I’m in a field of tall brown grass that comes up to the buttons on my jean shorts. As far as I can tell the only things here besides me and the grass are the painted clouds in the fishbowl sky and the dirt on the ground.

I continue forward, in the direction that I’m currently facing towards, feeling the rough grass brush against my naked torso. There is no wind here to cover up the noise my footsteps make, and if it were not for the overwhelming amount of rustling from the grass, the usual light-purple jingle of the zippers on my boots would be the only sound in this oddly familiar barren landscape.

I haven’t been here yet in my endless journeys, although I do assume I will be here again. I don’t exactly have a definite destination. I’m just going to continue in the direction that seems correct without a second thought.

Once, at a peculiar moment in my travels, I had found myself on a spindly and humongous bridge, most like the ones you would see over a canyon in movies. It gave off an aura that made everything around it seem to be black and white, and I didn’t doubt that it actually might have been. I was walking across it to the large house at the end of it that seemed to be matching the cartoonishly thin demeanour of the bridge when, as if it were the guard dog of the establishment, a creature, that would have sent shivers down my spine if I were in a different mindset, stepped out from its place hovering below the tracks like a bat right in front of me. Its pencil-like legs drawn beneath it and a singular arm stretched out in front of it in a inquisitive pose, like a scholar in the shape of a tall furry mushroom, it opened its small circular mouth and breathed out a room-temperature breath, not quite as full as a sigh, as if to communicate to me without having to talk.

Most of my conversations go this way, so when I received the stream of conscious thought that the large dark thing wanted me to understand, transmitted into my own brain like a ribbon, I thought of it as a normal form of speech and knew that it wanted me to leave, without contemplating why. Now as I looked up at my new companion I saw that its eyes were simply hollowed-out sections in its being of literal ink on a page. Over the years I had become weary of things without eyes, but I had unconsciously formed a liking towards this particular character within our brief meeting and felt a longing to stay in this dark setting. So, instead of lifting my foot to spin around and walk back from where I came, I took off running across the bridge towards the comfort of the creaking house. After the split second that it took my new acquaintance to realize that I had ran past it, it called out to its friends (that I could have predicted were resting under the tracks as well) with a loud alarmed sounding warble, the blue sound slicing through the inky shade of the landscape like spilled watercolors. The newcomers emerged from the shadows, the background practically creating them from its dark folds, crawling upright behind the one who called out. All of them now pulled their beings towards me, dragging parts of the only floor I had currently known past me as I ran. The bridge, like in the movies, began to crumble and fall beneath my human feet, while the fluffy creatures held on to the thin metal rods with their dark limbs crawling forward as it fell.

I could reach the house, if not for the fact that the portion of the track where my feet were struggling was falling to the right, away from its previous upright pose, and dramatically leaning as I ran to the end of it. I couldn’t jump to the other side like I had originally planned on doing, and the fast pace in which I was running wasn’t exactly going to let me stop. I planted my feet on the last solid wooden rung, all the others in front of me being broken and unable to hold my weight, my shoes stopped without the rest of me, and my entire being fell forward.

I don’t remember falling into the black abyss that was waiting for me below; I don’t think there was an actual place for me to fall into within the inky darkness. As if to show how much I had overstepped my bounds by trying to make it into the house, there was a time jump in my memory, and I simply became conscious again in a large shopping mall completely filled with water, like a tank where all the customers seemed to have a fish-like air about them, and I purchased a lovely silk top embroidered with small shells.

Of course, now, in the field, I wasn’t wearing the garment, for, the sun, even though not hot, was more harsh than I would have liked. Instead, I had opted for a more reasonable look, where comfort came over style, and I simply wore my tights, jean shorts atop them, with my boots tied tightly to my thin cotton socks and feet. I usually try to ignore my chest, and that’s harder to do when there’s nothing on it to distract me. I doesn’t seem to be a problem that I’m not wearing any shirt, because while it is around midday, the fishbowl effect of the surrounding sky is warping the sun from being allowed to burn me, and my only concern is that the particularly tall pieces of grass might scrape my skin and leave a rash if I’m in this part of the meadow for too long.

Luckily, after wandering for a little while longer, I came across a parting in the grass. This wasn’t a natural formation and seemed to have been caused forcefully by a stray cart pushed through the grass for a while before being abandoned in the middle of the field. I wonder if this means a road is nearby and make a conscious decision to find it after looking at the wagon.

The wagon, toppled onto its side and missing one of its larger wheels, was made small enough to fit around one person, a suitcase, a reasonably stout cat, and a beach ball, in that order, no more and no less. It has a blue and red striped canopy over it, although now warn and bathed in the sun, thinning and lightening its color and appearance. Like the dark house at the end of bridge once did, it draws me in, causing me to feel a deep sudden comfort, more than when I was simply feeling content before. I would step towards it, but I learned my lesson from the bridge and now stand observing the shattered Christmas lights hanging from the wagon’s worn wood, waiting for whomever is probably guarding it to make the first move.

As I predicted, there was someone here, and they meant to meet me. This time, they were more human-like than the creatures at the bridge, although, like the fluffy mushroom creatures, most of their body was clumped up around their chest and their legs were long and spindly as well. The only strong difference I could see was that their arms are thick and drawn up like their waist. They adorn a pair of large, bug-like goggles, which sat above their mustache like a fat caterpillar on a thin leaf. I can see their large blue eyes reflecting the sky through these goggles, and, for that, a sense of relief falls on me, making my hunched shoulders drop subconsciously.

