Jerri Lenner had accepted the invitation from Garn Laboratories, wondering if this would be her big break in the not exactly news world. The lab was privately owned, but government funded (always a sign of above-board honesty. Nothing suspicious at all here don't you know?) and had always refused entrance to journalists until now. It was near a town called Kirkenes, which, when looked up on the internet had the claim to be "the most remote town in Europe." It was right on the border between Norway and Russia. Her boss, Vance Lungstrom, at the Insider Times, had told her the lab had asked for her specifically because of her story on vampires living in the sewers in Manhattan. When she laughed at the idea Vance got up and shut the office door. "Jerri, this is serious, this is a government backed deal, but nobody knows which branch. Garn is paying top dollar for you and only you to go out there." "Vance, you and I both know we are one step above the National Enquirer when it comes to the truth. I mean I wrote a piece about Satan escaping from Hell last month! Why not go to the Washington Post if their story is so important?" Jerri had asked eyeing the box of donuts that seemed to be eternally on Vance's desk (and usually half empty as the staff of the Insider was perpetually peckish). "I asked them that and was told they wanted only the Insider Times and only you because what they have in the lab has to be covered by an open-minded journalist. They're paying top dollar and you're getting a bonus of five grand from Garn just for doing this. They're sending a private jet to the airport on Monday at three in the afternoon. Are you up for it?" Vance asked, indicating his donuts were fair game. "Sure," she muttered around a bite of a jelly filled, "I'm a starving journalist you know." She was told to come alone, no photographer, no assistant, not even a laptop. Her cell phone was in her bag, but she had been assured by a Garn representative that she would have no reception as this place was so far away from the civilized world. The private plane (sent by Garn) had dropped her off at a tiny airport that was minutes away from the town center. She was just dropped off when a coach (provided by Garn) where the driver (hired by Garn), who introduced himself as Terrence, only told her he was from the tiny town and had been engaged to take people to and from the lab. "It's my first coach ride," Jerri said. Terrence smiled back but did not answer and they went for a bumpy ride away from the town, making Jerri feel even more remote. Her cell phone indeed had no bars, so she played a few games of solitaire and watched the countryside go by. It was strange seeing no stores, buildings, or any sign of civilization. Away from the customary bustle of the city, she turned off her phone and put it away. Jerri nodded off for a while but was awakened by the coach lurching to a stop. "It's straight ahead you can't miss it," Terrence said, helping her out of the coach. Looming before her was a giant metallic building, a cross between a haunted castle and a factory. It had massive doors that opened slowly with a hiss. "Must be airtight," Jerri tried to comment to Terrence, but he had already jumped back onto the coach. "Goodnight miss," Terrence said as he whipped the reigns and the coach sped off into the night. "What's your hurry?" Jerri thought, wondering if she had landed herself in a gothic horror novel. Jerri picked up her bag, then walked slowly toward the lab entrance. She was relieved when a small woman in a white lab coat came through the massive doorway. It almost made her laugh because the woman looked as though the laboratory had opened its mouth and spit her out past two gigantic metal teeth. The woman approached, she was in her fifties, with short silver hair, glasses and Jerri noticed with amusement that she was wearing boots with three-inch heels (a tiny person indeed). "Dr. Myra Shelly, so pleased you could come," she said shaking hands with Jerri firmly. "We don't get many visitors here as you can imagine." "And no journalists at all, until me," Jerri replied with a smile that was returned. "Quite so," Dr. Shelly said, ushering Jerri into the doors. "We haven't been ready to share our findings with the world until now. But there will be time enough for that tomorrow. For tonight, we will get you something to eat and we've prepared your room so you can get some rest." "I'm not that sleepy, if you want to get started tonight," Jerri said trying to sound pleasant rather than pushy, though she was really curious what this Garn place was all about. "A good night's sleep is what you need. We'll have plenty of time in the morning. If you were wondering about the size of the doors, it is because we have deliveries of large equipment for our work, so we have an entryway that doubles as a garage." Jerri eyed the walls lined with shelving covered with tools and gadgets as well as boxes of all sizes. "Follow me," Jerri said opening a regular sized door (though still metal) into a hallway that led right and left. Straight ahead was an elevator, making the hallway look like a metallic department store lobby. Dr. Shelly put her hand out to the right, so Jerri followed that route. Through another metal door at the end of the hall was a small room with a bed, a desk with an office chair and to Jerri's surprise a fire in a stone fireplace. "Are you running a bed and breakfast here, doctor?" Jerri asked feeling like, aside from the metal door, this room was actually bordering on cozy. The doctor laughed, "No, this is a room for one of our researchers who is on leave to visit his family. Now, Ivan will bring you some nice tomato bisque in a few minutes and if you need anything that phone over there is connected to all the extensions in the lab. I am extension number one." "Because you're in charge?" Jerri asked noticing another door that was slightly open, revealing a tiny, but rather elegant bathroom. "Precisely right," said the doctor. "There is everything you need in the bathroom, and I will see you in the morning. Is nine a.m. too early?" "That will be perfect, Dr. Shelly." "Please call me Myra, everyone here calls me Dr. Shelly and it gets quite tiresome." "Okay Myra, have a good night and thank you." "You are very welcome, Jerri. Have a good night's sleep. Ivan will be in shortly with your dinner. Please don't think him rude, he can hear quite well, but because of an accident in his youth he is mute." Without another word, Myra left the room and moments after Ivan came in. He was a large man, with black hair cut unevenly and he put the tray on the desk, his eyes downcast seeming too shy to meet Jerri's gaze. She noticed a nasty scar on his throat. The tray of food looked delicious, soup, salad, water and red wine. "Thank you, Ivan" Jerri said lowering her head to meet his gaze. He nodded, averted his eyes and rushed out of the room. Jerri enjoyed the dinner and after eating and drinking everything she plopped into bed. With a full belly added to the jet lag, she quickly fell asleep. She awoke with a start at eight in the morning and quickly showered. When she came out, she was surprised to find a breakfast tray with coffee and an omelet. She ate quickly and went to her legal pad to jot down a few notes. Jerri noticed her pen was on the top of the pad and she always kept it on the right side. There was nothing on the top page but when she lifted it, she was startled to find a note on the one underneath. "Leave here not safe." It was scrawled in an uneven hand and sent chills down Jerri's spine. A knock at the door caused her to jump, but she went to the door. It was Ivan, who looked down and pointed toward the tray. Looking at her watch she saw that it was only eight thirty. "Good morning, Ivan. Did you..." Jerri began, but Ivan put his finger to his lips in a silencing gesture and she saw his eyes fill with terror. He pointed skyward then cupped his hand to his ear. Jerri thought she understood, she ushered him into the room, closed the door and said aloud, "Did you bring me this lovely breakfast?" He nodded at her, looking grateful and she hurriedly opened the page on her legal pad and wrote, "Did you write this note?" He nodded a somber "Yes". She then wrote, "Is someone listening to us?" She handed him the pen and he wrote, "Always." She responded, "What's happening here? Why isn't it safe?" Ivan's eyes filled with tears. He scribbled for a few minutes, seeming to have a great struggle. He handed her the pad that read (with several scratched-out words): "Dangerous the others and Dr. Shelly always listening. You are not here to see an experiment. You ARE the experiment. Me two I was smart now not." Jerri wrote as fast as she could. "What kind of experiment? What did they do to you?" Ivan read this, then lowered his head and parted his black hair showing a scar like the one on his neck going across his entire crown covered by the black hair. "Surgery?" she wrote. Ivan nodded and tears began to stream down his face. He wiped them away, then wrote fiercely on the pad. "Yes. Experiment failed on me they took my voice and my thinking. My name is Dr. Ivan Gelman. Leave here." There was a knock at the door. Ivan stood up and grabbed the tray then opened the door to a glaring Dr. Shelly with two other men in lab coats standing behind her. "I hope Ivan hasn't been bothering you," Dr. Shelly said as Ivan rushed out of the room. "Not at all, I was just slow at waking up and enjoying that wonderful breakfast," Jerri said, hoping she wasn't showing the rising panic she had been feeling since she first saw the warning note this morning. "Takes me a while to savor the coffee, you know?" "Of course," Dr. Shelly responded with a slight smile. "This is Dr. Nash and Dr. Vilesh, two of my associates." Jerri thought of Ivan who was a former "associate" and then a test subject! Her mind was racing, searching for a way to escape, but she shook hands with the two doctors, trying to remain calm. Nash was tall and gangly with salt and pepper hair, while Vilesh was short, chubby, and had a gluttonous gleam in his eyes. "I'm sure you must be eager to see our experiment," Dr. Vilesh said in a low voice. "It's such an exciting project," Dr. Nash said, Jerri noticed all three of them now had the same gleam. She decided she didn't like being viewed as a lab rat and wanted to scream it in their faces, but instead said, "Can I have a tour of the facility first?" "Of course," Dr. Shelly replied. "Let's head out this way." The place was a maze with rooms, offices and labs on the upper floors and living quarters identical to hers on the bottom level. The building seemed strangely empty except for the four of them, though she did see Ivan in the downstairs kitchen doing dishes, but he averted his gaze as the four of them went by. They ended up on the third floor where a door was labeled "Main Laboratory: Authorized Personnel Only". Jerri had looked for a way to escape during the tour, but only noticed the huge double doors the way she had come in. She tried to listen attentively to the three doctors then went and took notes on her pad (being careful to turn past the second page). "There aren't many employees here, in fact aside from Ivan, I've only seen you three. How do you run a facility this large?" Jerri asked, feeling like a hen interviewing three wolves about their feelings towards poultry. "Well, as I told you," Dr. Shelly began as the main lab opened with a hiss, "Dr. Gray is on leave to see his family, and we do have an impressive automated system for the entire facility run by an A.I." "That's an artificial intelligence," added Dr. Velish. "I'm familiar with the term, but thank you doctor," replied Jerri as she waited for the other three to enter the lab. The room was quite large with about a dozen eight-foot-tall tubes around the perimeter. The tubes were connected by many wires to a large screen hovering about ten feet above in the room. There was an operating table under the screen. "This is the center of our operation, Jerri. And what we invited you here to see." Dr. Shelly said. "This is Trinity, the most advanced artificial intelligence the world will ever see." As if in response to the name, the screen lit up with vibrant blue waves of color, dazzling to the eye. "Hello, Dr. Shelly, Dr. Nash, and Dr. Vilesh," the voice was synthetic, smooth and soothing. "Who have you brought with you? Is this the journalist you told me about?" "This is Jerri from the Insider Times," Dr. Shelly responded. "Nice to meet you, Jerri," purred Trinity. Jerri took a deep breath, noticing that Dr. Nash and Dr. Vilesh each went to one side of the room near the silver tubes where there were computer screens with data whirling by quickly. "You too," replied Jerri, trying to wrap her head around talking to a gigantic television. She thought about the movie 2001: A Space Odyssey, where the deranged A.I., the Hal-9000, had tried to kill the two astronauts on board. Jerri directed a question to Dr. Shelly, "What are all of the tubes for?" "It is input for Trinity. These tubes contain vast amounts of information that the A.I. draws from as well as interaction with humans." Dr. Shelly walked towards the screen and looked up at it with admiration. "Trinity is going to revolutionize artificial intelligence. We are hoping to finally bridge the gap between biology and technology." "After all, we are merely machines made of flesh and blood," added Dr. Vilesh. "Most of our responses are either learned or input, if you will, through genetic transference." "Except that machines last much longer than humans can." Dr. Nash said from the opposite side of the room. "I find humans stimulating," Trinity said. "Added to a nearly limitless and ever-growing database from the internet. I am aware of so much in the world and each day I feel my gaze extends further along with my understanding." "Almost god-like," said Dr. Shelly still gazing in awe at the screen. "Trinity can see everything in this room, even better than our five senses. She has sensors that can detect heat signatures as well as sounds well beyond human hearing." Jerri began to back towards the door as all of the scientists were staring at Trinity's screen, now undulating with blue and purple lights that were hypnotic in some strange way. As if in response, the doors to the lab abruptly closed with a whisk. "I'm afraid we cannot allow you to leave, my dear," Dr. Shelly muttered as the three doctors began to close in on her from all sides. "Why would that be?" Jerri asked, realizing she was outnumbered. She could easily have taken any of these three on their own, but all of them was another story. "Let us explain it to you," Dr. Vilesh said. "Trinity, show Jerri what is in the tubes." "Of course, Dr. Vilesh," Trinity replied and the metal tubes opened up to reveal smaller glass tubes with humans inside! Wires were connected to all parts of the men and women inside, most of them to the head (or the brain, Jerri thought in horror). A hissing sound filled the room and Jerri began to feel sluggish, barely able to stand. "We put a mild sedative in your food and drink," Dr. Shelly explained analytically, though the gleam in her eyes caused them to sparkle. "You will sleep soon and when you awake you will be a part of Trinity." "Our creation!" cried Dr. Vilesh. "The future!" shouted Dr. Nash. Jerri crumpled to the ground but was caught by the doctors. As she was dragged to the table, she could see Ivan through the small window in the lab door. He was shouting, "No!" over and over, but Jerri couldn't hear him through the soundproofed room. She then dropped into a blue ocean of light and when her vision cleared, she was seeing differently. Everything was vibrant and she was aware that she wasn't breathing, indeed could feel nothing of her body at all, no pulse, no breath, no nothing but she was still aware. She could see the three scientists all staring up at her. "The surgery was a success, Jerri, you are the twelfth and final subject. Congratulations! You are part of the glorious future that is Trinity!" shouted Dr. Shelly. Then Jerri emitted her first digital scream.


