Hitchhikers of Kennedy Space Center


This is another tale of the Kennedy Space Center's multiverses, both in the distant past and the far future.
Follow ghosts, demons, gods, AIs, tourists, DNA experiments, vamps, and witches as they travel the multiverse only to discover their interconnections as allies and enemies across an endless history or future.

Every story is the true story.


NASA


Marcus felt the MRI shake as a massive rocket lifted from Kennedy Space Center.

The intercom pinged

"Exploration Systems Mars Mission Directorate.

Mission Support Systems Configuration Freeze lifted on all Software, Firmware, Vampire sinc, and Hardware. February 15th at 1600. Artemis 156 Launch. Go Team!"

"As I was saying, neural differentiation." The Doc's voice sounded over the intercom. "In normal humans, hybrids and synthetic biologicals, aging astronauts, for example, noninvasive electromagnetic stimulation can focus an electrical current to targeted areas of the brain; you can relive past conversations; say, for example, you may converse with the lady you left in that burning space shuttle."

Marcus's eyes opened, his mind flooded in a sudden rage, and he worm-wiggled out of the MRI.

The loss of the space shuttle in the fiery disintegration and the loss of crew had not been his fault, even though most of the planet believed otherwise.

The anger washed over him; the tsunami of rage was exquisite, itchy, and far too easy. However, it wasn't just simple hitting he was itching for.

It was Murder.

Murder was the price for the Doc's insult.

Marcus took a deep breath, willing his serotonin transport genes and Zen training to lower his heart rate to a controlled level, deep breathing that prevented him from breaking his fist on the block wall or MRI. The unfair statement had left him in a hyper-carnivorous predatory niche. Dangerous.

The Doc seemed oblivious to his insult and his danger and concentrated on the monitor, flipping through the test results.

"You have figured already," said the Doc, "I am reasonably indifferent to such a humbling experience as your loss; I have a job to do and not worry about hurt feelings."

Marcus exhaled slowly to keep control.

"Oddly, your results are marked with subtle, passionate imagination, a frightful anomaly of fractals, and variations in relation to the size of shifting magnetic fields. It is as if the readings are in the act of molting or shedding an outer cuticular layer.

Have you heard of the seldom talked about "Hitchhiker' phenomenon?"

The astronaut nodded his head.

"I have some kind of anti-paranormal shield, garlic implant, or something," said Marcus, still fighting for control. "Those things do not follow me anymore."

The Doc giggled, an unprofessional giggle; "Two entities might be considered entangled if their quantum states are correlated to such an extent that they cannot be described independently."

The Doc shrugged his shoulders, peering at his screen again.

"My transcranial magnetic stimulator test results and Occam's Razor suggest something, perhaps many somethings have attached, have magnetized to your life force. It follows. They follow. What it is, I cannot say. An interdimensional entity, a Duende or Skin-Walker? A Vamp or Jinn, something paranormal? Haamu-Sielu or Ogbanje? The world is absolutely crawling with the bastards," said the Doc.

Neuroticism, thought Marcus; the Doc is a nut.

"And that is only the old stuff. Now...... The algorithm things that straddle the border between the human and digital world? Wandering TDR and OTDR spirits that are born with every power-up and die with every hard shutdown."

Marcus shook his head, "No."

The Doc shrugged his shoulders, the movement suggesting the Doc's ancestry may not be 100% hominid.

"The something attached to you? It could be one of the Vamp Hybrids with unknown abilities or the infected AIs, and the gate crossers from the multiverse seem to be increasing in numbers."

The Doc ignored the elephant in the room-the, the Alien living in the Launch Control Center columns.

However, no one on the entire planet wanted to talk about the Alien anymore. Not since Marcus had got in a spat with Earth's only Alien, and the thing retreated to her LCC home in a huff.

"Other possibilities," said the Doc, "With this synthetic biology rampant -human normals and things in control of biological processes, creating designer organisms, living, breathing tools, toys, whims, and hobbies. No one ever asks: What happens to the defects, the "Products" burned or broken? Cast to the forest encampments along the fringes of cities? However this thing magnetized to your life force? I believe it is a kind of wandering spirit that is born and dies over and over. But drawn to you."

Marcus thought about the recent dreams of Datura, dancing technicians, and dying CPUs.

"Hey, on that subject," said the Doc, "Say the word, and I can manipulate biomolecules, RNA, and proteins to re-create that astronaut witch you let burn in orbit, or I can create one of these jinns or duende in her likeness that will serve you. Even generate a complex human-made RNA-based witch who can block the spirit stalking you.

And as a bonus, I can program her to open the multiverse gates for you without the requirement of psychedelics, that is, if you are the 'I want to see other worlds' type."

Marcus considered the words, the DNA transference was the description of the great American biotic interchange, with no brakes on the changes or consideration of the future. The future was......fucked.

"And the cost, the price for one of these Jinns?" asked Marcus, still trying to bring his anger under control.

The Doc stepped back to sip on a cup of room-warm coffee.

"The cost?" said the Doc. "The price for services is your permission to use your DNA for my creative products as I see fit. Something greater than the self and puts you on the hero's journey again."

"Fuck," said Marcus.

It did not matter to the Doc that he had been using the shuttle pilot's DNA for years; the authorization was in the fine print to become a NASA astronaut. But a vid of Marcus' consent was a friendly tool to shove in his face to counter any whiny objections. Astronauts were such a touchy lot.

"Why would you need my DNA?" asked Marcus, confused.

"The hero's journey in such a clear manner. Life is an art of proportionality for all of us." said the Doc. "You are smart and handsome. Perfect. Our choices propagate and continuously select our algorithm, our legend, your legend, for this world, and our next destination, whatever that might be."

The Doc turned on a monitor camera, "Speak your consent into the screen. It will be a binding contract."

Marcus nodded, "I guess it cannot hurt to share my DNA."

The Ophelias in hibersleep drew their wings tight and wept at the non-obvious indicators. The stars blurred indistinct, atoms shed valence orbitals into the infinite fractal curve of night, and a carmine mist obscured her vision to begin another dream-story. Particles entangled in their quantum state forever correlated with infinite involutions, non-linear destructive entanglement with another. A moment only of chaos blindness; then enchanting love again, however fragile, proximity permissions of electrical impulses according to the strengths of the double helix.


Other tails of the Space Center:

Vampires of Kennedy Space Center

Demons of Kennedy Space Center

Demons of Kennedy Space Center, corpus callosotomy

Ghosts of Kennedy Space Center

Dreams of Kennedy Space Center

Aliens of Kennedy Space Center

Director of Kennedy Space Center

Hitchhikers of Kennedy Space Center

Witches of Kennedy Space Center

Cave Bears of Kennedy Space Center

Chimeras of Kennedy Space Center

Gods of Kennedy Space Center and the Nile

Dinosaurs of Kennedy Space Center

Kayakers of Kennedy Space Center

Remembering Kennedy Space Center

Shadows of Kennedy Space Center

Virus of Kennedy Space Center

Starman of Kennedy Space Center

Gate Jumpers of Kennedy Space Center

Allies of Kennedy Space Center (Pt 2 of Gate Jumpers

Savants of Kennedy Space Center

Ferals of Kennedy Space Center



Return HOME from Hitchhikers of Kennedy Space Center


moon


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Author Bruce Ryba at Kennedy Space Center Launch Pad 39B & Artemis 1. "We are going to the Moon!"

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