John Bradford stood at the trigger. He’d volunteered for this gig at the beginning of the semester. It was going get him his PHD (besides looking killer on his resume). He had no wife or kids, and since he was already 34 years old, doubted that was ever going to change. Nuclear physicist is only “cool” if your name is Gordon Freeman. No one wants to marry a scientist who spends 16 hours a day cooped up in the lab, and has absolutely no social skills. This was why, when he saw the ad on the Physics Dept. website for “High risk, extremely dangerous work environment needs lab technician. Imminent death (and collapse of known universe) likely” he signed right up.
It had been a long day. Three hours ago it had finally happened for the first time. They had been working with a single fibre strand, and had fired a slow moving light pulse down the strand, followed again by a faster moving pulse. The faster moving pulse caught up, but because of the fibre’s distortion from the slow pulse, couldn’t overtake, and pass by the slow pulse. Event Horizon. Black Hole. No. Way.
It was now 4am. They were all excited, and a little drunk. They’d had an entire bottle of scotch to celebrate after trying the experiment for the eighth time, in utter disbelief that it had actually worked.
Sure, there were procedures to keep this very thing from happening. They “knew” the risks. But they did it anyways. John sort of talked them into it. You only live once after all…
They bundled more and more fibres together, and cranked the lasers as high as they would possibly go, even adding in their auxiliary and auxiliary auxiliary lasers to the mix. They’d had to run extension cords to the adjacent buildings to get enough power. They knew they’d bring heat down on them from the dean in the morning… Unless it worked. They wanted to SEE the black hole.
They knew it probably wouldn’t work anyways, but they tried putting the fibres in a loop. A tiny little ball that went around itself 365 times. If they fired 3 shots of each type at perfectly spaced intervals, they’d have 3 separate black holes spinning wildly around and around in this fibre ball. They had wrapped the fibre around a lump of lead just for good measure (it was the object closest at hand with the most mass they could find in their drunken state). If they were lucky, they hoped the black holes would generate a strong enough gravitational pull that it could be felt like a magnet. A magnet that would pull on anything.
John quickly and drunkenly reprogrammed the computer. He wanted the pulses to fire just right.
The problem was that he forgot to put an exit condition on his loop. The problem was the laser would never stop sending out black hole pulses. This was the problem John was contemplating as milliseconds after he pulled the trigger to initiate the sequence the entire lab froze and exited the space time continuum. This was the problem he contemplated for what seemed like a million years (and possibly was) as he watched his nose slowly grow until the base was securely attached to his face, but the tip had disappeared into the vestiges, the after glow, of what used to be the fibre bundle in front of him. This is the last image he remembered as his brain contemplated the fact that his eyes were now simultaneously attached to his optic nerve, whilst also being squished into the lead bundle five feet away.
By the time his colleague, the one who had been trying to get them to stop the whole time, got sucked in, John had been gone for (in his time) 2 years. By the time the rest of Britain was enveloped, John was happily adjusted in the after life, and had almost forgotten the whole incident. By the time the earth was swallowed up, John was sitting light years away looking through a telescope in awe at the newly forming black hole in the far away, as of yet un-named galaxy, which was being declared a spectacular un-explainable phenomenon.
It was then that The Last Judgement finally happened (which John had been waiting for for 1986 years, ever since his arrival in the after life).
-END
This was the story I thought of immediately upon reading this: http://www.eurekalert.org/pub_releases/2008-02/ns-llc021308.php
I know my story is completely, absurdly scientifically inaccurate. Just pretend it’s not and try to enjoy it 
