MORTALITUS

PROLOGUE

            It begins with an idea, a vision of the life we see and feel, the chaos that follows ever so close.  I struggle onward to tell this story, maybe the truth, and the test that defines it.  Silently the universe moves to the sounds of chaos, as desperate hearts cry out for a new day.  Dreams wave amongst the beams of light that cut furiously through the darkest of black, telling a tale of the universe in all its majesty and of the manifestations it creates.  Designed with the best of intentions, paving the way to a place known all to well. Time is running short, only the empty abyss might know the secret truths, every dream, every tragedy, and every idea that changed a generalized consensus into something the universe has never seen.

         These are the origins of a legend, a dreamer crossed with an entity trying to find a home within this madness, friends balanced across the fine lines of eternity. I am all things; you will always be everything I can never be.  Painting an image of a dream and a promise, one locked deep within these tattered pages as ink is pressed to them.  Awaken this day to the call of destiny; see the dreams that dance ever so gently through a universe you can only begin to fathom.  A freedom to all wonders in all places, as a voice from the stretch of infinity reminds us of our purpose.  We go to see they have their freedom, standing alone in these darkest of times, brothers and sisters of the revolution, we go to see you have your freedom. 

         Humankind, the dreamers of the cosmos, the painters of legends of old, the symphony makers, desperately searching for their meaning within the stars.  13.85 billion years from the moment they were never designed to understand, they search for motive, causality of it all.  The universe, the grandest scale of all things known holds its secrets well, as isolation sets in, and these beautiful dreams turn to haunting nightmares.  I’ve seen this long before the humans that live on the silent blue pearl known as Earth, long before many things lost to the abyss of space.

         Galactic nations, cosmic beings separated by vast distances and equally varying biology’s, grouped within the chaos that drives destiny forward.  Wars waged for the birthright of the universe we all share as home, justice falling short of the extinct worlds that time has all but forgotten.  Where freedom for all is lost, tears reflect the universe, and most dream of a day of peace, a unified cosmos, where no being is ever alone.

         It was in the first years of the 21^st human century, on the planet Earth that destiny finally came calling, and the wheels of fate began to slowly turn.  Humanity continued struggling to make good on the sacrifices from their ancestors, with resources depleting, and a general state of anxiety spreading through the masses.  Governments controlling citizens in a cost efficient direction, completely unaware of the epic sagas being waged across a vast universe, and their importance in the revelations to come.

         The humans of Earth are a race that has gone relatively unnoticed to the rest of this universe, but for how long and to what end?  Billions of concepts of life call this blue pearl home as it falls silently with its dark mistress. At 4.7 billion years old, the Earth has become the staging point for a new day, delivering one brave soul to stand against the dark forces clouding our universe.  We will stay this course no matter the odds, on the brink of madness, through the ramblings of the forgotten, peer into this truth to reveal the diary of a madman.

         2025 A.D. is the human year on the planet Earth, a celestial body part of a small system existing within the Milky Way Galaxy.  Within human history it is common knowledge that there is no evidence of life elsewhere in the universe other than Earth.  It was in the human lunar month of March, on the 10^th day, that a legend was born.  This date shall be echoed through every age hence forth, for all beings shall bear witness to the birth of a warrior of truth, a servant of peace, and a child of Father.  It was in this year that I met the human Ashton Seth Mortal, and this is our story.

CHAPTER: 1

03/10/2025 

        The buzzer to my cellular phone repeats the same annoying tone as dreamscapes fade and reality sets in.  Rubbing my face, I continue to ask myself why I haven’t changed that alarm, but it does the trick.  My feet fall to the side of the bed as I reach over and click the touch screen device and simultaneously my bedroom lights up like a room prepped for surgery. 