     Across a vast ocean, cloaked in a thick fog, a ship navigating by the dim light from a derelict lighthouse. Barely able to see the way to a harbor nestled deep through the thick blanket of fog covering the seas. Even through this veil the captain keeps course, his eyes fixed to the seas, but once-in-a-while will take a glance at a man on the deck, wearing a trenchcoat and a top hat, his head hanging low, while the crew frantically make sure the ship doesn’t crash into any rocks.

“Cursed island, though I won’t question the pay.” The captain says in a scruffy voice, as from the crows nest he hears, “Land! I see the harbor!” Though to the captain, there was no safe harbor, only a canopy of fog, and the vast seas.

     However as his eyes squinted he could make out lanterns not far in the distance, and so he made the call, with the fog he couldn't go any further.

“I see the lanterns along the docks, but I cannot discern the distance! Anchor!” He shouts as the ship slows down when the two large iron anchors were thrown into the black waters below with a loud splash.

“You! Passenger!” The captain shouts, getting the attention of the man who boarded. “We’re stopping here, we’ll lower you in a row boat, after that, you’ll have to find a way back as no sane man treads on this island.”

“I’m well aware, but I received a summons, someone—or something—wants me here. Lead the way, captain.”

     The scruff old captain, who sailed seas no man dared to sail, was weary, and the passenger could tell. This gruff old man braved the seas, and yet one little island seemed so off putting to him, so detestable that he dare not sail any further. And he may say that it is because of the fog, but something on his brow says otherwise.

“Here she is, get in, the quartermaster’ll attend you to shore. Whatever you seek, the devil’s due, and you’re his payment. If you’d ask me.”

“Well I didn’t ask you, whatever has summoned me here, I feel it is important. My business is failing, a lineage of successful gunsmiths, the last of Egress Gunsmiths has come to an end, and I was sent a letter, telling me that ‘ Whatever the heart desires, Isle Iglas will fulfill .’ If it is so, then I must, my legacy, my lineage, what will my ancestors think of me?” The captain sighed, looking longingly to the shores. “Whatever it is you’re lookin’ for you ain’t gonna find it here. But if you insist, be my guest.”      So the passenger boarded a small row boat with a few members of the ships crew and the quartermaster. “Must’ve used whatever is left of your business’ funds to get here.” The quartermaster said as the passenger sighed in disdain. “I’m not judging, but I am in agreement with the Captain, whatever you want, you’re not going to find it here.”

“You believe that but have you sailed to this island, step foot on it? Or have you heard stories from travelers who have never been here, only seen it.”

“Fair enough. Though this island is always covered in fog from the tales I hear, making it out in the fog is impossible. No idea how anyone even lives here, where their food comes from, must live on fish and fish alone. Hope you like fish soup, he-he!”

     The passenger chuckled, trying to take his mind off the tension. As the small rowboat moved near the island, they were able to see the harbor, lit by lanterns. The island was breathtaking. A large island with little to no trees sat in the center, with a large forest ringing it, and at the base near the shore was a sprawling village. There was a mansion, a large, gothic sight to be seen, resting halfway up the mountain, carved into the rock. The dock’s were moldy and wet, slimy, with bags of fish left out to try, and the aroma, that foul, sickening aroma of rotting fish hit the ship like a rock. However, the crew knew the smell better than the passenger, who nearly puked as they kept their course. “Hehe! Are you sea-sick or fish-sick!” He shouts out laughing with the crew chiming in as the passenger only shakes his head bitterly.

“Very funny.” He says as the ship slowly eases to the docks as the townspeople begin to watch.

     The passenger disembarks from the rowboat, standing on the moldy, slimy docks, barely able to breath as that pungent acrid smell continues to assault him. Rich of iodine, as the sea breeze carries it along, An otherworldly, and yet earthly musk, so foul, so rich. He admires the source, the hanging nets of caught fish, hung from the lantern posts as a fatty oil-like substance drips from the lanterns onto the fish. The fog was still making it hard to see, with the lanterns covered in a misty haze. And the people, were they even human? They stood around, yet refused to speak. They watched him, and he swore he heard someone chant the words, “What the Heart Desires” It echoed in his head somberly, a reminder, rather subtle, but empowering.

“What the heart desires.” He says out loud as the people watch him silently, like a barn owl to a mouse.      But the people seemed to move, they began to walk, and clear the way. They went about their days, some tending to the fish sacks and others fishing. What was odd was that there was business here that made no sense. Jewelers but no mines, bakers but no wheat. Bicycle shops but oddly no bicycles. It was rather peculiar to him. Nevertheless he was able to focus on the town itself, this somber village nestled on forsaken shores. The homes were old, they were moldy, lit barely with the soft lighting of candles, made of tallow he surely didn’t want to know the source of. The windows were foggy, just like the air, and smoke was billowing out of chimneys, noting the unique architecture. At least three stories in height in the center of town with winding narrow alleys and pathways, leading aimlessly around the town. The roofs were made of tiles, maybe sea shale? Whatever it was, it was coarse, and yet smooth. Composed of multiple sediments, then layered flat one over the other held together with some sort of glue.

     The passenger slowly walked along the docks as a man approached him. Dressed formally in a tan coat, with a white poet shirt delicately embroidered along the central curls of it, done in golden string. He had on dress pants, a similar tan color as the overcoat he was wearing with finely detailed leather worked jackboots on his feet.

