Post by valiantox on Oct 29, 2014 22:55:04 GMT -5
“Time to plug a wire in my brain” is the expression that is used here for suspended animated sleep. Upon request from the scientists, we’re to return to our white, plain rooms, remain silent until we doze off into a virtual world. It’s been said they put our minds to the test in virtual environments, carefully graphing our reactions and emotions. I, Alastor, am a “suitable candidate” for this wickedly horrible project. I shudder as my body touches the cold, wet, and bare floor for the millionth time. An electrifying feeling is sent through me, creating an aura of pain in the temples, different from what I normally experience, what the hell is this? It doesn’t feel like a wire in my brain this time. I blank out.
My eyes slowly adjust to the blazing light of the sun. I haven’t seen the sun for 3 years. Words echo through my head - this is another one of their experiments on us, everything simulated is created with an external data link. I breathe the cold air in and exhale. A light fogginess engulfs me momentarily, similar to that of walking into a wall of humid air. Something seems off, the world seems too realistic. I amble across the street to my school. My watch says it’s 8:40 A. M. An intense sentiment of déjà vu hits me in the face. I’m back. I’ve finally returned my time period after years of testing! My shoes hit the pavement at an increasing speed towards my house. My eyes get watery. Then I stop. Not due to the exhaustion in my lungs but to the possibility of a corruption in the time-space continuum. The impossible is happening. My bloodshot eyes stare at my younger self, walking to school. I don’t recall seeing a futuristic me that day when I was walking to school. The leaves were falling at that time of year. I remember my stubby fingers were stowed away in my hoodie pockets, warm and away from the bitter coldness while I was walking to school that day to meet Hecate. That was when I was pulled to the future. I stand there in the September wind, anticipating the distortion and disappearance of my younger self. It didn’t happen. He just continued walking. I’ve found myself in an alternate time plane, one where I was never kidnapped. I stumble and take a step back. This isn’t possible. A wave of shock flies through my body. This isn’t possible. This isn’t fair. I just want to go home.
Before I know it, I’m lying back in my white room. My motor skills slowly regain power. Had they really sent me back in time? I painfully stretch my aching muscles and get up. The air compressed door hisses as it opens. I amble into the main hall where other captives from various time, periods and planes converse.
“Hey, what’s so glum chum?” asks the sarcastic man from an unknown British time, plane and period.
“If you were to go back to your old life, what would you do?” I ask idiotically.
“I’d enjoy my time living of course.”
What I intentionally thought. I scan the room for new candidates; some claim they’re from all the way from the 29th century while a particular few are from the 18th century. I hardly know someone in my time, period or plane that currently resides here and before I know it, we’re relieved of our short break and sent back into our jail cells like birds. As I quickly rush back, I notice a fragmented leaf stuck to the laces of my worn out shoes. The realization hits me much harder than before.
heart beats quickly as I hope for another miracle to travel back in time. I shudder again as I lie down on the ground. Then I blank out.
Time travelling involves moving organic life forms and inanimate objects through time, not space, so I wasn’t surprised to find myself in somebody’s bedroom. Ironically, I was right on top of their bed. Instead of the set of words I repeat to myself each time, a new realization arises. What time is it? I look at the digital clock. September 19th, 2016. I’m 2 years in the future. My mind is telling me to desperately search for a weapon. I unsheathe a knife from the kitchen drawer and flee the household. My panicking thoughts increase as I hide the knife in my inside hoodie pocket. My fingers begin shaking as I run into a winter wonderland. I intake a great breathe and start running straight towards my house. I want to see my parents. My vision gets obstructed by the snowflakes fluttering down. Imprints from my shoes form a row of footprints across my yard. Trying my best to not cry, I run from window from window, looking for a family member. I curse as a lone splinter impales my frostbitten thumb. I desperately pull it out but I stop because I see her. I see my mother knitting a blue scarf. She’s gotten old without me. I shiver and let out a painstaking cry. Then I disappear once more.
I wake up in the white room clutching the knife tightly in my hands ignoring the pulsing pain in my thumb. I exit the room. Let’s see what I can do with this knife. I stumble on my feet. My friend, Hecate, stands outside. She’s wearing the same clothes as the time I first met her on that fateful day afterschool, a treasured memory. Words spill out of my mouth. “H-Hecate!!” I scream out. I run to her.
She takes a step back and looks in my face with her innocent glinted eyes, “Alastor?”
“I know how to get us back,” I say confidently. I wrap my arms around her body and finally begin weeping. I’ve missed you Hecate. I’ve missed you.
Prologue:
The soft beeping of a medical instrument blends in with the background. Indistinguishable blurs of white fade to grey. My head hurts. I shut my eyes and take a breath. Where am I? I open them. The bed feels soft. Wrapped around my neck is a familiar blue scarf. I brush my fingers on it and abruptly stop completely. The blemish on my thumb reveals itself once more. I must be dreaming. I pick up a medical report on my status - severe brain damage due to coma. My lovely parents step into the room with a joyous expression on their faces. I smile back. “Where’s Hecate?” I ask. They drop their stuff onto the floor and rush to hug me. Then, the dreadful words enter my ears. It’s something that I never want to ever hear again. “Who’s Hecate?” questions my father. An immense wave of emotions stab at my heart, but this time, I don’t blank out.
