1. Officer Xor WindBorne
June 21, 2121 Roman Standard
Yr 59 Survival Era
He was thinkingof hismother,the warmththatradiatedfromherhazel eyes,the peace he feltwhen
she pressedhimtoher bosom.He didn'thave allotof memoriesof her.There weren'tmanytobe had.
There wasa small tearinXor's eye whenthe permissiontoenterrequest signaled.He sniffled,and
wipedaway the emotionswiththe cornerof a powderblue blanket.The blankethismotherswaddled
himin seemedafittingplace tocollecthistears.
At the thoughtXor's HyperbolicChamberslidopenandhe settledhisfeetontothe cool tile thatcovered
the floorininterlockinghexagrams.Thenbythe same methodashe had openedhischambersthe
portal to hisroom slidswiftly asidewithadelicate whooshof air.
The man waitingat the otherendof the portal was namedOmen.He wastall,fora nature born, dark of
hair, and hisdeepsetpale greyeyeswere bothshockinglyhandsomeandfull of deepsorrows.Just
above the elbowonhisrightarm the jaggedline of distinctlydifferentskinmarkedthe portionthathad
beensalvagedfromthe Dragon'sPlumblastthathad takenmore than an arm alone.Omenwas more
than 40% regrowth,thoughmostwas hiddenbeneathhiscloakandgarment.
"Good Day OfficerWindborne,"histone wasstern,directyetconsoling."I trustyousleptwell?"
"Aswell asI sleep,Father,"youngXorrespondedwithawrygrin.
Omenwasnot, inany biological sense,Xor'sfather,onlythe closestthingtoone he knew.
"You enjoyedyourMilkIhope…"
"I haven'tfelthungryfordays…"
"It's justnerves.Itwill pass,"
Xor knewitwassomethingverydifferentfrom"justnerves".Omenknew ittoo.Infact Omenknew
quite well thatlittle couldbe hiddenfromthe perceptionsof Xor.To Omen'smind these quaint
exchangeswere pleasantriesthat Xorpassedalongsothat those aroundhimwouldfeel lessthreatened
by whathe was createdto be...andtodo. AndXor understoodthese thingstoo,forpeoplewere as
planesof glassto hismind'seye.AndXorknew thathe couldgo onforeverwithoutanotherdose of
Milk.Still the pleasantexchangeswiththe manhe calledFather broughtaveryhumancomfortto the
boyborn of NoMan. And whenhe wasinclinedhe quite enjoyedadose of Milk.
3. Spacial Boils
December 2062 Roman Standard
Spacial Boils,thatis the term that the mediawentwithwheneventsfirstmade headlines.Areasof very
localized swellingzeropointmass.Science hadn'tanyclue whatwashappening,norhadtheylongto
define itbefore the Incursionwouldcome vomitinginfromcompounddimensions. Anacute localized
eventinOldHollywoodbroughtthe worldintofocus.
The firstrecordedvictimof the incursionwasRogerDowry,a homelessmanof 58 that collapsedonthe
corner of SunsetandPalmwhile stumblingthroughanintersectionsometimebetweenthe hoursof 3
and 5 am December8,2062 Roman Standard.The streetIntel systemsfailedlocallyat2:58.
A deadhomelessmaninOldHollywoodwashardlynewsworthybutthe radiatingcircle of stalledout
cars and failingappliances,followedby reportsof strange spacial andtime conundrums hadnews
mongersflockingtowardsthe scene.
Around6:02, a man in a blue joggingsuit emergedfromthinair, midstride betweenconcentricrowsof
automobiles.He was vomitingandbabblingincoherently.He fell withacracklingthudand seemedto
stopbreathing.On-lookingSamaritansstruggledtogethimout of the radiusof the event. They
reportedtime flux,gravityandspacial shifts.
