Dopamine

I don’t believe I’m smarter than anyone. And I don’t believe anyone’s smarter than me. These are my oldest and most useful beliefs.

Doc-Danger

4 Months Later - Megacles - The Mega Lab

I wake up. Feel pretty good. Thirsty. My car isn’t moving, so I should be home. I sit up, look out the windshield. There’s a little house, by a little spring, surrounded by farmland. Yep, I’m home. I slide out of the car and head for the old house. I just bought it. I’m 6 hours from the city, but it’s beautiful here, and dirt cheap. The location doesn’t really matter anyway. I only go to the city when I’m hungry for Candy.

My first floor is just one room. It’s my kitchen, my living room, and my lab. I drink some water, and look through the fridge. Supplies are getting low, I’ll send the car out shopping later. I grab some cold pizza, throw myself on the couch and fire up my phone, my TV, my glasses, and my haptoclone.

My glasses will show anyone who virtually visits my home, but there’s no activity right now. It’s early for visitors, virtual or otherwise. Doc-Danger will be along later. We like to virtually overlap our labs so we can work together. Generally, we work on different projects, but it’s nice to have company. He also likes to watch me masturbate in the shower, and it’s nice to have company there too.

Aspro has become fairly popular, with many users. I didn't make much money off it, but Project Octopus paid me enough to survive. I’ll make more off my algae experiment. Or the economy will collapse and money will be meaningless. I'm fine with either.

Mr. President is blowing up my newsfeed. He's made the world crazy again. Every other link on my feed is either lambasting or lionizing him. I'm interested, but it's too early for politics and debauchery. I eat my pizza and watch clips of baby otters playing tag.

After breakfast, I check my bioreactors. Half my lab is devoted to mass producing edible algae - it will reduce cancer somehow. The mass producing part is going okay, the edible part is kinda dodgy. I grow the algae in vertical tubes, and use strobe lights and rhythmic air bubbles to trick the algae into reproducing faster. I can make more calories in the corner of my lab than a farmer can with 3 acres of corn. But, the iodine content of my algae is too high for regular human consumption. My latest attempt at a low iodine strain has resulted in a flashy, bubbly, tube of dead sludge. Fuck.

I feel the ghost of a kiss on my cheek. Doc-Danger has arrived. He looks at my dead sludge. He scans through the log on the bioreactor.

“Well, fuck.” he swears. “I thought this one was going to work.”

I fire up my pressure washer and give the tube a blast. I used to clean them by hand. Seems long ago.

“Your bioreactors are amazing. It’s just the algae that’s giving you problems. You could start producing cattle feed tomorrow. Those big bastards don't mind a little iodine.”

He's right. Also, I don't give a shit about feeding cows. I want tube to table.

“Mind you, it'd take years for the iodine to fuck up a human thyroid." he continues. "We could survive a nuclear winter with one of these bad boys.”

I cheer up.

“Have you watched Mr. President yet?” I ask.

“Nope, I was waiting to watch it with you. I guess he fucked up, or is a genius, or something?”

Mr. President is strong infotainment. He was a well regarded reality contestant who ran for President on a transparency platform. If secrecy breeds corruption, he would stay above it by wearing a body camera 24/7. Every second of his presidency would be live streamed. The people went for it, and he’s doing it. It’s incredible. Reckless as fuck - we no longer have state secrets - but fucking incredible. I can’t stop watching.

Various groups edit his feed down to daily highlights. There’s lots of interesting highlight reels, and a few that aren’t too biased - or at least match my biases. Most reels have 2 clips for today. One of Mr. President discussing the budget with his Chief of Staff. The other has Mr. President watching porn and masturbating. I put the first one on the TV, and bookmark the second for later perusal.

Mr. President is crossing the nation in his pimped out president plane. He’s sipping a beer, and listening to his Chief of Staff, The Darkness, wax poetic on budget shortfalls. The Darkness is a small adorable woman who habitually wears sundresses. The budget is the topic of the day because they’re out of money for Project Octopus. Lacking the executive authority to repeal Octopus, Congress has decided to defund it.

“Let’s recap.” begins The Darkness. “The economy’s in shambles. All service and professional jobs have been wiped out by remote working foreign serfs that corporations have dolled up as A.I. Those corporations would be making a killing, except we’re all too poor to buy their shit, so they’re going broke too. Workers can’t pay taxes anymore, and corporations never did, so the government revenue is also toast.

“We borrowed some funds for Project Octopus, which pumped up the economy for a while, until Old Money realized people really like sleeping indoors. So they bought all the houses, jacked up the rents, and sucked the economy dry again.