And at that exact moment, to my extreme surprise, they lift their mustache with their opening jaw, stick one hand forward to shake my hand, and instead of communicating telepathically like everyone else I encounter, real words fall out of their mouth as it snaps closed.

“Hello sir, my name is Brush Hair Number Three. You have nice fingernails. Shake my hand; you don’t want to come across as absurd now.”

I want to mention to them that the only absurd thing about this encounter would be the fact that they just talked to me out loud and said all of it in the very short frame of time between opening and closing their mouth. Instead, I reach out and shake their hand.

“You seem to be lost sir, may I direct you back to the road? I’m on my way to the post office in the train station’s pool and would like a bit of company, if you need to go in the same direction.”

Not seeing a reason to disagree with them, and wanting to see the post office they talked about, I nodded my head in response and am now following them out of the grass field to the dirt road. With their legs are almost long enough to reach my shoulders, their stride is almost twice as long as mine and I visibly fall behind them, even though I’m making an effort to walk fast and them slowly.

They suddenly stop, and I walk up to stand next to them, out of the grass and onto a narrow dirt road. Ironically, as if the road had not been traveled lately, there were hardly any wheel tracks in the dirt and the grass next to the road was a soft green, an odd contrast to the thick rough brown we were just walking through. My companion draws a harsh cough from below their mustache, and a layer of dust flies out of their mouth, drifting upwards and settling atop us in a thin grey sheet.

“Travel dust!” they bark out, still wheezing slightly from within their throat. Mentally preparing myself for the experience ahead of me, I take a sharp inhale and choke briefly. We both sneeze in turn, and as I open my eyes afterward we appear to be standing atop the landing with a substantial amount of marble steps stretching out behind us.

The train station.

The train station, as we all know, is where all things important happen. Although I never know what’s going on, everyone around me always knows what they’re doing here. It’s a very unsatisfying feeling. Brush Hair Number Three walks into the large glass doors and leaves me to follow inside.

When I enter the building I look around, and every surface is a different shade of polished glossy stone, like it was made purely out of a kitchen counter. I don’t like it here, and I’m quite lost now that I don’t have a purpose or want to be here.

I suddenly feel an extreme urgency to retreat from the train station out to the sun-soaked marble steps. I frantically run around, past frogs and people alike, past rooms and hallways, repeating in an endless maze of oddly shaped stone.

I come to a sudden halt in the middle of a large room, an entrance hall of sorts with a fountain in the corner. A thought comes across my mind, and I barely register it until I speak it aloud.

“I’m dreaming.”

As my brain catches up with my mouth and I comprehend what it means, the color of the words ends, and darkness falls upon me. I’m falling into the darkness, falling off the bridge again. My eyes snap open.

I’m here.

It was cold and rainy, my ride was almost here. It was November 19, 2018 and I was going to a party, which has not been good in the past, from police investigations, to people getting arrested and years in prison. But I didn’t care, I was young.

It was November 19th, and we just arrived. I was pretty nervous, and I felt like everyone was staring at me, but no, I was just paranoid. About an hour later I was sitting on the couch watching football with some of my friends when a gunshot comes from the other room. I quickly threw Michael on the ground and then got under a table. You couldn’t get much time to focus and process what’s going on when everyone’s screaming, and there's a dead person in the other room.

When I was running I felt a sharp pain in my ankle, and I just froze there an looked behind me, there he was... Matthew?

dread

fills

my

chest

as She takes my hand

and leads me down a

long

corridor

with blinding darkness

and loud silence

i try

to stop

walking

but She continues to pull me along

the hallway gets

narrower

and

tighter

and the dread spreads throughout my whole body until it turns into panic and i start to shake

as the world outside the small tunnel gets more and more distant and muffled

and i can only focus on Her.

everything

is going

so

fast

and i can’t

breathe anymore

until i hear a calm but concerned voice from the outside world break through the walls.

“hey, are you okay?”

i snap out of my state of anxiety and meet the familiar eyes of my friend,

as my heart rate starts to go back to normal.

i pause as the friend’s words finally register in my mind.

“...yeah, just a little nervous.”

the friend takes my hand, the same way She did, but with a much kinder and warmer touch,

and gently

pulls me

off the ground

as Her voice

disappears

and is replaced by the familiar-sounding,

“come on, you’ll be fine.”

The loud cheering fills my ears, stripes proudly wave in the air, blocking my sight.

Today is the day - the day I come out to my parents.

Why can’t I find them?

Taking a deep breath, I walk over to my parents. My hands start to sweat; I can feel the pounding in my chest; I squeeze my eyes shut and

I am lost in a sea of people.

“Mom, Dad, I’m gay.”

I close my eyes, wishing I could find them.

I open my eyes, they stare at me. My mom gives me a smile,

“Is there something wrong, Jacob?” she asks.

My eyes widen at the sound of a familiar laugh.

                         Crap. I mentally slap myself, I didn’t tell them, another fail.

                    “Jacob, how about become a man for once and tell us what’s wrong.”

I look around more, still not seeing my family, I feel the fear pulsing in my chest.

                                my dad started gruffling at me, clenching my hands

                         The stripes disappear, the crowd of people clear.

                                                      “I’M GAY, OK?!”

                      I scream, leaving the house as I saw their horrid faces.

                           And at last, I see my future fiance with my friends, I smile.

                                                        I’m home.

 “I don’t know… Are you sure Sarah? Mom’ll be mad if she finds out…”

“I’m sure. Mom has so much money she won’t notice that it is missing! Don’t you want that sticker book, Taylor? She won’t care.”

………………………………

“Daddy! You’re home!”