"It was like the street kept getting' longer and longer and time got slower and slower and I just got
heavier and heavier and everyone around me was screaming gibberish from some far place right in my
ear. And all the time we're trying to drag this guy in a jogging suit out of what is like a big pit or well and
it looks and feels like he's is made outta some kinda lead based silly putty and all through my head the,
weirdestthing,a voice is screaming 'Carol Anne,CarolAnne!'and Im wondering if we are gonna make it
out alive. and I'm wondering how long it will take for this guy to unstretch and pretty soon I can't even
make sense of what I'm wonderin' anymore. Then there is this bright light and Im pukin' my guts and
there are all these people cheering and slowly I'm getting lighter and lighter and the lights keep getting
brighter till everything around me is white and sounds like ocean mist then I'm here in this Med House"
Jimmy Encenita - Good Samaritan
4. The Guy In The Jogging Suit
& An anonymous conglomorate
"Carol Anne!Carol Anne!" a twistingscreambellowedthroughthe ICU. After48 hrs the man the
database identifiedasDonHeraldScott's firstwordswere gutwrenchedwithterror. The man was a
maze of wiresandelectrodes.He hadbeenunderclose scrutinysince hisarrival.Not onlybythe Med
House Staff but byscientistandagentsfromall cornersof Corporate GovernmentandIntelligentsia.
PatientScotthad,for the last 2 days, whenthe equipmentdidn'tutterlyfail,beenfillingthe records
withall mannerof abnormal brainwave patterns.Temporal abnormalities,nauseaandspontaneous
weightgain were almostunilaterallyreported bythose attendinghim.
His identifyinginformationsaidhe was42 yearsold,186 cm, 95 Kg,athleticbuild.All whichwouldseem
verdantat a glance.But,an anonymousconglomerate hadhimunderthe observationof aninstrument
not yetknowntomain streamscience.The apparatuswasthe size of a small flyandmovedaboutthe
environmentin the same oddwobble asa bumble bee. Wheneveryotherinstrumentwentschizoidthe
little bee seemedimmune. The informationthe little buggathered,orat leastthatsmall portionthatthe
conglomerate revealed,wasincredible.The space around the manwas inconstantflux,the relative
Euclideanspace oscillated +-20%withoutbendinganythingoutside animpactradiusof about330cm.
The IdentifiedMr.Scott had a Gravitational NormativeWeightof over140 Kilosanda Tonne of Euclidian
Inert SuspendedMass.Andthe strange anonymousconglomeratewasgivingmainstreamscience 40
yearsof manifolds,poly-massequations,hyper-dimensional derivatives,newnomenclature and
secrets.There wasno time for keepingsecretsanymore,if youcantake the word of a secretanonymous
conglomerate thathasbeensecretingneedful science foratleast40 years.
5. The Ante-Chamber
Xor's Present
The heavyblastdoors screamedandstrainedandslowlyrolledbackrevealingalonghall thatleadto the
room were the Merqavah hungsuspendedbyasub temporal field.
"Thisis where we part,"Omentriedtosuppressthe apprehensioninhisvoice.Xor'spreviousjumphad
beena successthat came at great cost. Andthoughhe triedwithhismightto suppressthe thoughts
(indeedhe hadvolunteeredtoundergoahandful of dangerousmindwipe operationstoforciblyforget),
Omencouldn'thide the flashingimagesof the grotesqueriesthatwere made of those XenoformPrimate
TestSubjects(ZPeTS) whichhadbeen engineered forearlyPrototype Jumps.He had witnessed the
archival regressions.He hadbeen thrusttothe fringesof sanityaftera partial neural regressionof
subject22A's Jump.Still the experience didleaveOmenwithastrange imprint.WhenSubject226
returnedalive,intact,withNurseBeesanddatareturningall the valuesprerequisiteforsuccessaftera
Minimal EuclidianJumpin(orthrough) Omen's 'imprinted'Prototype ,he wasthe onlysoul onthe
Hyperbandthatfeltanythingotherthanelation.He feltfear, gravefear…
Why were the Adumialwaysso faraway?
If the Adumilove usso, Why do they allow usto suffer?
If the Adumiare ourprotectors,ourbenevolentfathers,then why do they giveus so little in our hourof
desperation?