         “Damn it, what time is it?”  I mumble, rubbing my eyes wishing I were still sleeping.  “Angela I wish you would stop syncing the entire room with Omega, you touch one thing and the whole place lights up.  Do you hear me?”  I ask as my wife’s eyes remain shut, her face resting against her pillow. Quickly, I roll over to get some reassurance that I’m not having a conversation with myself, as I poke at the body next to me.  “Hey!  Angela!  Wake up already, it’s a big day.”

         Up comes the comforter as my beautiful wife lifts her head with hair stuck to the right side of her face.  Along the side of her cheekbone are light impressions of the floral pattern on the comforter she bought recently.  “What time is it Ash?”  She asks stretching her arms and curling her toes.

         “7:37 A.M.  We gotta’ get going, we’ve got a thousand things to do today.” I remind her as I stand stretching myself.

         “What time does the show start tonight?” She asks with a soft voice not quite awake.

         Scanning through my thoughts, I sort through the list of things in today’s agenda.  “I’m pretty sure it starts at 7:30 P.M.  I guess they’re doing an interview with me.  They need me there at 3:30 P.M. so they can put some sort of bio together for my work.”

         Angela stares at me and in this moment I feel truly lost, as I lay back on the bed she leans over and kisses me, so I kiss her right back ignoring the morning breath.  “I’m so proud of you, I can’t believe the entire gallery sold before opening night.  Everything will change now, we don’t have to worry about anything!”  She says, staring into my eyes.

         Suddenly a realization sets in and I instantly feel something different, something new, as I become aware of the fact that I didn’t have a nightmare last night, and for me that is a rare occasion.  “I didn’t have a nightmare Angela.” The worlds slip out of my mouth carefully as if not to spoil a surprise.

         “Really?” She says, taken back a bit.  “You’ve got to be kidding?”  Her beautiful green eyes stare back at me as her skin has a light olive tone to it, an exotic beauty.  We’ve been married for three years having been together for six. Every night since I can remember I’ve had a nightmare, vivid on a level I’ve never fully disclosed.  “This is amazing Ash!  I knew there was something special about today.”

         If only we both knew, if only I could have grasped what the future held for me that day, maybe it could have been different.  If only I would have done all I could to keep us in our bedroom, in our beautiful home on 4983 Utopia Drive, safe from the fingertips of destiny.

         Anxiety creeps down my spine for something is very weird about today, I can sense it.  “I can’t remember not having a nightmare babe, I mean not ever. Why do they suddenly stop today?”

         Angela waves her hand in front of my face as I stare off into space.  “Hey don’t read into things so much, loosen up already.  Stop living under the control of these nightmares!  You just have a vivid imagination, that’s all.”

         My wife throws off the covers and heads for our bathroom to turn the shower on.  Wearing a small gown, black lace, she knows it’s my favorite but always plays it off to coincidence.  Pulling her hair back it gently lies upon her shoulders, with a dark shimmer for I’ve always had a thing for brunettes.  Sometimes, I often wish she could see my view of her, a timeless beauty with a cute small frame.  Angela is a year younger than me and I use that often to one up her in good fun.

         “I think I’m just gonna’ lay here a sec and rest my eyes babe.”  I call out to her as I lay down again.

         “Ashton Seth Mortal!  Get your ass out of bed, the shower’s going!”  She scolds.  “Get moving!” 

         Sitting back up I reach into the pewter nightstand next to my bed to get a cigarette from the stash spot I’m pretty sure she doesn’t know about.  Pulling a cigarette from the hidden pack I yell back to Angela over the sound of the running water.  “I’ll be there in a sec babe, I promise.”

         “Hurry up baby, I’m lonely.”  She calls back to me having already got in the shower.

         Lighting my cigarette, I use these solitary times to reflect on life in general.  Today is quite different though, as I inhale deeply, for my dreams are my concern at the moment, and something feels very wrong.  With every convenience at my fingertips, I exhale slowly wondering why this feeling consumes me.  Sitting in our room, I notice it has become very different from the rest of the house.  Angela is usually very meticulous with the house, but our room is a completely different story. Clothes pile high in what was once the right corner of our room, a typical woman with nothing to wear.

