Across the rolling hills of dimension 11C, a gargantuan city atop four mechanical legs stomps across aimlessly. With every step, it leaves behind huge patches of dead grass and crushed trees. All of a sudden, it stops in its tracks and lets out a deep groan as its gears come to a standstill. Several piston doors slide open in the base of the feet as several people in hazmat suits rush out and gather around a lone lily flower that the city was about to step on. 

Inside the city, dim, crimson light shines down from a single strip of glowing crystals over a small, mostly barren room. The walls are made from a grid of black steel and dark concrete, refusing to let any meaningful light illuminate them. More black steel makes up four small, circular tables crammed very closely together, each with a matching chair. Sitting alone under the dim light is a woman with her head down, slumped in her arms. Her hands reach over the opposite side of the table, her left hand barely clutching onto a glass of half-finished whiskey. A sudden hiss cuts through the silence in the room as an automatic sliding door opens to admit another person into the cramped space. A rather scrawny-looking man with short hair and a lab coat sheepishly walks in. A ray of brighter, white light accompanies him from outside the more dimly lit room. He squints as he looks at the woman and the rest of the room, trying his best to see clearly. Letting out a disappointed sigh, he reaches up to the crystal array and slides his hand across them, causing the crystals to change from crimson to white and dramatically increasing the brightness. He looks back down to the woman, who’s still slumped over the table with her whiskey. 

“Dr. Davun?" he asked. “We have a new sample for you to examine.”

The hand clutching the whiskey suddenly clamps harder onto the glass, veins popping out from her skin. Lifting her head and sitting back, she glares at him with seething frustration. 

“I’m on break, Jeff,” she retorted. “So turn those emergency lights back on and leave me to my pieces.” 

“I’m afraid this one is an urgent request from the Director,” he replied with a slight quiver in his voice. “He plans to initiate a jump within the week. And this will be the last sample before then.”

“That sounds like a waste of time,” she says, sounding irritated. “We’ve studied almost 8 million samples, and none of them have been different enough to warrant much interest. We should take a week off instead before we have another quarter million samples to examine.” She glances down at her glass and takes a large swig. 

Jeff shuffles a little bit and stares off to the side. “I agree that we ought to have a bit of time before the jump, but this particular sample seems very… interesting. It seems to be a variation of the lily flower, though when the survey team tried to harvest it, their equipment began to spontaneously corrode.” 

Dr. Davun sat up straight and peered at Jeff with increased interest. “Did they manage to get it aboard? Sounds extremely volatile to study on a time limit.”

“Yes, it’s already been planted in a sealed observation box. We’re just waiting for you before we begin.”

She shifts her gaze down to her unfinished glass and swirls it, contemplating. After several moments, she sighs again. “Very well. I want you, Parvati, and Ramirez to accompany me. No one else is allowed to have any contact with the new specimen, even the director, if it comes to that. I’ll join you all in a minute, so go get prepped.”

Jeff stands to attention. “Understood, ma’am,” he responded before turning to leave. Pausing for a moment, he reaches up to the crystal array and switches it back to emergency lighting before quickly striding off. Once the door hisses shut, the doctor is swallowed by darkness once again. 

In the lab, the new specimen peacefully sits in its planter, surrounded on all sides by glass panes. Watching from just outside, Jeff, Parvati, and Ramirez wait patiently as Dr. Davun arrives. All three of them are the doctor’s personal students and have contributed to the study of millions of floral samples over the years that they’ve all been aboard the walking city. Given their efforts and contributions, they’d all be officially doctors as well, except they can only get officially certified in their original dimension, and they still have eight years left of their 20-year journey. They are busy creating the initial documentation as the doctor walks in, to which they look up to her in acknowledgment before returning to their documentation. She’s now wearing her personal lab coat along with a brass eyepiece over her right eye. 

Dr. Davun, addressing no one in particular, says, ” Please state the official case number, and then we may proceed.”

Parvati pipes up, reading from her documents, stating: “This is specimen number 7656921. Current attempts to harvest samples from the specimen have caused our equipment to corrode, which will make our examination exceedingly difficult. It’s currently planted in the original soil that it was found in, and there was no evidence of degradation of the surrounding environment from where it was originally found.”

The doctor looks towards the specimen, her eyepiece twisting and lengthening as her vision zooms in on the plant. “This is certainly unlike anything we’ve seen so far.” Her face twists into a look of concern. She picks up a nearby pair of steel clippers and presses a button on the side of the pedestal on which the flower sits. A small hole slides open in the glass, allowing access to the flower. Reaching forward with the clippers, the doctor is astounded by the rapid degradation of the clippers. Upon entering the chamber, a thick layer of rust nearly instantaneously forms on the clippers. Getting within cutting distance causes the steel to bubble and melt before disintegrating. After removing her hand from the chamber, all that’s left of the clippers are the two handle rings, still entirely rusted over. 

