Josiah stood staring out into the center of the concrete warehouse, the cold emanating from the black hole chilling him to the bone. Every muscle tremor was a reminder of his fragile new form. He was no longer the Maker, or the Observer, he was Josiah, a man, burdened by the knowledge of a universe he could no longer command. The irony was a bitter taste in his mouth. He had created everything, yet now he struggled to simply exist.

His immediate priority was the ship. The ship was a collection of compressed concrete plates and repurposed quantum fields. It was an abomination, but it was his only path. He needed to refine its propulsion system, calibrate its atmospheric seals, and integrate a shield that could push through the localized time distortion around Ember’s apartment. His brain was still retaining the infinite calculus of his former self. He had figured out how to translate cosmic engineering into the language of hammers, wires, and crude energy conduits.

He spent days fixing this ship. Each cycle was a fresh hell of physical exhaustion. He learned the meaning of sore muscles, aching joints, and the desperate, gnawing pains of hunger. He found himself foraging for strange growths on the projected concrete walls, forcing them down his stomach, and then protesting the unusual substance. Sleep dragged him into oblivion for hours, leaving him groggy and disoriented upon waking. His dreams always show him and Ember, together in their world. He felt like a newborn, trapped in the body of an adult, trying to build a starship out of building blocks.

His most agonizing struggle was with the quantum fields. He needed a stable energy source, but his hands were clumsy with the intricate wiring. He made mistakes. He cursed in languages no human had ever spoken. He felt the humiliating burn of exertion and the bitter sting of failure. He was creating, but it was like trying to sculpt a galaxy with broken fingers. 

He began to fabricate the survival suit from the strongest residual energy shielding he could coerce into shape. It was less a garment and more a shimmering, silver carapace, sealed against the vacuum and designed to partially dampen the psychic static of the Null, which even at this distance, was a low ache against his newly sensitive mind. The effort cost him most of his remaining ambient energy, leaving the warehouse around him even colder, the projected reality flickering at its edges.

On Earth, Ember felt an abrupt drop in temperature. Her power cells, which had shown minutes remaining, now screamed on the verge of total collapse. She was nearing the end of her endurance. Eight days of continuous vigilance had broken Ember’s human shell. The Time Dilation, the ten foot time dilation bubble was her prison and her shield. She was alone. Her roommate, Rodney had walked out, unable to bear the strange atmosphere and the extreme grief caused by the residual contagion.

The silence that followed his departure had been absolute, heavy only with the muted hum of the Null's contained emotions. But now, the silence was shattered. A loud, insistent banging erupted from her front door, vibrating through the structure of the apartment building. "Ember! Open this door! I know you're in there!" It was Rodney. His voice, distorted and muffled by the time dilation field, was raw with desperation. He hadn't just returned, he was actively fighting his way back into the anomaly.

Ember froze, her heart hammering against her ribs. She had thought she was truly alone, safe in her isolation. Now, the human world was forcing its way back in, and it was poisoned. She scrambled away from the console, her movements heavy and slow in the time dilation. "Rodney, you shouldn't be here," she whispered to the empty air, her voice thick with dread. "It's not safe." The banging intensified, becoming a frantic rhythm. "Not safe? Ember, look around you! The whole building is wrong! I've been sleeping on a park bench for three days because every time I try to sleep, I'm hit by this wave of missing something! My plants are wilting in slow motion, the electricity is humming, and the landlord thinks I'm stealing power! What is this madness?"

His words confirmed her fears. Rodney’s sensitivity and stress made him a perfect conductor for the residual psychic poison. The psychic static she had pulled back was still clinging to the edges of the time bubble, leaching out and driving him to the brink. "You've been acting crazy, Em!" Rodney yelled, the accusation muffled but clear. "You haven't left this apartment in weeks! You're talking about cosmic severance, and now our utilities are fundamentally broken! Are you having a breakdown? Let me in before I call the police!"

The threat was real. Calling the authorities would lead to an investigation, exposure, and a breakdown of the entire cosmic truce. She couldn't let that happen. But she also couldn't expose Rodney to the full force of the Null's energy or the sight of the Black Hole. Ember’s eyes darted to her console. Amidst the chaos of the failing power cells, a single, steady blip appeared on the radar screen, Ember retreated, backing slowly toward the console, her eyes fixed on the door. Her hand brushed against the main console screen, and a horrifying realization struck her. The energy display for the containment field wasn't just low, it was cycling violently. The distraction she was feeding the Null, the intricate puzzle of curiosity, was reaching its natural conclusion.

The Null was about to get bored. The psychic static in the room suddenly spiked, drowning out the sound of Rodney's furious hammering. It wasn't the slow, ambient hum anymore, it was a hungry, demanding thirst. The black hole rippled, and a wave of pure, psychic poison slammed into Ember's mind, crippling her with a momentary flash of absolute, bottomless despair. She gasped, clutching her head, the agony of the emotion overwhelming. The Null was demanding a new lesson, a new sensation. "Ember!" Rodney's voice was now laced with true panic, his attempts to break the door becoming frantic, desperate slams.

Ember had two immediate threats, the Null was breaking the truce, and Rodney was about to break the door. She made a desperate choice. She stumbled toward the door, not to open it, but to shout through the heavy wood. "Rodney! Listen to me! This isn't me, this is a contagion! You need to leave! Go to a public place, somewhere busy, somewhere you feel safe! The closer you are to this apartment, the worse it gets! Please, go!" There was a moment of silence. Then, a wrenching sob from the other side. "You're kicking me out? After all this?" "No, I'm saving you!" Ember screamed, her voice cracking with the strain of fighting the Null's psychic assault. "I can't save the world and you! You need to go now!"

The sound of his despairing footsteps finally receded. Ember sank to the floor, leaning against the cold wall, praying he would listen. She had alienated her only human connection, but she was still alive. Now, she was utterly alone, facing a cosmic predator whose boredom was measured in cataclysm. She scrambled back to the console, her hands flying over the controls. Her energy cells were at two percent. The truce was over. She needed to contact the one being who understood the scope of this new enemy, the one being who was supposed to be building a ship. She desperately rerouted the last flicker of power to her long range psychic resonator, preparing to send him everything he needed to help him on his journey.