Meanwhile Z9-27 reflects on his existence. His existential predicament arises from the fact that while others are concerned with mind boggling activities such as the nature of all existence, the roots of emotion and consciousness and learning the meaning of life (to optimise them for offensive purposes) he works, as he has done his entire life, just editing the grammar on their notes so it can forwarded to the prime Crunkledunk. The reason for the bureaucratic structure of his society involving this escaped Z9-27 when he was first informed as to the purpose of his existence as it did now. You see, what made Crunkle society different from others is that the menial occupation was not a necessity. Need Janitors to clear away the waste accumulated on different planets? Just make a robot. Need a therapist to aid the frequent rly degrading psyche of the system's occupants? Just make a robot. Need someone to designate and create meaningless and derivative culture that blatantly works in opposition to similarly useful culture? Just make a robot. Basically everything that wasn't science or being part of an arbitrarily existing, genetically superior monarchy that spends all day feeling good about themselves and their superiority was carried out by a robot. Except, Z9-27, who started to wonder if perhaps the machine that designated his purpose in life was slightly faulty. But what could he do about it? He wasn't designated as a computer programmer. All he did was check surprisingly flawed grammar for a race of super-intellects. But it wasn't all bad, he remarked to himself, after all the existence he had spent doing this was apparently only about a few nanoseconds long. While he did possess the memories of a creature who had lived to the ripe old age of a few days, he was informed recently that the flashing light he saw after he heard the screaming but before he saw his own artificial blood (created for sentimental purpose) splattered over his helpless visage had, in fact, actually killed him. Or, well, not him, but the exact duplicate he remembers being. After fighting some being mid way through consuming the galaxy his entire civilisation was just rebooted from a safe file that his leader possessed. He actually remembered the technology developed to create that, at first it was used to replicate the effects of certain brainwaves, like inspiration for the purposes of enhancing innovation. However instead of the intended purpose of recreating those moments of stimulation, the product was a gestalt emotional state- part way through minor satisfaction after having avoided a pin nested on the floor (that due to the rupturing of space surrounding any utensil or utility device in Crunkle society would have caused a small level of damage) and partway the aforementioned inspiration. The feeling produced was what can best be described as inspiratifaction, an unfathomable empathic state of being, something beyond linear entropy, forming an emotional awareness that transcended time, space, logic and everything in between. The produced effect being comparable to an overachieving university student getting addicted to drugs and dropping out of school to try and achieve such sensations once again, resulting in the deterioration of the pre-frontal vortex and extreme self-physical abuse. The problem Z9-27 found with this whole concept was that he was supposed to just move on instantly. "Oh, so it looks like you've died and all your memories are in fact those of a different person, meaning everybody you've ever known doesn't even know you. Shame that, well, no productivity comes from moping around does it?". He tried to get the thought of his mind by taking a jog around the universe 9.4x10^37482890294748 times in a planck timex9.9x-999727898892991002, but it didn't really help. It wasn't just the usual existential horror that would arise from such problems either, it was also the fact that he had little to no identity. He was part of a race formed entirely from the genetic structure of a single neurotic human with dwarfism- knowing literally nobody who wasn't as such. He was in a civilisation, taking up 14% of the galaxy, with people who were exactly the same as him; except for that fact that he had a more meaningless job. And now, he was also the exact same as some other geezer who died a short period of time ago, in literally every way. It's like his entire existence was made to drain any hope of meaning out of his life, in some nihilistic endeavour. The only way to maintain his sanity was to tightly grab onto a small bit of individuality. A distinct quality. An eccentricity. An entirely illogical habit, with seemingly no purpose. And this was the real reason, why Crunkle Z9-27 now only communicated new breakthroughs with a handwritten piece of paper. It was small, unbelievably microscopic, but it was his. And nothing made him happier. And so he wrote out this on his new list.
Most notable recent inventions in Crunkle society:
A device that applies Crunkledunk's cognition to the oversoul
A machine that uses the morphing grid to collect the uncountably infinite, relatively infinitesimally small 3-D moments across different points space time and treated their chronological structure as a single construct- then contracting and expanding it, essentially making time go backwards for the them that was oldest, and making it go forwards for the them that was youngest. It can also be expanded, achieving a vice versa effect.
A pocket dimension with cubic time dimensions, essentially allowing anything in there to live for immeasurably long periods. However people can't stay in there due to the oppressive conditions which will cause any sentient life forms to explode in mind, soul, concept, body and time automatically. Due to the temporal impacts the Crunkle empire continued using the device on themselves without knowledge of the repercussions until an entire planet was erased from causality without anyone knowing. The only reason the entire empire and likely the multiverse was not destroyed via this rather inconvenient design flaw is thanks to an astute state agent irritated with his pay who realised the house prices really shouldn't have been so cheap on his home planet considering the lack of available space. After careful consideration the top minds in the Crunkle empire decided to just place a cheap Italian sausage in the pocket dimension to collect bacteria and expand for an uncountable infinite time until it is eventually relinquished from the other universe and the 5th dimensional manufactured swine meant destroys basically everything to ever exist.
An offensive pocket reality that can be attached to any opponent and uses sword logic to apply the law and concept of causality to anything, even type 4 acausals. Crunkledunk completely controls everything that happens there, all space and time directly under his command
And Crunkledunk's most powerful yet devilishly simple device The IKC is still in work