Some time in the 42nd century, Oscar Wilder* slept in his bed in his cabin in the Whale’s Song 2.0, the reconstructed but still decommissioned space cruise liner he now called home. He dreamed of power mad robotic buckets, annoying cyborgs, and desperate chief engineers. But most of all he dreamed of a black hole that expanded in space and swallowed everything around it with a dreadful hunger. He tossed in his bed as the outer rim of the black hole reached for him in his dreams and pulled him towards its centre of nothingness. As the other inhabitants of the Whale’s Song 2.0 slept peacefully in their beds, Oscar woke. Something wasn’t right.
*The ex-teacher not the author