“Why is there a screaming hell-portal in our sink?” “Because the disposal was broken, and Raspberry Pis are only twenty bucks apiece now.” I really hate my roommate some days. I run my fingers through my greasy hair. I haven’t trusted our shower for the last three days, either. David ‘improved’ our plumbing, and our hot water now smells… [i]sulfurous[/i]. “We [i]talked about this[/i].” “Yeah we—“ He spins his expensive leather computer chair around, and takes off his gaming headset with a look of genuine confusion. “Wait, did we?” “Three days ago.” “Was this before or after I—“ “[i]Because[/i] of you messing with the hot water, yeah.” He looks at me, wrinkles his nose. “Woah, is [i]that[/i] why you reek? Just take a shower, dude, it’s [i]fine[/i]. What’s not okay is your B.O issue right now.” I’m about to run over to his bookshelf and throw the biggest, heaviest hardcovers I can find on it at him. Debated whether the Turing and Babbage biographies would hurt more because of density, or the occultist textbooks because they made it [i]big[/i] to fit the illustrations. I take a deep breath instead. He still pays the bigger share of the rent. He also cleans up after his damn self, and never leaves a dirty dish in the sink. Aside from the screaming hell portals he leaves in there, he’s still the best roommate I’ve had. “I’m not okay with showering in water that catches fire.” I retort. He turns back in his chair, obviously bored by this conversation. In profile his strong jaw is covered in neat black stubble, his hair styled and clean-looking, and his frameless glasses give him the professional look of an architect. Standing in his doorway, I feel like the barbarian hordes invading Rome. “And yet you still didn’t sign my petition on fracking in the local area? I don’t know what more you want from me, Luke.” “David,” I say through gritted teeth, “The oil companies aren’t the ones that made our pipes take a short detour through the lakes of Hell.” Now he rolls his eyes. I’m exaggerating again, he thinks. I’m a drama queen. “I didn’t run the pipes [i]through Hell[/i], Luke. That’d be fucking stupid.” Long suffering sigh. “I just siphon some of the exothermics using a Maxwell’s Demon algorithm. It’s the exact same thing I run our air-con off, in reverse.” I run out of the room and crack open the internal box. Sure enough, there’s a string of silver wire with raven feathers dangling off a diode, copper wire wrapped in coils around a rat skeleton’s ribs, and a very faint humming even though it’s not turned on at the moment. I curse and storm back to his room. “DAVE!” He rocks back in his chair again. “Yeah bud?” Tone even, like he’s just trying to keep the peace here. “Is this why you offered to take my share of the power bill if I took water?” He grins, his hands shoot up from his mouse and keyboard in a ‘Caught me!’ gesture. “Yeah, sorry man.” I’m not even that mad. We’d been having problems with the central air for ages, and it’s actually some really neat work. I just feel cheated. “How come you can do that good a job on our cooling that I don’t notice, but you make our shower stink like rotten eggs.” He laughs. “Oh, because it’s flipped right? You turn the aircon on, you just make [i]hell[/i] smell a little bit more like our apartment. Honestly, I think we’re getting the better deal here.” I use my mighty mighty willpower not to strangle him right then and there. A scream I bite back comes out more like a burp. Again, he’s grown bored of me, because [i]I’m[/i] the unreasonable one. “Seriously, man, if you can think of a better way to shave one twenty a month off our utilities, I’m all ears.” “You—One twenty a month?” He’s not looking at me, still at the screen, but he smiles wide and drunkenly, “Hell yeah, boy.” “Huh. Yeah alright. But why the disposal, though?” “I was sick of fixing it properly,” David admits, “And the Pi was [i]so cheap[/i]. I wanted to see if I could shift a little more than just entropy around if I tweaked it a bit.” “… and thus the screaming hell portal.” “And thus the—“ David starts making a ‘well there you go’ sweeping hand gesture in front of him, but stops right in the middle, so he’s kind of caught in a half shrug. “—Wait, screaming?” “… yeah?” “What the fuck did you put in it man. Did you turn it off?” “I—what?” He puts the headset on and apologizes profusely to his teammates, swears a bunch about me. Then he throws himself out of his chair and makes to storm out of his bedroom, all but brushing me aside. I hear him mutter under his breath; “And I was team [i]fucking[/i] medic, Christ—“ We stare at our little kitchen. Fairly normal, squared U shape counter around the room, ending at a pretty nice fridge, which I [i]hoped[/i] still worked conventionally. Black topped electric stove, clean. White marble counter tops, sparkling clean. Oh, and a spinning purple vortex in our stainless steel sink, howling madly and reeking of rotted blood. Yeah. David swore, I didn't understand what because it was in Latin. At least he wasn't literally cursing this time. “You put salt in it, didn’t you?” “I—what?” I mean, I did try and throw corn chips into it until it went away. I just thought I had to feed it or something. It seemed angry. He tears open the cabinets under the sink. Where the disposal unit was is now a mish-mash of bedsprings, bones, and a vacuum tube with a thin reptilian spinal column in place of the usual lattice work. And the Raspberry Pi, of course, sitting at the center regulating the whole thing. It’s really good craftsmanship, actually, for what’s essentially a duct-tape fix. “You can’t put anything that kosher in it, dude. It fucks the [i][size=91][color=#252525]al-Azif[/color][/size][/i] circuit up. Now