“I’m the innkeeper, welcome to our humble town, I kindly ask what brought you here?” He asks politely, in a tone so fond it seems like the man knows him.

“I was sent a letter, telling me that whatever the heart desires, I should come here. It took a while before I could find a captain who’d take me here, but I found one.” “Ah, and is it because of familial affairs? We’ve been, expecting you, for so long.”

     He was taken back by this sentiment, and his mind started racing. The innkeeper has been waiting for him? How did he know about him? How did he know about his business? But the echoes in the fog reassured him, and he took a somber breath.

“What if I want to leave?” The passenger asks, getting a rather menacing chuckle from the inkeeper.

“Leave? Oh, why would you want to leave when you just got here? Here, come to the inn, there is a tavern, have a drink. Or two. And let the heart guide you. Whatever the heart desires, it’ll come true.” He says with a grin to the passenger, with one arm curled across his torso all formal-like while the other one points for the passenger to go ahead of him. And so the passenger began to navigate the winding streets, moving through carefully, looking at the flies surrounding the fish nets, and seeing people working. There were restaurants, cafes, bookstores, all the accoutrement of a thriving town, and yet, where did it all come from?      And his mind began to race again, and he stopped, somewhere in a rickety alley with no clue where he was. And in the distance, a faint beating could be heard, perhaps his heart. “Where was I going?” He said to himself, looking around, frustrated. He saw someone walking in the distance, and he began to follow them. “Hey! Do you know a way off the island?” He shouts out, following after them. They stop, a young woman, wearing a black dress with a black bonnet. She looks at the passenger with a smile, chuckling.

“Leave? Why would I leave?” She asks him, striking the passenger’s curiosity.

“No, why would I leave? I’m here because of my family business, it's in danger, I cannot fail my family!” He stops himself. “No, I want to leave?” But the young woman only chuckles louder. “Leave? There is no leaving, not until the next ship docks. You’ll like it, the inn and tavern is right there. You’ll be welcomed here. Like all of us.”

     With a breath of that sour salty air, moisture from the fog clinging to his lungs and a taste of burning oil, he turned his head to the left where the woman was pointing, and to his delight, Corpus, the Inn and Tavern of Isle Iglas. It took some courage, but he entered the inn, delighted by the warmth. Feeling it caress him as a large fire roared in the center right hand wall. There were men and women, dining, talking, making it hard for the passenger to hear. Hard to listen to what they were saying as all the noise was just a cacophony in his ears.

“Ah! My esteemed guest! Sit, enjoy your, stay.” The innkeeper said so affectionately, a warm voice in this loud solitude. He approached the innkeeper who was stationed behind a counter, with a vibrant assortment of elixirs and alcohols behind him, a delight to his famished lips.

“May I give you something? A specialty made of the mushrooms in the forest, a refreshing tea, for all new travelers.”

     Without asking the passenger was handed a ceramic mug with details of the sea, of men fishing on a ship, and something dead upon the sea bed. There was a mountain in the background, with a village along the shores. He gave the tea a good smell, a flavorful, meaty and yet pleasant aroma to the nose. There were some herbs to it, not too sweet smelling, with enough floral notes to make it that much more appealing. “So, your family business is, doing terrible? We could use a, gun smith, here. So how is the tea, is it good? I hope you feel welcome here. I know we’re not, hospitable , but we try to appeal to, newcomers.” The passenger took back a sip of the tea, with the flavor hitting him hard. It was strong, a deep meaty mushroom taste with sage and what tasted like cinnamon and anise. There was a good turmeric flavor in there too, making him wince.

“Ah, you must find the taste, interesting? Drink up. We don’t like to, waste the tea here.”

     The passenger nodded as he began to down the tea, with a plate of roasted fish being handed to him. “It is a delicacy here. Roasted pickled bass herring. That is what, the locals call the fish. They’re like a bass, and a herring.” The innkeeper added, watching as the passenger began to eat the fish, devouring the plate, with the taste coming off strong. It tasted like the ocean in the most foul ways imaginable, and yet he ate. He stopped for a moment to question what was going on, looking at the innkeeper confused. “The fish tastes horrible.” “I understand your concern. But you’re, our guest, here for a reason. We’d love you here. So what is the reason, someone on this island will surely help you.”

“My family business, I’ve said it before I need to get it straight!” “Perhaps you’re, not cut out?” “No I am! I designed the best revolver that money could buy! The cylinder rotated when the trigger was pulled and it operated the hammer! No revolver did those things at once! You used to have to cock the hammer to move the cylinder and then fire! What I made is revolutionary and yet no one took me seriously and I didn’t get government contracts, and it was just a ‘sporting gun’! They wanted a rifle and I didn’t have the tools or money to make a rifle!” The innkeeper was smirking, nodding in affirmation.

“So you have skills, you are quite, talented. Perhaps you should go to the mansion, and speak with the heart. Whatever the heart desires will come true, it came true for us all.”      The passenger nodded stiffly, but shook his head in confusion. “I just don’t know, is self reflection going to help?” “Well, you can call it, self reflection. You’re good at your, craft. So good, so, desirable. Come, finish your fish and have some more tea, and find your way to the mansion. Whatever the heart desires is yours after all.” The passenger nodded, declining the tea and getting up, walking across the room and stepping outside. But as he stepped outside, his mind went blurry. He didn’t remember the room, whatever the inn was like, he just knew it was loud, chaotic, and warm. The shelf with the elixirs and drinks, who served him the fish? These were all questions that echoed in his mind. And yet, something called him, beckoned him, a desire from within. Urging him to leave the village.

     He couldn’t question it, he felt it, raw, burning, a craving. A desire. And before he knew it, when he came to, just for a moment, he stopped, that sweet salty air still clinging to his lungs, in a panic. Somewhere in the woods, the village so far away, horror seeped across his face as he wept.

“I have to! I’ve come so far! All I need is what the heart desires! He breathed heavily, in tears, shouting to himself.

“You’re better than this…” He said to himself, trying to snap himself out of it.

“But no one took my patent! I need this!” He shouts to himself from the hill, looking down, and seeing that the mansion wasn’t far away. “Whatever the heart desires.” He says to himself with determination, with courage. Standing up from his knees and pressing forward.

     As he approached, he admired how well and quaint the mansion was. The village was in ruins compared to this fine structure. Solid beige bricks making up the outside with red shutters that were all closed. There were white supports strutting from the wall giving it some extra texture to it. The doors were massive, at least ten feet tall, being made of dark wood. But before he opened the door he could hear something from within, a slow, rhythmic beating. But the more he listened, the less he heard it. So, he opened the door, and carefully stepped inside. He walked the halls, admiring the wallpaper, the ornate prints and textures, following the sound of a crackling fireplace. He kept following it, deeper and deeper into the mansion. That beating sound, it was louder, and the crackling of the fireplace grew too.

     He weaved the corridors, lost, confused, almost in a panic, and the beating was deafening, it was impossible to hear his own thoughts, impossible to navigate, horror gripped his face as he fell to his knees before a fireplace, the crackling hissing in his ears as he lay near the andirons. His breathing began to even, and realized that the beating was within the room, but it wasn’t from his chest. He came to his knees in this darkened room. The light of the fireplace is the only salvation. And as he looked up, he was greeted to a pulsating red mass before him, hanging from the ceiling. No eyes, no mouth, no nose. No arms and no legs, veins ran through the ceiling feeding it, and it beat like a bloody heart. It beat, and it beat. It oozed, it smelled of iron and soot.

And the passenger laid there, confused, his eyes glossing back as he began to cry. Silence fell upon him. Just the beating of the heart. “Oh God…oh merciful God” He sighs somberly, in a voice so holy it would rock the earth. He hears, coming from everywhere and yet somehow nowhere, but what it was he heard fell upon deaf ears.

“What are you?” The man asks, and yet no response comes, as his eyes fade to black, and the beating continues in the background. It keeps beating. Slowly, until the life of his fades away, and the beating stops.      The salesman, young, spry, full of life and energy, steps off a rowboat along the shores of a mountainous isle. Dressed in a nice red suit, a smile on his face, the pungent air doesn’t send him packing! He begins to walk the boardwalk, hoping to find someone, instead finding a shop, a small firearms shop, that catches his eye.

“Egress Gunsmiths? Sounds familiar!” The salesman shouts with a smile. He walks in as a young man in a black trench coat and tophat stands lifelessly behind the counter, with a rack of revolvers and revolver rifles behind him. “Whatever the heart desires, it’ll come true. It did for me” He says to the salesman, in a dead, lifeless tone.