Once the firstblast doorrolledbackthe temperature inthe ante chamberdroppedrapidly.Omenhadto
leave the roomand seal the chamberbefore Xorcouldbeginhisicyprecessiondownthe longhall.Xor
smileddownatthe man he calledfather,"It’sa greatsuccessyou know," Xorpausedto waitfor
Omen'squizzical affect,"The Jumpisa great success!Whenyouclose the seal justturn upthe prefeed
on the Hyperband.Iplayedwiththe sigmoidmatrix.Central Processunderstandsitbetternow.Your
heartwill jumpthe momentyouseal the chamber,"thoughhe wassaddenedbyit,OfficerWindborne
pausedtoletOmencomplete histhought.Xorreflectedsadness"Idon'thave the heartto deceive,
evenif itwouldsave youa momentsgrief.The Live Wire will reaffirmthe prefeedbefore Ienter
Merqabah.Give me a hug,father,thenseal the chamberbefore youcatcha cold!"Xorsmiledthe
warmestsmile withatrace of the tightwry expressionthatalmostneverleft.Omenwrappedhisarms
aroundthe boyswaistand buried histearsin the boyschest.
"I love youmyboy! Youare perfectin everyway!"Omenputawayall pretense.Acute shame,joy,fear,
hope and all mannerof subtle feelingradiatedfromhiminunabashedsimultaneity.
6. " I will save usfather.The day will come andwithitall the answersto yoursorrows.Have a little faith in
the purpose of my creation.Letyoursorrowsbe mine.Andfindhope inme!"Xor'sface was a light,the
fibersof hisheadsparkledandthe stonesinhiscrownradiateda song inresplendency.Omen feltthe
overwhelmingawe he everfeltwhenhisboylitup.The greatcreature shiningdownonhimwitha
radiationof love shooshedomenfromthe chamberwithagentle thought.Omensealedthe chamber
behindhimandnosoonerdidthe HyperbandPrefeedAudiobegin cracklingtolife.
Before Xorenteredthe longhall he removedhisstonesfromhiscloakandeyedthemwiththe affection
of oldfriends.He slidthe softlinenfromhisshoulders andwrappeditaroundthe dark orb."Resteasy
my friend,Iwill notneedmyswordtoday!"He leftthe cloakand stone in the cornerof the ante-
chamberand strode intothe longicy corridorbare-chested,cradlingonlyawhite lucentsphere.
7. Grey Pingers
December 9, 2062 Roman Standard
"I've neverbeenina Pinger.Rememberthe firsttime Ieversaw one.Itwasat a fairwhenI was12." The
man inthe ill fittedhatwas restless,excited,nervousandafraid.The eventsof the past36 hourshad
the worldinpanic andnow he was beingpulledfromhisbeatto'helpout' thisthinpale IBIagentthat
closelyresembledanalbinonewtof 2 metersinheight.The maninthe ill fittedhatwonderedwhathe
wouldfindstaringbackat himshouldhe pull the darkglassesfromthe agentsface.
The men ascendedthe fewstepsthatseemedtomeltfromthe matte greybodyof the Pinger. This
wasn'tstreettechnology.Thiswasn'tjusta richman's toy.The man inthe ill fittedhathadstudied
reportsof this type of Vehicle.He wasevensure he hadseenone,silentasstill water,hoveringleisurely
overthe melee duringthe KidneyRiotsof 2058. The conspiracists calledthemGreyPingers.
Pingers,oriG-drive SkywayVehiclesasthe craft were calledbytheirowners, werethe firstprofessedly
alientechnologyreleasedforpublicconsumption.Element115 SustainedReactionEngineswere
released simultaneously by BavarianMachine andThe GreaterAmericanIndustrial Networkin2039 as
clumsytoysfor the affluent.ItwastechnologybackengineeredfromExtraTerrestrial wreckageinCo-
operationwithseveral speciesfromthe Zeta-Reticuli starsystem.The wobbly'iG-drive'waspromoted
as "the safe and sane wayto connectwithprimitive man'sinstinct(dramaticpause) forflight. "Butin
realityitwasan effortto ease the publicdistrustinanincreasinglyopencorrespondencewithEBEs
undersuspicion forabductionsandinvasionfor atleast a centuryand a half prior.
