Book One - Chapter Two: Prematurely Ejaculated Into the Cosmos

It's amazing how quickly you can go from “unstoppable god of caffeine-fueled destruction” to “sad man covered in his own vomit.” The transition took roughly 2.7 seconds.

I remained on my hands and knees, heaving up what felt like my entire digestive system plus several organs I'd never heard of. The puddle beneath me glowed with sickly light.

Riley took three careful steps backward. Smart woman.

“Is this... normal?” she asked, gesturing at the small radioactive lake I was creating.

I managed to raise one shaky hand in a thumbs-up before another wave hit me. This one tasted like hate and pineapple.

My HUD flashed cheerfully:

[SYSTEM PURGE: 47% COMPLETE]

[Estimated Remaining Vomit Volume: 2.7 Gallons]

[Fun Fact: Your bile is currently visible from orbit!]

“Todd,” I croaked between heaves, “I hate you so much right now.”

His voice crackled in my ear, “According to my handbook, the appropriate response is: 'I understand your frustration and appreciate your feedback. Is there anything else I can help you with today?'“

“Yeah. Die slowly.”

“I'll add that to your customer satisfaction survey.”

Fucking Todd.

Todd was the fourth-dimensional equivalent of a Help Desk operator.

We got connected the day everything went sideways. He was more annoying than helpful, but having a direct line to System Support came in handy when the universe started leaking through the cracks.

Todd wasn’t supposed to have admin access. But he did what every terrified employee does when they break something vital—pretend like it didn’t fucking happen. He covered it up and prayed no one noticed.

That little mistake? Accidentally triggering Earth’s full System Integration.

Which, for the record, was supposed to be a thousand-year process that would only start once mankind had “evolved enough” to qualify.

Instead, it happened in less than twenty seconds. No prep. No lube. Just—boom. Congratulations, Earth. You’re in. Hope you survive the experience.

To be fair, we were already on the brink of destruction. A rogue System Core—basically a reality bomb—detonated in my coffee shop. That alone should’ve wiped out the planet. Todd’s panic override stabilized the breach... barely.

But now we are fully integrated, exposed to the galaxies, and not even close to ready.

That’s when our beautiful little stalemate began—equal parts alliance and blackmail. A friendship built on mutually assured destruction.

If Earth collapses or gets enslaved, Todd’s cover-up gets exposed and he faces “Demotion”. If Todd gets caught, Earth probably gets quarantined or erased.

I don’t know what Demotion actually means for a fourth-dimensional being, but from the way he says it, I’m guessing it involves more than just a pay decrease.

So now he needs Earth to survive, and I need him to keep the System from accidentally snapping us in half.

System Integration, when done properly, is supposed to be gradual. Cultural. Custom-fit. I still remember the manual that popped up in my HUD after the blast—glowing book icon, animated page turns, the whole fantasy tutorial aesthetic.

Welcome to the System of Advanced Awareness & Dimensional Spheres (S.A.A.D.S.)

Congratulations! Your planet has been selected for invitation into our premium galactic network.

Think of us as…

There was a long, glitchy screech—like a dial-up modem being tortured.

UNTRANSLATABLE TERM DETECTED: ATTEMPTING CULTURAL EQUIVALENT…

The System paused, then offered what could only be described as a shrug in text form.

It finally settled on a rough translation of:

What your species refer to as a ‘Homeowners’ Association’ crossed with an intergalactic timeshare for entire planets.

The notification went on:

With your totally non-refundable membership fee of 7,778,282,892,929 mana amps—

(amortized over a convenient 50,000 Earth years at only 47% dimensional interest!)—

you’ll gain access to cosmic: infrastructure, interdimensional travel, and exclusive ability channels,

all while preserving your unique cultural identity!

Integration typically takes 1,000 of your Earth years. During this time, you will be protected, assessed, and uplifted through a careful, species-specific process.