         My thoughts run wild as I decide to catch the morning news for a bit.  “News and mail Omega, two screens.”  I ask.

         “Yes Mr. Mortal.”  Omega responds.

         Two screens, free flowing appear to me, one showing the daily news and current events, the other with my mail. Everything today is voice activated, the modern computer is not what it once was.  Most homes are hardwired with a central processor unit that turns your entire home into your desktop.  Any amount of knowledge, entertainment, and life in general is but a voice command away.  Today as always the tone of the news is the same, save one particular event I’ve been waiting for.

         “In today’s world news, plans for the mission to our sister planet, Mars, enter the final phase, as the three astronauts make last minute launch preparations.  They are still two months away from launch.  Their primary function, to evaluate the state of the red planet and search for signs of present or past life on the Martian surface.”  The anchorman says in a monotone voice. “There has been talk of terra forming the red planet for use with future generations.  Sadly most of the top NASA officials, and the United States government believe that is still in the realm of science fiction.”

         “In other news, China’s population has soared to a record 1.9 billion, and fear of famine is widespread among the masses. The governing bodies of China have asked for aid from the United States and other major allied nations.  There is talk of a declared state of emergency within China’s borders, but no official word.  The President of the United States is all set to meet with ambassadors of China later this week to discuss further preventative action. It is estimated that in China, there are over one hundred million suffering, locked in the grip of famine.”  The anchorman reads from the monitor as if it’s already yesterday’s news.  Like it’s normal to read the last will and testament on this early morning for millions of people.

         “Bullshit!  This is ridiculous!”  I say irritated by the broadcast.  Extending my hand and pushing the screen in front of me to the side, I shift my focus.  I pull the second screen toward me as my eyes struggle to make out the small text in my mail. “Magnify thirty percent Omega, text only.”

         Smoke from my nearly finished cigarette weaves through the holographic image interfering with its display. “Wall display please Omega.” I say with a polite tone as if it matters.  The walls of our home have tiny silicon screens layered into them.  This allows the Omega System to transfer holographic data to basically any surface in my home for a larger display.  Sitting up in bed I scan through my Emails and realize it’s starting to seriously get out of hand.  I suppose I have an issue with letting go, my Emails topping out at 3,756 unread at this point.

         Most are mindless attempts at getting me to buy something I just don’t need, something to help fill the inner consumer void I share with so many.  Scanning through the Emails briefly, I hear my wife singing above the running water and the stupid anchorman running off at the mouth on the holographic screen now moved to my side.  “Show emails from contacts only Omega.” 

         The Omega System is definitely a great device most of the time, bringing up only emails from my friends and family and separating them by date and alphabetically.   Sifting through them I come across a message from my father.  My father is a physicist, and absolutely absorbed by his work, but a great parent and even better teacher.  Another message from my mother, believing my father has become overly obsessed; I wonder how it’s taken her so long to figure that out.

         My father, Daniel Ashton Mortal, has always belonged to the stars, the very depths of the universe.  He is aggressive in his beliefs, daunting in his intelligence, yet compassionate and good willed.  I’ve always enjoyed our conversations of the physics of this universe, although I’m not so sure my mother shares our enthusiasm.  She seems more preoccupied with solving the riddles of the human psyche in opposition of the universe. Reading on, there are messages from potential buyers, my partner, and friends. 

         I am a fine artist, a custom designer, the main bulk of my work is my paintings, at least that’s what I’m known for. Sometimes I do freelance designing when independently contracted, and special order products.  Message after message is read as I finally come to the last message and I just stare at the screen at an urgent message from my best friend from high school, Tyler Morgan.  I realize right then it’s been about five years since we’ve spoken.  I stare at the message heading that flashes red, in all caps, “Ash you need to see this, it’s urgent,” I read, weary of what this might mean.

         “Omega, open Tyler Morgan’s message, large display.” 