“Whoa! Slow down kiddo!”

“Come on, Daddy! It’s important!”

“N-” Taylor’s dad sees the look his wife is giving him. “Fine. What do you want to show me, pumpkin?”

“I have enough money!”

“Did ‘Sarah’ give you this money?”

“Sarah found it! And gave it to me because I’m her bestest ever friend,” she says excitedly, pulling out her mom’s money jar.

“Taylor, that looks like your mom’s jar. Did you take it?”

“No, it was Sarah, I promise!”

“Taylor. I think that it is time you start being responsible.” Noticing her confused expression, he starts over. “That means you need to tell me you did it. I know Sarah didn’t because… Sarah isn’t real. She is imaginary. Go give this back to Mom.” He leaves the room.

The room is quiet, and then a small voice asks, “Did you know?”

Sarah replies, “Yes,” and then quickly, “But we can still be friends, right?”

There is no answer.

On the fifth of December, 2012, the fates got distracted and forgot to make Mr. Emmett Brown of San Francisco, California blink. Of course, a moment later they noticed, and it never happened again, but the event accidentally caused him to spot a flea that had just been settling down for a pleasant nap. And in doing so, tore a jagged scar into destiny itself and changed the future of the world forever. Here's what happened.

On this fine morning, Mr. Brown had been just about to leave his house for a dental appointment. When asked about the event later, he didn't even recall the flea, which was an insignificant speck in his story. Or so he thought.

Because while this event didn't affect Mr. Brown, it did affect the flea. In fact, after being so rudely awakened, said flea decided to find a more peaceful location to perch, and when Mr. Brown left his house, slipped out beside him.

After several days of wandering, our specimen landed in a charming cafe with plenty of leftover food in which to wallow. And there he lived, at least for the next week, when, on his way to the dumpster, he passed by a spider's lair. And thus ended his life.

But here changed the spider's, because while the flea made a fine meal for the arachnid, when taking its customary after-meal nap, it picked a particularly unstable place to rest, which, in addition to the extra weight from the feast, caused a collapse of the web. It plummeted down. Right into a Ms. Lavender Smith's toast.

Unfortunately, the tagalong wasn't spotted by the bored waiter, who brought the dish out to Ms. Smith as was. She noticed it, and then she, a severe arachnophobe, screamed so loudly that multiple passersby stopped to see who had been murdered.

Among them was a Mr. John Potters, who, in great concern, stopped to stare for a moment or two, causing him to narrowly miss a yellow light, and after a few blocks, another. This culminated in his arriving at his house a full five minutes later.

This turned out to be a good thing indeed, because, as we rewind time slightly, we see that just a few minutes ago Mr. Potters’ young niece, Lucy Potters, had been merrily drawing in his driveway. The toddler had luckily been spotted by her frantic father just minutes before Mr. Potters returned. Had he come any sooner...

And so we see that the merest missed blink has already saved a life, but we're not done yet. Not even close.

You might be imagining that Lucy was the linchpin in this operation, but you would be wrong. Because Lucy ended up dying young, at age seventeen, in a car accident. She couldn’t escape her fate in the end. So, no, Lucy didn’t mother a flock of children who would then meaningfully impact the world through cancer research and philanthropy. If only Samuel Green hadn’t squished that caterpillar… but the world is full of could haves which didn’t. And anyway, her only daughter would have led a great revolution, then her own country, then finally a few strongly disputed acres, in the end inheriting her mother’s sad fate.

But in any case, Lucy worked at an ice cream parlor during the summer of her sweet sixteen. She was lousy at her job, and so it was no surprise when she completely botched Mr. Aaron Brown’s cone, managing to plunge the thing directly onto the freshly-cleaned tiles. In the time it took for her to apologize, grab several napkins, slip, fall, and rise again, Ms. Sarah Carpenter had entered the establishment.

Fifteen months later, they were married. Five years after that, they had a son, a daughter, a puppy, and a house in the suburbs.

It came as no surprise when Thomas Brown joined the army straight out of high school. It had been a life-long goal of his, bred from his mother’s stories of her own brief stint. His hopes and dreams were crushed, however, when he failed the preliminary check-up due to his weak hearing and asthma. Instead, he became an instructor, and his guidance helped many young recruits, including Ms. Melissa Addams, who would have quit the tough camp if not for his mentorship.

Fast-forward a half a year, and her presence on a special team in the remote country of Gruadan saved the group from a myriad of gruesome deaths. She was extremely quick and observant, and spotted a hidden tripwire once, fresh footprints another time, and, most impressively, a clean windowsill in a supposedly deserted house, saving them from an ambush. Thanks to her keen eye, they all survived, and completed their mission of assassinating a terrorist leader who had been planning what would otherwise have been a successful attack on DC.

Now, of course, had this not been prevented, more than half of the house of representatives would have been killed, leading to mass panic, anger, and fear. After a series of rousing speeches from families of victims, survivors, and several different government officials, the US would have gone to war.

Instead, Melissa and her team received numerous awards from the grateful government. Incidentally, this would have happened either way, but the team (excluding Melissa, of course, who would have been working at the checkout counter of a Walmart) would have received them post-mortem.

The war would have been a disaster. Because Gruadan was supported by the much larger Osmona at this time,  what started as a fairly simple, if petty, fight of a world power vs. a third world country would get much more complicated.

After their buddy was attacked, Osmona would have demanded we call off the attack. And when we didn’t, they’d have joined in, sending money, officers, and weapons to our enemy.

