Architecta

“What’s it feel like?”

Marvin put his finger to his chin and looked to the ceiling. “You ever laugh so hard you pissed yourself?” he asked.

“Yeah…”

“Well it ain’t nothing like that.” He went back to strapping down my arms. “That’s kind of messed up, man. You shouldn’t ever admit that. Don’t tell anyone else you pee your pants.”

“It wasn’t recent, Marv—”

“Shhhh.” He waved a hand against my cold bald head as if to mess up the memory of my hair. “Be good in there. Stay out of trouble.”

And then I was alone.

The electrodes in my brain were attached to cables that exited out my neck, snaked along the floor, and connected me directly to the box—Architecta.

Time flows differently in the mindscape. They say digital consciousness is a non-linear experience, though only a handful of test subjects have—

\/\/\/\/\/\\\/\\/\\/\/\\/\//\/\/\/\/\/\\/\/\/\\\///\/\/\/////\\\/\\

“What the hell was that?! Where am I?” I felt like I’d snorted cobra venom. “How long have I been gone?”

Marvin burst through the door. “Relax, man. You were only in for eight sec—Oh, damn man. You pissed yourself!”