It levitated,dashedaboutchangingdirectionsatacute angleswithoutthe occupantsevennoticingmuch
shiftinmomentum. Butitdidfeel abit like beinginaraft in choppyconditions.Anditmade aconstant
irritatinghighpitchhammerona bell noise 'ping,ping,ping,ping-ping,ping,ping,ping'that annoyed all the
poor people belowwhile the affluentsnotsfrolickedinside the contraption,envelopedinSmartShield
Technologywhichassuredtheywouldn'tbe botheredbytheirownnoise pollution.
Grey Pingersweren'treallyPingersatall.Theywere silent.Theywere subtle andstill.Theywerenotthe
gaudy vehiclesof the richdesignedtolooklike sleekautomobileswithmagicpowers.GreyPingerswere
cloaked,andrarelyvisibleatall.Theywere amore refinedmachineandthe transportationof choice for
the clandestine intelligence communities.A Grey Pinger,allegedly,couldmake Misnerjumpstothe
moonalmostinstantaneouslywere itwasalsospeculatedthatthe IBIkepta clandestine base onthe
dark side secretedfromthe anythinglookingupfromEarth.
As the man inthe ill fithat climbedintothe bedof the craft he turnedto hispale friendand queried,
"Why me?"
8. "Why notyou?"the agentresponded,"Itseemsyouhave averyspecial skillset,andyourtreatise
'Clandestine AgenciesEffectsonCrime Syndicate Behaviors'wasa workof genius.Now youtell me why
a man witha master'sin Game Theoryand Hyper-Dimensional Topologyisworkingabeat inOld
Hollywood."
"A manhas billstopay,"he pulledhissnugfithatback downto hisbrow.
"I thinkyou knowwhyyouwere chosen!"the agentstone wasflatand direct.
"The thingI am sure of…" the man inthe ill fittedhatsmirked andlookedacrosshisbrimintothe
agentsdark shades,"youaren'tcompletelyhuman!"
"No,"the agentreturneda longthinsmile,"notentirely…thenagainneitherare you Lt. Dunmar!"
The man in the ill fittedhatfell intoaseatnoticingthe interiorspace inthe craftwas significantlylarger
than the external volume. There were 3othertall pale agents seatedwithinthe craft.How had they
gone unnoticeduntil thispoint,'DamnSalamanders'he thoughttohimself.
"Salamanders…yesthatiswhat the conspiracyspeculatorscall us!"saidanagent witha Star of David
pinnedtohislapel,removinghisdarkshadesandrevealing lustrouspinkeyesinresponseto the Hat's
unspokenwords,"…butwhatandwho you are is somethingelse entirely."
9. Life on Top
The silent machine settled itself discretely down upon the complex 53 guest parking terrace, on
a level marble slab surrounded by blue and purple grasses that seemed to Lt. Dunmar to
emanate a pale localized light, a resplendent field for floating status symbols to graze. He could
see by the vacant marble plots that there were no significant happenings in this humble corner
of New Spring Heights.
The Terraces of 23, 800 or so meters closer to terra firma were brimming with flashy pingers
being flaunted by young socialites. Spring 23 was a hedonistic wallow for the larva of the global
elite and lugubrious youths from all over wandered in to lament the tortures of affluence and
balm their sorrows with all manner of exotic substances and amoral behaviors.
It was the thing amongst the fashionable opulent to streak dried tears in salty sparkles down
their cheeks and round the eyes. Blue Corpse Base Tones against popping Neon and Techno-
Paints covered their faces and bodies in irony. Fangs were the norm but only the uber-hip had
Tru-Growth.
The thing about the 'rich kids these days' that really made Lt. Dunmar cringe was the horns.
Tru-Growth horns were the Uber-Hippest thing last fall but by the time most kids were
sprouting their second point a seemingly small enterprise, Xenocouno, introduced their
patented Techno-Bio Weave which is a cybernetic fractal growth systemthat integrates and
grows into and alongside the natural cell structures without mutating the local genetics.