it’s signal boosting to compensate.” He flicks a red switch on the side of it, and the vortex eats itself, winding down and around the plughole like the water emptying out of a bathrub. Only it’s purple and black and screaming and glowing and it makes you feel cold to look at. Also, a little quieter, actually. “Alright… “ David sighs, looking at me apologetically. “I’m gunna need to give you the FAQ, huh? I thought you did comp-sci. Don’t they cover this in hardware science?” “I—no. No, David, they don’t.” Sometimes David forgets that not everybody knows that those old rituals and shit you see in occultist textbooks are types of circuits. He doesn’t understand why, if he could self-teach these things, other people can’t just… figure it out. But then he bitches every time one of his buddies in-the-know dies of a freak accident. I figure it’s an even split between government agents trying to stop someone making a graphics card that summons the Great Old Ones in the Downtown district, and the inherent dangers of practicing this stuff. Which is why I don’t go on message-boards like he does and advertise this stuff. Sometimes he just Googles it, lets it sit in his browser history. I swear to Christ he’s going to end up with “Cause of Death: Reddit Karma Whore” on his tombstone. “Huh.” He murmurs. “I seriously don’t get why people bother with that shit in the age of free information if they’re not going to teach you the core essentials. That’s bullshit.” “Yes, it is.” I pretend to agree, gesturing again at the… disposal? I guess. “So, fill me in, before I accidentally cause our apartment to eat itself.” David laughs, hard. “Oh, man, that couldn’t even happen unless…” He stops laughing, and his eyes widen. “No, okay, yeah, no that’s actually a fair point.” “What.” “Actually, it’s way more likely you accidentally flip the regulator and it pulls inside out.” He looks at me weirdly for a moment. “Which would be bad, yes.” “No, no, I figured that one out on my own.” I’m too busy staring with newfound horror at the… disposal? “Okay, good.” He nods. “Okay, so not too much salt at a time. We got that one down. Throw a live animal into it before you put something really big in there, that’ll help it chew through. I recommend gerbils as the most cost-efficient right now. Ah, no [i]human[/i] flesh, it develops a taste for it—standard disposal rule applies of never putting your hand in it, for real—ah… what else…” He’s pulling a cigarette lighter out of his pocket, and lighting a black candle underneath it. The red flame turns bright blue, and the purple in the sink starts reigniting. I must have really messed it up if he needs to jumpstart it like this, burning gravewax isn't cheap. The candle smells like charred rubber, though, it’s gross. “Oh! Yeah, uh, don’t leave it on before going to sleep. Don’t daydream around it. Wrap your head in tinfoil if you hear whispering behind you… If you start dreaming of mucusy bubbles, growing and popping in infinitely recursive mathematically-consistent patterns, like a growing-and-shrinking fractal set, tell me immediately, it means I fucked up. But even if I did, that won’t be a problem for like, a week tops.” “Jesus Christ. Why not just get the damn thing fixed regular.” “Because it’s broken twice in the last three years, and it costs six hundred bucks to replace it every time.” I reach for the roll of aluminum foil in the cupboard, and David nods smartly. “Yeah, that’s what I figured too. Seriously, it’s barely more dangerous than, like, a leaking propane tank, at worst. Just be smart about it and it’s fine.” I rake my fingers back through my still-greasy hair in frustration, exasperation... “Fuck, man. Now I’m terrified of what you’ll do if I told you our vacuum broke.” David shook his head seriously, in thought. “Nah, I ain’t treadin’ on Dyson’s toes man. Their proprietary shit ain’t to be fucked with.” “Wait... seriously? Dyson is...?” “Oh, yeah." I look at his face to see if he's fucking with me. He's not. "How else you explain those bladeless fans?” “I thought they were just, like, a pump and a clever aerofoil shape...?” “Nah. Black magic, my man. It’s why no one else is doing it. I’ll break it down for parts, sure, but that’s one thing I’ll just split you on to store buy.” I pause. Huh. I stare again at our... disposal? And I realize I seriously cannot be fucked chipping in the three hundred bucks to change it back. “Look, David—” I plead, “—I appreciate this, really. It’s an awesome build you got.” “[i]Thank you[/i].” “But could you please [i]ask[/i] before you do this shit? Or run it by me? Or even just... post a note on the fridge about it or something?” David winces, takes his glasses off and rubs them on his shirt like he always does when he’s embarrassed, because it gives him a socially acceptable excuse to close his eyes and not deal with faces and stuff, “Sorry, Luke. Okay, that one was totally my bad. But like... Can you at least give the shower a try, for both our sakes? Water’s still safer here than most places in California. And Michigan. Honestly most of the United States. Like, I didn’t mess with the [i]drinking [/i]water or anything.” I grumble. “But it stinks!” The glasses are back on. “Not as bad as you though.” I glare at him real hard, and he throws his hands up defensively, winces. “I’ll see what I can do to tweak it, okay? I might be pulling some particles in as well as just the entropy, which would be... actually, super interesting. I should see if I can’t replicate it, if that’s the case—” “David.” I say, sternly. He nods, bobbing his whole body down to the knees for emphasis. “In the lab! In the lab, yeah, I got it.” “Because—” “Yeah, I miss our cat, too.” “Right. Exactly.”