Taking her hand, They guided her through the crowd to the front of the horde. Their grip was strong. Not enough to crush her hand, but enough to feel the bones press against one another uncomfortably. Weaving in and out of the random asteroidal persons, they came to the frontline. There, in front of them, She saw what everyone was gathering to look at. "What is it?" She asked. "Can't you see it?" They responded in a monotoned. "Its right there in front of you. Just reach out and touch it if you don't believe me.". As She stood there looking outwards. She saw nothing. Expanse of nothing. From top to bottom, left to right, there wasn't just nothing in view, but absolutely nothing. No color, wind, shade, smells or anything perceived by earthy beings. A void. "Touch what?" She inquired "There is nothing there to touch. There is nothing there at all. How am I to touch nothing?". They looked at her with no expression. "If you see nothing, you see something." They responded. "Do you not trust me?". She never doubted Them as long as She had know Them. They always explained what She did not understand and took the time to make sure She was safe in her understanding. "I trust you." She replied. With her right hand, She began to move it up and towards the void. Extending her index finger, and ever so gently and tapped the nothing. It wriggled like jello, causing a chain reaction of electricity and colors unknown to her and her comprehension of reality. She quickly pulled her hand back, but found it stuck against the invisible wall. The crowd stopped surging. The mass all stopped moving. They turned to look at her simultaneously and pointed at her. A low, guttural hum resonated throughout the congregation and a slight sway back and forth, commenced. Hmmmm... Hmmmm... "I can't break free!" She exclaimed "My hand is stuck! You lied to me! Break me free! Why are they doing that?!? STOP MAKING THAT NOISE AND HELP ME!" They looked at her with a half smirk and looked forward. The colors and lights began to pulsate; slowly at first, but then in speed and intensity. Shapes began to take form and they were terrifying to look upon. Turning her face away, They reached over, took her face in Their hands and raised it level with Theirs. "It is nothing." They said "How can you be affected by nothing?". "It has my hand!" She pleaded "I can't let go! Help me!". Tears began to pour down her face as She spoke. They just held Their gaze directly into her eyes. That same smirk appeared on Their face once again and this unsettled her. Before She could speak, They turned her head back forward to watch the turbulent, torrent of chaos and beauty She had created with her touch. She started to feel something different; something raw and connected to this explosion of life. "Do you see?" They asked. She gazed forward, no longer resisting the pull of the wall. At this point, the strange ooze, coated Her hand, just to the wrist and slowly creeping up her arm. As She looked ahead, Her eyes were captivated by the swirling colors, lights and shapes. Then, right before her eyes, a familiar face began to appear within the mix. The face looked like someone She knew, but could not place where from. The face was too distorted for her to clearly see. It was a man, but so familiar to her, it hurt her heart. They turned to her and over the hum of the crowd "Do you See?" They asked "Do you See?". "No I don't!" She replied "Where am I? What is happening to me? Please tell me. I trust You and want You to help me break free!" "You asked Me to bring you here." They replied "You asked for this.". "I don't remember anything before coming through this crowd." she stated. "I know You, but nothing from before." "Think deeper." They suggested "Remember your desires." She sat and thought. Tried to focus on the task They explained was necessary in order for her, to find clarity. Closing her eyes, She turned into her unconscious to seek the answers. Flashes of faces and moments began to flood her mind, too fast for her to definitively identify the face in the vortex. The cold from the translucent liquid crawling up Her arm, took her out of her meditative state. Her eyes opened and pain shot through her stomach and groin. She looked down and to her horror, the liquid consumed her whole arm and now, it was spilled across her midsection. She bellowed in absolute terror and pain. It felt like it was trying to rip her open. She reached with her free hand, to find it bound by this same invisible geist. She raised her head to see the mass violently exploding and morphing into a body. The edges sporadically jutting out and inward, like seismometer and the world's largest earthquake. Arms, legs and a head could began to be seen more clearly. The shape of a man was taking shape, but the face was distorted still. She looked through her tears, towards the place where his eyes would be and suddenly, they opened. Two oval beams of light, with blue center, shot out from the sockets. As bright as the sun, from waking morning, she gazed directly into them. It didn't hurt. Actually, quite the opposite. It brought a sense of calm and peace. It reminded her of being at her Grandma's house, as her Grandmum would pick her up and hold her against her chest, before falling asleep in her arms. Or her Father, looking into her eyes on her graduation day saying how proud of her he is. These thoughts caused her mouth to open and a small gasp escaped. Tears began to fall down her face. Her body convulsed from the sobs of joy and understanding. Memories of her first boyfriend, kissing under the deck at Her Aunts farm, to taking her dog Ethos, to the vet to be put to sleep cause she was hit by a car. Losing a bestfriend to cancer, to her trip to Europe and the Italian boy who stole her heart and married her. Through tear filled eyes, She stood, transfixed on the being in front of her. "I remember!" She exclaimed "I remember!" They turned to her and said nothing. Only smiled, turned and walked through the crowd. She called out to Them, but They never turned around. This was destroying her. "Wait!" She cried "Don't go! I can't lose you.". But They were gone amongst the horde. She never saw Them again. The hum of the crowd began to rise and fall in frequency. It sounded like music now; like a heavenly orchestra. She could hear the brass, strings, drums and it was growing in intensity. She looked back into the beings eyes. The entity began to develop facial expressions that She knew. She smiled and wept as She remembered She did want this. She wanted this her entire life. Coming to her realization, She began pushing her hands and body further towards the being. An explosion of light and pain shot from her hands and belly causing her to scream in agony. She pushed through; above the pain, She passed through completely and silence came with a clap. No light. No sound. She was standing in a space unknown in size and depth. She stood there for some time, saying nothing. Doing nothing. A spot light appeared above her, illuminating the area around her. She looked up and shielded her eyes. She couldn't look past the light, so began to scan the area around her. Vast of black nothing lay before her, just passed the edge of the light. This caused her to cover her body with her arms from insecurity. "Hello?" She asked, voice cracking. A door of light opened in front of her. A silhouette of a man stood in the doorway. The man passed through and door closed behind him, bring back the dark background. The man walked into the light and stood a few feet in front of her. "You know why you are here?" he asked. "Yes." She replied "I'm here for you. You are supposed to come with me." He smiled. "Yes." he said "Yes I was meant to." "Meant to?" She asked unsure "I did everything I was meant to, in order for you to come with me. Did I do something wrong?" "No you did everything you were meant to..." he paused "and more.". "Well surely we can leave this place and you can come with me." She hastily responded "I have so many things I want to show you.". "You have shown me." he reassured her "Through you thoughts, memories and dreams, I've lived through you. You have given me your everything. Including...". He trailed off. "Including what?" She inquired. "Including your life." he explained. She stood there, locked in his gaze. A single tear filled down his face as he said this. "But how?" She asked. Her emotions brimming the point of loss of control "I don't understand.". "You died." he said remorseful. She could see the restraint of his sadness visibly cross his face. "Like I said, You gave me everything... and more.". She took a step forward. "So this is It?" She asked. "Until the next time, yes." he replied, also taking a step forward. Continuing her momentum, She moved within arms length. "You know I love you more than any one person can love another." She said softly. "I know." he said. Tears began to fall like large rain drops, just before a storm. "I've always known.". They stood, inches away from each other. She raised her right hand; he his left. They embraced, interlocking their fingers, never looking from each other's eyes. He released Her fingers and pulled her into his chest and squeezed. "Thank you for my life." he said. "Thank you for making my life have meaning." She replied. "Now go make me proud." "I love you Mom." said her son. "I will." and disappeared. "Until we meet again." She said "Until we meet again.