'Now in 3 years when it's not uber anymore those pampered dolts that couldn't wait a year are
going through acute gene therapy to ungrow that stupid horn and they will be shaking their
fists in apathetic rage because they used to be uber uber but now they are only quasi-uber
because a better horn was the door prize for being fashionably late.' The man in the ill fitting
hat tugged down at his brim with both hands and chuckled heartily to himself. He always found
his inner dialogue quite hilarious. Though, often when he expressed that dialogue outwardly he
was met with awkward expressions, snorts and courtesy chortle.
Things were quieter up here in 53. The air was sweet, so thick with fruit and floral essences that
it was pleasingly palatable. The Lt had to stifle a tear at an odd onset of emotion. The brickwork
arches that separated the Parking terrace from 53 octet B proper were actual brick and
immaculately antiqued adobo hung with suckling vines and ripening fruit. The air sparkled with
the sounds of tumbling waters.
10. There was no security. Possessing a pinger without the 800 meter Vertical Constraint was
clearance enough. Still before he passed under the arches Lt Dunmar took an apprehensive look
back. Beyond the Smart Seal, 1200 meters beneath him and all around him the sprawl of the o
old city was blinking awake for its nightly vigil. The deep setting sun sputtered its drowning
purple and orange hues across the reflective tops of only the highest buildings, the hills were
dark blue silhouettes and the noise of the city was more subtle than fiddling crickets.
'Seeing it from up here, you might even think its beautiful…' the Lt tugged down his ill fitting hat
and pulsed a short jaded sigh , turned and stepped beneath the arches and into the brick
corridor.
11. Ghost Effect
Yr 59 Survival era
The long hall was sufficiently chill that the small amount of ambient moisture spun odd spiraling
crystal formations along the outer steal walls. When the second great blast door rolled back
even Xor's bare skin went taut with goose pimples. It was never any warmer than -20
centigrade in the chamber that held the Merqavah and the temperatures would soon drop to
fractions above sub zero during the Jump.
The icy Ghost Effect was a by-product of the extreme manipulation of the Cruciform Field-
which is an extension (one might say) of the Electromagnetic Field topologically projected to
12/13 dimensions - named for the symbol Omen chose to represent the complex
Dodecaternion number set that was the mathematic key to stable Poly-Space portals. The
Dodecaternion Set was also know as Omen's Number though Omen himself hated it, and
reacted with more than petty irritation when it was so addressed in his presence. It wasn't
Omen's number anymore than 'phi' belonged to the Greeks or 'e' belonged to Euler. He wasn't
even sure he discovered it. More so, it seemed to have been revealed to him during a neural
regression. It had taken him 3 years to decipher the visions and construct the theorem that
proofed the new Dodecaternion and the Neural regression had almost cost Omen his mind.
The Adumi work in mysterious ways.
"All space is Sub-Space," that is what the Adumi whispered to Xor during his last jump. The
visions of the seedling sprouting- simultaneously pushing up into a tree while burying its roots
deep into the fertile soil of temporal space- flooded his senses. There weren't such colors to be
found here in Euclidean Earth. The simulators couldn't be taught to feign them. The exulting
emotions were almost more than he could endure. There were parts of his vision so beautiful
his mortal mind had to suppress them, visions of his mother in 5/6 dimensions.
Returning from the first jump had left him living in a black and white world, knowing only
sorrows, feeling only pain. For mortality was not but suffering ,turmoil and pain after having
ventured but a brief moment within the sanctuaries of Eden.
Omen feared Xor was dying or worse. Omen could never forget what became of ZPet 226.
Though he had endured dangerous procedures to erase the memories he had only suppressed
the night terrors and sweating fits. The monster that became of 226 had been Omen's friend.
As Xenoform Primate Test Subject 22-6 advanced through jumps of increasing temporal depth
12. and spacial complexity he, for lack of a better term, mutated. What became of 226 is burried, in
a cell designed by Omen to bind the meta-stable monster, deep beneath the desert surface in
some remote wasteland. Omen still loved 226 and 226 still loves Omen.
Before Xor, it was 226 that called Omen 'Father'.
