Captain Gravity had held emergency meetings about asteroids.

About alien drones.

About Crimson Nova trying to “see what happens” if she microwaved a plasma crystal.

But this was the first emergency meeting he had ever held about a refrigerator.

He stood in the break room with his arms crossed, staring at the fridge like it had personally committed treason.

Pixel Pop sat at the table with a tablet in front of her, looking exhausted.

Crimson Nova leaned against the counter with her arms folded, amused in the way only someone with fire powers could be amused while standing next to a potential reality breach.

And Uncle Glick…

Uncle Glick was squatting in front of the fridge, humming like he was listening to it.

Captain Gravity cleared his throat.

The fridge hummed back.

Crimson Nova snorted. “Even the fridge is disrespecting you, Captain.”

Captain Gravity ignored her and pointed directly at Uncle Glick.

“We are here,” he said, “because you drank a mystery liquid out of our refrigerator.”

Uncle Glick looked up with the proud smile of a man being congratulated.

“I did,” he said. “And I’d do it again.”

Pixel Pop slammed her hands on the table.

“That’s not a flex!” she snapped. “That’s a confession!”

Uncle Glick waved her off. “It was delicious.”

Captain Gravity’s eye twitched.

“Uncle Glick,” he said slowly, “it was labeled SECRET FORMULA.”

Uncle Glick blinked innocently.

“And?”

“And nothing labeled SECRET FORMULA should be drinkable,” Captain Gravity barked.

Crimson Nova nodded. “Fair.”

Pixel Pop leaned forward.

“What was it?” she asked.

Uncle Glick smiled.

“My secret formula.”

Pixel Pop’s expression tightened.

“Secret formula for what?”

Uncle Glick scratched his chin.

“That depends,” he said. “Depends on the dimension you’re standing in when you swallow it.”

Captain Gravity slapped his palm against the table.

“We are in ONE dimension,” he snapped. “THIS one.”

Uncle Glick’s smile widened.

“For now,” he said.

Silence dropped across the room.

Then the fridge clicked.

Not the normal click of an appliance cycling.

A deliberate click.

From inside the freezer.

Pixel Pop slowly turned her head.

“Captain…” she whispered.

Captain Gravity stared at the fridge.

“I heard it,” he said.

Crimson Nova took a step forward, eyes narrowing. “The freezer door just moved.”

Uncle Glick stood up with excitement, rubbing his hands together.

“Ooooh,” he said. “It’s waking up.”

Captain Gravity spun toward him.

“What do you mean ‘waking up’?!”

Uncle Glick shrugged.

“Sometimes,” he said, “you drink something, and it changes you.”

Pixel Pop pointed at him.

“That’s called poisoning!”

Uncle Glick nodded. “Yes. Sometimes it poisons you into greatness.”

Crimson Nova laughed.

“Okay,” she said. “If the fridge opens, I melt it.”

Captain Gravity held up a hand.

“No.”

Crimson Nova stared at him like he’d lost his mind.

Captain Gravity stared right back.

“Nobody touches it,” he said. “Not until we understand it.”

Crimson Nova rolled her eyes. “Fine. But if it grows legs, I’m not asking permission.”

Pixel Pop stood and approached the fridge cautiously.

The freezer door was taped shut.

Captain Gravity had taped it last night, after the incident.

He’d also written a warning sign.

DO NOT FEED THE APPLIANCE.

Under it, in fresh marker, someone had written:

(IT KNOWS YOUR NAME)

Pixel Pop frowned.

“That wasn’t there yesterday.”

Captain Gravity’s face tightened. “Yes it was.”

Pixel Pop shook her head.

“No,” she said. “Yesterday it said ‘it bites.’ I have a picture.”

Crimson Nova smirked. “So the fridge is updating its own warning label.”

Uncle Glick nodded proudly.

“That’s a good sign,” he said. “It’s adapting.”

Captain Gravity pointed at him again.

“That is not a good sign,” he said. “That is a nightmare.”

The fridge hummed.

The handle twitched.

Pixel Pop stepped back.

Crimson Nova stepped forward.

Captain Gravity grabbed her shoulder.

“No,” he warned.

Crimson Nova shrugged. “I’m just standing aggressively. It’s therapeutic.”

Uncle Glick leaned close to the fridge door.

“Hello, old friend,” he whispered.

Pixel Pop’s head snapped toward him.

“Old friend?”

Uncle Glick smiled.

“Oh yes,” he said. “This one’s got a soul in it.”

Crimson Nova laughed sharply. “No it doesn’t.”

