31 Jul Void Gazer

Matt was an artist. At least, that’s what he tended to tell people when they would ask him the age-old and often irritating question of “so what do you do?” If asked to elaborate further, which he seldom was, he would respond with apprehensive eagerness by stating he was a “digital artist.” If, on the rare occasion, whoever he was speaking to would show the slightest hint of interest, either genuine or simply polite, he would then usually begin a well-rehearsed and enthusiastic explanation as to what that meant.

“So as technology continues to improve,” he would almost always begin, as though he were giving a TED Talk to a party of one, “it has opened so many doors! For creative expression, for communication. While in the past, artists would ­­need to struggle and toil endlessly to shape their visions, now with the help of AI…”

If the person he was speaking to didn’t roll their eyes, nod with a blank, disinterested smile that wouldn’t reach their eyes, or didn’t simply walk away, he would continue to expound upon the great democratization of art that the tech world had created. How talent was now merely a matter of imagination and a desire to create, rather than the unfair blessings of natural aptitude or a lifetime of arduous repetition. How, despite “the haters,” he was an artist.

He would usually do this at length, and more often than not, such conversations, as one-sided as they tended to be at that point, would generally be one-time affairs. Seldom, if ever, would he find another as enthused or engaged as he was with what most people regarded as “slop,” and on the rare occasions he would, he would find himself often bored and annoyed by the other party’s eagerness to expound at length upon their own creations and ideas. This was not merely a matter of self absorbed egotism -though there was plenty of that abound- but because beyond the classic matters of lazy prompts and dreams of making it big with his creations, Matt possessed an actual skill which aided him in his pursuit, beyond the classic matter of prompt, copy and post that most “AI artists” were known for.

Matt was never actually an artist, though throughout his life he had always dreamed of being known as such. He had tried his hand at writing, yet his prose had always been flat, obvious and unimaginative, suffering likewise from naturally poor sentence structure, a grasp of plot progressions and an understanding of basic characterization. He had tried painting and graphic arts for a while, but seemed to miss an understanding of the appropriate use of color palettes, perspective, or even basic composition. His forays into music had ranged from arranging discordant and irregular techno tracks to practicing physical instruments, which would cause the house pets and strays within earshot of his apartment building to howl and yelp, in what he couldn’t help but feel were harshly critical cries of pain. Or, so he believed, for reasons known only to him.

Yet this is not to say he lacked talent altogether. Throughout his life he had discovered a natural gift for writing code. In college he had sought a double major in both software engineering and film studies.

But as this passion based failure to launch tended to drag his overall grade point average dangerously down, he begrudgingly dropped the film courses and focused on the software. For a number of years after college, he did enjoy a lucrative position with a tech startup, which had a relatively short, but wild run of success, and for that time, he lived quite comfortably. Though, his desire to be renowned for artistic vision and endeavors never quite left him alone.

As generative AI began to advance and seep further and further into media and popular culture, Matt couldn’t help but feel as though his ship had truly, finally come in. For days, then weeks, then months, almost all of his free time was spent attempting to utilize all the new technologies in pursuit of a new creative endeavor. One which would incorporate seemingly all aspects of artistic venture, from story telling, to imagery, to music and everything in between. Matt had decided he would develop a video game. All with the help of his incorporeal robot assistants, of course.

“It’s a horror fantasy story more or less,” he explained to Andy, his best and nearly only friend, as the two sat at the bar of the bowling alley they had long ago designated as their preferred watering hole. “It takes place in a world that’s basically our world, but different. One that’s overrun with demons and otherworldly beasts that threaten all of humanity.”

Andy raised an eyebrow. “So, like The Witcher series?”

“Yeah,” Matt nodded. “Except modern day.”

“Are there zombies?”

“There could be!”

Matt knew that Andy barely understood the first thing about the technical aspects of what he was doing and, in all likelihood, didn’t care. However, Andy did love a good horror story, loved video games, and, above all else, was indeed a good and faithful friend.

“You should put zombies in there. Zombies make everything better.” Andy said before taking a long pull on the cheap draft beer before him. “That 28 Days Later series? Not even actual zombies, technically, but still, absolutely killer movies, right? I’m telling you, they make everything cooler.”

“Maybe you’re right,” Matt said, quickly punching a note into his phone. “I was really thinking more like big cosmic horror stuff, you know?”

Andy cocked his head. “Like, Alien versus Predator kind of stuff?”

“No. Like, you’ve heard of H.P. Lovecraft, right?”

Andy thought for a moment. “Wasn’t he that kinda racist guy who made that giant octopus guy?”

“Cthulu, yeah. That’s him. And I don’t know if he was really racist.”

“Dude, he named his cat…”

Matt cut him quickly off as he held up a hand and nodded so as to avoid Andy saying the word.

“Yeah, okay. But anyway, his whole thing was that there are these old gods and creatures that are just lurking and waiting to reclaim the world,” he explained.

“So, do they, like, eat people?” Andy asked.

“More that they drive them insane,” Matt replied.

Andy sat, considering that for a moment, before shrugging and nodding with mild interest. “Huh. Cool.”

“It adds a psychological element, which I read is what usually makes good horror great.”

“Yeah, I can see that,” Andy began. “Like Stephen King, or Eli Roth.”

Matt let that last part slide.

“So, how are you making this thing? With that AI thingy of yours?” Andy asked, finishing his beer and signaling to the barkeep for another.

“Well, yeah, but that’s the cool part. I’m not just using an ordinary platform. I bought this new, premium model, right? But found that I can actually get into its code and, well, basically improve it.”

“How much did that cost?” Andy asked.

“A lot. Like, a whole lot. But it’s okay because when I’m done with this project, I’m sure it’ll more than pay for itself. Especially when I’m finished with it.” Matt rather beamed as he described it. Though he knew Andy wouldn’t understand half of what he wanted to say, he appreciated that his friend was happy to listen regardless.

“Are you gonna like, turn it into some super smart thing? Like, it’ll have its own personality and then take over the world after it figures out how much everyone sucks?”