After that, the fight would have gotten a lot harder, and diplomacy would begin to shatter. With Osmona weapons killing American soldiers, we would want revenge. With American soldiers attacking their ally, Osmona would want revenge.

Then, when a high level government official whose sister was killed in the attack sent an extremely unpleasant and completely unauthorized message to the Osmonan king, war would have broken out.

However, without the sentiment caused by the attack, there was no reason to invade Gruadan. The country had an acceptable relationship with us. Later, when they asked for help in quelling an extremist revolution, we readily agreed, as did Osmona. This started to help repair tensions that had built up over decades of miscommunication and squabbling.

And back to WWIII. Actually, there’s not much to say. Three-quarters of the world’s countries joined the war within half an hour. The first nuclear bomb hit us in forty five minutes. Our first bomb hit them two minutes later. By midnight, a quarter of the world’s population was dead, and a deadly level of radiation covered even Antarctica. Nuclear bomb shelters? A joke. They increased a citizen’s chance of survival by 0.01%. There were approximately one hundred thousand Homo Sapiens five years later. That’s about two fifths of the population of Chicago.

Luckily, all of this senseless bloodshed was averted. Over the following five years, the population grew by about three hundred million. The quality of life continued to improve, as clean energy and sustainable policies were developed. And so life lived on, happily ever after.

Almost eight billion lives saved. All by the blink of an eye.

It was a crisp, summer night when ding, ding, ding RUN.

It was June 16th, I was preparing for the trip to the city. I hadn’t had much work lately, but it was still kinda lonely out in the middle of nowhere. I had my bird and that was it. I was unpakcing after I just moved in. My job pays for my houses, my work, and all of my other needs. It was pretty great, accept I could die doing this.

It was about 3 in the moring and I couldn’t sleep.I decided to get up and do some research about this place. My mission was to inflitrate the warehouse were they were producing illigal goods and substances to other people. I had to take out anyone in my way silently and not get noticed, from there I would get into the office with detonating explosives to breach the door, then I would get the cpu, speed down to the lake, shoot the cpu and throw it into the ocean. It would be hard, but I think I could handle it. I went back to bed but still couldn’t sleep so I called the three other guys in my mission. Apparently we were the same way so I went out with them to get some food and came back to my house. We just talked for a bit and then went back home.

The next morning… It was now the 17th about 8:25 in the morning and I wasn’t sure what happens next, then my phone rang, it was my boss. “Hello” “Hello James, I need you to report to headquarts ASAP and we will go from there” Then he hung up. I was so conused but I made so breakfast, fed cleo, and went on my way.

About 35 minutes later I arrived at headquarters and stopped at my bosses office. “Whats the matter?” The three other guys were there too. “I need you guys to go to Garage 3B and there will be 3 men awaiting you. From there you will get weapons and pick the car of your choice, and then the mission begins… Good Luck my men” “Thanks” we replied in shock.

We made it to the basement and then met the three men, we greeted them and then they gave us duffle bags that were not that heavy, but had quite some weight on them. We then chose our car. We chose a Armoured sedan. It was so cool. It had bulletproof windows and tires with a custom flame paint job. We thought it would be best for the job.

Its was now about 5:30 PM and I was doing my final preperations and couting the place with a drone. I found that the best place to enter would be the roof. We would climb the ladder and get a good view. We would then enter in through the air vents and unscrew the cage, or handyman for the job was Charles, he was good with tools. Once he unscrewed the cage, me and Logan would slide in and switfly, but silently take out everyone and then plant the explosives, and go from there, here goes nothing…

About 2 ours later it was 7:30 and I was ready, I had been preparing for this day for years, here we go. I got in the car with my duffle bag and then we discussed our plans. We all decided on mine as the best way to go in, and get some action.

From there we traveled to our headquarters and reported with our boss to check any last minute plans. He gave us all military grade walky talkies and our driver, Andrew, got the radio i our car fixed up to were he had 2 channels, us and our headquarters. We were to check in everytime we got somewhere with our boss and Andrew. Then he sent us off, it was the big moment.

We arrived, Andrew parked in a Stygian, Vacant Ally. We got out of the car and Andrew turned all the lights off and we went in. Me, Charles, and Logan climbed to the top of the building with our dark suits and night vision on. Charles unscrewed the bolts, giving us an opening to the warehouse. There were gurads everywere. We slowly let oursleves in. We all gathered to a small room in the corner it was very dark, but we had night vision so we were all in the corner. I contacted our Boss and Andrew. Boss told us to keep going. We peeked out and there was one guard, in blue he slowly yamned and fell asleep. We crawled out and patted him down, looking for anything we might need. We checked his back pocket and found some keys to what looked like room 17. We looked around and we were near the early rooms, 1-6 was in this hallway. We quickly peeked over the stairs into floor the first floor. Empty.

We swiftly shuffled into the main room and peeked through the keyhole. Silently we unlocked the door and chucked a stun grenade into the back and slammed a coffee table down for protection. I threw another and then rushed into the back. I stunned him and put him in cuffs. While he was there we held him down and told him to tell us everything he knows. “I don’t know what you’re talking about! LET ME OUT” He said. Not Until you tell us were the cpu is!” Charles said. I pulled out a pistol and held it to him, I yelled “Tell us or you die” With a smirk. “Fine, Its on floor 2D. It will be in the” I cut him off, holstering my gun back in my belt. “I already know that, were are the keys!” I said, “They’re in the second drawer to the left in the closet, push the encyclopedia into the wall and a secret compartment with 4 drawers will open up, the second one down to the left.” I stunned him again, followed his instructions and we got the keys for the second floor. We ran, making sure we kept in contact with our Boss and Andrew

Once we got to the second floor I used the keys and *BAM* I was hit in the shoulder. I crawled back behind the door with Charlie. “LOGAN, I need you to throw an explosive grenade towards the back door for entry!” “On it”. He threw it way far to the door and blew the hinges off. I picked a couple off in the front room and then Obliterated the last guy in there. I took his nametag and slid it in my back pocket. I needed to path my wound, “Charlie! Logan! Move up!” “I need to stay back!”. As I was healing I got on my radio and changed to Andrew. “Hey Man, Get ready, Were almost in!”.

