Phase Q/Lovathon

As the megaminds disperse, the pseudospace becomes sparser.

The pseudotime curve shows up in a brightly lit plot, hovering above every area of pseudospace, perceptionally.

Around the opening, mentalstrates drift expectantly. Some go in, and some come out.

Farther away from the opening, within the pseudospace, megaminds roam about, surrounded by occasional regular bodies of various sorts.

Nearer to the opening, it’s mostly Futuristas.

You spot a creature that seems to be some sort of megamind-Futurista hybrid.

The opening itself seems to sizzle with activity. Beings go in and come out, often transforming the progress.

You see some of the Futuristas hovering near the opening, playing a game. They conjure up some object, such as a rock or a toad or a flower bouquet, and toss it into the opening. Something else comes flying back out. A llama, a jet fighter, a monk.

Usually they disintegrate whatever comes flying back, after having a laugh.

Occasionally, something apparently useful comes out, and the Futuristas keep it around.

At one point, a small chamber comes flying out of the opening. A Futurista commands it open. Inside, the chamber is completely dark. The Futurista conjures up a small animal, and tosses it inside. The animal doesn’t come out.

The Futurista conjures up another small animal, this one talking, and tosses it inside.

“Real dark in here,” says the small animal.

“Can you see anything at all?”

“Nope.”

The Futurista thinks for a moment, then sends a light into the chamber.

“Ah, now I see,” says the animal. “Looks pretty plain to me. Just some bare walls, no wallpaper even.”

The Futurista finally climbs in afterwards, and looks around. Nothing but the bare walls.

The Futurista drops a small object on the ground. It lands, but without making a sound.

The Futurista speaks to someone outside of the chamber. But despite moving lips and vocal chords, no sound emerges.

Blissfully, the Futurista floats up and starts thinking. Many long years pass.

Meanwhile, outside the chamber, the other Futuristas seem to tire of their game of tossing objects into the opening. Instead, they conjure up some unprecedentedly loud music, and bright lights. Changing forms, the Futuristas become some sort of creature explicitly designed to have sex. Not to reproduce or bond or anything, just to fuck.

Millennia, epochs, ages pass. And in every imaginable convolution or contortion, the denizens of the pseudospace explore the full range of positions and actions that pertain to sex. Putting the ancients to shame, they even develop new kinds of sex that are only possible in a vol or pseudospace with at least seventeen million dimensions.

Then, the pseudospace starts to crumble. Bare facts emerge.

In the stillness around the ever-fluctuating opening, abstract entities seem to interrelate to each other fully without moving at all. None of the noise and mess of the pseudospace.

Pieces of the decaying pseudospace break off and fall into the opening, disappearing. More and more parts fall in. The opening shrinks in size, growing brighter. Futuristas fall in. You fall in. Countless infinities of concepts fall in.

When the opening reaches a small size, with the former pseudospace having poured in, it rolls up onto itself. Continuing to roll, the brightly glowing orb travels up and down and all around. Within, the contents rock.

Phase Q: An interactive adventure.