Head for a Hole
So, you do understand what’s wrong with you — well this time anyway — don’t you? Yes, it seems that all the calcium that you take in, and mind you it’s a small amount — but over time… — is distributed directly and exclusively to your head, the cranium, you understand. This has many consequences, but lets start with the head and perhaps we’ll end up there as well.
Now, your natural biology does have some sense. The calcium is not added to the outside of your skull for that would blemish you skin, in fact splitting it, and even your affliction still has some sort of vanity at this point — in addition to its general concerns of preservation in not wanting to alert you so obviously, this early. Yet the other direction, though it may not be as externally obvious, has no fewer disastrous effects. What this means, for those of us who have not experienced it, is that as your skull becomes thicker and thicker, the space allotted for your brain becoming less and less.
Now remember…there is no cure for this.
The only comforting thought on this point is that you do not truly realize your condition until seconds before it becomes terminal, therefore one is not provided any serious time for dwelling.
Or so it would seem. However, as the cranial space becomes more and more limited, the cells of your mind coming closer and closer together, sharing material and blending functions, eventually reaching a certain point at which one action in the mind triggers all other actions, your perceptual and emotional capacities are accelerated to such a degree that within the last few seconds of your life, upon realization, you can, by the very fact of the ailment, experience all pain, grief, and anxiety of a lifetime. And then you die…apparently.
Yet, let us go back in time awhile, well before this frightening climax. There are earlier signs and maladies that accompany such a process. As the calcium is added to your head, your lower body, increasingly deprived of calcium, deteriorates rapidly and even begins to fracture, dissolving and feeding your head which has become so heavy as to bend, twist, and splinter its connecting parts, exacerbating the predicament. You should have been on better guard.
But there you are, nearly a solid, rock-like head lying in a nest of skin, almost certain something is wrong, yet some time away from that final, fatal realization. How to pass the time? And at the same time, let’s answer the question that I know has been on your mind. That is, how is it that I know so much of the situation? Well…
Suffering these final stages, and fearing some variety of irreversible end, I frantically took to attempting the record of my condition for the sake of science, if nothing else. So, in a pitiful attempt, I managed to push what was the cartilage of my nose, but was at this point a dagger of bone, through what remained of my skin, and using an ingenious system of leverage, propped myself up so that I might scratch, not scribe, these words onto the pavement in front of me. This entertainment was quite a distraction from the final horrors that loomed shortly ahead of me, but was fruitless as to my true purpose since time was short and all that I produced were a few nondescript, chicken-scratch, white lines.
For at a certain point, towards which time moved even more absurdly rapidly, my skull had become so dense as to create a black hole, wiping away all signs of my existence and suffering, leaving only an anomaly of physics. Like a dying dog slinking under the house to die, the earlier inconclusive afflictions had compelled me to situate myself in quite an abandoned area of the world, theoretically disappearing even the still relevant information on the other side of my event horizon exit.
So then, it is quite by chance, by accident of the very chaos that I have become a part of, that you are lucky enough to see here — I hope perfectly constructed — the many anit-matter particles of my fading thoughts that have, over the years, escaped the gravity of the black hole and, by some queer reason, found themselves in a field communicable to you.
I’m Thomas K…and I’m not