Pataphor-III

On 2011/08/01 14:00, Pataphor-III is contained at Site-17. Item resists pacification by onsite personnel, presenting an active security threat.

Site Director Thomas Graham approaches.


"Go on, then. Scatter my meat from the bone."

Graham stood in the containment chamber. Elsewise monitors scribbled the steady rhythm of his heart on white clipboards as he begins to unravel.

"Good," said Thomas Graham, the contents of his left arm levitating towards Pataphor-III, stripped to the exposed humerus. "Get a feel for physicality. Examine the nerves, the skin, the blood you've taken. Steal my head next."

Graham's spine jerked forward, tugged briefly by the exit of tendons from his neck, departing into the maelstrom of fluctuating space. From the flow of winding nerves and skin arose a deadening howl, speaking of nighttime cliffs and hunger.

The teeth of Graham's skeleton curled upwards in a patronizing smile. Gray matter leaked from his vacated eye-sockets into the storm. "Eager. Good pet. Can you mimic me?"

The storm halted, its regions stretched tight by the semi-literal entity at its core. Slowly, surgically, the skin and muscle and cranium of Thomas Graham floated into position. They mixed, slipping between one another, rebuilding the boneless face of Site-17's director. Eyes popped into unsupported sockets, and Pataphor-III gazed upon its donor, a face suspended five feet off the chamber floor, an arguably physical anomaly.

Graham stepped closer, keeping its gaze. "Good pet. Take this lesson to heart." Graham's right fist closed, pulled back, and flew.

Scck.

His stolen blood splattered on the far wall as the face collapsed. The motionless storm faded away.

Graham knelt, holding his hair and brain and skin in two halfway-fleshless hands. He could feel Pataphor-III still residing in the remains of his head, stunned.

"This is something I teach everyone who walks these halls. Good anomalies behave. They are dissected, examined, and directed into more pleasing shapes. Learn this."

The imitation of his forehead tilted upwards, as though nodding.

"Now. Return me."

Muscles squelched, pulling themselves back over his bare arm and head. His lips moved as they rebuilt themselves with the parts borrowed by Pataphor-III.

"You are an essophysical anomaly; you embody a concept. You exist above the world I inhabit, and your job is to stoop to me. You will draw matter from the world around you, and become physical. Verbum caro factum est."

Director Graham was whole again. He stood and observed Pataphor-III, now but a storm of shapes and spaces.

"Consider what form you will take for the next month, under SDM suppression. Your essophysical properties are null under its observation. Be a good anomaly."

Shoe soles tapped as Graham exited the chamber. Researchers left their observation windows, and the lights shut off. The experiment was complete.

Pataphor-III learned control.


On 2011/08/01 15:00, Site-17 activates its Strayer Density Matrix, on loan from Site-76. Pataphor-III's properties are consequentially constrained to its containment chamber.

//On 2011/08/03 23:00, //


[…]

"Join the choir, III."

Pataphor-III learned its place.