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Brine Thing


It floats in the tank, a rugose knot of blue-grey tentacles and sacs. The bulk of the thing is hidden by the milky brine, lit only by its' shimmering bioluminescent tendrils that drift lazily in the dark.

You reach out with your mind, through the electrodes running up your spine, and there it is, a white-hot star burning effervescently at the edge of your mind-space. You open your mind to it, letting the bitter light overtake you, surround you, permeate you.

And you see ... everything.

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