Stepping into the device was a simple maneuver; but the device was far from ordinary. The machine was the manifestation of a nightmare cloaked in fulminating darkness. Hermann Spanbower was the conduit — he derived the formula that led to the actual machine. It was theoretical, but somehow it worked. The man who piloted the device was invisible – his life led to this historical divide that would nullify Time and Space. His actions were a precursor to the calamitous changes predicted by psychics and prophets since the beginning of time. He had no name. He was simply the realization of an action. He closed the hatch, wrote some calculations on a computer pad, and pushed several buttons. Instantly, the pilot was thrust into a void — cut off from any familiar sensations.
I am writing this story during the aftermath as a way to understand what really occurred. The Chaos has already reached into my mind just as it seduced the pilot of the device. I am no more responsible for what happened than any of the other persons named in this archive. The void took hold … captured the pilot and everyone else in this record of dissemination. He had an orgasm when he was twelve – his first and finest – that’s when everything began. There is no way around the controlling factor of sex. It ruptured at every divide in his life, influencing every decision and profoundly altering reality. Then there were the years of teenage violence – he was a bully who was bullied. He was under the delusion that he was a Nazi fighting for the new Germany. It was part of his insanity. The void was already creeping into his soul and the device was years away from inception. The blond girl named Lorna floated through his dreams like an angel. She almost saved his life, but she was an illusion. He had to hold onto the dream even as he imagined being seduced by older men. He loved other men at a time when gay love was a crime. He immersed himself in work, accomplishing impossible feats of intellect and earning several degrees. At night he cried at the alter of phallic desire. Every day he was seduced by eyes lingering in hotel lobbies and bus station restrooms. He was seduced by myth, rumors of a legendary city where desire merged with reality. Soldiers in the Nazi SS talked about the Red City – a place where they would have total power and control – where they could achieve immortality. The record of his life stretched across time and space as he floated in the contraption, at the edge of a black hole. His brain was pureed – mind mush dripping through a strainer of multiple personalities. He wanted to become Lorna – dream woman – so he could make love to himself. There were years of invasive operations to make him the female he desired to be: plastic surgery, psychotherapy, and hormone injections. He loved his new breasts. He no longer had a penis, but he craved one more than ever. He changed his name and dyed his hair, but he could never be Lorna — he was 49 and looked like a tight-lipped spinster. He constantly fought with himself and finally reverted back to other, more arcane obsessions.
He lingered on the outskirts of reality in his beleaguered search for the Red City – flashing to himself to arouse the lingering truths that he could no longer avoid as he clashed with political obscenities and social distortions – sliding into the black hole – riding the wave of Quantum Physics – slicing and dicing the world of limited access and moneyed elitism. Then it hit like a hydrogen bomb – he was engulfed by the Great Mother’s Vagina – enveloped. The device shuddered and broke apart. The pilot disintegrated. All that remained was the Red City – the only reality that ever existed.