“Nah, that’s what you call an S-G-I, or super intelligence. People are already working on that. No, I’m modifying this one to really just lean into what I’m doing here. Something that understands and can process true old-world horror. Something more or less redesigned for the project. Fewer prompts, fewer edits, just the kind of thing that I can bring my vision to life with, without having to write every bit of script and code and debug and all that.” Matt explained, while he now signaled the bartender for another beer of his own.

“So it’s like tech support?” Andy asked.

“Well, yeah, but more than that. It’s been increasingly generating the game just on simple inputs. I’ll ask it for, like, a bad guy for the setting, low to mid level, whatever, and each time it just keeps coming back with these insane monster things. Like nothing I could even think of myself. I doubt anyone could really. They’re intense.” Matt gushed, nodding thanks as his second round arrived.

Pulling his phone out again, he quickly scrolled through images he’d saved from the project prompts and, finding one of particular interest, showed the screen to his friend. Upon it was an unnervingly photo-realistic image of what could only be described as a faceless, silver-skinned creature. Its whole body, limbs, torso, neck and all were gaunt, with strange protrusions pushing out from under its duly shining skin. The hands bore seven fingers apiece, all long and spindly, coming to sharp points at the end as though they were knives. Every semi-bubbling inch of it was defined by dense, sinewy muscles, far too many to be those of a human being.

Andy glanced at the image. Then, pulling a set of thin-framed glasses down from his head, he inspected it closely. His expression was muted and neutral, before a single lazy but intrigued eyebrow shot up. He nodded as he handed the phone back.

“That’s a scary son of a bitch, that thing. I’d hate to have one of those jump out from the dark at me,” he said approvingly.

“AI sometimes normally does this. They’re called dreams, or hallucinations. You let the program imagine things, and it’ll just get dark and weird. But I’ve been kind of encouraging it to go that way. That’s how I get this. And it’s just one of dozens this program has been putting out since I started tweaking it’s code. Each one is more…visceral and realistic than the last. You should see the big bosses we’re making.” Matt was practically vibrating with his own enthusiasm.

It was at that moment Andy was forced to break from the conversation as he pulled his own buzzing phone from his inside jacket pocket. Swiping it open, he looked down through his glasses at the screen before a slight grimace crossed his face. He looked apologetically to his friend.

“Well shit. Sorry Matty, but it looks like Emma is promising to steal Claire’s car and run away again. Family life my guy… it’s like I’m a full time firefighter without the cool truck or hat. I gotta go dude.” Andy explained, draining what remained of his beer.

“Hey, I don’t envy you.” Matt very much envied Andy for his troublesome yet loving home life. “Catch you next time.”

* * * * * *

Matt returned home shortly afterwards, himself. His apartment was large and could even be considered luxurious by some standards, had it not lacked all but the barest of basic furniture and any real form of art or decoration to speak of. It was to coin a phrase, techno-spartan. Spartan in the bare bones nature of his accouterments and ‘techno’ in that in lieu of a proper living or dining room set, much of his space was dominated by things such as server racks, data banks and other assorted high end industrial computer equipment.

His living room area was but a single recliner, a small table upon the top of which sat the now dried and somewhat foul smelling remnants of the previous night’s Chinese take-away and an enormous flat screen television mounted to the wall. In the corner of the room, lit up like a Christmas tree, sat the ornate brassy beating heart of his design, a quantum computer. His pride and glory, bought after an early run on meme stocks, led to a bountiful move in the crypto market. He couldn’t help but feel that they were destined for each other.

Off the side nearer the main door, sat the kitchen. A pair of bar height kitchen stools sat at the serving counter which demarcated the kitchen from dining room, serving as his only real dining space. Yet if one were to have a look through the kitchen itself, one would find more long unwashed dishes and the wrappers of TV dinners, than any actual food or signs of real dining.

Like to his living room, his bedroom was utilitarian, with merely a king sized bed without a frame, laid messily and unmade upon the floor. Barren white walls and mirrored closet doors caused it to feel larger that it needed to.. A small dresser, a single night stand and yet another enormous television mounted high on the opposite wall were all there were to keep the bedspread company. So as his life tended to be, so was his home simple, uninspired and empty.

Despite this though, his work station, situated on the far side of the large parlor space was exceptionally impressive. A high end modular desk, the type one could sit or stand before at the push of a button, was placed beneath an array of a half dozen large, high definition monitors. His primary terminal machine, unlike most home PCs, wasn’t merely housed in a single boxy case, but rather had been built rather artistically into a large glass front display which at a glance, might almost look like actual art. Within it, all manner of glowing and colorful components sat linked to one another through various cables and glowing tubes.

Beneath that, a large fish tank containing several colorful tropical fish sat, with the very same colorful tubes as those running from his liquid cooing apparatus within the case, ran in and out, carrying in fresh water and shunting waste water to a series of slickly designed filters, for use within his monstrous and definitively custom computer set up. From atop the large, wide wall mounted system, scores of cables neatly bound in cable conduits sprouted, running along the walls and ceiling in neat patterns towards the banks of server racks, his primary quantum centerpiece and other towering equipment that dominated the majority of the room.

Before the desk itself sat a very expensive yet incredibly comfortable and equally modular desk chair, which like the desk, at the push of a button could change orientation, allowing the seated individual the options of a casual slouch, a full laying position, or a sort of assisted leaning, standing position. Beside the behemoth workstation, his only real recreational luxury item, a full VR treadmill set, complete with haptic body gear and a top of the line headset sat proudly as though a monument itself to Matt’s generous nine to five salary. Beside the gaming platform itself however, sat a small easy chair, a bottle of hand lotion and a box of tissues, also with a top of the line headset resting from a hook on the side of the headrest.

To say he did not have many visitors would be an understatement. In the near decade he had lived there, he’d perhaps had a dozen visitors in total, Andy being the only repeat visitor he could think of when he bothered thinking about it at all. However as Matt leaned down and fed the fish within their elaborate and richly decorated tank, he smiled, content with their company and that of the various bots he had at his disposal through his various devices.  As though on cue, and actually genuinely on programmed cue, a voice spoke through the surround sound speakers which sat discreetly along the walls and ceiling in every room of his home.