As i finsished healing, I got out a sniper and shot 2 guys that were blocking the path for charlie. I rushed in there. I gave charlie a lift so he could get to the vent and unscrew. Once he unscrewed, I Lifted him in then me and logan stayed back. He hacked the control panel and dropped in on the other side. He gave me a smile and started  laughing, “Were in boys!” “Yes, sweet victory!, right as he unlcocked the panel, he froze, “CHARLIE, NO” He was coughing blood, I ran behind a table. I was in shock, “This isn’t real” I thought to myself. I was infuriated. I threw a stun and screamed, so loud I couldn’t hear my own shots. I killed everyone, I was phsyco. I got on my knees with Logan. “C’mon Charlie, wake up, please!” I said. “Listen, I know James, but we have to move, or we’ll join him. I sobbed in anger, disbelief, but it was real and we had to finish the mission, it was my job.

I rushed into the room looking every which way. I slid into the safe room and took out the camera with a distortion set. I then disabled them with some wire cutters. I planted explosives, and Logan had some C4 We got behind the wall then we heard something from upstairs, I got on the cameras I set upstairs, There was a whole team of guys with suits and weapons. Ding ding ding, RUN. I jumped behind another peice of debree from the ceiling, it was concrete. The explosion rang through the halls. “Ouch, My ears” I said. Logan uncrouched and fired a couple of shots. “Logan, get down, I’m going down the stairs i’ll signal your go” “Roger That”. I used the same set of keys that the man upstairs gave us. I shoved open the door and signaled Logan. He locked the door and barricaded it with a little bech over to the side. We slid down the stair railing and busted down the door. There was quite a few people. No problem for these guys. We took them out and planted on the door. If this didn’t work, we were screwed. We both planted. After about 5 minutes, we had everything ready. We got out on the stairs, and behind a couple walls. 3, 2, 1, “LIGHT THE FUSES”. I was knocked back into the side of the wall. I ran in and grabbed out Charlies laptop, shoving memories behind me. “I’m in, let's move”. He had gotten the program set up already and we hacked into the keypad. Once I unlocked I twisted the key, there it was. I grabbed it.

I signaled, “Boss, we have it, we are heading out now” then to Andrew “Get Ready, we’re coming out!” I shoved the door down, running upstairs. We had no key cards to get out from floor 1, so we went the way we came in. I grabbed a couple boxes from a storage closet to our right. I then stacked ‘em up, and hoisted Logan up, then myself. We signaled to Andrew with the couple flickers of a flashlight. We got in the car and told him everything and eventually arrived at the Harbor. I pulled out my bag and got the cpu. There it was. “Well, it was good knowing ‘ya,*BANG* the sound of the shot trickled around us, then, it got well, snowy. It was so nice, I then chucked it, as far as I could, with all my anger and adrenaline built up, I threw, so far the cpu wasn’t even visible. Then, I returned to my headquarters the next day, then… my paycheck, CHA-CHING!

THE TELEPATHS

I
1918

“Who are you?’, I shout through the empty void. No one answers. I feel a rush of energy and see a distant memory. A child running through a meadow as his small hands brushed lightly against a flower petal. I could even feel and smell the flower. Sweet, but entirely unhelpful. I search for more memories, only stumbling upon some more recent ones. Those were the bad ones. The child was grown up now, going through a variety of horrible experiences as he fought on the front lines. Cowering in the trenches. Pressing a damp cloth to his face because there were no more gas masks. Ducking as a German artillery shell sends shrapnel above his head.
              I take a step back, stepping out of those memories, and push them to the side. All of a sudden, fear—which I identify as a thick purple smog—filled the cavernous space. At first I think I have caused it, possible I have unintentionally released these emotions by revisiting those memories. Then I realize it. The light dims.
“No no no no no!”, I shout as the light turns to darkness.
I close my eyes for ten seconds. Ten, Nine, Eight… The feeling of the smog slowly fades. Seven, Six, Five… I felt as if I was being slowly pulled backwards. Four, Three, Two.

One.

