GNAB! The end of the beginning, one Tuesday evening in November

It was closing time at Alph’s Primal Soup Kitchen, but only in three dimensions and nobody knew yet anyway. Peter slid the bolt on the tiny door, rubbed a peephole in the mist on the window glass, and surveyed the row of abandoned camels tethered outside.

“Pass me that unified superstring,”said Alph Omega, tweaking a morsel of soup solids from his long white beard. He sniffed. A dewdrop bobbed beneath his nose. “Must tie up a few loose ends.”

“Sure thing, Boss,”muttered Peter reaching for the relevant material and the Kleenex. He surveyed the ball of dark matter in his hand and then the growing dewdrop on Alph’s nose. “Boss?”

“Yup?”

“Would you run that super-symmetry business past me again... slowly?”

“One last time then... The geometry describing the surface of a sphere is the same for the inside as for the outside. The question is: are you inside looking out, or outside looking in?”

“You mean it’s a matter of viewpoint?”

“More a viewpoint of matter... Oh, and scale, of course.”

“Tissue?”

“No. Matter in general. Oh, yes. Thanks.”

Alph blew his nose and space-time vanished.

—§—

Beyond the singularity a tiny door opens. Alph Omega appears with Peter at his side stretching and yawning. A miniscule dewdrop is gathering on Alph’s nose...

Ω

Oscar Windsor-Smith  Oscar Windsor-Smith's website is an eccentric one-time electrician hiding behind a grandiose name, and striving to earn sufficient writing income to live up to it. He has had work published in print, and online in Flash Fiction Online, Everyday Weirdness and Every Day Fiction, among others. A novel was short-listed for the (UK) Writers' and Artists' Yearbook centenary competition in 2007, and Obstacle Productions performed a horror piece of his in London in 2009. Short story Direction of Our Fear is Editor's Choice in March 2010 Ghostlight Magazine. Oscar first saw daylight on the Wirral, Cheshire, UK, but having drifted around various places undiscerning enough to entertain his presence, he now infests rural Hertfordshire, where he lives with one tolerant wife, three cats and a Volvo 480.

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