Black Hole

We started from space as we used to know it. Euclidean geometry, objects in motion remaining in motion, thrusters revolving, HARVS aloft and tiny ships scudding like spindrift. Civitron and Lordmcfuzz cobbled together a fictitious (and huffalicious) ship for Civi's babymaggot to fly in. We stopped for snax at Luna Star, then plunged down the minootaman wormhole, far and deep till we were sucked into a tiny black hole near the Spy radiation cloud. Escaping after countless ever-decreasing orbits...thousands of years later...

wending back through Medford System we encountered a close double system of black holes, whirling through a spirograph of interlocking orbits until we once again were ejected into fathomless space. This slingshotted us past Luna Tufts (home of the larval hordes) straight into Powderhouse Hole. Without a hope we plummeted directly into the interior. There we found a timeless, spaceless place where reality as we know it was bent into knots, hours compressing to milliseconds, ships pasted into a molecular layer of protonium plastered onto the degenerate-matter Sign at the center of this immense mass. Eons since an immense blue-whitestar goes supernova, this is what's left: a strange circular arrow-emanating road sign. We fell through the hole in the zero; we danced.

Snow provided delicious beverages, and also retrieved Flatbag from EatMyShorts in flight. There was chalk and cheese, but no one knew which was which. The groove bent toward wormhole trance tunes. Deadbride has a fabulous new ship and also SPAAACE SOOOOCKS.

Having still some space yayas left, we scraped up our ships and proceeded to Lechmere to enjoy some bizarre singularities. Additional black holes occurred, orbiting and escaping as we do, and we wandered erratically in Brownian motion across Oort clouds of Luna market carts and cups. SCUL, in the abstract, transpired.