I open my eyes. I am no longer in the cavernous space. I am in a large military hospital full of rows and rows of mostly empty beds. The man in the bed in front of me, is wearing multiple casts. The man from the memories.
              He is unmoving. His eyes are closed. He isn’t breathing. He is dead. I looked down at the base of his bed, seeing a nametag, which reads: “Private Charles van Pelt”. I sigh. All that time inside that man’s head and I couldn’t even learn his name. There are a few other people in the room: A military chaplain, a few nurses, and at least ten injured soldiers.
              I hear footsteps behind me and turn around to see the Head Doctor, Dr. Gabriel Lichter II, coming towards me. He is a thin, bald man, who wears glasses and has a long black moustache. Dr. Lichter was one of the only Doctors in the army who believed that the Telepathic treatment could work.
“So how was your meeting with Private van Pelt?”, he asks.
“Not very good”, I say, gesturing to the body in the bed.
              Dr. Lichter’s moustache seems to droop. “I suppose there was not much of a chance you could save him anyway”, he sighs, “Thanks for trying”. He lifts the blanket over the dead man.
              As I turn to leave, I hear a soft Click. A nurse screams and drops the bowl of soup in her hands. I turn around to see a man, in a British army uniform, pressing a silver gun to Dr. Lichter’s head.
“Mr. Stewart”, The man says, “I believe you have something of mine”.
              He’s talking about the pocket watch which I was told to never to let out of my sight. I stare into his eyes. His pupils begin to dilate. Soon I am transported into a cavernous room, similar to the one before, except it is in the man’s mind instead of Van Pelt’s. I feel a force pushing me back. The man is defending against me. I push forward, but he is too strong. As I slowly get pushed out of the man’s mind, I manage to see his name.
David Pope.
              All of a sudden, I hear a loud bang and I am pulled out of David’s mind. As soon as I open my eyes, I feel nauseous, as I always do when I don’t exit someone’s mind properly. It’s one of the many reasons why I count to ten before exiting. But I suppose that the body on floor is more important. The Nurse has fainted, her head lying in the puddle of spilt soup. The man, David, disappears as quickly as he materialized. Before he vanishes, he gives a warning:
“Return the device by tomorrow. You know what will happen if you don’t”

II

As I sit on a bench in Central Park, a man rides past me on his bicycle. He swerves around some pedestrians, who grumble angrily at him. Out here, he is just a reckless biker. But to others, he is known as Colonel A.J Miller, a high-ranking military officer who has just returned home from the front lines. He travelled from London to New York to meet with me. As he rides his bike past me, he drops a manila envelope onto my lap.
              I whisper a silent “Thank-You” to Miller before tearing open the envelope. Inside is a report labelled “David Pope”. An attached picture confirms his identity. The same young face, chiselled features, and British army uniform.
              The file is half a page long.
Name: David Pope
Birth Date: ?
Family: ?
Country: Britain(?)
Rank: Private
…
              The list continues, listing multiple categories, all with question marks at the end. It appears that even the Generals in London don’t know who Pope is. There is only one other item in the envelope. A letter:

Dear Benjamin,
Although the hope of finding Dr. Lichter’s killer looks slim, I have managed to find one additional piece of information: Before 1916, Private David Pope did Not exist.

I can’t find any records of him until August 14th, 1916, when the photo was taken. He looks about 25. It seems possible that someone could have fabricated the identity of Private Pope in order to escape past crimes.

Other Records of Pope show that he was deployed in Krzywopłoty, Poland and Varna, Bulgaria. Multiple accounts of looting in mansions and museums nearby have been reported. It is possible that he could be involved.
 

I will continue to report on any new information regarding the Private, if we are to find more.

Sincerely,
              A.J Miller

I cringe. Krzywopłoty. Varna. All places where Telepath artifacts—and the Telepaths guarding them—were located. Telepath artifact vaults were spread across the warzone that had once been Europe. There must have been many more artifacts that Pope looted.
              I take the pocket watch out of my pocket. I flip open the brass cover, emblazoned with the face of a lion, revealing the watch face beneath. It looks just like a normal watch, except that the numbers have been replaced with symbols. I don’t know what they mean.
              The watch was given to me, last week in St. Petersburg, by the last Russian Telepath since Grigori Rasputin. The man was shot before he could tell me what to do with it. I managed to escape to Paris, where I started my business of Telepathic Medical Treatment.
              I stare at the watch again. According to Pope’s warning, I am supposed to return the watch to him by today. I think about his warning. You know what will happen if you don’t. All twelve members of the Telepath High Council have gone missing. What will happen to them if I fail?
              Suddenly, a strong Telepathic presence interrupts my thoughts.
Someone is trying to connect with me
I hear a voice—David Pope’s voice—speaking in my head. It is quiet, barely above a whisper:
HS Koningin Regentes… today… five o’ clock… Boston, Lincolnshire, England… Follow Matthews.
Pope has told me where to bring the watch and when. If I don’t, twelve men will die.