13. Truncated icosahedron
It was a big silvery soccer ball. Xor looked up at the Merqaba and sighed. In the room beyond
the anterior chamber they were already celebrating his successful jump. He hadn't even
climbed into the vessel yet and already he had arrived at Beta Point. The anxiety to commence
the jump compelled him. The experience of Temporal Bifurcation always made him uneasy.
Until he was in-jump he would struggle with the sensation of being 2 distinct entities. The Xor
now heralded in triumph at Beta was also feeling that rift of being that would not subside until
the bifurcated being was reunited in time which couldn't happen until he jumped.
Xor entered the hallow of the Merqaba. There were not doors nor windows. He simply moved
through what appeared to be matte metal plating. It only tingled a bit and whispered a gentle
white static noise. His stone sprang to life in his hand as they glided effortlessly and
weightlessly into the node.
It was only he, his stone and the conundrum of time and hyper dimensional space there now..
He choked back an image of his mother. An image his mortal mind had to suppress. For weeks
Xor had wondered what the Adumi might reveal to him this jump… or rather tried to wonder,
even hope. But his premonition was that this jump would not be shared with the Adumi. It
wasn't even premonition now. His other self was still twisting with the memories. No, he would
not need his sword today…for fear he would use it.
Xor thought again of the soccer ball. His truncated Icosahedron was a 1 man hyper dimensional
implosive weapon- such as humanity had never known. To most children it was just a soccer
ball- a toy that you kicked for fun and sport. He thought of his mission. Not just this imposing
jump, but his End Mission. He thought of the simple lives of other children. The other children
in the compound could be heard laughing through the common areas all day. Xor Laughed but
never with such innocence. Did they ever even wonder what it would be like to be one being in
2 distinct bodies? When they saw a truncated icosahedron they thought of sport, playtime and
fun, not terror and sacrifice.
Their ease was his yolk.
He wondered what would happen if he refused to jump. He wondered how long he could
tolerate the bifurcation. What would happen if he left the chambers and ran to console his
other self. Such questions were met with the pleading reactions of the bifurcated self.
Just relax and jump, that is all we can do.
14. Xor tried to relax. The terrible thing he would soon confront could not kill him. It would be for
his good and experience. His stone began to pulse. It was a needful thing. The blue white
ambient interiors began to radiate increasingly bright light. Xor focused his communications
with his stone until time and Euclidian space began to dither and fold.
Today was his 8th birthday.
15. Life on TOP?
survival era yr59
There were over 20 thousand elementary aged children living in Xor's subterranean community,
secured behind millions of tons of lead and Cruciform Field Shielding from the Incursion still
boiling out waves of screaming Plume Demons around population centers above. But, unlike
Xor, even the top-sider children played soccer, pasted macaroni and sang silly songs together.
Most towns and rural areas hadn't yet been hit. The luckier top-siders had abandoned their
sprawling amebic Metropolises. Agricultural communities, with biodiversity, low human
population density and minimal technology were almost invisible to the Boils of the Incursion.
The lucky ones almost lived normal lives.
The children of affluence still inhabited their great Vertical Cities, shielded by the same
technologies that protected Xor's subterranean community. However, the 7 Great Cities and 17
Capita Diminutio (lesser states) suffered from numerous Time Gulps, Spacial Wells, and
Temporal Vacuums along with the Doppelgangers and Altered History Scenarios that were
natural consequences of the phenomenon. The proximity of the Vertical Cities to the
desolations of Metropolis and V Cities conspicuous technologies, not to mention 10's of millions
inhabiting a 15 kilometer radius made them impossible to shield entirely. Still the wealthy could
not leave their trappings and technology, couture and accoutrement, apathy and idolatry. So
the occasional missing yesterday or slight twist on your mirror image suddenly popping into
time space, claiming to be someone quite exactly like you, was a small exchange for
maintaining your room with a view. Life on top is a difficult thing from which to step down.
But Big City Life was a dice roll. LA , Denver, New York City, Tokyo, Mexico City, Rio, Shanghai,
and Hong Kong were warzones. People still lived and worked in those places. The Conglomerate
still yoked and milked the antiquated power structure.
Militarized Industry Zones were like concentration camps where the guards were the prisoners.
