The Bleed Beyond

By Sam Sanchez / SketchSanchez

Out in the outer reaches of Sol lie what is known as the Oort cloud. A cluster of small rocky and icy bodies located beyond the reach of Pluto; essentially the final wall one must overcome to reach intergalactic space and beyond. For centuries it was theorized that a planet 9 existed out there that affected objects gravitationally and ejected comets like a pitching machine.

It wasn't until the late 21st century that it was discovered that there wasn't a planet sized object out there at all; just a black hole. This impossibly dense object was only 4 inches wide and almost impossible to see with the naked eye. Once discovered, however, it was off to the races for every private aerospace engineer firm on Earth.

But this was old news; everyone knew this. Especially when you worked for Europa Industries, as it was in every onboarding video for all Quantum Mechanics before they were shipped out. Jackson Samuels was one. About two months out from graduation and getting hired, he could recite the orientation vids by heart.

Europa was the first to establish a lab station that orbited the black hole a safe distance away and was finally opened and running in 2098. Jackson graduated school 2100, a forced milestone in itself, and was heavily recruited by the company due to his thesis concerning the practical existence of a vast multi-verse.

Now if you ever found yourself perusing job listings, a Quantum Mechanic was tasked with mining space-time. For most people—those lacking imagination and, Jackson thought, brain power—this seemed like a nonsense job title and description. Yet another bullshit job created by capitalism for capitalism's sake but for once in this miserable life it wasn't.

Jackson was strapped into a roll cage, seated comfortably in a molded chair with hardware strapped to his head. Mining space-time was mostly done virtually, hence the bulky helmet strapped to his noggin. Within virtual, Jackson manipulated sub-atomic scalpels and matter collectors. Each sample was carved off with perfect precision and got sent off back to Europa for study. Jackson knew this job facilitated proving his theory that not only was a multiverse out there, but was entirely reachable. He was happy to do it; he was good at it.

Truth be told, it vexed him that he couldn't study the samples himself, that's where his heart was after all. A Quantum Mechanic was sort of a grunts job. Not that just anyone could do it, of course, mining space-time was dangerous and required a deft hand. One slip up and maybe you've caused the singularity to collapse in on itself which, clearly, wasn't good but still...it was a bit beneath him. With enough training a monkey could do this, he mused often.

Europa Industries bylaws strictly prohibited keeping samples for one self, but surely they'd not take him to task for it? He was in the top 1 percent of his class, hell they recruited him...it was fine. Still, it never hurt to be safe rather than sorry.

So every trip into virtual had Jackson send 75 percent of any given sample to the home office, while he kept 25 percent for himself. He kept his samples within artificial pocket dimension, first made public for commercial use in 2090; an absolute lifesaver in terms of storage that at least slowed earths rapid descent into climate change hell for another century at least. Maybe.

The pocket dimension was hosted on a quantum server accessible only via his living quarters. When he first arrived on station he had taken considerable time converting the space—only 80x80 by diameter—into a sort of faraday cage that kept his superiors and benefactors from peeking in on what he was doing.

Later that evening—most time measurement was done according to where earth was—Jackson sat in front of his terminal and opened his server. He was met with some strange readings, readings he'd need to check the next day when he went out again. It seemed he may have stumbled upon a data rich section as part of his every day duties; excellent.

The next morning he sat alone at the mess hall going over the figures in his head and on his forearm mounted computer. An old classmate, John Silver—hired the same time as he—approached him. His lunch tray was piled high with protein sludge and he dropped it with a loud thwack right in front of Jackson.

"Can I help you?" Jackson asked, obviously annoyed.

"I know what you're doing," John said, above a whisper but less than full volume. Jackson stared at him for 3.5 seconds before returning his gaze to the display projected from his arm.

"Yeah? And what's that?"

"That section of the black hole, I've seen it too. The company hasn't noticed yet, but I've seen it. And I know you have too." Jackson sighed silently, John always was smart and always considered himself Jackson's rival.

He wishes. To Jackson, John was a smart-for-his-age adolescent—at best.

"I don't know what you're talking about," Jackson replied and got up; it was time for another shift in virtual. Strapped into the chair for another 15 hours, Jackson scoured the section of space-time deemed his for the evening. He found it again, the anomaly in his numbers matched perfectly.

He took a bigger slice this time, 65 percent for the company; the rest for himself.

That night he sat in his room and studied the pocket dimension. Somehow it had been ripped in half, as if someone took a knife and cut a wide gash right through it. That shouldn't be possible, Jackson thought.

Jackson got to work on a machine for the rest of the night.

He took apart his terminal, his bedside machine and ripped various components from the wall in his pursuit of what he needed. Using the samples he had hoarded for himself, Jackson created a machine that allowed him to sustain a personalized slice of space-time directly in his room. Before his eyes, within an energized holographic projector, was a small slice of the galaxy itself. Colorful molecular clouds swept through the image and filled his eyes with all the possibilities this had meant.