         A video message begins to play on the wall in front of me.  The lighting is extremely poor; the screen seems to be shifting a bit, like its tripod was secured on a boat.  I can make out multiple figures as one comes into the light, my friend from long ago.  Behind him there seems to be a large structure, almost like a pyramid but I can’t make it out for sure.  Subtle ocean sounds in the background, the sound of waves breaking cast an eerie presence as Tyler begins to speak.

         “Ash, I know this must seem strange and pretty random but believe me, you don’t know the half of it.  I’ve been on a secret project funded by the government for the last six weeks.”  From what I’ve heard about his work, Tyler’s become a leading archeologist, specializing in ancient language and ancient code deciphering.  Primarily I thought he had been stationed in Egypt and other spots in the Middle East.

         “Something happened yesterday Ash, something I just can’t explain, and I know it has to do with you, somehow.  I must be brief, I don’t know how much time I have; this has become a very frightening situation.  God willing, you will receive a package sometime today from me, inside I’ve enclosed everything you’ll need to know.  This is all I can say for now, and know that whatever this may lead to, I got your back, I’m with you no matter what.”  Tyler signs off with tears in his eyes.

         Reminiscing of our friendship from years ago, I recall many good times with Tyler.  He was the first person other than my parents, I told about my nightmares. So many years ago he had suggested art as a way to understand what these dreams meant, trying to get me to face the nightmare head on.  He always believed in some grand purpose, something magical about these nightmares that haunted me so.  I would indulge Tyler’s theories simply because he was my friend, he is my friend.  Checking the details of the message I find that it was sent only a few hours ago.

         “What the hell?  What was that all about?”  I ponder aloud.

         My cigarette begins to burn the filter as I put it out in an amber colored glass ashtray.  I can’t help but feel lost at the moment, after not hearing from Tyler for all these years, and now this.  My thoughts are interrupted by the sounds from the bathroom, violent coughing, sounds of gagging, as I run to investigate.  The shower is still running as I find Angela huddled down in front of the toilet, naked and soaked, the water beading on her skin as steam rises off her body.

         “Babe, what happened?”  I ask, overly concerned.  “Are you ok?” 

         “Don’t worry… just not feeling well, no big deal.”  She says.  “Why are you taking forever?  I’m almost done with my shower.”

         “I was just checking my Email.  Hey, do you remember Tyler Morgan?”  I ask.

         Angela spits in the toilet, and flushes it, for my wife is far from shy, as she walks over to our sink naked as the day she was born to use mouthwash.  A gorgeous woman, to me she is everything I could ever hope for in a person to spend my life with.

         “You met him just after we got together, our first summer I think.  Remember, we partied with him and some other friends at the lake in early June? I think you guys hit it off great.”  I say as my wife rinses her mouth out.

         Patting her lips with a small towel she recalls that summer long ago.  “Yeah I remember him I think, your buddy from high school.  He loved your art, rambling on for hours about that oil painting of yours, The Artifact.”

         “Yep, that’s the one, I thought of that too, he was always so interested in all that stuff.  Anyway, he sent me a Email early this morning, check it out when you get a sec, I’m gonna jump in the shower.”

         Angela just stands there, naked, staring, as I undress.  She touches the light switch in the bathroom, dimming the lighting a bit.  Walking closer to me, Angela kisses me deeply and all the chaos of this early morning fades away. We slide into the shower, our bodies mingling with the steamy water.  “I love you sweetheart.”  She whispers in my ear as I kiss her neck.

         My heart belongs to Angela forever, as I fall in love with her over and over finding myself eternally lost in her eyes.  Life feels complete in every way as I make love to my wife like it was the first time, passionately we connect, and through all things I find sanctuary in her touch.  She’s my best friend, my harshest critic, and the center of my universe, and truly I know I’m a lucky man. 