No unapproved alien contact. No premature upgrades. Just peace, growth, and community.

It’s a once-in-a-lifetime, multi-lifetime, maybe-all-lifetimes deal!

Act now—before your reality expires!

As the authorized representative of your world, the choice is yours.

Would you like to integrate?

YES | NO

I stared at the page, trying to make sense of it.

WARNING: Failure to integrate may result in total planetary destruction.

But don’t feel pressured! Unlike other Systems out there, we at S.A.A.D.S. do not believe in pushy intimidation tactics.

I remember floating in pure white space, still sizzling from the incident—my body scattered across dimensions, pants vaporized by lightning. It was vague, like a dream made of static and third-degree burns. I should have been dead.

Then another notification flashed in my vision:

Would you like to integrate?

No pressure—but your world has approximately 17 seconds to decide.

(16... 15...)

Dazed, confused, and with no better options, I chose [YES].

A banner burst across my vision like a casino jackpot:

🎉 CONGRATULATIONS!!! AND WELCOME TO THE SYSTEM!!! 🎉

Enjoy your journey—and remember: we’re here to help!

Assessment will now begin. Your species will be gradually introduced to interdimensional travel, cosmic defense protocols, and skill unlocks.

Don’t worry—you are fully protected from outside interference until integration is complete. We’ll take it from here.

Estimated Time to Full Integration: 999,999,999,998 seconds

Then, two minutes later:

ERROR: UNAUTHORIZED SYSTEM CORE DETECTED

ERROR: EARTH DESTRUCTION IMMINENT. CANNOT NEGATE. CANNOT NEGATE.

ERROR: PREMATURE INTEGRATION SEQUENCE INITIATED

ERROR: ADMIN OVERRIDE ACCEPTED

INTEGRATION STATUS: COMPLETE

TIME ELAPSED: 0.00039 SECONDS

CONGRATULATIONS! YOU ARE NOW FULLY INTEGRATED!

Adapting user interface to match dominant Earth culture…

SYSTEM PERSONALITY MODULE UPDATED: Based on Earth media archives

YO YO YO, EARTHLINGS! CATCH ME OUTSIDE! THIS SHIT IS ABOUT TO BE STRAIGHT FIRE! NO CAP. SKuuRT! LET’S FUCKING GOOOOOO!

Apparently, the System had binge-watched 200,000 hours of TikTok, reality shows, and startup onboarding videos—then decided that was the best way to speak to an entire species.

It even sent out a galactic announcement:

EARTH HAS JOINED THE NETWORK! COME CHECK US OUT!

And that’s how we became the multiverse’s latest open house.

Untrained. Unprotected.

Completely exposed and prematurely ejaculated into the cosmos.

And me? Front-row for the fallout.

Which is how, nine months later, we’ve got alien warlords showing up like they’re shopping for beachfront property—and me, somehow the “most successfully integrated” human, throwing up green sludge after a combat espresso binge.

“You okay down there?” Riley called, keeping a cautious distance from my splatter zone.

I gave her a shaky thumbs-up from all fours. “Never better.”

My apron was flirting dangerously with the glowing puddle. The smell was somewhere between battery acid and expired cinnamon.

Something stirred in the puddle of vomit.

Then it reached—slick, clawed arms erupting upward like a nightmare dragging itself out of my stomach.

Without hesitation, I grabbed a chunk of twisted metal from a nearby car frame. My whole body ached, but this part? This part I was used to.

I brought the metal down. Hard.

Once.

Twice.

Again.

The thing screeched and thrashed, trying to take shape. I didn’t let it. I knew better now.

These little vomit-born horrors grew fast—too fast. First time it happened, I hesitated. Nearly cost an entire city.

Riley watched, frozen, a mix of horror and disbelief on her face as I kept smashing.

“You okay?” she finally asked.

I didn’t answer right away. Just kept swinging until the thing stopped moving.

Then: “Yeah. Just... purging the side effects.”

