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Description

The worst part was the constant squirming. His control over the intestine… worm… things was getting better, but every so often the ones in his throat would flop out and invert in a vaguely lewd manner, leading to some frantic scrabbling with those awful little arms to stuff them back into the hole in his neck. It was embarrassing. He had a Nobel prize goddamnit (technically a posthumous one, but it counted).
Still, some control was an improvement over the seven months he had spent as a entropy-producer seeking missile (which mostly meant a human seeking missile, but fire was also attractive), with his conscious mind screaming in the background. It had taken every ounce of willpower he had to voluntarily move his fucked up hyperdimensional body and when he finally did he cried tears of liquid nitrogen for a week.
All things considered, the fact that he had any control whatsoever and hadn’t simply died in the lateral collider was disturbing. He suspected that the creature was some sort of emissary or probe from a different brane universe, one colder and far less energetic than our own, drilling its way through the bulk toward something warmer, and it was smart enough to know that having a guide was useful. And what guide would be more useful than one studying higher dimensions?

Description

The worst part was the constant squirming. His control over the intestine… worm… things was getting better, but every so often the ones in his throat would flop out and invert in a vaguely lewd manner, leading to some frantic scrabbling with those awful little arms to stuff them back into the hole in his neck. It was embarrassing. He had a Nobel prize goddamnit (technically a posthumous one, but it counted).
Still, some control was an improvement over the seven months he had spent as a entropy-producer seeking missile (which mostly meant a human seeking missile, but fire was also attractive), with his conscious mind screaming in the background. It had taken every ounce of willpower he had to voluntarily move his fucked up hyperdimensional body and when he finally did he cried tears of liquid nitrogen for a week.
All things considered, the fact that he had any control whatsoever and hadn’t simply died in the lateral collider was disturbing. He suspected that the creature was some sort of emissary or probe from a different brane universe, one colder and far less energetic than our own, drilling its way through the bulk toward something warmer, and it was smart enough to know that having a guide was useful. And what guide would be more useful than one studying higher dimensions?