Regaining consciousness may, at times, become a funny ride. Who ever I am, Boss Licina thought, I don’t even know where. His vision also had not yet appeared. It was his gravitational sense which gave him the first smooth kick back to being able to lawfully being granted to feel partaking in living reality, or time, or both, or maybe it’s the same thing. Right here and there, in this brief split-second sensation, he hovered through an infantly disoriented immediate step on the marble stairs back up to presence and focus, thereby, to actual usefulness. Let’s compare his first perceptual pieces to the self-impression of a common jellyfish. There was this tricky idea of shit being actually quite okay, as compared to the shock of having to admit — on a very deep level of admittance to be fair — that time was, in fact, moving again. And Boss Licina had Bills to pay. He was just about to find out.
Somewhere along the way there was another fraction of a second that he spent almost fully on finding out who he actually was. That is always a more or less crucial part to be provided for any productive momentary attendance to actually work. While he had no secure information yet on where his exact position was on the job ladder of executing life while being alive, a not yet self aware Boss Licina stumbled upon the fact here was a lot more going on than simply time passing, he also had some sort of body going on that somewhat represented his share of organic matter in the universe. Unfortunately, right before he could welcome himself back at being the guy performing that force-of-nature energetic extroversion defining this Biohacking Boss known as Licina, some central nerve cells suddenly succeeded in passing the honest bad news to the top chair, and they hit without any chance of foresight. Although suffering without proper self-awareness should always be labelled innocent, this is how it turned out for the poor and damaged agent unintendingly representing Boss Licina.
Imagine you stand as close as possible to a long train passing on a crazy high speed out of the dark, with the train part of the story happening all through the insides of your head only. Then the train would do a jump and drill with all its gigawatt powers available into the inner skull area right above your right ear, simultaneously exiting on the skinned side of the head — and Boss Licina’s did, fact, show his barely tanned soft outer covering of vertebrates, at least under usual circumstances.
In Boss Licina’s defense it must be pointed out by all means that the only bad in his present luck was embodied by the circumstances just not being usual enough. And they were not only unusual enough to have him end up with a semi-broken skullbone, they also had System 1 somehow drifting apart from the crewmembers, in a timely regard, to be precise. And this is more than unusual and unlucky combined — it’s flat out frightening. Terrifying. Unknown territory in the dimension of not-even-considered-possible, pardon, survivable. System 1 used to portray its hickups here and there, due to its inherent quantum randomness, but these were minor timely divergences, a handful of seconds that would always snap back after a while — or oscillate back and forth around harmonization.
Sensitivity for time at System 1 was running as low as sensitivity for the small changes in the weather patterns. Always peaceful and optimal, therefore not a second thought wasted. Grandmother Time had to jump off synch vastly in order to make herself visible, and now that she was on the leave it was panic mode beyond compare regarding the comfort people enjoyed with time passing in its ever constant manner, always predictable, everything plannable, as if it wasn’t there at all, but just the naked way it always was, always is, and always will be. No life without time. Every kid knew that, at least in those parts of the universe System 1 was grazing. So, a fading time between ship and crew could mean nothing but death. Outer space was still a place a little bit too nasty for living things to grow sustaining comfort.
Calling the smuggest asshole in all the fifteen galaxies to the site, it would certainly raise its hat to Boss Licina’s luck, basically because of the eerie time apocalypse buildup he had not yet to witness. Albeit, in case he would, the fictitious asshole continues, the sheer amount of unpleasant real-I-sation at once would simply blow the aforementioned character’s brain out through his eye sockets.
And he was correct. Boss Licina should be thankful, even graceful, for each terribly painful step he had to squeeze himself through in the upcoming sequence of his pitifully linear existence, as having the adoption to a new subset of reality happen too densely within the amount of time provided to the organism, the overall sensation could very well end up being a slightly too painful one, which could subsequently send the life form to a quick death — in its own best interests. Yes, Boss Licina should survive the incident, however not necessarily personally appreciate the act of him being reintroduced to the NOW. Picture one of the guys who got unlucky with their vertical dick implants and then their Willies would rot from the inside and then unfold like a duck’s bill. Thanks, asshole. Feel free to leave the scene, if you wouldn’t mind. Asshole.
For Boss Licina it would not come as bad, but surely bad enough.
To be continued at a better time.