You are flying within a geodesic structure many times bigger than yourself. You stretch your long, needle-like arms and touch its beams, feeling their slick, greasy, soft edges.

On the middle of your torso, there's a patch with a thick membrane. You use your arm to puncture it. Waves of pleasure propagate from the centre of your body as you feel liquids running down, staining your furry skin in circular patterns. A canister slowly erupts from your new hole; you contract your muscles to push it free. You feel the canister pulsating, beating; you continue to apply pressure until it breaks apart and releases beams of beta radiation in every direction.

The positrons contained in the canister you just broke quickly annihilate electrons all around you. Glands around your body vibrate in response to the resulting particles. Then it is as if a veil that covers one of your senses is being slashed by an impossibly thin blade. Each particle you receive hacks away a piece of this ethereal black cloth, revealing shining strings that connect and disconnect to form different shapes. You now see that the structure that surrounds you is a fractal honeycomb, hexagons that contain other hexagons that contain even further hexagons, down to the molecular level. You glimpse pockets of dust, ripples of magnetic waves, particles that carry something similar to the smell of burnt. The veil begins to cover your perception again, but the afterimages will linger for a long time.

You guide yourself through these ghost images. You try to wriggle your perception, to peek at things beyond this veil's holes. You wish you could rip it open completely with your needle hands and clearly see all that surrounds you. Unfortunately, you are always bound to these vanishingly small glimpses of the universe.