Two men, a scientist and a general, sit in a large room with a wall of computers. Smoldering cigarettes lay on ashtrays scattered throughout the room.
Things beep and whir, all sorts of mechanical noises.
The string has been plucked. The vibrations on a scale almost undetectable. Without the right equipment.
Microprocessors, nanocomputers, and temperatures in the single digits Kelvin.
Harmonics reverberate all throughout the apparatus.
Once the process has begun, it can only be stopped in one way.
A violin string can be muted. But the effect the vibrations have on the wood will create enough noise to be noticed.
This is no violin string.
It… Is… Everything.
The string now vibrates out from the point of origin, which is arbitrary in most circumstances.
Not this one.
Even if it were possible to find that exact point, reaching it would be out of the question.
It bears repeating that once the process has begun it can be stopped in only one way.
As long as the string is still attached to the violin, even if it has been muted, the wood will reverberate.
Only complete removal of the string will stop the tone.
One issue.
A small one perhaps.
The string of a violin cannot be removed without either a wire cutter or the audible change in pitch, lowered and lowered until the string has no tension.
This cannot be done during a performance.
The string has already been plucked. Which means there is only one way to stop the reverberations.
The removal of existence.
A long winded speech from the scientist. The General takes a deep drag from a cigarette and smashes it into an ashtray.
Unacceptable, there has to be another way.
The scientist flinches.
Well, there is one, surefire way.
Chris Hemsworth.
But even if he would accept AU$, it’s out of the realm of any reasonable human to afford.
And he’s been taking money in the US for over a decade at this point it’s unlikely he’ll take anything of lesser value.
Dammit!!!
The indifference of humanity.
Where are we on the string?
The scientist laughs, and pulls up an image on one of the computer screens. A lot of lines and a lot of dots.
It’s not that simple.
Where are we?
When are we?
How much of our bulk is being implanted into the exotic matter?
And most important…
How is Brane are?
The general shakes his head.
So we really don’t have a chance.
The scientist tugs at his hair.
If I can destroy the string while creating the exact same string three times over. The harmonics would work the apparatus in such a way that we’d negate the initial pluck.
You would have to create yourself at the exact moment of destruction, and creation. The string would have to be plucked.
Pluck for pluck. The scientist says.
Have mercy. The general says.
Soon the vibrations will be so intense it will create a heat on a level we haven’t begun to calculate.
This’ll make the sun look like a snow cone.
Once it reaches that point, not even Chris Hemsworth can save us.
The general walks over to a table and places both hands down. The scientist expected something volatile but got calm composure.
There’s only one thing left to do. Call the missus and tell her you love her.
Well behaved Wild Dogs 