direction meant I had to turn parallel to the coffee table.

He set down my bowl onto the blanket next to my bed. "Mouth only. Like the horny bitch you are."

I looked up at him. "Really, Jimmie?" I shook my head. "Seriously?" I could see from his expression that this was just the beginning and there would be no use in questioning him further. I dropped down onto my elbows, my muscles still sore from the workout, and I bent to stick my face into the bowl. At least he made it an easy bowl. It was shallow and straight sided, just like something a dog would eat out of. I shook my head and lapped at the soup, grabbing vegetables and meat with my tongue. He set my bread and cheese down next to it and moved out of sight.

"I've been thinking how we can go together," he said, matter-of-factly. "We still don't know why only the subordinate mice blink out, and we don't know why they leave everything behind that isn't integrated with their bodies."

I cringed at the noises I was making: slurping and sucking while he was making conversation from the couch. From where I estimated he was sitting, he could see my cunt peeking out between my legs, my ass tilted up. I stopped for a moment, my face dripping with soup and turned to grab some bread. I could feel my moisture building up behind my lips. He absolutely knew how I'd respond to this new humiliation.

"...talking with some of Johnstone's staff to see if they'd tried blinking both mice out at the same time."

I stopped and looked over my shoulder at him. "Whaaattt?"

"Look," he said, setting his bowl down on my lower back. I knew if I moved and spilled anything he'd have some punishment in mind. I kept very very still, staring at him, barely shaking my head at what a freak show we were. "How can we get the mice to be joined in a way that the one blinks them both out?" He sat back with his bread and cheese. "Right?"

I turned back, slowly, and waited, not wanting to risk eating until he moved the bowl. I jumped when his fingers slid between my lips, I could feel the soup jiggling. "Fuckkk, Jimmie!" I knew I couldn't move, now for two reasons, as he slipped a third finger into me. I was tired, my arms were tired, I just wanted to eat, I just wanted to feel him fucking me. "Please, Jimmie," I begged, "can you please move the bowl so I can eat something?" I knew I couldn't stop him from teasing me.

"Oh! Sorry! Of course!"

As soon as it was gone, I bent back down, hoping to finish before he did whatever he had in mind next. The sounds from my cunt joined the slurping from my mouth as he slid his fingers in and out of me. I couldn't get the last bits of soup, turning instead to grab a piece of cheese, when he pulled out his fingers, adjusted my cheeks with both of his hands and slowly slid his cock into my pussy. "Fuccckkkkkk, yesssss, fuck, yes, Jimmieee..Thankkkkkkkkyouoooo..." I kept my head down, holding still while he kept his cock moving, so fucking slowly, in and out of me.

"...ggested that they shave the mice and somehow tie them together..."

I couldn't concentrate on his words, focusing on not moving, on being the good little cum pocket for him, controlling my instinct to move, channeling my need to move into my own arousal. The orange blob enlarged out of my gut, toward my chest, the yellow dripping out of me every time he pulled away. "Please, Jimmie, please, yes, yes, thank you, fuckkkk, fuckk, I'm so close, can we cum together? Can you shoot your hot cum into my fucking cunt???"

He picked up the pace, no longer talking, focused on fucking me, hard and proper, my cunt farting, my thighs dripping, the blob blossoming, blossoming..."yessss, fuck, jimmie I'm cumming I'm cumming..." him slamming into me, his cock hard and vibrating, his cum shooting deep into me, coating my insides.

Later, much later, when we had crawled into bed, I turned to him. "Now, what the fuck were you talking about with the mice?"

He explained his idea that if the mice were somehow sealed together, the effect would apply to both of them. I found all sorts of reasons to question his logic. "Wouldn't you have to join the mice together at the quantum level for it to work?"

He laughed, explaining that nothing is joined at the quantum level...except two quanta. But he did like where that idea led. "I wonder if there's something to that," he said, kissing my forehead. "If we were able to entangle the quanta from both mice..."

"Whatever, dude," I said sleepily. "I think you're just jealous and can't stand the idea of my going alone."

He hugged me tightly, pressing his body against mine. "You're right," he whispered, "I can't."

Early-November 32

"You ready?" Jimmie stood next to my desk, momentarily stopping his scan of the room to lean down and kiss my neck.

Ready? When could I ever say I was ready? I had been imagining Hodgson's face all day, seeing him politely knock on the door and gently inviting us to join him as he processed us for jail. "No. I'm not ready. I'm never going to be ready." I mumbled, shutting down my screens. "Let's go get this over with."

We walked toward the south stairwell dutifully ignoring the cameras, just like it was any other day, passed through the doors onto the landing and continued down two flights of stairs. Most of the time, we'd continue down the stairs to the main lobby and out to the street. But lately we'd been taking a different route; about every third day (randomized, but on average around every three days) we'd exit the landing through the door leading to the car park. The security station was unstaffed: just a robot and alarmed doors.

Taking a left, and sticking to the painted pedestrian markings, we usually continued around the car park to the opposite corner, where we would take the stairs to the street level, a block south of the main avenue. That had been our routine for almost two months, since Jimmie had gotten me into the committee. Today, however, we never made it to the far stairs. Today we stopped at an unmarked door, set into the building side wall, about 30 feet away from where we'd come in. The door wasn't just unmarked; it was completely smooth: no handle, no badge reader. Jimmie pulled out his screen, ticky-tacked for a second, and with a deep click, the door opened inward about an inch.

"C'mon. Don't look around, just head on in as if you're meant to." Jimmie wrapped his arm around my waist and ushered me through, my instinct to turn and scan the parking lot almost too much to ignore. We were inside with the door shut behind us when I finally succumbed and looked over my shoulder. Jimmie laughed. "Seriously, Annie?" He shook his head.

"But how are you so sure nobody could see us?" Jimmie urged me to keep walking. We were in a concrete tower occupied by a steel stair, windowless, a cool white fixture lighting each landing. He guided me down.

"The lock knows. It won't open if it isn't safe."

I didn't have to ask to know that it was something Jimmie had a hand in designing. I could tell by his tone of voice. Hurray for living with someone for six months! And it occurred to me, looking at this tower, and the stairs and the doors, that this entire operation had been slowly building up, ever since the first flicker over four years ago. Bit by bit P., or who the fuck knows, maybe Monty himself playing some sick interwoven game, added pieces to the project.

We were definitely in a basement based on my count of landings, and now heading further down. "I assume," I said quietly, worried someone might hear me through 20 feet of soil and a foot of solid concrete, "this isn't on meiMap?"

Jimmie burst out laughing, unfazed by making noise. "Good one. No. We're definitely off the grid. Okay. This is us."

He waited a moment until the door clicked. Holding it open for me, he followed me into a dimly lit carpeted hallway.

"This way," he invited me to go in front of him.

"Very funny." The stairwell was at the end of the hallway; there wasn't any other way to go.

"Okay," he stopped at the third door on the right. "This is the supply closet. We'll get undressed, prepped, attach the sensor package and pick up the terminal...assuming P. will approve that change...and we'll cross over here," he pressed his hand on my waist to gently guide me across the hall, "and go into here." And he opened the door.