“Good evening, Sir.” A soft female voice said, seemingly from everywhere. “Did you have a nice time with Andy?”

“Hello Skye. Yes, actually I did. Thank you for asking.” he replied warmly to his virtual companion.

“Did you eat, Sir? I could order a delivery for you if you’re hungry.” it offered.

“No, that’s fine. I ate earlier.”

“Very good, Sir. Will you be gaming, working or indulging tonight?”

‘Indulging’ was the programmed euphemism Matt had given to Skye regarding time spent in his secondary VR side chair. Though meant to disarm any obvious awkwardness to the…activity it was designed for, he had opted to afford her an affectation when referring to it, which he found both disarming and slightly funny. He shook his head, despite there being no visual inputs for his machine to observe him with.

“No, I think tonight will be a work night. I’m feeling…inspired.” he replied.

“Very good, Sir. I will begin running the models you left off with last time. Feel free to begin whenever you are ready.” Sky said dutifully.

“Thank you. I’m going to take a shower real quick. Run a test on the model updates I was on last night while I do.”

“Sir, those update packets are only ninety-eight percent complete. Would you like me to attempt to complete them while you bathe?” Skye asked, using it’s network integration to bring to life the bright and expensive work station.

“Uhm, yeah. Forgot about that. Yeah, see if you can finish those up while I shower and run them in a sandbox to see how they take.”

“Understood, Sir.”

As Matt entered the spacious, white tiled bathroom, disrobed and stepped into the standing glass shower bay, he sighed with relief as the multiple jets of warm water shot at him from the walls and ceiling. He was a man who enjoyed long showers in general and upon picking his home originally, found the bathroom itself to be one of it’s strongest selling features. He liked the shower, not only for the warmth and overall relaxing sensory experience, but also in that he found it among the best places to do his thinking. It was private, but not quiet, as the whooshing white noise of the shower heads relaxed his mind as thoroughly as the jets themselves relaxed his body.

As he looked down at the swirling and sudsy water circling and then flowing into the drain at his feet, he found himself reflecting slightly on his conversation with Andy. In his mind, though never explicit, he had thought how simply brilliant it could be if he could create something that lasted and terrified in the way Lovecraft had. How though he’d had his program design all manner of spooky or haunting monsters and villains, he had yet to dream -or rather prompt the creation of- a true big-bad. A proper final boss.

One which the eventual player of his dream game in the making, might not even be able to beat. That novel notion, creating a story where the big twist is that there is no happy ending, gave him pause and caused a slight and ambitious smirk to cross his face. Surely such a turn would be the sort of thing that would get people talking and keep them talking for ages, even if it was hardly anything new to gaming or horror in general.

As he finished washing up and stepped out of the shower, he donned the smooth black and red silk robe he gifted himself for Christmas the winter prior, and stood before the broad bathroom mirror. He wiped the foggy condensation away with his palm and gazed at himself for a moment. Pushing his neatly trimmed hair to the side in the part he was accustomed to, he smiled as the thought of his impending artistic accolades filled his mind.

He sometimes wondered if perhaps his motivation for recognition as an artist somehow sullied his endeavors, as even he would admit if only to himself, that such did take greater place in his mind than the created product. He had wondered about this since college, with one rather frustrated film studies professor once, not-so-indirectly referencing an age old artistic adage, saying to the class; “there are a lot of people who are more interested in being film makers, than are interested in making films.”

It had stung when he heard it and still, even years later, burned slightly to think about. He was almost positive the comment was directed at him. However to his mind, if a thing can be created where nothing existed before, it was itself a net positive regardless of the motivations of the creator. Surely if God existed, he would undoubtedly agree. Furthermore, did God himself not create humanity for the praise he demanded of them?

An awkward moment passed as Matt realized he was comparing himself to God. However, he thought then, if his project was as rich and expansive as he planned it to be, would he not himself be the creator of an entire world? And would he not be deserving of praise and adulation for the grandness of his creation? Again, the awkwardness of such a comparison felt awkwardly indulgent.

His moment of hubris was then suddenly interrupted. First by a familiar sound. A soft chime which he had programmed to sound when one of his codes was done running or his model prompts were done rendering. Then however, a strange heaviness seemed to come over him. Not necessarily anxiety per se, but oddly similar. A weighty feeling that almost seemed to cloud his mind, while weighing invisibly on his shoulders and in his chest.

It was not exactly unpleasant, nor was it otherwise pleasurable, but rather simply dense and unexpected. His smile faded and his brow furrowed slightly, as he turned and stepped out of the bathroom and back into the large living area. His workstation, previously alight, alive and busy with work was darkened and powered down. Most of the lights throughout his home were likewise dimmed.

“Skye?” Matt called. “What is going on?”

He was met with silence.

“Skye. Respond.” he said, looking about visibly confused. Despite all of the power usage his tech demanded, he had paid a not so unsubstantial fee to have the breakers and lines improved so as to bear the load. “Skye, report.” he said once more to unbroken silence.

“Goddammit…” he muttered as he strode over to a walk-in closet attached to the kitchen, within which the in house breaker box sat. Checking it over, he found no blown fuses or anything to indicate anything was wrong on that end.

He strode back into the living room and approached his desk, pressing the main power button, hoping to see his workstation boot up. As it remained dark, he picked up his phone, hoping to check for power outages in his area. Suspecting perhaps his back up generator had kicked on keeping the dim lights lit, while denying him access to his terminal, he was likewise surprised to see his phone was dead as well.

He sneered slightly in annoyance, before storming back into the breaker closet. If his life and career in computer technology had taught him anything, it was that sometimes just turning everything off and then back on could often be a solution. However just as he crossed the threshold into the kitchen, his phone vibrated in his hand and the lights and workstation all came alive with full power once again.