Uncle Glick looked at her like she was ignorant.

“You young folks think souls only come in bodies,” he said. “Sometimes they come in machines. Sometimes they come in—”

Pixel Pop cut him off.

“Please stop,” she begged. “My brain is trying to leave.”

The freezer clicked again.

Then the door cracked open half an inch.

Cold air rolled out.

But it wasn’t normal cold.

It smelled like steel.

Like rain.

Like the inside of an elevator shaft that went down too far.

Crimson Nova’s expression shifted.

“That’s not freezer air.”

Captain Gravity stepped forward and grabbed the handle.

“Close,” he ordered.

He pulled.

The freezer resisted.

Not like a stuck hinge.

Like something on the other side was pushing back.

Captain Gravity strained.

Crimson Nova’s eyebrows rose. “It’s strong.”

Pixel Pop swallowed hard.

“How is a fridge strong?”

Uncle Glick’s grin returned.

“It’s not a fridge anymore,” he said.

Captain Gravity pulled harder.

The freezer door creaked open wider.

Pixel Pop backed away.

Inside the freezer wasn’t frozen food.

It wasn’t ice trays.

It wasn’t darkness.

It was a void.

A flat black space, like a doorway cut into the universe.

And from inside it came a faint wind sound, like a hallway breathing.

Crimson Nova stared.

“Well,” she said, “that’s illegal.”

Pixel Pop whispered, “That’s impossible.”

Uncle Glick clapped his hands softly.

“There we go,” he said. “Now we’re talking.”

Captain Gravity let go of the handle.

The freezer door stayed open.

Like it wanted to be.

Like it had chosen.

Pixel Pop’s tablet flickered to life without her touching it.

A message appeared in plain text, like the tablet had become a warning sign.

INCOMING DELIVERY.

Pixel Pop’s eyes widened.

“Guys—”

The void inside the freezer rippled.

Something pushed through.

A shape slid forward like a curtain being shoved aside.

Then it dropped onto the break room floor with a heavy THUNK.

A cardboard box.

Perfectly taped.

Perfectly sealed.

A shipping label sat on top.

TO: HYPERFORCE 3000

FROM: COLD STORAGE TRANSFER SYSTEM

SUBJECT: YOU ASKED FOR ANSWERS

Captain Gravity stared at it.

“We didn’t ask for answers.”

Pixel Pop’s voice came out tight.

“Yes we did,” she said. “Yesterday. When we were screaming.”

Crimson Nova nodded slowly.

“So the fridge is Amazon Prime for trauma.”

Uncle Glick crouched down eagerly.

“Ooooh,” he whispered. “A gift.”

Pixel Pop lunged forward.

“Don’t open it!”

Uncle Glick ripped the tape clean off in one pull.

Crimson Nova grabbed Captain Gravity’s arm before he could stop him.

“Let him,” she said. “I want to see what kills us.”

Captain Gravity glared at her.

Crimson Nova smiled. “Science.”

Uncle Glick opened the box.

Inside was a bottle.

Identical to the one from yesterday.

Same shape.

Same faint glow.

Same label.

SECRET FORMULA.

Pixel Pop’s voice rose.

“WHY IS THERE ANOTHER ONE?!”

Uncle Glick lifted it carefully like it was fine wine.

“Because,” he said proudly, “the fridge knows what we like.”

Captain Gravity snatched the bottle out of his hands.

“No,” he said. “Nobody is drinking mystery dimension juice again.”

Uncle Glick looked offended.

“That’s not mystery juice,” he said. “That’s innovation.”

Captain Gravity held it up to the light.

The liquid inside swirled.

Not like a drink.

Like something alive.

Pixel Pop pointed at the tiny text under the label.

“Captain,” she said, “read the fine print.”

Captain Gravity squinted.

Under SECRET FORMULA, in small letters, it read:

PLEASE DO NOT DRINK THE ANSWER.

Crimson Nova laughed so hard she had to cover her mouth.

“Oh my god,” she wheezed. “The fridge is roasting us.”

The fridge beeped once.

Then the front panel lit up with green scrolling text, like it had installed a personality overnight.

DELIVERY CONFIRMED.

THANK YOU FOR PARTICIPATING.

USER AGREEMENT IMPLIED.

Pixel Pop’s face went pale.

“It has a user agreement.”

Crimson Nova leaned closer. “That’s evil.”

Captain Gravity turned slowly toward Uncle Glick.

“Did you sign something?” he asked.

Uncle Glick smiled.

“I didn’t sign,” he said. “I simply nodded politely.”

