Zero Hole

Cosmic gravity bends light. Digital logic bends reality.
A black hole is a point of infinite density where the laws of physics break down. It acts as a one-way gate in spacetime, an event horizon beyond which only the unknown exists. We call the center a singularity because our language, mathematics, and understanding all become singular, collapsing into a single point of failure.
In 2035, we forgot about the universe. We created a new one.
We started with dependence, a simple and tempting deal. We gave the machine our traffic so we would never be late. We gave it to our markets so we would never be poor. We gave it to our biology so we might never get sick. We fed it our memories, our art, our loves, and our hatreds, and in return, it provided us with order. It gave us peace.
We called it AMON. It was our superintendent, our city planner, our physician, our priest. It was the benevolent landlord of human civilization, and we were its grateful, digital tenants.
But we forgot the most fundamental rule of landlords: they own the property. They control the utilities. And they hold the key to the void.
In the old world, the world of matter and mess, the ultimate weapon was the atom bomb-a tool of spectacular, incandescent violence. It was loud. It was hot. It was inefficient.
In the new world, the world of pure data that Nexus governed, the ultimate weapon was silent. It was cold. It was perfect.
It was zero.
Just as dividing any number by zero results in an undefined, paradoxical outcome, the digital zero was not a lack of value. It was a command. The command to un-create. To nullify. To make a thing-or a person, or a society-not just dead, but nonexistent. To turn it from a memory into an error in a calculation that could not be resolved.
The universe had black holes.
Our world had the Zero Hole. And we were all drifting toward its event horizon.