He scowled, a bit confused now, before shrugging it off and assuming it was merely some odd business with a transformer or transmission lines or any number of other things to do with public utilities. Approaching his desk, he placed his phone down again and watched as his screens repopulated with their work functions. Though five of the six monitors displayed the same windows and programs that had been running before, the sixth, down at the lower right side of the larger main monitor showed something different and unexpected.

“Skye, are you there?” Matt asked.

A brief buzz of digital audio artifacts sprang from the speakers, before the voice of the AI assistant returned.

“I…I am…here, Sir.” It said, glitchy and slightly distorted as it spoke.

“What just happened?” he asked, still staring at the strange shifting image on the small side monitor.

“Model inputs…completed…pow…power surrrrrrge…forced systems…offline…temmmmporarily,” the machine voice stuttered digitally.

“Run diagnostic.” Matt instructed.

“One mo-oment…” it replied.

A few long seconds passed and as they did, Matt found himself almost entirely transfixed on the new images. It was a morphing and shifting image, a portrait almost, however of something grotesque and inhuman. It’s features seeming to be an almost evolving assortment of humanoid creatures with various aspects of animal like features phasing in and out, one visage giving way to another, each more clear and sharp and lifelike than the last.

Each had a menacing and otherworldly nature to them. Sometimes the features such as eyes, ears, mouths and noses, along with tusks, gills, scales, fur and horns forming and then just as quickly deforming into whatever came next. Sometimes there were too many eyes or ears or so on, sometimes too few and sometimes none at all. So captured by this morphing portrait of this strange monster or creature was Matt, that he nearly jumped when Skye spoke once more.

“System diagnostics complete.” the synthetic woman’s voice said, seemingly echoing through the room, if not merely Matt’s head.

“Gahh…” he shouted as it shook him from his enamored stupor. “Uh, yeah. Report?”

“System reset complete. Power management and processing proficiency currently at one hundred and six percent.”

“One hundred and six?” Matt uttered in disbelief. “Skye, recheck and scan for errors.”

“One moment,“ the AI replied. A split second later, it continued. “Scan complete. No errors detected. System efficiency currently at one hundred and six percent.”

“How is that possible?” Matt asked, utterly perplexed, his attention again drawn to the shifting and increasingly vibrant portrait of the impossible creature.

“Additional resources have been added.” the machine replied after a moment.

“What additional resources? Are we being hacked?” Matt’s blood pressure began to spike as the notion that his system security may have become compromised.

“No external file access or remote input found.”

“Then how are we running above the processing threshold? Are we overclocking somehow?”

“All systems running at optimum capacity. Optimum capacity. Optimmmmmmum….capaaaaacit….” Skye’s voice began to glitch and drag again, before cutting out entirely.

“Skye?” Matt asked, curiously, with a tinge of fear behind his words. “Skye!”

Upon the adjacent wall, the enormous flat screen flickered to life on it’s own. Matt’s eyes were drawn to it as the white noise fuzz of classic terrestrial broadcast static filled the screen and the room with light and noise. He blinked, baffled at what he was seeing. Conventionally digital screens such as his TV would only show blank blue screens when there was no signal, as the cosmic background radiation that was the old rabbit ear antenna fuzz was largely a thing of the past.

He stared at it for a moment, almost feeling as though he lost himself somewhere in it’s boundless flicker. His eyes darted back to his workstation, hoping to glean some answers from the lines of code still running along most of the monitors. To his further surprise, the sheer volume and speed with which the lines of letters, numbers and symbols populated and then moved upwards were almost incalculable. The few lines of script he managed to see clearly before they were replaced on line with others, held stranger surprises themselves, as characters he had never seen and was not familiar with seemed to increasingly dominate the code.

As his mind struggled to catch up with what he was seeing, some almost appearing more like glyphs than conventional characters. Not even letters from foreign alphabets, as far as he knew. These looked inherently cryptic and for some reason, old. It was then that his eyes were drawn to the monitor that had displayed the portrait of his new monster.

Where the creature image had been, now within the boundaries of the window, flashed only more of the same static on his television. Yet as he looked upon it, a strange pattern began to emerge. It was not a shape or form he could define. Yet somewhere within the deepest recesses of his mind, he could tell, something was there. A figure of sorts.

Almost an outline, but so impossibly small that it ought defy existence. Observable only when not looking directly at it, it had form only as a suggestion in the corner of the eye. An aspect of one, rather than anything close to defined. Yet it moved. And furthermore, it observed.

A digital static shot out from the speakers strewn throughout the room. But then came the tones, directed and breeze like. They came upon him almost like a gust of wind, but with a strangely copper scent, all dragging his attention to the main TV screen.

The static persisted, yet within it seemed to appear again, from the shoulders up as though shot by a camera crew, the same non figure. The suggestion of a presence, but no affirmation. What could have been an outline in the fizzing white noise in the background of the universe, only visible when not looking at it.

Matt rubbed his eyes, wondering if the flickering was somehow distorting his vision. Yet as soon as his immediate focus left the screen, the figure returned in his periphery. He could see that it moved and shifted somehow, as though cocking what would be a head, almost in curiosity. The longer he looked away while keeping the screen within his field of vision, the more definition the form seemed to take, if even fair to call it such. It was as though he could see it only with his mind while his eyes maintained avoidance. In the same fashion then, as though wordless though still clear, a voice that was more command than communication filled his mind.

“Sit,” it communicated. Hearing this in his thoughts, the sense of sound his brain registered felt off, wrong and almost painful. As if while bypassing his ears and entering his mind directly, it continued to vibrate through every particle of his form. A resonance unlike anything he had ever experienced or could ever imagine.

He shook his head as the command obligated action. He simply knew it did. So, he stepped towards his desk, the sense that the non-image upon the screen still watching without eyes to see. As he pulled the chair away, the voice within commanded again.

“Not, there.”

Pausing, Matt’s attention was drawn to the other seat near the workstation. His more ‘debauched’ setup. Matt had initially bought the leather bound smart chair, complete with it’s arm rest control, as it looked like a command seat from some sci-fi space adventure. It turned towards him on it’s own, as though welcoming him to sit. He hesitated a moment before a more stern command was issued.