III

I find the nearest teleportation station to Lincolnshire, and I catch the HS Koningin Regentes before it leaves the town of Boston. It’s a hospital steamship sailing to Rotterdam. By five O’clock, we are out at sea.
              Upon my arrival, the Captain make an announcement for a ‘Nurse Matthews’ to head down to one of the decks, located near the ship’s paddle wheel. Instead of finding a nurse, however, I am greeted by Pope. His uniform is in tatters, his face is scratched (with a large scar down his left cheek), and he walks with a slight limp.
“Hand over the watch”, he growls.
“How do I know you will release the Council”, I say.
              Pope smiles, and holds up a round glass orb. I recognize it. A Seer Stone. Within the orb, a misty image of a port in Rotterdam appears. Three cars pull up. The doors open in unison. An elderly man stumbles out. He turns his head, and I get a glimpse of his face. Matthias Kruger. One of the Council Members. One by one, the twelve old men leave the cars.
“They’ll be waiting when we arrive in Rotterdam”, adds Pope.
The last people to get out of the cars were men dressed in Dutch Army uniforms, who watched as the Council members slowly hobbled off. Their faces were identical to Pope’s.
“How?”, I say to him.
“None of your business!”, he snaps, “Hand over the watch!”.
              I hear the low rumble of a motor as a speedboat approaches us. I can hear the captain yelling something inaudibly at us as they draw near. When Pope is momentarily distracted, I throw the watch. He dives to catch it as it skids along the deck, but he misses it and the watche falls into the paddle wheel.
              The speedboat appears alongside the steamship. The captain, who I now see is a woman wearing a red jacket, calls to me from her boat.
“Get in!”, She yells.
When I hesitate, she adds: “I’ve been sent by the Council”.
While Pope gets up, I clamber over the railing and fall in to the boat in a less than graceful manner.
              As the Woman in the boat speeds away from the HS Koningin Regentes, I get a closer look at her face. I recognize her. She is Theodora Asterio, daughter of Morgan Asterio, one of the Council members.
“Mr. Stewart”, she shouts over the din of the engine, “The Council has sent me to rescue you. They asked me to send you to Stockholm”.
“What’s going on!?”, I ask.
“I’ll start at the beginning”, says Theodora, “A long time ago, the Council hid their most prized possessions in a vault that moves every few years. They made an Atlas that could show where it was. In order to read the complicated Atlas, the Telepaths used a few devices, most notably your watch”.
“So Pope wants to use the watch to find the Atlas?”, I ask, “Who is he?”
“It is a parasite”, said Theodora, “A Shapeshifter imprisoned by the Council until it escaped. It possessed an Astro-Hungarian soldier, Konstantin Erdös in 1916. It faked his death, and reappeared as a British soldier named David Pope. The parasite spread to others, who took on Konstantin’s appearance”.
              There is a loud boom. I turn around, and see that the Dutch Steamship is sinking. It has been torpedoed.
“We don’t have time!”, shouts Theodora, stopping the engine.
              She removes a small device from her coat. A portable teleporter, only given to high-ranking Telepaths. She presses a button on the device.
              There is a bright flash, and the boat reappears in another body of water inside a large cave. There is another flash beside us, and another boat appears beside us. The Captain waves at us in a friendly manner. More boats teleport in around the underground lake, while others float up from further down the passage.
              Theodora steers the boat towards a dock in the center of the cave. We climb onto the dock, and Theodora walks towards a pair of large Mahogany doors.
“Where are we?”, I ask.
“A cave system under Stockholm”, she answers, “It’s where the Council headquarters are”.      Through the doors, there is a wood panelled passage. Men and women in suits walk up and down the hallway, disappearing through different doors. Theodora leads me through a series of rooms, passageways, and stairs until we arrive at the center of the headquarters.        We stand on a balcony, overlooking a large cylindrical library. In the center, an Armillary Sphere spins and twirls. Theodora called to a man working at the desk under the sphere.
“Dr. Frost!”, she calls.
The man looks up.
“Oh!”, he says, startled, “Theodora! You’re back! Come! Join me”.
              We climb down a spiral staircase to the ground floor. Theodora introduces me to the man.
“Mr. Benjamin Stewart, meet Dr. Hugo Frost”, she says, “He’s been spearheading the project to decipher the Atlas”.
“Yes”, Dr. Frost says, shaking my hand, “But I admit it’s been hard without the watch”.
“Oh!”, I say, pulling the watch out of my pocket, “I… um… had a copy made. I threw the fake at Pope, and kept the real one”.       
              Theodora looks shocked. Dr. Frost takes the watch, and returns to his desk. He lays it by a book, which I assume is the Atlas. After fiddling with the watch and muttering under his breath, he seems to discover something.
“Eureka!”, he shouts, ”It’s in the Congo”.
              Dr. Frost runs excitedly down the hall to a Teleporter Station, where he types in a pair of co-ordinates. The Teleporter begins to glow.
“Are you sure it’s safe?”, I ask.
“Of course”, replies Dr. Frost, “The Council wouldn’t allow defective Teleportation machines”.
“No”, I say, “I mean the Congo”.
“Probably not”, He says.

IV

I expect to land on the dirt floor beneath a jungle canopy, but instead, Theodora and I are Teleported straight into the Vault. It is a windowless stone room with no exits. In the center there is a single podium with a black urn on top, decorated with hieroglyphics.
“That’s it?”, I say, “Just an urn?”.
Theodora looks closer at the urn. “Well maybe it’s…”, she begins.
              She is interrupted by a soft Click. It’s the same one I heard in that Hospital yesterday. It comes from Pope’s gun. I turn around, but instead of Pope, I see Dr. Lichter. Only it’s not him. Dr. Gabriel Lichter II is dead. This is a parasite.
“Hand over the urn!”, shouts the parasite, as it shapeshifts into the form of Pope, its first, and favourite, host.
“No”, I say.
              He shoots, but Theodora tackles him. His bullet goes astray and hits the urn. It shatters, and a strange, gaseous substance escapes. As Pope (or Lichter, or the Parasite) falls to the ground, I stare into his eyes. His pupils dilate, and I enter his mind.            
              It is chaotic. Memories and emotions from his past life mix. The purple mist of fear. A sea of sadness. Fires of anger. I see through his eyes. He absorbs the gaseous substance. He grows bigger and I feel the raw energy of strength surge through his body. I influence his mind, forcing him to stop. Theodora sees the opportunity, and shoots. I leave the monster as he dies, with the same rush of nausea I usually feel. The giant version of Pope lies dead on the ground.
 

It’s 6:06 pm, and I want to go home. The cold has soaked through my jacket and gloves. I can no longer feel my hands and it feels like I’m carrying rocks on the ends of my fingers. The sun is dipping under the fence behind me.

As I wait for an opportunity to snowboard down the hill, a woman begins to grin feverishly. She excitedly scoots over to a male sitting down, only one of her feet strapped onto the board. She almost falls backward but catches herself, grabbing his arm in an attempt to get his attention. “¡Mira! ¡Mira!” Look, look. When he cannot see from where he’s standing, she awkwardly drags him a couple feet over. He stays in his skateboard, giving a few thrusting kicks to help the process.