“That brings us to now, and today’s dilemma. Old Money’s pledges in Congress have fucked the budget, defunding Project Octopus even though it’s the law of the land. This will cause another wave of foreclosures, allowing them to scoop up the rest of the houses. There will also be evictions, but they’ll have local police beat the homeless back into the rentals they can’t afford. I guess the plan is to make us another nation of indentured serfs so they can remotely undercut the next richest country? Not sure why they’re doing this. Pretty sure Old Money doesn’t know either. Probably ego, or not enough hugs, or something.

“Meanwhile, without jobs, people don’t need a house in the city, a car to get to work, a college degree, a daycare, or income tax payments. 70% of their costs were to have a job. Crazy. So, they’re moving to the country, sharing a car with their neighbors, playing with their kids, fucking their husbands, declaring bankruptcy, and not giving a fuck.

“All they need is groceries and a roof over their heads. But we can’t help with either because we’re broke and don’t have the votes to enforce minimum wage, tax corporations, or build a shitload of public housing. Also, we’re imprisoned in bodies of decaying meat and soon will die.”

“Okay…” says Mr President.

He drinks thoughtfully.

“Okay. We’ll place a moratorium on evictions, like we did during the pandemic. That solves rent. As for food, we’ll pilfer the rest of the budget. There’s billions of corporate incentives in there. Let’s refocus that money on research and development. Namely, Project Octopus. We can do that, right?”

“Well, yes.” says The Darkness. “It’s gross misappropriation, but they can’t stop us till next year’s budget. Not that the economy will last that long. Your solutions are terrible. The eviction moratorium will cool the corporate buying of homes, but it will also fuck the construction industry, which is the only part of the economy that’s still working. And those corporate handouts, while colossal, can’t prop up the entire economy for long. Project Octopus is a cash bonfire. This creative accounting bullshit will only make us crash harder in a couple months. How is that any better than Old Money’s plan?”

“Obviously, in my plan, Old Money goes broke too.” Mr. President quaffs his beer. “Have the nerds write it up. Tell them to fund that fucking Mars mission while they’re at it.”

“The one where monkeys are supposed to build a city?”

“Yeah, let’s get rocking on that.”

Then he taps another keg, cranks the tunes, and starts dancing like a freakasaurus. I scan ahead to the live feed and nothing changes. Apparently, the presidential dance party is ongoing.

I look at Doc-Danger. He is also dancing like a freakasaurus.

“These guys are fucking genius.”

I laugh and join in. We smoke, astral project to the President's party plane, and party with the President. It’s loads of fun.

A while later, we bow out to putter in our labs. I brew a few new strains of algae. Doc tinkers with metamaterials and high powered lasers. Both metamaterials and lasers control light. In theory, they can be used together to create a super hot laser. In practice, the lasers melt holes in the metamaterials. It's a work in progress.

“What do you need a super hot laser for anyway?” I ask.

“Trying to make a quantum tunnel.”

Surprisingly, I know what that means. Been studying. Which reminds me…

“I don’t think you need a warp drive. We’re already in a black hole.”

“wat?”

“Yeah, so, I don’t think the universe started with a Big Bang. There was probably a Mega-Massive-Double-Spin-Bang.”

“wat?”

“Let me explain. Imagine a black hole that is infinitely bigger than the entire universe. Like really fucking huge. From outside it looks like a colossal black ball. That’s the event horizon - the limit from which nothing can exit - even light. Makes the thing look like a uniform mass. But from inside the event horizon, this black hole’s almost empty. Most of the mass is compressed in a tight nugget at the center, with a glowy ring wrapped around it. Kinda like a goth Saturn. Imagine the black hole as a cosmically huge night club with a single goth Saturn vibing inside. That’s what’s up.

“Anywho, this nugget is spinning very fast. Maybe it spent eternity sucking in cosmic dust. Or maybe it just ate another infinitely huge black hole. Doesn’t matter. Either way, it absorbed a lot of mass at a weird angle, and that’s set it to spinning at relativistic speeds.

“Eventually the speed of the spinning causes it to break apart. Not a lot, just a few flakes here and there, as the surface of the nugget speeds to escape velocity. Each of these flakes are teeny tiny and trillions of times the mass of our universe. As they escape the gravity of the nugget, they totally fucking explode, ‘cause the nugget’s epic gravity was all that was holding those ultra-dense flakes together.

“These flake explosions are kinda like the Big Bang. But now we know why they happened - they were hyper compressed energy flung from a deep dark gravity well. Shot out at the speed of light, then spiraling out into universe sized ninja stars. Or maybe boomerangs. ‘Cause the speed of light isn’t fast enough to escape a black hole. So we’re on a cosmic day trip. Looping around the nugget a few times before we crash back into it.”

