The Big Bang The observation deck looked like Christmas. The screens flickered blankets over Dale and Brock, who lounged in their rolling chairs, eating chicken wings, drinking beer. Dale tossed Brock an unNatural Lite and cracked one open for himself. He raised his can and said, "To another night in the dungeon." "Here, here!" Brock said. They chugged their drinks, this method being the most effective way of raising their BACs while avoiding the awful taste at the same time. A win-win. Their toast was ended with the chirp of the Progenitor. "That time again," Dale said. "Yup," Brock said. "You going to change your bet?" "Never," Dale said. "If I switched sides now, I might jinx the whole thing." "Your bet affects the machine in no way at all," Brock said. "We're babysitters. It would behave the same if we weren't here." "I know," Dale said. "But I'd be really embarrassed if, the first time I switch, the thing melts down and triggers a second Big Bang. Talk about egg on my face." "You should be more worried about when I come to collect," Brock said. "I dare you to bust my knee caps," Dale said. "I dare you." The outer screens changed from white to green. The program made concentric circles around the main monitor, checking off on each parameter, until only the inner circle remained. "I hate this part," Brock said. "It's a Wednesday, crammit," Dale said. "Nothing's gonna happen. Nothing ever happens." The inner circle flickered, showing green on all but one screen: the main monitor. "And," Dale said. "Chug!" They guzzled their beers as the review finalized. The Progenitor chirped again. The two men burped. "Ah," Dale said. "See? Still breathing. All thanks to me." Brock's mouth rested on his keyboard even though his body remained upright. The main monitor showed a single dialog box. Brock pointed to it. Dale leaned in and read it: "Containment failed." Dale gulped. Brock turned around, confronting the thick window stretching the length of the observation deck. At the center of the Progenitor's massive core, a light grew. Exponentially. Dale stumbled to the other side of the room. He flipped open the alarm and jabbed his key into the wall. The sirens lit up. "What do we do now?" Brock said. His mouth now watering the keyboard. "Catch," Dale said, tossing a beer at Brock. " To the last night in the dungeon." The light grew. And, as the alcohol in their bloodstream passed the legal limit, the men evaporated into raw creation. Along with everything else. The end