p class="MsoNormal"It's two hours later, and the wine is almost gone./p
p class="MsoNormal"The wall falls away./p
p class="MsoNormal"His first thought is that an earthquake has hit; they emdo/em live near a fault line. But it's just one wall, not all of them, and nothing else is shaking./p
p class="MsoNormal"He can't move a muscle, except for his eyes. He strains, seeing the terror on the faces of his friends./p
p class="MsoNormal"He tries to take a step forward. He can't. It's like he's imagining taking a step forward, yet not. He wants to walk, run, to the door and exit, escape. He can't. It's useless. He recalls a thought experiment from his youth. He had spent half an hour imagining the act of raising his arm, visualizing it, thinking through it step by step, abstracting it to a hydraulic system of muscles, nerves, and bone culminating in a liquid surge of twitch-fiber action, then abstracting it even further to chemical gradients and electrical impulses, a symphony of ions and pulses, culminating in a thunderous crescendo of arcane motion, then even deeper, imagining electrons chaining from nucleus to nucleus in the saline solution of his flesh and blood—and then, when all that was said and done, and he'd lost himself in imagining how his arm might be induced to move, even as it laid still, he moved his arm and none of the imagining himself in circles mattered./p
p class="MsoNormal"This moment is worse. Base instinct, not imagination, urges him into motion, yet that same instinct fails to translate to action. It is as if he has forgotten to walk./p
p class="MsoNormal"emWhat manner of foul thing are you doing here?/em/p
p class="MsoNormal"The sentiment hangs in the air, though it is unspoken, and the voice is not his inner monologue's./p
p class="MsoNormal"Then he sees something he dares not comprehend./p
p class="MsoNormal"An inhuman thing levitates in the air before him. The silhouette of its face looks vaguely feline, though the full moon behind it makes it impossible to tell for sure. It is a warped, twisted thing. Its body looks vaguely like a naked man, though in the moonlight its flesh looks swollen and purple, bloodied and bruised./p
p class="MsoNormal"It floats towards the startup founder, its feet—far too spindly to support its malformed frame—dragging in the air behind it./p
p class="MsoNormal"It raises a hand. There are three perfectly spherical fingers at the end of it./p
p class="MsoNormal"The startup founder gasps as his whole body is squeezes as if in a vise./p
p class="MsoNormal"Memories flash through his mind – long nights at the lab, blood samples, blood draws, hand slips, accidental stabs, Pokemon squeals—/p
p class="MsoNormal"The twisted being lowers its hand. The glass of the Pokemon containment cells shatters, and the test subjects are released from their Pokeballs. They float up, suspended in blue light, until they hover in the air behind the cat demon, which guards them protectively./p
p class="MsoNormal"emWhat manner of foul thing are you doing here?/em/p
p class="MsoNormal"The startup founder doesn't answer. The feline monstrosity raises its hand again, its eyes glowing once more. An intense pain jabs through the founder's head, his very sense of self unravelling, as memories flash through his mind again. More than meetings and experiments. His very core, his very thoughts./p
p class="MsoNormal"em"When we're talking about Pokemon, energy conservation goes out the window."/em/p
p class="MsoNormal"em"They're just Pokemon. They probably don't understand what we're saying."/em/p
p class="MsoNormal"em"I give you a million dollars, and you hand me eternal life? A worthwhile investment for infinite returns."/em/p
p class="MsoNormal"emTheir suffering is inconsequential. There is a greater goal here, an infinite good that justifies this small evil./em/p
p class="MsoNormal"emNo one really cares about the fate of a few vermin, after all./em/p
p class="MsoNormal""Please," the startup founder gasps through the tiniest breaths of air. "I'll do anything. I can give you anything you want. Anything. Everything."/p
p class="MsoNormal"The being's eyes glow again. Once more the startup founder feels like his mind is being sliced apart, as if laser scalpels have sliced the tissue of his brain into nanometer thick layers and read every pulse of thought he's ever had, every neuronal signal that's ever traversed his grey matter./p
p class="MsoNormal"Then the cat-thing's eyes fade. The pressure on the startup founder's head increases./p
p class="MsoNormal"emNo one will care about a few vermin/em, the twisted being says. It brings the three bulbous fingers of its twisted claw together, and the startup founder feels no more./p