The doctor stands stunned for a moment before regaining her composure.“I authorize the use of abyssalite gloves during our study,” she says with a stern look on her face.

With that, Ramirez walks towards the far end of the observation room, where there is an array of medical equipment on multiple shelves. Among them, in a glass case, are several gloves that look like they’re made out of obsidian. He opens the case and takes out four gloves, putting one on his right hand and giving away the other three. Jeff is the only one to slide the glove on his left hand. These gloves appear static and rigid, though as soon as each person slides it on one of their hands, it fractures into many pieces and starts levitating over the surface of their hand. Dr. Davun walks back up to the glass and opens the hole in the glass again. She raises her gloved hand to the hole, and several shards from the glove levitate further into the box towards the flower. These shards form together into a scissor-like shape and delicately snip a petal from the flower, catching it before it falls. The shards slowly retract back out of the box, and Jeff presses the button again to close the hole as soon as it clears. They all let out a collective sigh of relief. The petal sample appears to be relatively inert. 

“Abyssalite slide, quickly!” Dr. Davun orders. 

Jeff quickly rushes towards the shelves of equipment, picking up a slide made of the same material as their gloves. Using his glove, he holds the slide outside of his basic reach towards Dr. Davun, who secures the petal to it. 

“Commence examination of the specimen,” Davun continues. “We have seven days before the city jumps to the next dimension, so let’s finish this before we have to examine more.” 

They all spend the next five days studying every aspect of the flower, from its cellular structure to its macroscopic appearance. They even grow multiple specimens, each in its own case, and set aside all of their seeds in storage. As each day passes, they all grow increasingly frustrated due to the lack of scientific evidence that the plant is biologically harmful. Despite this, all of their equipment, even their gloves, have progressively shown signs of corrosion. On the sixth day, there is an air of confusion and frustration permeating around the lab that has built up over time. Loose papers are strewn about everyone’s desks, dozens of empty coffee cups and energy drinks are piled in the trash, and everyone has their heads buried in their hands. 

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Ramirez lifts his head and slides his hand down to lay on his desk. Looking towards Dr. Davun, he says, “We can’t keep doing this, chief. We have to get results soon, or else we never will.”

She looks back at him with a dead look in her eye. “Then there’s only one thing we can do. We need to start biological trials.”

This grabs the attention of the other two, who share a look of apprehension. Parvati looks to the doctor and asks, “Do we even have any rat clones left? The pharmaceutical department takes all the grown ones and leaves us with what’s in the incubation vats.”

“Yes,” Dr. Davun replies. “I managed to get my hands on two rats, and I think that’s all we’re going to get…,” she said as her voice trailed off into silence. 

Once everybody understands the stakes, she reaches down underneath her desk and pulls up a cage containing two identical rats. Everyone promptly jumps to their feet and starts prepping the chamber for a trial. Mere minutes later, Parvati places a rat into a side chamber, ready to be released. Meanwhile, Dr. Davun announces the start of the trial on an audio recorder and flicks the switch on the side chamber. Once the door opens, the rat slowly peeks its head out and starts exploring the main chamber. It doesn’t take long before it starts investigating the flower. It sniffs the flower with no issue, but as soon as it touches the flower, it cries out in pain as its skin boils up and half of its body disintegrates instantaneously with a burst. It dies within mere moments, its body still twitching as fumes continue to rise from its body. Everyone stands paralyzed on the other side of the glass, unable to process what exactly just happened.

Eventually, Jeff quietly stammered, “similar effect to the steel clippers. We should collect the rat and examine it.” 

He then opened up the chamber after the fumes had dispersed and shakily removed the rat with his glove. They all spent the rest of the day examining the rat’s remains without speaking another word. Afterwards, Dr. Davun retreats into her apartment. It’s relatively small, with a tiny kitchen, dining area, balcony, and a bed built into the wall. She takes off her eyepiece and hair-tie, placing them on the counter. After pouring herself a glass of whiskey, she picks up a tablet with her other hand and walks out onto the balcony. Beneath her, over 100 stories down, she admires the lights and sounds of the city. The city hasn’t walked ever since they began their research on the new specimen, so all she can hear is the trams and the chatter. She takes a swig of her whiskey, then places it down on the banister as she dials a call to one of her colleagues, Dr. Keyler, on the tablet. 

“Dr. Keyler?

“Oh, Dr. Davun, I wasn’t expecting to hear from you. 

“Why do you say that?” she asks, leaning against the banister. 

“Well, I heard about your newest project. It sounds like a special case, particularly delicate.”