         We sit together in the shower as faint lights weave in and out of the tiny droplets as they splash against our heads.  Facing each other cradling our legs, something begs for this moment to never end.  A constrictive feeling comes over me, terror gripping my heart, as I lift my hand and touch her knee.  I struggle to keep my eyes open as the water droplets are relentless, and I can feel the clock ticking away, robbing me of these precious moments.

         “Didn’t you have something to take care of this morning babe?”  I ask, my voice muffled by the water.  “I remember you saying something last night before we passed out.” 

         “I have a doctor’s appointment at 10:30 A.M. It shouldn’t take too long though.” She responds.

         “Doctor’s?  What that about?  I don’t remember you saying anything about a doctor’s appointment.” Bewildered, I quickly jump to conclusions.

         Angela takes a hold of my hand sensing my nervousness.  “Don’t worry, it’s just last minute.  I’ve been feeling a little off so I’m just going in for a check up.”  She reassures me.

         Exiting the shower we begin to dry off as I walk to the sink and grab my toothbrush.  I begin brushing my teeth as Angela wraps her hair in a towel and puts it up.  I stare into the reflection in the mirror as a reminder from Omega pops up. “Your electricity bill is due Mr. Mortal, I can pay this now if you’d like Sir.”  Omega asks.

         “Sounds good, go ahead and take care of that Omega.”  I respond as I rinse my mouth with water.

         “Electricity bill has been paid.  It’s currently a balmy seventy three degrees outside, please enjoy your day Mr. Mortal.”

         “Thank you Omega.”

         Applying eye shadow in the mirror Angela has a look of irritation.  I push my leg through my favorite pair of faded black jeans, now a dusted charcoal color, slip on a pair of white sneakers and a plain black t-shirt. As I pull down my shirt I feel my wife’s hands slide in between my arms and lock tightly.  Truly a moment where nothing needs to be said, just silence as we embrace.

         “So you wanna’ take two cars?”  Angela asks as she continues holding her arms around me.  “I thought we could have lunch later.” 

         “Sounds good babe, we should have enough time before the interview.  Consider it a date beautiful!”

         She walks over to the dresser and begins rummaging through her purse.  After a moment she picks up the purse and walks over just staring at me. “I love you baby, I’ll see you soon.”  She says, as she kisses me.

         “Love you too babe.”

            Angela turns and walks out the double doors to our bedroom and begins to head downstairs.  I once again sit down on our bed hoping to halt the seconds of the clock.  No sound or motion, just silence and a subtle ring in my ear.  Something is very different about today, I can feel it in my bones as I decide I need some fresh air.  Walking out the door and down the stairs to my living room, I pass works of art from my personal collection, some of my earliest work.  At the base of the stairs I come to Tyler’s favorite painting of mine, its title, The Artifact.  I stare at the piece as gallery lighting shines down on it.

         In that instant I feel myself begin to have a sort of weird flash, with my vision suddenly fading and returning, as I feel myself being stretched forward, more a thought now than a man.  Struggling to maintain focus, I stare hard at the painting through this episode.  The painting itself is a realism piece, one object, very similar to a Tibetan Phurba, a ritual dagger.  This is no ritual dagger though; its look is very alien.

         There is a stone on the end of its handle, a look I’ve never seen before, not like any precious stone I’ve ever come across. A weathered antique, cast iron plated, as its metals seem to have a hardened liquid form.  Layers of paint helped me to capture the texture of it exactly the way I had pictured it in my dreams.  There are twelve exotic symbols that run along the blade’s edge, also very foreign to me.  Tiny etched vein cuts, spider web through the dagger with a dull glow. Seemingly in the painting, the dagger is in the process of changing into something else.

         Shaking off this weird panic attack, I head for the front door paying no attention to anything else in my home.  Walking down the curving path to my driveway I begin to head down the road a ways, deciding to go to the beach.  San Diego, California, and what a beautiful day it is in my hometown, as I pull a pack of smokes from my pocket and pause under the shade of a tree to light my cigarette.  Emerging from under the tree, I shield my eyes from the intense sunlight. 