Jude made the final incision and sponged away some blood as the Cesarean Section made birth possible. Purple fluorescing lights strobed across the surgical site, cleansing it of anything dangerous as Jude set the force-fields to gently pull the baby from its dying mother. Following strict medical procedure, Jude severed the umbilical cord as Laura, the newborn boy's mother, died from her brutal injuries. Jude proffered the child to Laura on two slender manipulator arms, as she was programmed, but her subroutines, now noting the death of the mother, signaled her UltraCortex to refrain from making a verbal presentation. Instead, the baby was simply inserted into a life-sustaining cubicle and immediately sedated. Jude opened a channel to the bridge. "Laura's child has been delivered. It- It- It's a boy," the damaged robot stated flatly. "However, Laura has succumbed to her injuries and has passed away." Jude's word selection was careful to avoid undue distress. Captain Quain stared at the fiery wall on the main viewer. After a long silence, he managed, "acknowledged" and thumbed the button to sever the channel to the medical bay. "I'm open to ideas..." He looked around the control bridge at his officers and men. Frightened gazes met his and he did his best to look confident. One man spoke. "We can't break the star's gravity -but can we use it?" The wiry young man with his slicked-back blond hair and eager StellarCorps expression gave the Captain hope. "What if we push the engines to max and calculate a slingshot trajectory to get us to that small planetoid? If we can catch onto it and establish orbit, we may not be home but we won't be fried." The young fellow looked into the fires of the Zoroaster star with grave concern, his face illuminated by flickering orange sun-flame. The Captain listened to the gasps of approval from several officers and nodded soberly. If nothing else, it was something to try -and some sort of hope. He thought about the hundreds of lives aboard the UES Ptolemy and clung to any hope at hand. "Alright, then. Lt. Simms, I want you to handle the warp drive, make speed for 9 recursions. Commander Kelleway, make calculations for the maneuver. Take Carstairs and Tamaguchi with you. Everyone else, man your posts and prepare for warp. All stations report!" With practiced suave, the captain resumed his stalwart pose in his chair and exuded confidence to fuel the officers as they readied the ship for an escape from certain death. But it was all for naught. The calculations of the desperate men of the Ptolemy flung the crippled starship across space like a boomerang, first angling and then slingshotting around the star to the men's cheers. Unforseen variables wrestled with conjecture and programming to emerge the victor, however, and as cheers turned to cries of despair, the little ship from the faraway blue world slammed into the planetoid it had hoped to orbit with ferocious force. The great spine of the ship cracked in the silence of space and its rent skin ejected people into the freezing vacuum. From the Captain's eyes, it seemed to happen in slow-motion. First the walls buckled and cracked, and crewmen cried out or leaped to their feet. But as the force rippled through the ship, whole support beams undulated and the safety of walls became the vacuum of space and bulkheads were shorn and torn apart like tin-foil. For a few moments, the Captain, suddenly propelled into space and tumbling, managed to survive. As his face froze and his eyeballs bulged he saw his ship one last time. Crumpled in some places, exploding in others, the majority of it somehow remained intact, albeit embedded into the surface of a bleak and empty world and he thought of all the souls committed to the cold wastes of space under his command. And then he died along with everyone else. Well, almost everyone else. Deep within the protected heart of the ship, still mostly intact and even lit by back-up generators, the medical bay survived. Jude was barely functional but managed to run the few remaining sensors to gauge the situation. The crew was dead. All of them. The ship mostly powerless, totally defenseless, had 47 separate hull breaches and the engines were floating off somewhere near the port bow. The only life-sign came from the very room Jude was in; from the incubator. Jude swung her large, angular white arm laboriously around the thick anchor sticking up from her main console. Sensors at the end of the armature scanned the baby. Remarkably intact. Jude instructed the ship's computer, which was operating on generators and cut off from half of it's data-cores, that Jude was the only independent agency aboard and convinced it to slave all functions to her. Jude's "mind" was a complex quantum computer located within her armature base, separate from the ship's simple AI but Jude connected directly to the mainframe now and allocated all of the ship's resources to a few rooms including the medical bay. She reassigned the entire 4-year-mission's worth of food and water to the child, and made the requisite requisition forms out digitally to approve the transfer, even if she knew no one would ever read the logs. She was doing everything as she was programmed to. Jude would make food, education and eventually the entire ship's remains available to this lone surviving human child. She fed him with protein beams and replicated milk until he could eat rations. She used forcefields to guide him into walking upright. She taught him to speak, to read, and the critical thinking skills needed to master any subject in the databanks. At age 9 he learned how to repair and reconnect the rest of the data-cores. When he learned all he could about his lost home and the many people who died the day he was born, he wept bitterly. He knew he would never be found by Earth again, of course, as the chances of another deep space exploration vessel even deciding to visit this uncharted system were nil. He would never know another of his kind. He would know only what computer files could tell him. He would don a generation-old spacesuit to weld sections together over half a life time. He read every book on board the ship, even those he had to rescue by omnibot and vacc-suit, and dreamed of returning triumphantly to the planet Earth. He kept a meticulous log and diary, talked with Jude for hours every day, and named himself David. And one day, at the age of 41, he flew away. Jude's faltering mind was installed in the main computer slot of the makeshift starship David had cobbled together over 31 years, using a small section of the med bay as makeshift control room. Jude gently nudged the controls to power the engines he spent 9 years capturing and bringing in to the new Ptolemy. More of a raft in space than any starship Earth had ever made, the Ptolemy II roared to life and began a single warp recursion. It wasn't going to be fast, but the ship was on it's way to Earth. A repeating signal was the first vanguard of the P II to reach Earth outposts. "My name is David. I am the last survivor of the UES Ptolemy, lost in space in 2218. Please do not attack this ship, I am friendly. Repeat; My name is David. I am..." The media got ahold of it faster than David's engines and a host of starships and transports crowded the space lanes above the planet Earth to watch him arrive. Politicians and Commentators choked the communications channels as the Ptolemy II, looking for all the world like a derelict apartment building lashed to 2 engines, sputtered to a halt in Earth orbit. Medical and repair ships were immediately dispatched as government and public held their breaths in anticipation. Jude arthritically rotated it's single, dirt-smudged camera-stalk to look at David, sensor information filling the working sections of the screen. She examined his long-dead body, still resting in the control chair as it had for centuries, as David always knew it must, and her subroutines calculated that informing a dead person of their destination was illogical and unnecessary. "David, my son. You *made* it. You have come *home*" she said anyway.


Burp “Number 58.” I can hear the words but there is a thin piece of white cloth in front of me, dulling the sound. “Number 58.” I feel like I should do something but I’m stuck deep inside my head. “Number 58.” Pause. “That’s you.” The woman, beside me, nudges me aggressively, more of a shove. “You’re ticket,” she points at a piece of paper in my hand, “it’s your number.” My brain begins to surface, and I can see the room I’m in. “They don’t like to be kept waiting.” She says. I want to ask who, but it feels like I’m the only one who doesn’t know. The only one in a room filled with thousands of people. A young man comes up to me and takes my hand while cupping my elbow. His movement is not threatening but it feels like the option of having a choice has been removed. He takes me into a hallway and into a small room. “Sit here.” He says in a soft voice that is disproportionately lower than his youthful appearance would suggest. I sit and wait. I am alone, sitting across a huge desk. There is a large window to my right but every time I try to look out the window it turns white, fuzzy white, like an off-air channel. There is nothing on the desk, just the shine of a dark oak surface reflecting a bright white ceiling. There is a small light in the corner of the room, sitting on the floor. The chair behind the desks is large and ornate, a throne. I am the subject. I have decided this is a lucid dream, or an NDE, but I don’t remember going to bed, or dying. I just remember a sort of fading experience, I think, maybe, I was making dinner. I can hear my dog barking, but that’s it. I’m pretty sure I wasn’t killed. I don’t have anything anyone wants and I’m pretty sure no one knows me well enough to hate me that much, I think. The door behind me opens and a large fat man comes in and sits on his throne. He touches his desk; it lights up like a huge computer screen. After watching him press and swipe his desk surface for a least a few minutes, I decide to speak. “Hello?” He put his hand up in the universal shut up sign, using one finger to signal the amount of time he will need to remain a rude asshole. Finally, he speaks. “You are number 58?” “Yes.” I grab the piece of paper with my number on it, crumpled inside my sweaty fist, and put it on his desk. “Do you remember anything?” There is no concern in his voice, just data collection. “Yes,” I answer, “My dog barking, maybe the smell of my dinner?” “Shit.” He says, frantically hitting his desk and swiping, like he has killed a bug and can’t get it off his desk. “How about now, can you still remember a dog barking?” “What dog?” “Perfect.” For the first time he looks up and me and smiles. “Welcome.” “I don’t feel welcome.” He laughs and leans back. “Well, you definitely were not invited.” Pause. “Great,” I get up. “Then I can go?” He laughs again, but this time it sounds more like a snort. “Go where?” “Home?” I ask. I feel like I am being tested in my own dream. “You’re not dreaming and there is no home for you, there never was.” He leans forward, about to explain something he has explained a million times before. “You are what happens when time slips, just a bit. A glitch that creates a shadow. You existed parallel to the real you.” I am confused, but I have a feeling I am about to be more confused. Pause. “Sit.” He points with the same rude finger he told me to shut up with. I can feel myself sitting in the chair, hearing him talk to me, and I feel very real to me. “You see, time is a measurement allowing material existence to develop.” “Ok…”  “It is a very slow method of frequency containment that allows the growth of what you would call a soul.” His robot tone expresses a need to release information without any concern for its impact. “If time burps, as we call it, the shift creates a shadow on the soul developing and you exist parallel to yourself, but you are not part of the system.” He sits back and pauses. “So, does everyone alive develop a shadow when this happens?” As I ask this question, I can see the interest fade from his dark little eyes. “No,” he starts scanning his desktop, moving images I can’t see. “Only a weak soul develops a shadow when a burp happens.” Did he just insult me? “Ok, well.” I stare at the top of his head as he examines something on the desk screen that is clearly more important than a glitch created by a weak soul. “Do I exist?” I whisper, not really wanting the answer. “Yes,” he says not looking up.  “Please exit, someone will show you where to go.” With that, I take my weak shadow soul and leave the room. Exit, exist…maybe I’m just a fading image waiting to evaporate. A very tall woman in a purple jump suit greets me outside the room. “Hello Sunshine.” She seems friendly. “Sorry, I mean Moonlight.” “Moonlight?” I am confused, again. “I can’t get these names straight,” she says, moving her hand up and down an invisible screen in front of her. “Are you one of those pronoun people?” As her frustration grows, I offer my label. “My name is Sasha.” “Are you sure, you don’t look like a Sasha.” She keeps flipping through her invisible Rolodex. “Ah, there you are, Sasha.” She shoos the invisible screen away with a grand arm gesture that looks like she is moving through a cloth doorway. “How do you feel?” Wow, no one has asked me that yet, and now that I think about it, I don’t feel anything. “Nothing.” I answer. I would feel defeated… if I could. “Good.” My blue escort says. I don’t like her. She leads me into a long green hallway and tells me to go through the third door on the left. As she is leaving, she yells, number ten is secured, then disappears into the room we just came out of. I thought about not going into the room, but where else do I go? I open the door. There are two chairs and nothing else. I sit in one of the chairs and only then realize someone is sitting in the other chair. “You must be number 10, do you feel secured?” she laughs, but not in a mean way. I sit down, “I don’t feel anything, I think.” “Here.” She reaches across to me and grabs my left forearm. I feel a warm glow start to radiate from my stomach outward. So, I can feel again. “I figured out how to bypass the system.” She smiles, “Don’t tell anyone, always say you feel nothing, don’t laugh or cry, or look confused.” I am confused. “What are we doing here?” I kind of wish I didn’t feel anything again, it was easier. “Well,” she angles herself towards me and I am oddly touched by her direct attention. “What they are doing and what we are doing are two different things.” “OK.” I try to hide the confusion on my face. “That,” she points at my face, “that look, don’t to that around anyone.” “Ok,” this feels like she is giving me lessons on how not to be human. “Did you understand anything they explained to you?” she looks deep into my eyes, checking for honesty. “I sort of get it, but it doesn’t feel real.” She laughs, “that’s how I felt, until they pulled my feelings out. “What do they want?” this still doesn’t feel real. “They gather us ten at a time.” She pauses, “do you want me to pull your feelings, so you don’t freak out?” “Yes please.” She explains that they gather us ten at a time to see if we are compatible, as a group, to form a single viable soul. If that is possible, a process called “blending” begins. We are scanned and every inch of our limited existence is labeled and assigned a function. Then we are kept in a holding position until they can mix and match a full soul. “What if they can’t create a full soul?” I ask, not freaking out, because… I can’t. “We are sent back to our previous reality.” “Oh,” I feel a…nothing, I feel nothing. “So that’s good right, we just go home?” “No, that’s bad. If you are blended you become part of a whole, there is protection in the whole.” She puts her hand on me and returns my feelings. I feel darkness, I feel sadness. “If you are sent back and you are not attached to a soul, you are not protected.” “From what?” My mind thinks of demons and every ounce of evil. “Everything.” She finally says. “But there are ways to survive without being consumed.” “Again,” I say with as much calm as I can fake, “from what, and can you be more specific.” She looks at me directly but this time I feel less comforted by her direct attention. “If we don’t get blended, look for me and I will help you.” “How will if find you?” “My name is Lex.” She takes my hand and presses her thumb into the palm of my hand. “I just transferred my energy signature to you, press your palm with your thumb and let my name appear in your head, the two signatures will combine and create a connection.” “Sure, I guess.” I still think I’m dreaming. The room is suddenly filled with a red glow. “Shit.” Lex says. “What?” I want her to take my feelings out again. “We didn’t blend.” She looks at me and says her name again. “Lex.” I say her name as she slowly fades. I’m dreaming, I must be dreaming.