Jackson tapped silently on his forearm, the entire device connected and run through his personal wearable computer system, and entered the variable data he had been keeping track of. The mini galaxy seized and then split in half. Between the two halves was a bright red gelatinous membrane and Jackson knew he had discovered the secret of the universe.

Jackson brought his findings to his superiors and was promptly rebuffed; even reprimanded.

"But I've found it!" He shouted. "Proof of the multiverse!"

"How is this proof?" They asked.

"This is a membrane," he responded. "Don't you see? This is the substance that keeps our universes apart!"

They fired him for "unauthorized use of company assets" and sent him back to Earth. They didn't believe him and had no reason to check his work. He was a neophyte—smart, yes—but the hubris he demonstrated made him an ill fit for their Company Culture.

Jackson remained undeterred, even if he was disgraced. After all, his quantum server was his own; no amount of pressure could force him to give them access to it. Back on earth, in a partially sunken in lab off the former coast of the eastern United States, Jackson ran his experiments. Here he was outside the reach of corporate and governmental police as the entire region had become a lawless no man's land.

Out here he had managed to rebuild his machine and re-run his tests based on the samples he still held. Once again the sliver of space time split and taunted him. Probe after probe Jackson sent through; none had come back. A setback to be sure, but it confirmed something to him. This membrane, this Bleed—as he called it—could be penetrated.

It was here it became clear there was only one avenue left for him to pursue, and it would have to be done personally.

For the next six weeks Jackson designed and built a suit with the idea to protect him from the forces he'd face should he enter this membrane himself. His time was also spent redesigning and retrofitting his current contraption to allow him to traverse the tear in space-time he had artificially kept running in his lab.

Both endeavors generated an almost impossible amount of energy, and with each passing week it became harder and harder to conceal. At week four, Jackson reached out to his still employed colleague, John Silver.

"What's in it for me?" he asked. "Why shouldn't I just give you away to the company?"

"Because I'm close and you know it. Once I cross through, any data you see is yours to present and claim."

"You'd do that?"

"This is a one way trip," Jackson replied. "That much is clear." Silver arrived a week later having resigned his commission. The opportunity excited him—to be the name on such a discovery—he would be set for life if this panned out.

It was week 6 and Jackson felt ready. He had expanded his machine enough to fill an entire room; just outside the perimeter was an observation pod manned alone by Silver. The suit Jackson had created was nanofillament mesh laced with super dense aluminum that was easily flexible and breathed really nice. Jackson looked back at the pod and smiled solemnly before snapping the opaque helmet on to his head; Silver offered a small thumbs up.

Four quantum projectors lined the back half of the room hummed and suddenly fired. A projection of a slice of the universe, pure space-time, filled that side of the room briefly before being torn apart and revealing a thick, viscous, red membrane. Jackson could feel his heart pounding in his chest.

The membrane moved and writhed like it had a mind of its own. Jackson paused in front of it, feeling silly. This is what he wanted wasn't it; everything he had built his life toward? He sucked in his breathe through his nose and shut his eyes.

The answer was yes.

Jackson raised a hand; his thick gloved fingertips pierced the barrier of the projection and his atoms felt on fire. He pushed more. Thick tendrils climbed up his arm from the membrane and clung tightly...it was pulling him in.

He let it.

He closed his eyes; it was dark. An atto-second later and the darkness persisted. Jackson felt his stomach float as if he were drifting endlessly through nothing. It made him think of his time as a child on the roller coasters built among the partially submerged islands of Japan. For once in his life he felt utterly free. His eyes supposedly popped open but still there was nothing but black.

He felt his momentum stop. An invisible hand gripped his chest and applied pressure. He was sure his eyes were still open, yet all he saw was blackness. His analytical mind raced; it landed at the only possible conclusion his research had laid out for him.

Jackson theorized for ages about the nature of the multiverse and surmised it all ended, or began rather, at a singular launch point. The big bang begat the bleed which begat endless parallel universes. The Bleed was akin to cracks in a sidewalk and he was just falling through one. Falling through space-time endlessly until coming to an abrupt stop; what could cause that? He asked himself that over and over again and got scared at the implication.

He could be at the dawn of time. Where light didn't exist.

Deep in the darkness, an eye opened. A beady white eye that blinked once every other second. Another eye followed that; then another; and another. Each eye stared at him and blinked at odd intervals and made his skin crawl.

He felt his mouth fill.

The darkness. It was filling him up.

More eyes appeared; they were taunting. His skin felt cold, as if he were no longer even wearing the suit.

He thought he opened his mouth to scream.

But an eye stared out of it instead