         My sunglasses sit atop my head at all times for days like this, and in Southern California, we sure get a lot of them.  I push them down to offer relief to my strained eyes, as I begin to walk toward the beach.  Pulling a small earpiece from my pocket, I insert it into my left ear, as I cross the parking lot near the shoreline.  There are people everywhere enjoying the beautiful morning, living the beach life.

         As I step onto the sand, my foot sinks drastically with each stride.  Usually I’d be upset wearing my favorite shoes and all, and white is definitely not the best choice for the beach, but today is different for trivial matters are not a priority.  I have a lot on my mind, a feeling that can’t be explained as I walk for seven minutes or so and come to a secluded tide pool area.  Beginning to climb the rocks, water splashes through the openings carved out by waves.  Droplets collect on the lenses of my sunglasses as I stare out onto the horizon and watch the clouds scurry about side by side.  Reaching for my cell phone I thumb through my contacts on the touch screen device, to Grace Julia Mortal, my mother.

         “Call Grace Mortal, holographic display.” I instruct.

         My mother is an amazing woman and an even better parent, always supporting my art and choices in life, even those that hindered my progress.  She is a psychologist, so along with my father; they make for a most interesting couple.  I place my cell phone on a level rock in front of me and try and find a dry spot to sit.  The earpiece activates as I wait for my mother to answer her end.  As she picks up, the phone generates a holographic display of her in high definition.  We speak freely, as if she’s joined me on the beach this morning.

         “Hey mom, how are you this morning?”  I ask.

         “Hi Ash, I’m fine, how are you?”  She asks.  “Excited about tonight?” 

         “Yeah, I’ve actually had something else on my mind though mom.  Something’s goin’ on, I’ve just had a bad feeling.”  I say, doing my best to stress my concerns without worrying her too much.

         She pauses for a moment before responding. “You’re probably just stressed, it’s been a lot to take in lately.  With all this hype going on with your art show, no wonder you’re having doubts. Don’t worry, you’ll do great, I’m so proud of you and your father is too!”

         “I suppose you’re right, I’ve just been a little worried.  I want you guys to know I love you both, with all my heart.  You have always been great parents to me, thank you for your support.”  I say, as if it might be my last chance.

         “Look, I can tell you’re upset but not another worry, we’ll discuss it tonight.  Your father and I should be there around seven or so.  We’ll see you then, we love you Ash.”  She says, with a mother’s tone.

         “See you tonight.”

         “Bye for now sweetheart.”  She replies as she clicks off and the display fades away.

         Returning my cell phone to my pocket, I stare out onto the Pacific Ocean for a while getting lost in my daydreams.  In the corner of my eye at the edge of the horizon, I see a glowing dot just sitting there, flashing.  Strange at first, I just assume it’s a boat or something as I decide its time to get this show on the road.  Standing, I stare for a moment longer at the glowing dot as it remains in the spot on the horizon, and then dust off my pants and head back to the front of the beach.  On my way I hit a button on my cell phone to have my car meet me in the parking lot. 

         Continuing up the shoreline, back to a fast paced world, taking small strides as I breathe in the ocean air, listening to the sounds of life in motion.  Passing the same iron posts from my childhood, their paint a now faded red, chipping away slowly with the shoreline’s erosion.  My car, an automated coupe, sits in the parking lot waiting for my arrival.  Jet-black, my car is a green vehicle as are most vehicles these days, emission friendly.  Our generation missed out on the hot rod of the past, though they still exist; the price is ridiculous in upkeep.  We all pitch in to undo the effects of global warming our forefathers left us with.

         “Passenger door open.”  I ask as I approach my car.

         The passenger door opens upward as I crouch down to sit inside; my car’s processor is linked to the Omega system. Automated vehicles came about around 2016 A.D.; the technologies first application was military in 2011 A.D. Cars of today run on hydrogen and electricity, and solar cars are beginning to pick up momentum as well. Super processing units are the brains of the operation linking all vehicles through the Omega Global Network.