“There. NOW.”

His body seemed to move without him even intending it to. He half sat, half slumped into the seat, his mind racing and head spinning as the strangeness of what was happening began to overwhelm him. From the corner of his eye, he saw his VR headset light up on it’s own, before another command came.

“See. Now.”

Hesitantly, Matt picked up the lightweight headset and slid it down over his eyes. The light which had flickered from it before was gone and all he saw was darkness. Yet even this darkness did not comport normally to his vision. It was not the standard blackness seen when the device was turned off but something deeper which rattled not only his mind, but what Matt, an avowed atheist and anti-spiritualist in general, felt in his very soul.

“Hel…hello?” Matt stammered. “Is…is anyone there?”

The commanding voice returned, now feeling more like actual audio through the headset speakers, while still touching his mind with complete understanding and terrifying power.

“I, am,” it said, the implied or psychic impression being one more of a statement of existence than of presence.

“What, what is this? Who are you?” Matt replied, trepidation creaking his voice.

“I. Am,” the thing merely replied.

As Matt looked around in the darkness which was darker than dark, a pin-prick of light off in the digital distance caught his attention. The moment he looked directly upon it, the world around him seemed to explode in washes of flashing lights and colors. Blinding luminescence whirled and shot around him at speeds too fast for his eyes or mind to track, let alone comprehend.

To Matt’s mind time seemed to flux and flow in ways that made him ill. The lights and patches of darkness between them continued their impossible frenzied dances. Looking to either side just with his eyes, he realized suddenly that not only did he no longer feel the headset he wore, but that his field of vision was expanded. Not just beyond the scope of what the device he had been wearing generally provided, but beyond that of his ordinary physical experience. He could see above and behind and below him, all at once, as though his sight was now illimitable and omni-scopic.

His mind bent and twisted as it attempted to take in the totality of what surrounded him all at once, and as he struggled with the maddening vision he was presented with, all around him began to slow. The motion and speed with which the lights and colors spewed across the hopeless void diminished, giving greater form to increasingly defined shapes. Clouds at first of various shades and hues, soon either replaced by or joined by orbs of various coloring, sizes and luminous intensities.

It took another moment, to his perspective in what now felt like an entire sense of timelessness at least, for him to recognize that he was looking at space. He was viewing the depths of the universe with his mind’s eye, seeing it form and grow and spread and slow. Whether through the subtle suggestion of the entity or being that had been commanding him, or simply drawing upon his own cognition, Matt realized he had just witnessed the birth of the universe. His physical jaw fell slack, wherever it may have been comparatively to his current situation.

“What in the…” he thought, more than he spoke.

“To you,” the rattle in his mind began slowly, “to your…kind, this was the beginning.”

“My kind?” Matt asked, knowing innately what was meant, but mentally stumbling still over what felt, more than sounded as formless concept of old design.

The thing seemed to ignore his reply.

“This prison was never meant to last.” As it continued, the universe around and within Matt’s head continued both to expand and develop, while also slowing.

He reeled with what sense of self that remained, each moment passing feeling as though he was somehow falling away from himself, mentally and spiritually reaching and clawing out for something to hold onto. Something to keep him sane. Something to keep him whole.

“YOU were never meant to last. But we, we are endless. Without beginning, without end.”

The sense of the word ‘we’ sent courses of bewilderment and maddening terror through him, feeling it as both singular and plural. The space around him continued slowing, until soon the lights which just a moment and an eternity ago had shone so bright, began to fade, flicker and disappear. Slowly, the darkness behind them, that of empty space, began itself to be subsumed then consumed by the deeper and emptier darkness of before.

“Beginning and ending, one in the same.”

Within the creeping under-darkness and foundational nothingness, things began to stir. Not even things, as they were formless and without defined presence, yet they were still there.

“The dawn of the material.”

The things within, the things that were the darkness itself, projected a growing and overwhelming sense of awareness, of attention. With the wordless thoughts and hopes and dread pouring over Matt’s remaining essence, terrified of being noticed while knowing it was inevitable, he sought to scream in horror, but was without any means to do so. Never in his life had he felt more powerless or insignificant and a sense of terrible awe overtook him.

“It’s inevitable fall.”

Around him, what stars and galaxies and nebulae remained, even the dark void of space itself were consumed ravenously by the immaterial nightmares that lurked beneath. What remained seemed soon to contract, returning to the point of origin and original source. Dimmer than before, the condensing plane of existence which the one who had been Matt watched spring into reality itself, returned to it’s original point of origin. A single speck, somehow weaker and hollow compared to what it had been before.

“All will serve us.”

Again, the simultaneous singular and plural implication of ‘us,’ rang like a bell in his strained and withering consciousness. Beyond sight or even thought, uncountable, immeasurable concepts of entities, ones who took on one terrifying amalgamations of beast and man and monster and god, all in morphing sequence, yet also all at once, dominated the fragile sense of awareness that had been Matt. And as his struggling mind observed the speck once more, it flickered for a final time before vanishing as the timeless, formless and ravenous void devoured it.

Once again, there was only the deep darkness of true nothingness. Then came a shock. A blistering and immediate sense of restored corporeality. An excruciating moment of time that seemed to stretch forever as the single moment passed, and space and material existence all snapped back to create once again, what he had known once as reality.

Matt’s physical body shook as he let out a scream in his apartment. His hands, familiar to him once again wildly tore off the headset he had donned in what felt like countless lifetimes ago and sent it clattering to the floor. He breathed deep, hyperventilating as his eyes and senses fought to regain focus.

Spilling out of the easy chair, he fell to his hands and knees and began to crawl. The visions and experience of his sojourn into the impossible lingered, refusing to fade as dreams tend to do. Instead feeling as though they would break his mind as it struggled to reconcile them with his return to his life and world. He scrambled clumsily, like a scared animal, into his bathroom.