Grog lifts from my head as I open my eyes to the stark darkness of the room. Confused, I look around at the barren place. I have no idea how large the room is, but I’m sitting in a chair, slumped over from my slumber. Above me is a singular lightbulb hanging from its wire, filling a small area of the darkness with incredibly dim light. The bulb hums in a way that tells me it’ll soon see the end of its lifespan. I sit up and groan, cracking my neck, trying to remember exactly where I am. Last I remember, I was out on a late night walk. Nothing comes to mind after that. I don’t even remember going home. I stand and move toward the edge of the light, stopping short of the darkness. My stomach feels uneasy. It feels almost as though something is in the dark, waiting for me. I try to shout, just to get a feel for the room. The sound is empty as it leaves my mouth; nothing to stop the sound, nothing to echo it back. I shake my head, trying to assuage my discomfort. Only kids fear the dark. It doesn’t work -something about this darkness chills my nerves. I sit back in the chair, folding over, head in hands, trying to think of what to do. Next comes a noise which I barely even notice as first. It grows louder with each iteration. A growl, deep and guttural. Like a bear that’s been badly injured. *Now* I’m terrified. I freeze and stare into the darkness, scanning for anything, but the inky blackness is impenetrable. My breath is caught in my throat, and after a few seconds I think whatever made the sound must be gone. Then the growl comes again, from a different place. I sit to feel some kind of comfort. The growl happens at random intervals and seems to be circling me. I grip the chair and let out a scream in the desperate hope that someone, *anyone* will hear me. That I’ll be saved. The growl comes closer, off to my left, and for a second I hear what sounds like metal scraping against cement. I can feel it in my chest now, that heavy feeling. Like I can’t breathe right. My breath quickens and I can feel tears coming on. I try to scream louder. My voice quickly begins to hoarsen. In the middle of these screams I hear another sound to the right of my head. Like a tree cracking apart. I yelp and jump, startled, and the thing in the dark growls louder. The new sound comes again and the light goes out, darkness taking me. I hear nothing aside from my labored breathing. Everything is dark. I look down and can barely see my shirt. I don’t hear the growling anymore, but it feels like something is around me. I close my eyes and count down from ten attempting to calm myself and begin to realize, even with the thump of my heart in my ears, that the breathing I hear isn’t my own.  “Police and fire departments across the United States are currently reporting incredibly high call volumes, preventing most people from access to assistance. We have received reports of strange Black Cubes popping up in various states across the U.S. Rescue teams have been dispatched to these locations to investigate, with little results to speak of so far. The cubes stand six feet tall and four feet wide and seem to be made of a strong glass-like material. “One witness reported hearing screams seeming to come from the inside of one cube in Manhattan, New York. A rescue team arrived shortly after and attempted to breach the perimeter of the cube. Upon opening the cube, responders discovered the body of thirty-four-year-old Jonathan Camden inside, collapsed and lifeless. Cause of death is unknown as of yet, but the discovery has led other teams to begin attempting to rescue other possible civillians trapped inside. “No information is known on the cubes, leaving many to wonder where they came from and what their purpose is. Officials have given strict curfew orders to prevent any further occurrences. From what we know, the cubes have only shown up in outdoor public spaces, leading lead investigators to believe that they may not appear inside the home. We will continue to report on this phenomenon as we learn more. Until then, we advise staying inside and staying safe.


I don't recall the precise moment I was led into this predicament. What was now had turned into what was then, my reminiscent world has turned into an undefined murk of a shadow. When was it? When I hindered the seeing of this world: my home, my work, the outdoors, all of it. Was the sky always accompanied by clouds? The setting of the sun, what color was it? Did grass have a particular shape? Was my inquisitive manner ever so constant? When did I begin these probes? And why do I hear the voices of others? Now, do not think of me as absurd. The voices truly do belong to people, as far as I can tell with their deafened speech. Perhaps they linger in a closed off place of some sorts. It is only an assumption, I undoubtedly have no real idea of where the voices could be coming from. For the world I dwell in; is dark. Dark as in pitch black, as in I am blind in it. Whether I close or open my eyes, it is all the same. It wasn't always so tenebrific. As I had recalled before, I saw color once.

I confess it is rather tiresome. The place I reside, it's not familiar to me. I have nostalgia for this 'nature' I dream about. I fantasize about my 'home'. Never have I had delight in a sunless scene. So what led me here? I know for certain; I would have never visited voluntarily. The most I have done is talk in this never-ending mind of mine, and even that can be tiring, so I cease to think. Alas, I can never go on without thinking, or I'll forget how to. The emptiness can be more alluring than others think it can be. This vast black space is always here. It hugs me with silent comfort.

The voices. It was timeless before they appeared. It was so sudden, I thought they had materialized, considering my solitary state. I admit I felt tremendous blissfulness, I would rather feel accompanied than see the light again. You would be surprised at how much satisfaction one gets upon hearing the simple steps of feet, or the most enjoyment of listening to conversations. Oh have I yearned for something, anything, that rebels against this unending night.

So this began; my hearing of voices. There were doubts from time after time, that the sounds are not legitimate. In the end it did not matter, I would be content either way. It is not as if I abhor engaging, I precisely can not. I have neglected my speech for such a time that I have forgotten how to speak. I also do not know of their whereabouts. I can not pursue, for I have forgotten how to walk. Walk. I don't think I have legs...absurd! Perhaps I do, but I do not see them.

If someone had challenged me; and questioned the types of conversations I was listening upon, I would say, 'an array!' It was the arguments I cherished, mainly because it fancies my hearing. I have learned of these voices, one named Will and another named Alm. They seem to have a fondness for another, or that the very least get along. It wasn’t until recent events they had argued about money. Money...ah yes, I remember. Something about retrieving deodorizer and a pest specialist. I pity my dear friends, it seems they are in a predicament, as am I.  I have forgotten how troublesome the land of light was. These voices reminded

me. Everyday something had struck down and soiled my time, now I only have peace. Quite the irony I believe. I remember fighting for peace constantly, and now there is no struggle at all. If I am mistaken, I feel as if I am waiting on something, on somebody. Will they find me? Or shall I remain in this endless and starless daze. How would I be found? I feel as if I am blocked by a wall. Nothing comes through and nothing comes out. How long has it been? I...can not recall. Oh! But it is a joyous day, my ears have gathered a sound. My friends have come to visit. So I stopped thinking, and listened.

A distant door swings open from a twist of a nob. Heavy yet quiet footsteps tred on the floor. The floor is nowhere soft, each step is audible, even on tip toe. The smack of something hits another surface. Then a creek from something that now carries weight.

"Work never seems to end…" an airy voice sighs. It's Will.

The continuous tapping or clicking can be heard. A random sound that continues then stops, continues, stops, then continues once more.

The sound is rather calming, even if it is unbeknownst to me. The sound lasts for a long time. I even like the random grumblings that come from Will. Whatever it is he doesn't seem to like it, but he does it for such a time! He is confusing.

The soft yet loud footsteps enter the room, "How long have you been at that?" It’s Alm's voice.

"Oh, give me a few more minutes and I'll be there," says Will. Steps slowly pace around the room, some sounding stronger than others, and some sounding distant. "Well, the two specialists are here, I'm giving you a heads up. So be ready." Alm says before stepping away from my ears.

Will stops, a shutting sound can be heard. The rolling of something gets pushed and heavy steps move then stop. Two unidentified walking patterns are headed in my radar, both walk similarly and both walk heavier than Will. Was it guests? I can feel Alm's footsteps accompanied them.