I smile. Give Doc two thumbs up.

He’s hesitant. “That’s very interesting. Not saying you’re wrong, but how exactly did you come up with this? Like, how would you prove it?”

“Oh, because there’s no Dark Energy.” I’m jazzed. Excited. Dance a little as I explain. “We’ve long known that the universe is more spread out than it should be, based on its age and initial expansion. Galaxies are too far apart from each other - makes no sense. They figured something must be pushing everything apart, like an anti-gravity type force, which they dubbed Dark Energy. But they could never find it acting on stuff smaller than galaxies. Tons of big space experiments to measure it, but it’s not there, unless you’re cosmically huge. Then a super powerful telescope found the extra expansion of the universe is slowing down. So Dark Energy is now a unique force in two ways - only active on cosmic scales and getting weaker over time.

“Fuck that. I’m calling bullshit. There’s no such thing as Dark Energy. The extra expansion isn’t caused by a force, but a velocity. ‘Cause the flakes explode in a spinny mess a femtosecond before they’re flung from the nugget. This complicates the ejection. Everything’s shot out at a slightly different angle. Which causes things to spread apart. Like a shotgun blast. But more subtle. Hardly noticeable. Unless it happened at the speed of light 14 billion years ago. Then you may notice some extra expansion. That’s also why Dark Energy seems like it’s getting weaker. Because it’s a velocity over space (linear), not a force driven acceleration (exponential).”

I smile. Give Doc two thumbs up.

He’s less hesitant. “Holy fuck.”

“Right? But all that means we’re already in a black hole. So you can just go ahead and do your shit. No warping needed.”

“Dang.” Doc shakes his head. “That’s amazing. Also, kinda awkward. Because we don’t need to be in a black hole anymore. String Theory turned out to be bullshit.”

“wat?”

“Yeah, String Theory predicted the Large Hadron Collider would find supersymmetric particles. Bigger, short lived, partners for electrons, protons, and the other shit. Anyway, they didn’t find them. They’re not there. String Theory’s bullshit.”

I’m confused. “I thought the Large Hadron Collider was built to find the Higgs Boson?”

“Nope. I mean, yes, they found the Higgs Boson. But that wasn’t what they were looking for when they built the collider. They switched to boson finding when they realized they fucked up. Bit of a retcon.”

“The fuk? I thought rectons were for comic books?”

“And eight billion dollar science failures. Apparently.” Doc shrugs. “Why were you looking into black holes anyway?”

“‘Cause you wanted in one. Thought I’d help.”

“Oh jeez.” He looks touched. “Thanks.”

“Yeah, yeah.” I wave away his puppy dog eyes. “So why are you lasering a quantum tunnel?”

“I don’t know. Quantum tunneling is when a particle passes an energy barrier it shouldn’t be able to pass. Basically, something showing up where it shouldn’t be. I’d like to summon a brain from nothing, so maybe this is a first step?”

“And the huge fucking laser?” I point to the large glowing contraption on his side of the lab.

“Hmm… yes. In every beam of light that hits a barrier, a teeny tiny number of photons pass right through. Thought I could tickle a few more by if I turned up the juice.”

“Is that thing nuclear powered?”

“Kinda. It’s not working tho. May need a bigger laser. Or a way to make particles less energetic so they smush easier. Probably both.”

“Photons have a set energy. If that’s lowered, wouldn't the entire universe dissolve in a vacuum apocalypse that spreads at the speed of light?”

“Yeah, but I’m just gonna do it a little.”

I look at him skeptically. He grins and gives two thumbs up. Ah, fuck it. He gives me lots of orgasms, so I’m inclined to trust him. Nobody that fun in bed would start a vacuum apocalypse.

“Have you tried entangling the laser photons? The military is trying that to burn shit better. Maybe you can use it to smuggle a few more photons.”

“Hmm…” He looks pensive for a moment, then pulls up some military laser specs. How did he get those? He deconstructs them like a fiend, looking for first principals.

I admire him as he maths around. He could be a genius. Or a lunatic with apocalyptic death lasers. Either way, he’s hot. I have a powerful urge to fuck him. I strip and head upstairs. He smiles and disappears. I go to the bathroom, start the shower, and turn on the haptoclone. Doc’s already sitting on the counter, eager. I soap up. Doc watches. I love him. The haptoclone thrums - it blasts ultrasoundwaves that mimic Doc’s avatar. It lets us touch over the internet. But lightly - too lightly. Fortunately, Candy is a doer, and so am I. We came up with a work around.