p class="MsoNormal"The wall falls away./p
p class="MsoNormal"His first thought is that an earthquake has hit; they emdo/em live near a fault line. But it's just one wall, not all of them, and nothing else is shaking./p
p class="MsoNormal"He can't move a muscle, except for his eyes. He strains, seeing the terror on the faces of his friends./p
p class="MsoNormal"He tries to take a step forward. He can't. It's like he's imagining taking a step forward, yet not. He wants to walk, run, to the door and exit, escape. He can't. It's useless. He recalls a thought experiment from his youth. He had spent half an hour imagining the act of raising his arm, visualizing it, thinking through it step by step, abstracting it to a hydraulic system of muscles, nerves, and bone culminating in a liquid surge of twitch-fiber action, then abstracting it even further to chemical gradients and electrical impulses, a symphony of ions and pulses, culminating in a thunderous crescendo of arcane motion, then even deeper, imagining electrons chaining from nucleus to nucleus in the saline solution of his flesh and blood—and then, when all that was said and done, and he'd lost himself in imagining how his arm might be induced to move, even as it laid still, he moved his arm and none of the imagining himself in circles mattered./p
p class="MsoNormal"This moment is worse. Base instinct, not imagination, urges him into motion, yet that same instinct fails to translate to action. It is as if he has forgotten to walk./p
p class="MsoNormal"emWhat manner of foul thing are you doing here?/em/p
p class="MsoNormal"The sentiment hangs in the air, though it is unspoken, and the voice is not his inner monologue's./p
p class="MsoNormal"Then he sees something he dares not comprehend./p
p class="MsoNormal"An inhuman thing levitates in the air before him. The silhouette of its face looks vaguely feline, though the full moon behind it makes it impossible to tell for sure. It is a warped, twisted thing. Its body looks vaguely like a naked man, though in the moonlight its flesh looks swollen and purple, bloodied and bruised./p
p class="MsoNormal"It floats towards the startup founder, its feet—far too spindly to support its malformed frame—dragging in the air behind it./p
p class="MsoNormal"It raises a hand. There are three perfectly spherical fingers at the end of it./p
p class="MsoNormal"The startup founder gasps as his whole body is squeezes as if in a vise./p
p class="MsoNormal"Memories flash through his mind – long nights at the lab, blood samples, blood draws, hand slips, accidental stabs, Pokemon squeals—/p
p class="MsoNormal"The twisted being lowers its hand. The glass of the Pokemon containment cells shatters, and the test subjects are released from their Pokeballs. They float up, suspended in blue light, until they hover in the air behind the cat demon, which guards them protectively./p
p class="MsoNormal"emWhat manner of foul thing are you doing here?/em/p
p class="MsoNormal"The startup founder doesn't answer. The feline monstrosity raises its hand again, its eyes glowing once more. An intense pain jabs through the founder's head, his very sense of self unravelling, as memories flash through his mind again. More than meetings and experiments. His very core, his very thoughts./p
p class="MsoNormal"em"When we're talking about Pokemon, energy conservation goes out the window."/em/p
p class="MsoNormal"em"They're just Pokemon. They probably don't understand what we're saying."/em/p
p class="MsoNormal"em"I give you a million dollars, and you hand me eternal life? A worthwhile investment for infinite returns."/em/p
p class="MsoNormal"emTheir suffering is inconsequential. There is a greater goal here, an infinite good that justifies this small evil./em/p
p class="MsoNormal"emNo one really cares about the fate of a few vermin, after all./em/p
p class="MsoNormal""Please," the startup founder gasps through the tiniest breaths of air. "I'll do anything. I can give you anything you want. Anything. Everything."/p
p class="MsoNormal"The being's eyes glow again. Once more the startup founder feels like his mind is being sliced apart, as if laser scalpels have sliced the tissue of his brain into nanometer thick layers and read every pulse of thought he's ever had, every neuronal signal that's ever traversed his grey matter./p
p class="MsoNormal"Then the cat-thing's eyes fade. The pressure on the startup founder's head increases./p
p class="MsoNormal"emNo one will care about a few vermin/em, the twisted being says. It brings the three bulbous fingers of its twisted claw together, and the startup founder feels no more./p