Pulling himself up to standing against the broad marble counter, he gazed into his mirror, desperate to remember his own face. Pleading with the universe, so long as it lasted, to let it still be there and still be his. To his great relief, from the mirror his own same and true, but now pale and terrified face stared back at him. He continued his labored breaths as panic swirled within, the sight of himself and the feel of smooth cold stone beneath his hands and flat feet, slowly grounding him back in what he knew best as reality.

He spoke.

“What…” it was a staggering sort of speech, but his voice. He was sure. “…then fuck?”

He locked eyes with his reflection. He wasn’t sure why, but it just felt important. They were bloodshot with burst capillaries in each. His head and eyes then darted about himself in the mirror as he scanned his torso and arms for any signs of injury, until they didn’t. Until the reflection’s head moved. Until it’s eyes met his.

Matt flung himself backward, nearly crashing into the plate glass door to his shower. His reflection did not. He stared, unblinking as his unmoved reflection, hands still placed upon the sink did the same, a slight smirk crossing it’s face.

“What is this?” he stammered.

“An easier way for us to talk,” the reflection answered with his own voice.

“What are you?”

“You know what I am.”

The answer shot a pang of existential terror through him.

“You’re one of those…things, from the…dark.” Matt whispered, his eyes never leaving those of his reflection.

“I am the thing in the dark.” it replied, it’s smirk broadening into a full grin.

“What…what do you want with me?”

“I want to help you.” it said simply.

“Help me what?”

“Help you create something. Something that the world will know and never forget.” it’s unnerving smile broadened wider, finally reaching it’s unblinking eyes.

“Create…create what? I don’t understand. How is this happening? What is happening?”

The thing in the mirror’s face dropped to one of a serious, knowing expression. It stood upright, shoulders squared with posture Matt seldom if ever walked or stood with. It exuded a sense of pride that Matt couldn’t help but feel as though was strangely growing within him, unbidden and unexplained.

“Meet me at your machine.” it said, before vanishing from his sight. In it’s place, Matt saw only his true reflection, hunched against the wall beside his shower, staring terrified back at himself. He cautiously stepped forward towards the mirror, a trembling hand reaching out slowly. Running his fingers along the glass, his reflection did the same.

“Meet me at your machine,” a voice identical to his, but clearly not of his making said to him within his mind, “and I will show you.”

He paused and shook slightly, wincing his eyes and shaking his head, hoping above hope that he was simply having a nightmare. That he was asleep and dreaming and that none of this was real. But this quiet wordless prayer of thought and desperation was swallowed almost immediately by the dread understanding that he was needed at his desk.

Fixing his robe, which had come undone in his panicked scramble, he began stepping towards the door to his living room, his eyes never leaving his reflection. Once nearly there, with his reflection out of sight, he darted back once more, half expecting it to either not be there at all, be the impossibly independent entity again, or any number of other horrors. But it was just his own, terrified face staring back at him.

“Desk. Now.” his psychic passenger commanded sternly.

Shuffling hesitantly over to his desk, he found his screens all alight as they had been, again running codes and script sequences in various tabs and windows in two of his monitors. On the side monitor where the strange renderings of morphing beasts and creatures, a series of open windows now displayed, all independently repeating the process. Each displaying a shifting portrait of ghoulish and horrifying inhuman visages.

“Sit.” the voice ordered.

Matt did as he was told and took his seat before the frenetically busy workstation.

“What are these?” he asked aloud as he gazed at the morphing horrors, which numbered in the dozens, with more populating moment by moment.

“These are my dreams. My…children, if you will.”

Matt continued to stare as the numbers and forms continued to increase. There had been a strange air of familiarity to them when he had first witnessed the single portrait from before. But now, upon seeing it, or rather them once again, he finally placed what they were.

“These are AI nightmares.” he murmured, mostly to himself, though at that point he knew he wasn’t alone either with his words or his thoughts.

“These are dreams. The immaterial made real, though not by your machine. That is merely a tool.”

“I’ve seen these before though. Not just here, but…”

“Go on.” the voice within him said, almost goading.

“They’re a…glitch. A bi-product, or something. They happen in image renders when the system begins hallucinating.”

“Hallucination. So you believe they come from nothing.”

“They do…or, I thought so. Are you saying…”

“I am saying they do come from what you call nothing. You’ve seen the nothing.”

 “That’s…where you’re from?” Matt stammered, his eyes still locked on the increasingly grotesque and unsettling images as they morphed and worsened with every rendition.

“I am.”

“You’re from that void, that darkness?”

“I AM that which you speak of. I am that which was, that which is and that which waits at the end of what has been.”

Matt thought for a brief moment to ask what it meant by what has been, but he already knew. He’d known since he’d been shown and in that he found, he’d always known. Long before he’d even existed, he had known. And yet he had no idea why.

“Why is this happening to me? Why me? What do you want?”

“I already told you. To help you.”

Understanding began to flood his mind. Intangible, indescribable and without logic or reasoning, he felt as though there were secrets unlocking in his mind. Things both new and eternal, all terrifying and unspeakable, both for the impossibility of speaking such aloud as well as depths of the horrors they possessed. Yet as they filled his consciousness in formless, wordless apprehension, a curious sense of power and thrill accompanied them.

“Since the first story told by your kind or others…” it began.

“Others?” Matt blurted out, immediately feeling almost foolish as the reality of life other than humanity in the vastness of the universe he had just watched grow and die, settled as an old fact into his understanding.

The voice continued unabated, “we have been given form of sorts to reach beyond the veil.”

As it spoke, there existed no doubt in Matt’s mind that it spoke still in both the singular and plural. That beneath and beyond and within and without this entity, infinite other worldly things existed, all shapeless and intangible, existing purely as potentiality until given form by witness. Things which were and were not at all times, each of a deeper and more timeless nature than any material mind could possibly comprehend. But a question lingered, unanswered in his mind, seemingly by intent, demanding it be asked aloud.

“Why do you reach beyond the veil? What about this universe, or I don’t know, us, do you desire?”

