The Null Vow

The ambulance's siren warped into a discordant wedding march as Liam Burke stared at the flickering NUPTL-1 license plate ahead. Sophia Warren's hands trembled against his bullet-riddled chest, her surgical gloves smearing blood that smelled too human—no quantum aftertaste, no entropic decay, just copper and saltwater. Dr. V. Algorithm's wedding ring glinted as he jammed a syringe labeled Eternity™ – 99.999% Entanglement Guaranteed into Liam's neck. The paramedic's face flickered between Vesper Black's smirk and Evelyn Snow's boardroom glare, his nametag melting into blockchain glyphs.

"Mortality becomes you," the paramedic crooned, his voice a patchwork of every bride's cadence. The ambulance walls dissolved into the Matriarchy's white void where Maya's grandmother floated over a newborn universe shaped like a Tiffany box. Contractual constellations swirled around Liam's gurney—Clause 7.2: Spousal Reincarnation Rights, Addendum ∞: Heat Death Acceleration Penalties. Sophia's electrocardiogram flatlined into a wedding bell chime as Maya's grandmother unfolded reality's purchase order: Buyer: Evelyn Snow. Delivery Address: Supercluster LV-424. Item: Authentic Mortality (Limited Edition).

Liam's DNA flared with the strawberry pancake recipe imprinted during the last reboot. He tore the IV lines pumping antimatter nostalgia and seized the defibrillator paddles. "My first vow was to a microwave burrito," he rasped, slamming 700 volts into the ambulance floor. The shockwave caramelized spacetime's source code into maple syrup algorithms.

Reality rebooted to Coney Island's 2003 shoreline. Liam and Sophia stood ankle-deep in temporal foam as the Matriarchy's Tiffany box universe unraveled. Thunderheads boomed Maya's ultimatum: Consent to eternity or watch her die authentically. Sophia pressed the original bloodied gauze into his hands—no papal tiara, no event horizon scriptures, just frayed cotton and salt-stiffened panic.

Liam's pulse sang a deeper algorithm. He tore the Tiffany ribbon into Hawking radiation confetti, overwrote the Big Bang's romantic settings to Solo Mode, and unleashed a scream that wasn't "I do" or "I don't" but the static between radio stations. The Matriarchy's wail birthed Article Null Amendment – The Right to Unlove, its shockwave erasing engagement rings from cosmic history.

Morning light bled through moth-eaten curtains. Liam awoke to bacon smoke and off-key humming. Sophia stood at a rusting stove, her hair frizzy from humidity rather than quantum storms. Charred pancake edges curled like event horizons.

"You're burning them again," he croaked, throat raw from ventilator tubes that never were.

Sophia flipped the pancake with a spatula scarred from a thousand timelines. "Says the guy who proposed with a defibrillator."

The TV muttered a news segment: Eternal Vows LLC Files Bankruptcy – CEO Evelyn Snow Missing. Through the static, Liam glimpsed Vesper's blockchain ghost winking. Sophia's slippered foot nudged his under the table—a touch unburdened by papal decrees or antimatter vows. The syrup bottle's expiration date read: Infinite.

Outside, a nine-year-old boy pedaled past on a bike, his laughter weaving through maple trees. The Celestial Sect tattoo on his wrist was just a temporary sticker.

In the landfill behind their apartment, a microwave burrito spun on its plate for 0.7 seconds longer than physics allowed. Melted cheese bubbled into forbidden equations: LOVE 2.0 BETA – DOWNLOAD Y/N? The garbage truck compactor descended. Somewhere in Andromeda's ashes, Evelyn Snow sipped post-heat-death champagne and clicked Y as Liam's hospital bracelet updated one final time:

NEXT MARRIAGE: TRIAGE ROOM 3

COUNTDOWN: 00:00:00

The universe held its breath.