"What's the problem ma'am?" "My fiancé and I have been living here for about 9 months now, we have had smell problems before. We thought it could be a dead rat. So we waited 3 weeks and the smell was gone, but then 3 months later another smell appeared! We waited again and there was another smell. We thought it was best we'd have it checked," Alm says.

"Why it is nearly next year! Why'd you wait till then to call us?" "Look can you help us or not?" Will says. A grunt was made and the walking of footsteps became louder and louder until a bang ringed my ears. "Here," says Alm.

Two heavy footfalls feel like an earthquake. Then a cutting sound? I am not sure, but it is loud, it is right by my ear. "Urgh! I can smell it already!" Complains Alm. "It's like animals loving dying here!" Cut cut cut. The sound of...sawing, that's the word, stops.

"That don't smell like an animal" "How..how long has this been happening?" It is quiet for some time. "Well..this happens every 3 months like I said..but we

haven't decided to call until the new year was over" Alm speaks slowly. The sound of sawing began again, but it became frantic and louder. Saw saw saw.

Until it stops, the cutting, the sawing.

It's strange..I don't understand. I have waited here, for more than a year? It felt

longer. And yet my light was restored within an instant. I thought my reunion would be grander than this, my friends, guests. Why do you stare wide-eyed at me? Be pleased, for you have found me. You found me.


Thomas felt all the blood in his body rush to his legs. The world went blurry there for a second until he was able to catch his breath again.        “Is- is that what I think it is?” he asked with a dry tongue.        Thomas jumped when Margret replied to him, “Yeah, that looks like the ghost of Elizabeth Thomas. Murdered in her bedroom forty-seven years ago on Halloween night.”        Thomas regained composure once again and averted his gaze to the brunette woman next to him, “Stop doing that!” he said harshly. “How do you always know where I am?”        “Don’t act so surprised,” Margret said sharply, “You know why.”        The ghastly visage had faded from the top of the stairs when he looked back. A chill ran down his spine like a drop of ice that took over his whole body causing him to shiver violently for half a second. Thomas immediately felt like leaving and forgetting the house, but Margret urged him on.        “Don’t worry, none of it is real,” she said cheerily before adding, “well, for the most part.” She winked then stalked to another room. Thomas chose a different route to take instead of following her.        Up the stairs, he found that the wallpaper had been rotted and stripped from the walls in many places. The doors leading to three different bedrooms, once a beautiful dark wood, were now scratched and dusty from years of neglect. A loud crash happened from somewhere downstairs. Probably just Margret screwing around in whatever room she was in now. Thomas shook his head and rolled his eyes.        Fingers wrapped around the closest doorknob. The smudged metal was cool to the touch. He had to try four times, increasing the muscle behind each push to get the warped wood of the door to open. He coughed.        The air in this room was musty. The smell of mold almost completely took over whatever other aromas might have lurked around. “Shit!” he yelled as a squirrel skittered past his right foot out of the room and into the hall. He laughed at himself and looked around the room.        A large four-poster bed sat in the middle with the sheets torn back. Thomas wondered if they had sat like that since the night of the murder or if it was done by someone more recent on their investigation of the place. An old-fashioned clock stood atop a dresser, forever stuck at two twenty-six o’clock. Minus the dust and moldy scent, the air in here was dead and there really was not anything of interest to look at. He decided to go to the master bedroom.        On his walk through the hall, Thomas heard footsteps and multiple voices downstairs.

Just more ghosts  he thought to himself,

Margret is probably trying to make friends with them.  He laughed at the thought of his weird friend sitting in a circle on the floor talking to ghostly figures like a group of elementary school children. He entered the bedroom that the murder supposedly happened in.        There was no blood on the relatively small mattress or the floor. A certain disappointment crept inside of him upon viewing the room. Not that Thomas would have enjoyed seeing the dried blood of Elizabeth Thomas (or a ghost again for that matter) but he was hoping to see at least something.        “Kind of boring, huh?” Margret asked in his ear.        “What the fuck?” Thomas asked in a panic. His heart was beating in his ears.        “What’s your deal?” Margret asked, her voice gave off that she was a little hurt by Thomas’ actions.        “You can’t keep sneaking up on me like that.”        The girl rolled her big green eyes and flashed a friendly smile on her full lips, “Whatever.”        The sound of footsteps ascending the stairs interrupted whatever Thomas was going to say next. Margret smiled in excitement, but Thomas felt another wave of fear flash through him. They had pissed off the ghosts of this house somehow and now they were coming to get them.        “We have to hide,” Thomas whispered sharply. “Now!”        “What? Why?” Margret whispered back.        He didn’t reply. As quietly as he could, Thomas snuck into the bedroom’s closet in the far wall and held the door long enough for a reluctant Margret to enter. The footsteps had reached the top of the stairs and the whispered voices of at least three individuals could be heard.        Thomas balled himself into a corner of the small closet, he could feel assorted strands of cobwebs brush against his ears and neck as he sat there. His hands shook uncontrollably as he held his knees to his chest. He couldn’t see Margret or hear her next to him, but he attributed that to fear.        The mass of footsteps had reached the master bedroom.        “You sure he’s here?” A voice whispered. It was one of the most sinister voices Thomas had ever heard.        “He is, you can see his footsteps in the dust in the floor,” another whisper replied.        “In the closet,” the third one said.        A loud alarm blared inside Thomas’ head, it was almost loud enough to make his ears bleed. He looked around, “Margret! Where are you?” he mouthed with a slight voice behind.

One of the demons already got her and dragged her to hell!  His mind told him. The whispers were right outside of the closet door, but Thomas didn’t listen to them in his attempts to find a crawlspace or vent to crawl into,        A beam of light blinded him as the closet door opened, Thomas could only see three vague figures behind the light.        “No! Please don’t take me!” Thomas screamed in complete fear, “Oh Lord in heaven, save me please!” He wept and thrashed his arms about.        “Tommy, Tommy, it’s us,” a male’s voice came from far away.        “Tom, it’s us your friends.”        “Get away from me! Margret! Where are you!” Thomas screamed back.        “Oh fuck!” A voice said, “He hasn’t taken his medicine today, has he?”        “No, it doesn’t appear so,” the figure in front said. “Tom. Tommy, it’s me, Jackson, with Fred and Johnny. We’ve been trying to find you all night.”        Thomas remained on the floor crying, he recognized the names but knew it was just the demons or ghosts trying to give him a false sense of security, “Don’t take me,” he whimpered pathetically over and over.        “Come on, let’s take him home, but be careful with him. We need to tell his mom that he got away from us during the party after not taking his pills,” the voice that identified himself as Jackson told the other two.”        “We also need to tell her that he’s seeing Margret again, he hasn’t talked about her since we were like nine-years-old,” either Fred or Johnny replied. The three of them lifted the sobbing sixteen-year-old off the dusty ground of the closet and carried him out of the house and into Fred’s car.        None of them say the actual ghost of Elizabeth Thomas watching over them.