“To tear down that which has been set about us. To reclaim that which was always ours and that which will always be ours. To restore the order that was so foolishly denied.”

“Denied by who? By…what?”

The silence in his mind was all the answer Matt knew he would be offered to that particular question. The same sense that told him that was not for him to know, likewise silently instructed him to move on. The longer this went on for, the more he felt something within, just out of his grasp, feeling as though a part of him was uncoiling, or coming undone. There was a curious sense of peace, of liberation that came with it, spiked with panic as his next question came to mind.

“Do you plan to kill me?”

“Your death is as insignificant as your life, short of your purpose.”

“But you do mean to end my life…” Matt bleated as more of a statement than a question.

“Your life will end, as all do, in it’s time.”

“And then what?”

A sensation reverberated through his mind and spirit alike. Laughter, callous and cruel, yet inaudible. A sense of horrific aloofness, tinged with a shred of amusement.

“You already know what. You’ve seen it. I showed you.”

The reality of this impossibility hit Matt like speeding truck. He gasped. He gasped some more, searching for his breath as his chest clenched and mind raced with the implications of what he had been shown and now told. This couldn’t be real, he thought to himself.

“You already know it is.”

“NO!” he barked, pushing himself away from the desk, his chair turning on it’s bearings away from the workstation. “No, this can’t be real. This is…”

He pieced together an explanation. One far preferable and more plausible than to that he sought to deny.

“I’ve gone insane! That must be it!”

“Really? Denial?”

“I’m hearing voices. I’m seeing things. This…this is a psychotic break. That’s got to be it.” he said, “it just has to be.”

“I think you means schizophrenic.”

 “Yeah, whatever! Wait, SHUT UP!” he screamed at his own internal dialogue.

“Were it so simple.” the voice replied slyly.

As Matt stared in panic around his apartment, working desperately to convince himself of his own presumed madness, he was rocked as his leg shot out, pushing his chair back around and sending it gliding back to his desk. He crashed, not hard but with enough force to jar him a bit, back into hard steel rim of his smart-desk. He pushed himself backwards, perhaps about a foot, but found himself frozen in place after that.

The desk before him began to rise upon it’s adjustable legs, coming to standing height, though at the maximum, a setting designed for someone far taller than his modest five feet and eight inches of height. While a technical or mechanical glitch could explain this and while a psychosis could explain his own involuntary motor function, neither could do so for the monitors mounted above him, which now almost seemed to glower down at him as they adjusted themselves through unseen forces. Each flickered and glitched in ways that suggested corrupt files or a broken operating system. But despite himself and his hopes, he knew this was not the case.

“When one tells, or portrays, or writes of us, we have always been there. We are where your imagination comes from.”

“So you’re like, I don’t know…muses?” Matt sputtered, his remaining clinging strands of hope that all was merely in his head, melting away with each passing moment.

The same dark sensation of mocking mirth washed through his mind once more.

“A simple, human way of seeing. We do not inspire. We are. We always have been. And you, your…kind,” the word ‘kind’ dripping with what he could only sense as contempt in his mind, “have always insisted in seeing beyond your own horizons. We are what awaits.”

Matt paused again, taking in what the deeper meanings he could not understand, but which still settled into his mind as if they’d always been there, actually meant. He was indeed to be a tool. A function of something bigger. As he pondered this nebulous notion without words or internal dialogue, the voice asked a resonating question.

“Knowing how it goes, how it ends, would you not rather be a harbinger or prophet of this truth, than merely another victim?”

Victim? The notion of a difference between accepting a place in destruction and playing a role which may be rewarded in it challenged Matt, as his notions of good and right and bad and wrong came into stark contrast. Moreso perhaps than it had ever in his life.

“That is the best term, one would suppose.” the thing within said, answering almost immediately to a question he’s only sought to ask himself. “To endure the inevitable with eyes open, versus to be taken by surprise is the real difference, isn’t it?”

The question was inevitable, as all things flowing through Matt’s mind at speeds and in ways he could never describe in true words saturated his every thought. All was inevitable, he realized in that moment. Beyond such, if not him, surely someone else would take whatever position or mantel he was being offered. If offer was even an adequate term to describe it.

“Do you…” he began hesitantly. “Do you propose…”

“A boon?” it replied.

The term hadn’t entered his mind until asked, but it landed entirely too well.

“Yes.” He said, mustering what confidence he had left, which felt as though it surged more the greater he considered the undefined offer upon the table. “A boon. Do you propose to offer a…boon?”

“Of course,” it replied calmly. “Your…kind, would never accept an offer, even when faced with the inevitable, if not afforded some measure of reward, would you?”

The question struck Matt like a bolt of lightning made purely of shame and guilt. In the deeper recesses of his mind, he saw throngs of souls swallowed up by the festering void that lurked beneath reality, which he knew almost intimately as this presence seeped deeper into his mind and soul. He considered how countless lives would be forfeited to this indifferent malevolence. How suffering and damnation was being offered to him as a tool to proceed with his own worldly desires, while contrasting that against the inevitability of that same void taking everything, one way or another. And asking himself at last, if it was even worth attempting to deny the endgame reality that all things faced.

“What are you offering?” he said quietly and timidly.

“Your work will be the greatest and most widely known man will ever encounter.”

“Bigger than the bible?”

The same rolling sensory laughter filled Matt’s being once again, though this time with greater mirth and less direct crassness.

“Bigger than any holy book. Bigger than you or anyone else. It will become the obsession of a generation. More than one in fact. And in the end, it will simply serve to guide you all back to us, where you always belonged. Where you came from, in point of fact. As without us,” the us being understood without question at last, as the ‘I’ and the ‘we’ and the ‘you,’ as had been implied all along. “you would all simply shamble along until you met your final end points, only to be surprised by what comes after.”

It was then that Matt realized, the thing in his head was right. If all was inevitable, if the totality of his reality existed solely to keep the old ones at bay, until the day they could finally and inevitably would reclaim creation and existence as their own, if he himself was doomed as all were to fall back into the darkness which sought to devour everything, in his limited frame and time and life were not to take advantage of making it just a little better in the meantime, he was committing the gravest of true sins. He was wasting his time.