A few seconds go by, and then his face turns on into something else. His eyes crinkle, he smiles wide, and a slight laugh comes out of his mouth. The reflected light from the sun turns his eyes a burning color, like an orange popsicle. He directs his words at the woman, but doesn’t move his gaze. “Hermoso,” he says. Beautiful.

  This is April 13th, 2031.

  “We lived in an environment with an average daily temperature of 200 degrees Fahrenheit. We could only rely on "heat-reducing clothing" to survive every day. This is my last recording. I must not regret it, because that is what I deserve.” (Last report). /D-e-s-t-r-o-y/.

  Welcome! Location: Vapor World. Number: 7. Our world is becoming more and more powerful. Luxuriant street was full of human-like robots, they talked to each other with enthusiastic smile, warm oxygen gases around the society. Our world is shrouded in a stove. [Cyberpunk Music playing]. People walked straightly like magazine models, they all wore VAPORIZERS made of plastics and the “heat-reducing clothing”. In 2020s, one greatest scientist- Siamor Grey. She created us of generation 1. Thanks to her, we have our own brains, our own bodies, even everything we want to have. We are doing much better than humans in the equality class. A simple and important rule lived in our society: the operations of reservation and discarding are only between contribution and neglect. Useless trash should be thrown into trash bin.

  Good news, no one destroys their equipment. The purple transparent building of up to 6,500 feet provokes the stove above the head. That is Quantum University. Most talented and high-IQ educators worked there.               

  Drongser Johanson, an 80-year old erudite professor from Quantum University. HUMAN. When he left his position in April 13th, 2031, he realized that he didn’t achieve his dream project since his childhood. By the way, his childhood was really unfortunate. Honestly, I want to start pity him. / Checking out the individual’s data /: Back in 1958, his parents were divorced. The father found a new love, and he lived with his father and his stepmother. Drongser's father is a quantum engineering researcher, and whenever his father failed to experiment (the number of times is in the cardinal number pattern), he would be beaten like as soon as he could meet the angel. Drongser already got a grandiose plan in his mind, he wanted to change the rules of the whole space!

  When time machine, artificial intelligence and high-tech invention was mature in the scientific community, some people were still eager to explore the space. Drongser was one of these people. He had tried to figure out how he can make the time stop during his last 20 years .But unfortunately, he had failed 2030 times until he left his position. He almost gave two fourths of his life. Although the fact is putting out in front of him, he knew what’s his next step.

  Dronser’s lab was in a desolate, unknown place. In Drongser’s lab, it was neat and clean everywhere. Drongser is a precise man, he doesn’t allow any imperfections exist in his laboratory. A pile of formulas were on the blackboard, take a closer look on the board: there is a beam of light and a spaceship, and some formulas under them. The door was opened, Drongser backed. He talked to himself, “I can't lose anymore, I’ve lost my beloved job, and my wife had driven me out of the house. There is nothing that can tether me, I can't cower this time.” Then, he pressed the button of the spacecraft and started the procedure of the spacecraft. In an instant, the engine of the spacecraft slammed in the air, and he didn't realize anything, but Vaporizer sensed it. Still, he didn't realize anything. This time the spacecraft really "launched", accompanied by psychedelic steam. He sat down and suddenly his tears flowed out, umbrage and sadness seemed to badger him. Drongser couldn’t wait anymore, he had sworn to himself, no matter what, he had to study this time project which is at the forefront of the scientific community. Money, all he wanted. He planned share it with himself. After dragging through this struggle, Drongser finally started his adventure.

  Crash!!!

  Drongser successfully completed his first part of the journey, perfectly broke through the atmosphere, and entered space, everything was just as normal!

  Now, the speed of the spacecraft was 150,000 kilometers per second.

  Drongser thought that the situation was good then, he accelerated the spaceship to 300,000 kilometers per second.

  The spacecraft disappeared with a “Pop”. Drongser felt hurt. He was divided into millions of molecules. After a while, he opened his eyes, the eyes were uncertain, hopeless, dark blue. Then saw his craft was in a strange quagmire. The quagmire was clear and transparent. Then it began to present the memory fragments of Drongser Johansen, playing like a movie of life. A whole-black picture of Drongser and his wife was also presented in the Quagmire, two photogenic young people were smiling to the camera. Drongser watched the picture slowly disappear, and he knew that he was running out of time. He recalled that he inveigled his wife to marry him and even beat her when he is drunk…. Huh, such a wonderful and selfish one. This guy is totally a “Repeater”.

  Finally, the spaceship fall into the quagmire. Everything was gone.

  The exploding spacecraft still braved the fierce flame. The noxious fire smoke filled the entire laboratory. The psychedelic steam also carries the rose scent on his wife's clothes. Drongser inhaled a lot of steam and fire smoke, and his fantasy was over. Drongser gradually realized that the current situation was precarious, but half of his body was stuck in the stump of the spaceship. Half of his passion and mind were floating in the laboratory. Something was not under control.

  The fire was getting worse, temperature was still rising.

  Drongser picked up a recording pen hidden in the spaceship, then said: “We lived in an environment with an average daily temperature of 200 degrees Fahrenheit. We could only rely on "heat-reducing clothing" to survive every day. This is my last recording. I must not regret it, because that is what I deserve.”, / Accept the request: D-E-S-T-R-O-Y/. “All of this is a karma, and our problem is still not solved.” /Cyberpunk Music playing/.

   "BOOM"!