I watch Doc as I rinse off. I enjoy him enjoying me. Eventually he disappears, so I set the shower to a warm fog, close my eyes and concentrate. I trigger my post hypnotic suggestion. When I open my eyes, Doc is in the shower with me. When he touches me I feel hot, firm, electric awesome.

I’d bought the haptoclone from a home office supplier. It blasted ultra soundwaves to make virtual buttons. They had the consistency of soap bubbles, but were tactile enough so you touch type without looking at your hands. I took it apart and frankensteined it with Aspro to get pervy over the internet. It was pretty cool, but didn’t really work. The ultrasound caused bruising if you turned it up too high, so you could never touch anybody firmly enough to get them off. Which didn’t keep Candy and I from driving each other crazy with ephemeral pussy tickles.

I’d hit a wall on the technical side, so Candy started to experiment with self hypnosis. Raging orgasms ensued, God bless her. Results vary from person to person. We haven’t had a lot of luck with an authentic fuck feeling, but we have ways to get the job done.

Penetration is sadly too dangerous with ultrapowerful ultrasound, so Doc and I take turns licking each other. I am grateful and happy.

Afterwards, we chat for a bit, then say goodbye. Doc fades out. He'll be back tomorrow. I dry off, turn off the haptoclone, concentrate away my self hypnosis, and head downstairs for dinner. I forgot to send the car for groceries, so I have more cold pizza.

After dinner I roll a joint, grab some beers, and head outside. I enjoy country living for a beer or two, then astral project to Candy's club - The Sugar Lab.

The club has mutated since Candy bought it. It's still legally a strip club, but it operates as a makerspace for high-tech perverts. Project Octopus gives a small stipend for lab equipment. If enough people share the same lab, you have enough left over to buy a strip club. Apparently.

The clientele is still boozy awkward dudes, but now they bang away at laptops and show off their code. Honestly, I think they are happier now. Brian still puts out amazing food, and the caffeine is comped. Candy keeps the strip club license so they can have models, and demos, and experiments. And because she likes to walk around naked sometimes.

I pull up a virtual booth, and scan tonight's activity. Big Iota’s Dream Team has had tremendous success with VR induced lucid dreaming. It's loads of fun, but it's a solitary adventure. Until they can get quality feedback from the user (who’s asleep), they can't use it for a mutual sex experience. Which is a bummer, because it's a top shelf masturbation machine. Really feels like they’re close to the answer.

Beta’s Hardwire Team is electrocuting rat brains to make them orgasm. Nothing I see there makes me happy. Thankfully, they're a virtual team - Candy doesn't allow surgery at the club. I block them.

Omicron’s Teledildonics Team has made another piston driven rubber lover. They have penetration down in a way I envy, but the rest of their experience is as sexy as an industrial accident. Still, nice bunch of guys. And, it’s fun to watch someone get strung out on their latest invention. I wander over and chat them up a bit. I ask if they have ever built exercise equipment that gets you off (an idea I had while fucking my mattress). They laugh - my aversion to exercise is well known - and say they will see what they can do. When is their new creation being demoed? Would I like to participate? I couldn’t possibly, too shy. But not too shy to watch, when is it?

We have a few more laughs, then I let them get back to work. I check in on Delta’s Hot Team. They're adding heat to sound holograms using infrared laser scanners. It aims like an old CRT TV, heating only what's touching the hologram. Pretty cool.

Candy’s Hypno Team is my last stop. She's interviewing users of her latest post hypnotic suggestions. The hypnos effect everyone differently, so she requires a lot of feedback to refine her process. About 20% of people find her hypno-hapto’s intense and enjoyable. 50% feel no effect. The other 30% get weird results - belief without sensation. Like they have a strong desire to obey, but lack the ability to do so. Sounds distressing, but apparently it’s quite refreshing.

I observe quietly until she’s done. Then we sit and drink and smoke and gossip. We talk about how awesome Mr. President was today, then laugh when we realize we watched different clips. Brian joins us, and later Isaiah and Omicron do too. I invert my feed, so now it looks like my friends are with me down by my little stream. We get goofy. After a while the boys leave, and Candy starts to dance. I’d run out of things to say anyway. I watch her. She’s beautiful. She starts to undress and whisper my hypno triggers. The saucy minx. I let her have her way with my mind. When she lays down I dive in. It occurs to me that she’s still at the club. She has an office. She also has a stripper stage. Fuck. I invert my feed. Yep, I’m eating out my girlfriend on the stage of a packed club. Lots of cheering. Oh well.