I’m stuck in the wrong time plane.
My eyes slowly adjust to the blazing light of the sun. I haven’t seen the sun for 3 years. Words echo through my head - this is another one of their experiments on us, everything simulated is created with an external data link. I breathe the cold air in and exhale. A light fogginess engulfs me momentarily, similar to that of walking into a wall of humid air. Something seems off, the world seems too realistic. I amble across the street to my school. My watch says it’s 8:40 A. M. An intense sentiment of déjà vu hits me in the face. I’m back. I’ve finally returned my time period after years of testing! My shoes hit the pavement at an increasing speed towards my house. My eyes get watery. Then I stop. Not due to the exhaustion in my lungs but to the possibility of a corruption in the time-space continuum. The impossible is happening. My bloodshot eyes stare at my younger self, walking to school. I don’t recall seeing a futuristic me that day when I was walking to school. The leaves were falling at that time of year. I remember my stubby fingers were stowed away in my hoodie pockets, warm and away from the bitter coldness while I was walking to school that day to meet Hecate. That was when I was pulled to the future. I stand there in the September wind, anticipating the distortion and disappearance of my younger self. It didn’t happen. He just continued walking. I’ve found myself in an alternate time plane, one where I was never kidnapped. I stumble and take a step back. This isn’t possible. A wave of shock flies through my body. This isn’t possible. This isn’t fair. I just want to go home.
Before I know it, I’m lying back in my white room. My motor skills slowly regain power. Had they really sent me back in time? I painfully stretch my aching muscles and get up. The air compressed door hisses as it opens. I amble into the main hall where other captives from various time, periods and planes converse.
“Hey, what’s so glum chum?” asks the sarcastic man from an unknown British time, plane and period.
“If you were to go back to your old life, what would you do?” I ask idiotically.
“I’d enjoy my time living of course.”
What I intentionally thought. I scan the room for new candidates; some claim they’re from all the way from the 29th century while a particular few are from the 18th century. I hardly know someone in my time, period or plane that currently resides here and before I know it, we’re relieved of our short break and sent back into our jail cells like birds. As I quickly rush back, I notice a fragmented leaf stuck to the laces of my worn out shoes. The realization hits me much harder than before.
heart beats quickly as I hope for another miracle to travel back in time. I shudder again as I lie down on the ground. Then I blank out.
Time travelling involves moving organic life forms and inanimate objects through time, not space, so I wasn’t surprised to find myself in somebody’s bedroom. Ironically, I was right on top of their bed. Instead of the set of words I repeat to myself each time, a new realization arises. What time is it? I look at the digital clock. September 19th, 2016. I’m 2 years in the future. My mind is telling me to desperately search for a weapon. I unsheathe a knife from the kitchen drawer and flee the household. My panicking thoughts increase as I hide the knife in my inside hoodie pocket. My fingers begin shaking as I run into a winter wonderland. I intake a great breathe and start running straight towards my house. I want to see my parents. My vision gets obstructed by the snowflakes fluttering down. Imprints from my shoes form a row of footprints across my yard. Trying my best to not cry, I run from window from window, looking for a family member. I curse as a lone splinter impales my frostbitten thumb. I desperately pull it out but I stop because I see her. I see my mother knitting a blue scarf. She’s gotten old without me. I shiver and let out a painstaking cry. Then I disappear once more.
I wake up in the white room clutching the knife tightly in my hands ignoring the pulsing pain in my thumb. I exit the room. Let’s see what I can do with this knife. I stumble on my feet. My friend, Hecate, stands outside. She’s wearing the same clothes as the time I first met her on that fateful day afterschool, a treasured memory. Words spill out of my mouth. “H-Hecate!!” I scream out. I run to her.
She takes a step back and looks in my face with her innocent glinted eyes, “Alastor?”
“I know how to get us back,” I say confidently. I wrap my arms around her body and finally begin weeping. I’ve missed you Hecate. I’ve missed you.
Prologue:
The soft beeping of a medical instrument blends in with the background. Indistinguishable blurs of white fade to grey. My head hurts. I shut my eyes and take a breath. Where am I? I open them. The bed feels soft. Wrapped around my neck is a familiar blue scarf. I brush my fingers on it and abruptly stop completely. The blemish on my thumb reveals itself once more. I must be dreaming. I pick up a medical report on my status - severe brain damage due to coma. My lovely parents step into the room with a joyous expression on their faces. I smile back. “Where’s Hecate?” I ask. They drop their stuff onto the floor and rush to hug me. Then, the dreadful words enter my ears. It’s something that I never want to ever hear again. “Who’s Hecate?” questions my father. An immense wave of emotions stab at my heart, but this time, I don’t blank out.
I’m stuck in the wrong time plane.