“You don’t know the half of it, but I’m calling on behalf of that project. I would like a second opinion.”

“It must be pretty bad if you’re calling me. What could you need from a physicist?”

Davun lets out a pained sigh and brings the tablet and her drink back inside, leaving the noise of the city behind. “We introduced a rat to the specimen today, and it, or more specifically its body, reacted horribly to contact with the specimen. I’ll spare you the gory details, but it died nearly instantaneously. We were left with examining half a rat afterward.”

“My God…,“ Keyler replied, clearly disturbed. “Any idea what caused it?”

“No, considering there’s nothing to indicate that the plant is harmful in any way. It doesn’t contain any poison, toxins, or any defensive mechanisms of any kind. It’s almost as if it’s not the plant itself that’s the problem. I don’t think it’s a purely biological problem we’re running into anymore. Are the rat clones all derived from our home dimension?”

“Yeah, they’re all clones of the director’s pet rat, Chaser. It died within the first year of our journey. You think there’s something to that?”

Davun takes another swig of her Whiskey. “Yeah, wasn’t there a reason we planned on capping the journey to 20 dimensions, 20 years?”

“Because we calculated that by that point, the dimension would still be similar enough to our own that our presence wouldn’t rip the fabric of reality.” 

“Well, I think we’re running into that kind of trouble already. Biological matter from our home dimension is eviscerated, and our equipment corrodes, even abyssalite, eventually. The specimen is incompatible with our very existence.”

There’s a long pause before Keyler responds, “We need to get the director to stop the jump. If we’re running into trouble now, it’s only going to get exponentially worse the further we go. Everything we own will begin to degrade: our equipment, our food, and even the city itself. If we go far enough, even the air will no longer be able to provide oxygen to our cells, though we’d probably starve from lack of food before then.”

“Jesus, I knew it was going to be bad, but not that bad. But you’re right, I’ll collect my notes and send a formal request. You should message the heads of the other departments and let them know what’s happening.”

“Understood, good luck.”

As the call ends, Dr. Davun’s heart begins to race with panic. She needs to get the director to cancel the jump otherwise, the entire city will be in danger. After sending her notes, all she can do is wait. 

The next day went by very slowly. Dr. Davun’s group had to sacrifice the other rat for more data, but she didn’t get a response from the director until after working hours. She panicked, seeing the notification on her tablet. Once she saw his response, dread set in:

“Dr. Davun, 

I can see you are concerned about the increasing instability of our presence as we continue our valiant journey through the dimensions. However, I’m afraid your concerns are unwarranted. It has already been established that we are completely safe up to dimension 20C. I appreciate your concern, but we will be jumping to dimension 12C tomorrow at 15:00. 

Best regards, 

Director Caville 

Devastated, Dr. Davun collapses onto the floor of her apartment. She recognizes that all she can do now is secure the already dangerous specimen in preparation for the jump. Her anxiousness refuses to let her sleep that night. Getting up right as daylight hits, she spends her entire morning in the lab, doing everything she can to secure the several deadly specimens they now have. At 13:00 and 14:00, alarms go off to signify the progression of the jump sequence. Five minutes before the final alarm, she and her students finalize their preparations.

Parvati is examining the seeds they’ve collected from the specimen but notices that there are a few missing seeds. “Um, Dr. Davun? You didn’t remove any seeds from storage, did you?”

Dr. Davun walks over to the drawer in which the seeds are kept and curiously examines the collection. “No, I didn’t…” Her eyes continue to scan the drawer, but the missing seeds fail to make an appearance. “Ramirez, you locked up the lab like usual, right?”

“Of course,” he replied. “Only people with level 6 clearance can access the lab. So just us… and director Caville.”

Dr. Davun’s face twists in anger, “That prick! Going behind my back like that, what the hell does he think he’s doing? I’d love to see what excuse he has for this.”

As soon as they go to approach the door to leave the lab, it won’t open. They try pushing it, but it won’t budge. 

“What’s going on?” Parvati asked Dr. Davun. 

“I don’t know. The doors have never locked down before a jump. That jackass must have locked us in.” She looks around, and suddenly, all the lights change to the crimson emergency lights as the final alarm sounds. “It’s a few minutes early!” she exclaims. “Quick! Get into-.”

She doesn’t finish her sentence before the city rumbles and lurches. Everyone in the lab is forced off their feet as they are flung into the ceiling. They hear the sound of glass breaking as they black out. Hours later, Dr. Davun wakes up, her vision blurred from a concussion. Looking around, she sees the destroyed laboratory, as well as the specimen, which has grown thick, thorny vines. She tries to locate her students, but in her stupor, she can only see vines and broken glass. She can’t feel the thorns as they sink deeper into her skin. She blacks out again as the darkness swallows her for the final time.