I gestured to the sizzling puddle currently chewing a hole in the asphalt.

[PURGE: 76% COMPLETE]

Just another day in the service industry.

Riley edged closer, her rifle trained on my vomit puddle.

“We need to move. Like, now.”

“Just… give me a second,” I croaked, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand.

The residue hissed, burned through my sleeve, and started eating its way toward my elbow.

“Shit!”

I lurched to my feet, legs flailing like a giraffe on roller skates. The world spun sideways, folded in on itself, and unfolded again upside-down. I was pretty sure I could taste colors. And they were judging me.

Final Blend: the gift that keeps on giving.

Riley grabbed my arm, careful to avoid the glowing biohazard trail, and half-dragged me backward. Behind us, a mailbox tipped into the puddle and instantly dissolved.

Before I could stop it, I let out a deep and guttural belch. Riley jerked back like I’d hit her with a live canister of napalm.

She’d probably seen worse in the military—but this wasn’t just any burp. This was a biochemical hate crime.

“What the fuck was in that drink?” Riley snapped, careful not to breathe through her nose.

“Trade secret,” I wheezed, staggering forward. “Also, I genuinely have no idea. The System just... provides. And the Dude abides.”

She gave me a sidelong look. Blank.

I tried again. “The Big Lebowski? The Dude?”

She blinked. Still nothing.

I groaned. “Man, I really need to get one of those bathrobes.”

Why did I watch such niche shit? If I liked more popular shit, I might have actual friends.

My HUD chimed cheerfully:

[NEGATIVE SIDE EFFECT: INTERDIMENSIONAL ACID REFLUX AND MIND FUCK]

[Duration: 20 Minutes]

[Silver Lining: Your breath now qualifies as a Class-B chemical weapon.]

[-17 to Charisma.]

[Achievement Unlocked: YO STANKY]

Sometimes I was convinced the System knew exactly how annoying it was and got off on watching me suffer. Other times, I almost felt bad for it. It tried so hard to understand us. It was just grasping at straws.

It tried so hard.

And got so far.

But in the end, it didn't even matter... fuck, that's Linkin Park. Why am I thinking in Linkin Park lyrics?

The Final Blend was still wearing off, and with it came side effects. Not the fun kind. The mentally fucked kind.

The stuff wasn't really coffee. It was pure System Juice. And it always went down weird and came up weirder. Like handing the System the keys to your brain, then getting tied up in the corner while it forces you to watch replays of that time your stepdad slow-danced with your mom in the living room—locked eyes, hands way too low—saying, “Hey, champ, I’m not trying to replace your dad.”

I could feel it slithering along the edges of my mind. Not pain exactly—more like static wrapped in memory. Like it was digging through my brain, trying to feel human emotion, trying to understand us.

The System didn’t speak in words. It spoke in intrusive thoughts and glitchy HUD pings. In ghost hands brushing long forgotten memories. In half-finished lyrics and feelings that weren’t entirely mine.

As it scraped across my consciousness, I felt it crawling in my skin. These wounds they would not—

“Fuck,” I hissed, clenching my jaw. “Focus.”

I dug my boots into the broken pavement and forced my brain to stay present. I was not a playlist. I was not a dataset.

I am Jerry. I... am... Jerry. I repeated the words in my head, again and again, clinging to them like a lifeline.

One shaky breath at a time, I pushed the System back—until it was just a hum in the background. Still there. Still watching. But no longer driving the damn car.

“Come on,” I muttered, limping toward the convoy.

Behind us, the puddle hissed and gurgled, releasing a puff of green steam that probably violated several Geneva Conventions.

I didn’t look back.

Riley fell in beside me, rifle lowering just a little. She glanced over, concern flickering across her face—not the panicked kind, but the quiet “are you gonna make it through this without imploding” kind.

I gave her a half-smile that probably looked more like a pain spasm and kept walking.

Just another beautiful day in the apocalypse.