Manufacture and commerce, even speculative trading continued while the echoes of horrific
battles wailed above and outside. Generals sought fortune and entertained fantasies of
retirement in V City. The infantry were slaves that hoped to blow every earned MIZ Credit on
the harlots of Spring 23. The intercedent ranks formed the hierarchal structures of metropolitan
society.
Everyone sought fame. Fame paid.
Everyone was equipped with some new technology, lethal in 5 dimensions.
16. Eventually humanity had realized that a Spacial Boil is a living entity inhabiting extra-
dimensional space. The phantasmagoric golems known as Plume Demons would pour out in
waves unless the Boil could be driven back into dimensions that didn't share our Euclidian
Perpendiculars. Hitting a spacial boil with conventional arms did little. A demon waylaid was a
clipped nail to the extra dimensional beast. But if a demon was hit towards the center of mass
with a Warp Gun Burst it would implode. A well placed Warp Gun Burst was like cutting under
the nail verses clipping it. If enough Plume Demons were so executed a wave might be
thwarted, a Boil might retreat but so long as its Zero Point Signature remained the locus would
likely fester again.
Still the metropolises pulsed with the life that now inhabited. Sirens rang when a boil burst.
Women and children took refuge in small subterranean shielded habitations until the men
pushed the enemy back. Production never ceased and the scientific data collected by Nurse
Bees in the conflict zones was bringing in wealth from somewhere. Those that hadn't been lucky
enough to escape Metropolis were now under the protections of The Conglomerate.
17. The other side of the corridor
It was dusk when he entered the short 20 meter corridor from the parking terrace. What
opened up on the other side left Lt Dunmar's jaw slack as a corpse. Here over 1600 meters
above the surface of the earth within this megalithic carbon fiber Vertical structure there were
rolling hills, some topped with majestic mansions like something from Victorian prose. Field's of
flowers and blue sky. There were still 47 Complexes, almost 2 kilometers in tiers of increasing
opulence that ought to be looming above but all the officer could see was blue partially cloudy
skies with a 5:00 sun peaking through a seam in the pillows.
His eyes and heart swelled for an instant but the Lt. tugged the brim of his hat and suppressed
another strange spontaneous emotional episode. 'What is this place?' sputtered his internal
dialogue, ' I could live under skies like this, real or contrive!'
The man in the ill fit hat must have been looking up, his Jaw agape when the little old man
arrived jangling the little bell on his rickshaw, "Sorry for the start," the little old man began. Lt.
Dunmar had jumped at the small jangle. The smiling wrinkles at the pedals of the rickshaw
continued, "That is the actual sky, not some cheap hologram. The long days are however a
technological phenomenon…if you will. Mostly advanced optics, a twist on the Smart Shield.
The City does tower over 2400 meters over the plane of the earth. Its vantage on the sun lasts
quite a bit longer. There is also, as you might have guessed Lieutenant, other technologies at
play here… that aren't available to the surface."
"HMPH!" the lieutenant grunted pulling on his hat," I see someone was tipped we were on our
way." Lt Dunmar, twisting rather than tugging at his brim, auto-piloted that response. While
inwardly the banter said, 'More sh*# from the Zeta-Reticuleez' the inner voice took pride in the
xenophobic slur it believed to have coined on the fly,' to suckle the elites into another 200 years
of abductions and weird hybrid freaks with strange agenda's!' and then just to drive it home, 'U
tuned in Agent Pale Face?'
The looming pale agent interjected with a subtle grin and condescending gesture, "This isn't
your typical investigation Lieutenant. We aren't going to interrogate." The Agent was smooth,
subtle affirming the order of things for all present, simultaneously asserting authority over Lt
Beat Cop in the eyes and minds of the man in the ill fit hat and the wrinkles at the rickshaw. The
serpentine agent continued, "The man on the hologram…the man in the Med House, the man
identified by Database as DonHeraldScott is the manwe are questioning…"
18. The later statementsaidlittle tothe overtlyhappyoldmanbut came with a severe blastof information
that almostmeltedthe BeatCop,informationripewithaSeverityof Strangeness,ripeenoughtobring
All Reality intoquestionforaman witha Masters inGame Theoryand an ill fithat.