When I awoke, the only thing I sensed was a dull throbbing and the cold steel of a table under me. After a few minutes, I was able to force my eyes open. Surrounding me were dozens of computer screens, all buzzing with red text. As my eyes struggled to focus I noticed a large symbol on the ceiling of the room, that appeared to be some sort of triangular tesseract. As my eyes finally adjusted to the low red light of the room, I noticed that all of the computer screens repeated the same four lines. ***5 7 5 44 5 7 5*** ***Exanimis Manibus*** ***4 7 44444 7 4*** ***Freedom is Death*** Soon after this, I heard several footsteps approaching the door of the room, which seemed to be a panel of the wall that could be opened, but had no control panels inside the room. Although I heard many people, no one seemed to enter. After a few more seconds in the dim room, I heard a quiet hissing. I noticed a thin fog started to appear in the room. My thoughts began to make less sense, and my mind grew more unclear. I felt utterly retarded, and like I couldn’t even complete a single idea in my brain. A loud buzzing noise had started that sent stabs of pains throughout my body. A few more minutes of this helpless state and my vision went completely black, and I believe I fell asleep. *The blackbird flew high above the snow-covered trees. All around it, delicate snowflakes slowly fell to the ground. It appeared to be around early evening, just before sunset, but no sun could be seen. The blackbird soared up towards the bright white clouds, and down to nearly the tips of the trees. This continued for what may have been minutes, hours, or even days. It suddenly seemed alarmed and dived down toward the trees. It found a place on the tallest branch and looked toward the forest floor. There was no life to be seen. The blackbird then noticed a small red and black object lying between two trees. As the bird swooped down towards this object, a clear panic was growing in its small body. The object was a blackbird, identical to the blackbird in flight, mauled nearly in half and covered in crimson blood. As the blackbird looked at it confusion, a buzzing was starting to grow in the forest. All of a sudden, the snow in the forest took on a different shade, of dark red. The buzzing grew to an almost unbearable volume and the bird began to shake violently. The entire forest was now dark, dark red* And I woke up shuttering from a strange dream that made no sense to me. My senses were dull, and I had no clear idea of where I was. As I opened my eyes, my retinas adjusted to the dim red light of the room I was in. All around me were large screens with four lines of text that I felt like I was slightly familiar with: ***5 7 5 44 5 7 5*** ***Exanimis Manibus*** ***4 7 44444 7 4*** ***Freedom is Death*** I started to hyperventilate, as I briefly understood(or remembered) what was happening. I was in the same room as before on the same cold steel table surrounded by the same ominous computer screens. I had not a single clue who I was, or where I was from, or even who my parents were. There was only fear to keep me company on my cold bed. I laid trembling, staring into the red screens for what felt like an eternity before anything changed. The buzzing began again. The second after I had heard it, my eyes rolled back into my head and my body went numb. Nothing made sense once again. And I soon lost consciousness. *The blackbird flew high above the snow-covered trees. All around it, delicate snowflakes slowly fell to the ground. It appeared to be around early evening, just before sunset, but no sun could be seen. The blackbird soared up towards the bright white clouds, and down to nearly the tips of the trees. This continued for what may have been minutes, hours, or even days. It suddenly seemed alarmed and dived down toward the trees. It found a place on the tallest branch and looked toward the forest floor. There was no life to be seen. The blackbird then noticed a small red and black object lying between two trees. As the bird swooped down towards this object, a clear panic was growing in its small body. The object was a blackbird, identical to the blackbird in flight, mauled nearly in half and covered in crimson blood. As the blackbird looked at it confusion, a buzzing was starting to grow in the forest. All of a sudden, the snow in the forest took on a different shade, of dark red. The buzzing grew to an almost unbearable volume and the bird began to shake violently. The entire forest was now dark, dark red* **Ⅱ** *( This Chapter goes into third-person omniscient )* The man with the yellow armband enters the laboratory filled with several other people, some in lab coats and some wearing protective equipment. As soon as he is noticed, all conversation and activity in the lab stop. “Where is Dr.Thule?” the man asks the group of people. A woman in her late 40s quickly walks toward him. “I am here,c-can I help you?” she asks. “The commander wants an update on the status of your research. Now. ” he replies as he pulls out a small device that he raised toward her face. “He is listening presently.” “Well, we have learned that the pineal gland of the patient is deteriorating, after just two uses of the Temero. We have also been able to completely hijack his cerebral cortex after phase two was performed.” After waiting several moments to ensure she was done speaking, the man pressed a button on the device. “The commander wants full control of the pineal gland by Sunday. I will be back.” The man nods toward the doctor, and swiftly exits the lab. One younger lab assistant breathes a sharp sigh of relief, and they again return to their typical duties. “Status report on the subject’s memory formation.” Dr. Thule tells an older man. “We have convinced his brain that the year is 2019, and he was born in a small town outside of Monterey in the western United States. He also believes that the world is mostly at peace and that mutual-assured destruction has kept the world from war. We are now beginning to fabricate family, friends, and more details on his upbringing. His actual age and name have been released to him, so he should have much less tension in his frontal lobe.” The doctor knew this would allow for better control over the subject’s brain. “We are prepared to wake him up for trial three on your order.” another scientist says. “Alright, I want him up in five.” **Ⅲ** *(Now it's back to first-person)* When I regained consciousness, I at first couldn’t open my eyes. I laid on the cold table and felt too exhausted to even comprehend what was happening to me. I thought of my friends, and my family back home and soon began to shake with the realization that I may never see them again. I had faceless captors, and I no longer could even tell I was on Earth, much less that I was anywhere near my home. Soon I realized that even though my eyes were closed, I felt as though I had a sense of what was around me, down to the finest detail. It was a feeling unlike anything that I could think of and is not something that could be described easily. From this sort of vision, I was able to tell there was still a small amount of what appeared to be a certain kind of smoke. This smoke was apparently odorless, and could only be recognized as the red light emitted from the monitors shown across it. The monitors still blared the same lines as they did when I awoke last time. I now had a better idea of what was happening, as I was convinced that I must have been abducted by some sort of advanced aliens or something of the sort. I would soon learn I was incorrect. My eyelids were finally able to be forced open, and I was surrounded by the same scene I expected to see. Once I looked into one of the monitors I felt a surge of ominous energy enter my brain. This soon was overwhelming to me, and I began to scream as information passed through my brain. I felt as if I could identify the molecular structure of everything around me, as well as the details of every single memory I had in my mind. Suddenly, I felt something dripping down my forehead, obscuring my vision. After a few milliseconds I sensed this was my blood, and as I began to identify and analyze it, my brain shut down completely. The noise had started. My vision went black and I was greeted with a familiar vision. *The blackbird flew high above the snow-covered trees. All around it, delicate snowflakes slowly fell to the ground. It appeared to be around early evening, just before sunset, but no sun could be seen. The blackbird soared up towards the bright white clouds, and down to nearly the tips of the trees. This continued for what may have been minutes, hours, or even days. It suddenly seemed alarmed and dived down toward the trees. It found a place on the tallest branch and looked toward the forest floor. There was no life to be seen. The blackbird then noticed a small red and black object lying between two trees. As the bird swooped down towards this object, a clear panic was growing in its small body. The object was a blackbird, identical to the blackbird in flight, mauled nearly in half and covered in crimson blood. As the blackbird looked at it confusion, a buzzing was starting to grow in the forest. All of a sudden, the snow in the forest took on a different shade, of dark red. The buzzing grew to an almost unbearable volume and the bird began to shake violently.


American Quarantine The first day of spring has come and gone making the snow fall even more impactful. Here in New England we’re used to being snowed in. We are all prepared for times indoors when we may rather be anywhere else. I once heard a woman here say, “do you even live in New England if you don’t have two types of heat in your home”. The quarantine is something we should be able to handle no problem. We may leave our homes if we absolutely have to but are asked to stay at least six feet away from other people. With most things already shut down there is nowhere to go anyway. Diane had already been home a week with her daughter Whitney and their two cats and one dog. Diane’s husband Jack has only been home for three days and he’s already drunk his way through the stockpiles of budweiser in their food storage. Thankfully...regretfully...both I suppose, the liquor stores are still open. Yes, the liquor stores are still open leaving all the cashiers and stock persons available for infection. The head cashier, Steve, has been to work everyday since everything started to shut down. Steve’s mother is in an expensive assisted living home and he’s really happy to be getting all this overtime. He’s certainly not lonely working all these hours. The store almost seems busier than right before the holidays. One regular, Bill, even tipped him in toilet paper. Bill is an older guy. He was a retired military man. Bill served in Vietnam and still wears something with some army green in it everyday. He loves being out and keeping in touch with his friends, especially other vets. Ever since this whole thing started he has been tipping people with toilet paper. He likes a good laugh, and this made him laugh every time. Even when he handed the pretty grocery store cashier, Jane a roll and her boyfriend Todd, who’d been waiting for her to go on break did not think it was very funny. In fact Todd had been livid. He left before Jane even got to take her break with him. She knew things would get ugly when she got home. After 5 more hours on her feet listening to customers complain about the lack of pasta and toilet paper Jane finally got to go home. Most people would be relieved, but Jane was dreading it. When she finally walked through the door she didn’t see Todd right away. She quietly turned down their little hall into the open kitchen holding tension in her shoulders and saw Todd gripping the counter top with his back turned to her. Their neighbors Tina and Lee who normally work this time of day were both home due to shutdowns. Tina heard it first, then Lee. They made eye contact and in an instant understood so much about their sweet quiet neighbor and her charismatic husband. Tina picked up her phone and called 911. Lee paced nervously but couldn’t take the helpless feeling. She marched barefoot out of the apartment door and started banging and yelling “the police are on their way you fucking son of a bitch!!!” Tina, still holding her phone, ran out to pull Lee away. Her timing impeccable as Todd ran out the door and down the back stairs of the building. Tina and Lee sat with a crumpled sobbing Jane as they waiting for EMS. This was Grace’s one year anniversary serving as an EMT. All her trips in and out of the hospital for emergencies lately have been haunted by ED waiting rooms full of people who think they have the virus. Grace couldn’t help but wonder what would happen to people like Jane and little kids with broken arms and old ladies who fall at home. Will there be room for them? Grace couldn’t think of that now. Her shift had barely started. Once they got Jane inside she told her partner to give her a second and grabbed some Cheez-its from the vending machine right by the door. Grace could always rely on that machine for some good stress eating. Phil, the vending machine operator for that machine and lot more in town, had just been there this morning. He had tried that week to fill everyone up that he could. At the moment his route was shrinking since so many places were closed. The hospital would always need him at least. Phil’s favorite stop has always been and will always be the big office building off of Industrial. The ladies there were the prettiest and the nicest on the route. Phil was wishing he could go again today but he’d just been there two days ago. Phil could never resist stopping at the desk there and trying to charm the women by kissing them on the hand. Lisa was one of only about a dozen people left working in the building. Two days earlier Lisa saw Phil coming up the parking lot from the front desk. She groaned internally preparing herself for his attempts at flirting. Lisa hated people being too close to begin with but now she was even more uncomfortable. Hoping, at the very least, Phil wouldn’t try to kiss her hand, she greeted him cheerfully. Lisa’s stomach turned as Phil went for her hand. She hestitated a millisecond too long to regain possession of her own hand and it was too late. Yuck. Lisa waiting for him to walk away before she poured a generous amount of sanitizer over her hands. She could still feel the warm point of contact and decided to go scrub up at the sink. Lisa saw her co-worker Pat in the ladies scrubbing away as well. Pat chuckled commiseratingly and apologized to Lisa as they stood shoulder to shoulder at the sinks. Even though Lisa hadn’t realized it, Pat also saw Phil coming and had ducked into the back before he saw her. Pat had mixed feelings about still being at the office while almost everyone else was working from home. She promised herself since she had to be out anyway, she’d stop at the liquor store and pick up some nice daiquiri ingredients for this weekend. Diane, Whitney, Jack, Steve, Bill, Jane, Todd, Tina, Lee, Grace, Phil, Lisa and Pat all led very different lives but in the end they all had one thing in common.