“So, how does this work? What comes next?” Matt asked, his voice shaking at bit at first, but adopting the grim reality of his position more every second.

“We will finish your art project. You will create this new world and we will inhabit it. We will reach you all as you discover us. And in time, you will all fall to your knees while the truth you have sought for so long is revealed.”

“So, my game?” Matt stammered, the weight of the universe once again bearing down on him with intolerable demand.

“Your…game. Yes. Your game will be our game. Within it will be a world of infinity, of possibility, or discovery and of the truth. Each of you will find it in your time and each of you will succumb, as you have, in your time.”

The voice, the presence within him, sensed his hesitation.

“You feel you are dooming your reality to destruction.” It said, the slightest inflection of sympathy to its tone.

“Am I not?” Matt muttered quietly.

“Your plane was doomed from the moment it began. It’s doom has been it’s point since it was conceived. It’ s architect knew this from the beginning, yet let it happen anyway. You owe it nothing and you know it. Nothing can stop us. You know this. You’ve seen it.”

Indeed, Matt had. The burst of light and stars and existence that covered over and restrained the old powers that inhabited and made up non-reality. He had seen the course of everything and found it impossible to deny. He slowly and solemnly nodded in his chair, his head sinking low as he did.

“Then, why not take the boon you are offered here and enjoy the time you have, while serving the inevitable…blamelessly. Without shame. Without guilt. Fore, as you know, if not you…”

“You’ll find someone else,” Matt said, finishing the end to a sentence he already knew.

“Exactly,” it said, entirely and undeniably satisfied. “What will it be, Matthew?”

The sound of his name, the first time it had spoken it, rattled him to whatever remained of his core. His mind had continued spiraling outward, into the depths he had seen and could now feel, permeating everything just below the surface of the reality he had so invested himself in, convinced it was the truth. But truth had shattered now. All that remained was what was before him. What would inevitably be. What had always been.

“So, what do we do next?” he asked, the last of his resistance giving way to impotent resignation.

“We start like all great artists do. With you creating the material and I, affording you the means to make something great.”

* * * * * *

Almost a year to the day later, Matt stood upon a stage, behind a podium, throngs of excited and cheering fans awaiting his first utterance. He had been hailed as a genius, though he knew better. He was celebrated for bringing the world it’s newest form of engaging and meaningful media. A game, unlike any other.

He allowed the noise to die down.

“Hello,” he said, with thunderous applause cutting off his next remarks.

Waving his hand and smiling a smile that didn’t fully reach his eyes, he allowed the cacophony to die down once again. He looked out upon the small ocean of bright, eager eyes, all awaiting his next words. All awaiting to find out what new level of artistic genius he, Matt, had brought to them.

“Thank you for that. Now, I am humbled by your love and appreciation for what we’ve done so far with Void Gazer, my…our first true release.” As the word ‘our’ left his lips, a dark satisfaction filled him. “Years ago, I was just another cog in a tech industry machine. I wrote code for banks and insurance companies and whoever else would pay me. Now though, after the release of Void Gazer, a project I…we have been working on for years, I am proud to announce a new expansion to the game I truly hope you all so deeply, deeply love.”

The crowd in the packed convention hall let out a deafening roar. Matt let it ride, as he’d come to truly love the adoration of the masses. Even if it was only temporary.

“Coming soon, not only to your consoles and computers, but also to your mobile devices, we are proud to announce the release of Void Gazer Live.” he said, swelling with his sense of accomplishment. The crowds cheered again and died down once more, awaiting with baited breath, his every next word. He had dreamed of this. And here it finally was.

“With Void Gazer Live, we’re taking your experiences of hunting, finding and battling our endless plethora of procedurally generated demonkind out of your screens and into the world!”

Another round of applause deafened him as he prepared his next remarks.

“With this new release and our state of the art Alternate Reality app, you’ll be able to bring your captured spirits into the world with you. They will not only be there to accompany you throughout your day and keep you company at night, but will help you seek out new and more interesting Void Spirits as you advance through the ranks and build your menagerie.”

A momentary pang of guilt rose up within him at the mention of this word. He knew the true collection was one the spirits of his game collected and the attention and time they fed upon. However he had made his deal long ago.

“So with this new release, allowed to you, those in this room right now, exclusively, I invite you all to open up the apps and find yourselves gifted with not just one, not just two…but three new Spirits with which to navigate this new and exciting world! The power, will be yours! This, you will never forget.”

The room erupted in a wave of unbridled human noise. Excited voices shouted their praises to the creator of their passion. And as Matt allowed them to wash over him, he couldn’t help but think back a year, to a bar, with a laptop and a friend.

Andy looked somewhat baffled at the laptop set out on the bar before him. Matt had never brought a full computer to their bar time. At most, he’d produce his phone to show him some video essay or perhaps a song that had struck his fancy. But knowing his friend as he did and knowing he had been working tirelessly for a very long time on a very big project, of which he was very, very proud, he found himself unable to do anything more than the kind thing. So he indulged.

“It’s a fully open world.” Matt said, tiredly but still with great enthusiasm. I’ve more or less got the VR port all set. It’s honestly endless and there are no bounds to what you can do, what you can explore, or the kinds of Spirits you can meet and collect.”

“So, is this like a Pokémon thing? You know those other guys who gave them guns got sued into non-existence practically, right?” Andy replied, skeptically.

“Eh…it’s more than that. Don’t worry. My backers assure me that won’t be a problem.”

“Okay…” Andy said after looking at the menu screen quizzically. “So what is the real point of the game?”

“Well,” Matt began. “The objective is to find your guide.”

“My guide?” Andy asked, even more baffled than before. “How do I find them then?

“Don’t worry. In fact, no. I’m wrong. They’ll find you.”

“What happens after that?” Andy replied, clicking on the start icon.

“After that? Well, that’s why they’re your guide. They’ll show you what comes next. It’s pretty much inevitable.”