'You thoughtI couldonlylisten?'came a voice nothisownfrom withinaplace he previouslybelieved
onlyhe had a pulpit.
The man in the ill fithatnow staredoutintothe greatplainsof skywere there hadought to be carbon
fiberpenthouses,befuddled,confoundedandgenerallystrugglingtoorganize histhoughts.He wasn't
sure at all whathe was doinghere.He wasn'tparticularlysure he wasn'tin some deeplylucentdream
state any secondto wake upto the comfortsof another day workingthe beatinthe slumsof Old
Hollywood. ThenLtDunmarlookedrightintothe agentsblackshades,tippedhisbrimandgave hima
telesthetic…
' Touche!'
19. Beta Point
survival era yr59
'Pain' isnt the right term to describe it. No string of exacerbating adjectives could give it the
proper severity. Returning from a jump felt like waking into a body obliterated into the coldest
fractal corners of the universe now being torn back from the fringes, with a great ripping,
rippling implosion, falling in all directions, focusing into an abysmally small point, losing its
mind, watching itself from a point (not a plain, or a space) surrounding itself on all sides.
When the points were again behind the eyes Xor was watching the blast door roll back and
looking up at a great matte silver soccer ball, feeling his skin prickle with goose flesh. His
thoughts and behaviors predictably constrained by an foreordained time continuum. Across a
gap of bifurcation 1000 nurse bees tended to the hypothermic body shivering back into its
confines within our Euclidean Space.
"What a doozy!" Xor looked up to the attending bees, the wry smile slowly cracking across his
face for the live hyperband feed.
THE WORLD REJOICED IN UNISON!!
Xor's heterochromatic eyes shone. The people's joy warmed him. His empathy resounded his
reward. Their joy was his purpose, his task, his destiny.
Yet, infinitely hidden from the view of mankind was a child upon the wrack, his mind torn
between a set temporal reality and a concurrent continuum of perceived choice, his soul
weighed and yoked like a great ox whom everyday has his burden increased, his entire body
throbbing and stinging like an arm after a sound crack to the funny bone.
The jump had been a doozy! And as beautiful and mystical and painful to return to the
mundane as had been the previous jump, this jump was horrific and phantasmagoric, defiling
and tempting. No he did not need his sword today, for he surely would have struck at the beast
he confronted. And, unlike the previous jump, and despite the terrible returns, Xor was quite
relieved to be back within the comforts of the mundane.
Still he found himself contending with his bifurcated self contending with memories of a future
present. He was filled with compassion towards his bifurcated self still hesitating to let the
stone pulse and his light to radiate.
20. Xor thought again of the soccer ball and the lives of other children. It was a beautiful thing to
think about. Their joy was his yolk. His heart extended to his bifurcated self…
'Just relax and jump, that is all we can do.'
The terrible thing he had confronted could not kill him. It had been be for his good and
experience. Unarmed, he had confronted the enemy (or some great portion of it) and returned
intact. His heart began to fill with purpose. His sacrifice was a needful thing. He was the only
one.
He put off the thermal blanket the in which the bees had him enclosed, picked up his stone and
strode past the opened blast door into the anterior long hall. The moisture in the air spun odd
crystal formation in his hair and across the surface of his skin.
The wry grin broke into a wide smile as he was greeted by the crowds shivering to celebrate the
moment the door rolled back to the antechamber. A wide smile that rocketed across the
hyperband and again… THE WORLD REJOICED IN UNISON!!
Xor was beginning to feel like his oneself again.
"HAPPY BIRTHDAY XOR WINDBORNE!" the crowd cheered.
The entire world was celebrating. A petite, ambitious, young investigator for Global Hyperband
with exotic features that denoted Japanese-American heritage with just a smidge of Zeta-
Reticulian querried the child, "Global Hyperband wants to know what the Boy Bred to Save the
World wants for his Birthday?"
"I would quite enjoy a dose of Milk!" Xor said grinning wryly.
It was his 8th birthday.
