Zero Point

The static snow fell as unrendered clumps, landing with a hissing sound. Many of the flakes softly landed on the smooth granite floor, vanishing immediately as if they were deleted on contact. The rest remained as changing colors of white, red, green, and blue, like open flashing pixels in a cold void. I stood up, hearing the flakes crunching under my boots with a sound like ground-up glass.

I said, “What is this?” “It’s not snow.” These words reverberated in, but not out of, my head.

As I moved toward the area where I could feel a stronger resistance, the air in this spot wasn't just warmer; it was throbbing. I reached toward it again, and I could feel the force push back as my hand was being forced backward and to the side. My teeth ground in pain as I let out a grunt. I held my pose for a short time, trying mightily to keep it straight, using my other arm to assist. I didn't let it move me; I pulled back slowly as if I was able to hold onto something.

Silently, the tension snapped, like snow on a tree falling after a heavy snowfall.

The wall didn't break; it didn’t make a sound I was expecting. It warped and made a dwoing sound, like an old monitor made when degaussing. The result was a black screen, but one I could see into. It hissed as an image appeared. On the screen was a tree from a familiar place during a heavy rain and a severe storm.

A figure appeared through the rain with arms up, trying mightily to block the hard-hitting rain from striking him. Lightning violently struck all around him. He struggled mightily, falling twice to his knees, the second time struggling to stand back up—almost as if he was being pushed backward.

Off-screen, a flash occurred. What I saw... was it me? They stopped at the tree, staring closely at it.

In the distance between strikes, I saw it. A dark figure with an orange head. With each strike, it was moving closer—impossibly quick and silent. Its arms were stretched out with a predatory intent to strangle. I watched myself stand defeated, looking at the tree, and fall to his knees.

My mouth opened to yell; a sound came out right as thunder struck. No one could have heard it, I thought. I tried again, only louder; same result. I fell to my knees onto the surface, yelling louder as my knees hammered into the ground. I heard what I said as it traveled out of my existence and into the other, only to be muffled by rain and thunder.

The other me didn't move; he didn't even flinch. He looked as I felt—like nothing I could do would matter. But the pumpkin paused as it looked around. It heard me.

It turned its rotting, carved face toward the crack in the wall and stared directly into my soul. Its fingers grabbed the other me’s neck and squeezed.

The screen before me was gone—not because it wasn't there, but because I was now above it. A freezing wind surged through the gap as the flurry of flakes intensified. I looked down toward my feet and saw the ground beneath me was no longer dirt or granite; it was a solid platform of corrupted data. I was stepping on it as it began to rise rapidly with the heavy wind and data falling into the pit.

I reached toward the edge and pulled myself over it. The cemetery that was there was gone. The rain stopped.

I wasn’t in a grave. I was in a dark room. A light turned on, and I saw a table. On it was a damaged drive, its casing open, the silver platters scarred by a head-crash.

I picked up the casing and turned it over. It said “Reflection Loop.” I repeated out loud, “Reflection Loop.” It wasn't a trail? “What was it?” I said. I read the label on the drive; it said 4 terabytes.

I stood over the table trying to make sense of what was happening. I reached for the platters; the sound of static and a painful spark occurred. “Was it a recovery cycle that finally reached its end?” I said. Was the data gone, corrupted beyond fixing? Lost to static.

The light now filled the room, and I could see beyond the table. I saw a window covered by a curtain. The other side was dark. To the far right side was a tripod with a camera on it. I walked to it; it was my camera, mounted and ready. I didn't check the settings or look at the thumbnails. I leveled the frame, clearing the distortion of the loop.

I pressed the shutter.

0 Degrees.