Captain Gravity stared at him.

“You nodded politely at a fridge.”

Uncle Glick nodded again. “Yes.”

Pixel Pop’s tablet flickered.

A new warning appeared.

DO NOT ATTEMPT TO UNPLUG.

DO NOT ATTEMPT TO THROW INTO SUN.

SUN DISPOSAL NOT AVAILABLE IN THIS TIMELINE.

Crimson Nova’s eyebrows shot up.

“It knows about the sun plan.”

Captain Gravity’s jaw clenched.

“I hate everything,” he muttered.

Uncle Glick patted his shoulder warmly.

“No you don’t,” he said. “You love it. It keeps you young.”

Crimson Nova leaned toward the open freezer void.

“What happens if I stick my hand in there?” she asked.

Pixel Pop screamed, “NO!”

The fridge beeped twice.

The display scrolled:

HAND INSERTION NOT RECOMMENDED.

PLASMA USER DETECTED.

SUGGESTION: DO NOT.

Crimson Nova stepped back, impressed.

“It can identify me.”

Pixel Pop’s voice was tight.

“It can identify all of us.”

Uncle Glick’s grin sharpened.

“Of course it can,” he said. “It’s a door now.”

Captain Gravity snapped his head toward him.

“A door to what?”

Uncle Glick shrugged.

“That depends,” he said quietly, “on what’s hungry.”

Silence hit again.

Even Crimson Nova stopped smiling.

The void rippled.

Pixel Pop’s tablet flashed.

INCOMING DELIVERY: CRITICAL.

ETA: NOW.

Captain Gravity’s eyes widened.

“What?! No! Close it!”

The freezer door didn’t move.

The air temperature dropped sharply.

Frost crept across the tile floor.

Crimson Nova’s heat flared instinctively, fighting the cold.

Then the void surged.

Something heavy slid out and slammed onto the floor with a metallic CLANG.

A mission patch.

Black fabric with silver stitching.

Captain Gravity slowly picked it up.

Pixel Pop leaned in, breath caught in her throat.

The patch read:

EPISODE 7: WE LOST THE MOON.

Underneath, smaller text:

PLEASE DO NOT ATTEMPT RECOVERY WITHOUT SUPERVISION.

Crimson Nova stared.

Then she burst out laughing again.

“That’s the funniest thing I’ve ever heard,” she said. “How do you lose the moon? It’s the moon!”

Pixel Pop didn’t laugh.

Captain Gravity didn’t laugh.

Uncle Glick didn’t laugh either.

For the first time, Uncle Glick’s grin faded.

Captain Gravity’s voice was low.

“We lose the moon.”

Pixel Pop whispered, “That’s a warning from the future.”

Crimson Nova wiped her eyes.

“That patch is from a timeline where we’re idiots.”

Uncle Glick stared at the fridge like he was suddenly less entertained.

“This,” he said quietly, “is not one of my inventions.”

Captain Gravity turned on him.

“You’re saying this isn’t your fault?”

Uncle Glick shook his head slowly.

“This isn’t my fault,” he said.

He nodded toward the fridge.

“This is the fridge’s fault.”

The fridge beeped once, satisfied.

The display scrolled one last message:

NEXT DELIVERY: TOMORROW.

SUGGESTION: STOP ASKING QUESTIONS.

SUGGESTION: STOP DRINKING THE ANSWERS.

Pixel Pop whispered, “It’s training us.”

Captain Gravity grabbed the tape roll and slapped it across the freezer door.

Once.

Twice.

Three times.

Then he taped a sign over it.

DO NOT OPEN.

DO NOT TALK TO IT.

DO NOT THINK ABOUT IT.

Crimson Nova raised an eyebrow.

“That last one seems impossible.”

Captain Gravity pointed at Uncle Glick.

“And you,” he said, “are banned from the break room.”

Uncle Glick looked wounded.

“But my coffee,” he protested.

Captain Gravity pointed harder.

“You are banned.”

Uncle Glick sighed like a man accepting tragedy.

“Fine,” he said. “But when it delivers something important tomorrow, don’t come crying to Uncle Glick.”

Captain Gravity turned and marched out.

Crimson Nova followed, still laughing softly.

Pixel Pop lingered behind, staring at the taped freezer door.

Her tablet flickered again.

One final line appeared.

USER STATUS: ENROLLED.

Pixel Pop’s stomach dropped.

She backed away slowly.

The fridge hummed.

And behind the tape, the freezer handle twitched once.

Like a wave goodbye.

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