         Vehicles can travel at high speeds and high volume without incident.  Since its application in 2016 A.D., globally, there have been four thousand and twenty six vehicular deaths worldwide, based on road hazards or acts of God.  I program a daily schedule of locations through my direct link to Omega so that my commands are kept to a minimum.  Usually I just want to collect my thoughts and relax when driving.

         “Omega, take me to scheduled locations, and play mix one.”  I command.

         “Yes Mr. Mortal.”

                  Attack choppers circle high overhead as Tyler Morgan slowly turns the ignition off on the speedboat that floats silently in open water on the Pacific.  Surrounded on all sides, the cavalry closes in on the singular target, as images from the last twelve hours riddle through mind.  His heart has fury to its beat, for there was so little time for strategy.  Quickness of breath while he tries to calm his adrenaline filled nerves as the United States militaries have cornered him.  With courage he made it this far, as he watched his dear friend leave his home on 4983 Utopia Drive only hours ago.  He was quick to his doorstep holding the package close, walking the path destiny has chosen, and truly today is the beginning of something beyond imagination.

         “KEEP YOUR HANDS WHERE WE CAN SEE THEM OR YOU WILL BE SHOT!”  A voice says over a loudspeaker, with all iron sights locked on target.

         “Here we go.”  Tyler replies lifting his hands into the air. 

CHAPTER: 2

THE PYRAMID 

      Tensions flare in a dark interrogation room poorly lit with a central light that rocks gently with the ocean currents. Tyler Morgan sits shackled to a chair at a stainless steel table; two mysterious dark figures hover, drilling him with synchronized attacks.

         “Where is the Payload Tyler?!  Where have you taken it?!”  One of the soldiers says with a stern voice. “Do you realize your implication in all this?!” 

         “Being a matter of national security, you can be held indefinitely…without trial.  Hell they can even try you for treason, and then its all gas for you buddy!” The other soldier adds with a smirk.

         Tyler looks up blinking steadily from the flickering light swaying above, his senses sharpened, patiently refined. Mirrored glass in the back of the room camouflages the interrogation while a group of military personnel review a comprehensive analysis of Tyler’s mannerisms during the procedure. Strangely enough the harden tactics have no effect on the man.

         “This is God’s plan, for all of us, even the both of you.  Can’t you see it, the approach of destiny?  I’ve seen revelations, I’ve seen what the fates might hold, and your eyes will watch the heavens change as trumpets roar by the thousand, a new age approaches.”  Tyler says, with a strong voice.

         “Keep tellin’ yourself that bud!  Keep in mind this isn’t a joke smart ass. You’re in a whole lot of trouble. This isn’t a traditional branch of the government, we have no restrictions of any kind, meaning bad news for you Mr. Morgan, really bad news.”  The soldier says swinging across the table striking Tyler in the face, causing his head to jet downward with a spray of blood.  “TELL US WHAT WE NEED TO KNOW DAMN YOU!!!”

         “Greg, chill out!”  The other soldier yells to his comrade.

         “I’ve seen it… so will you… do what you will, I’m done with these questions.”  Tyler replies softly and turns his head away, shutting himself down in a sense.

         Staring back at Mr. Morgan ominously, the two soldiers realize this man has no intentions of giving them the information they need.  The two men exit the interrogation room and walk down a long hallway with piping catwalks over head. They come to a stop in front of a double doorway at the end of the hall, then open the door and enter the room. Inside they find an older man who stands in front of a fireplace in a large office.  A fire rages as the man calmly stands sipping a glass of scotch, three ice cubes.

         The man turns to the soldiers revealing an aged face with a dark stare.  Sloshing the ice cubes about, the man sits in an executive recliner.  “So we have potentially the biggest discovery of all time sitting in the other room locked away in a madman’s mind.” The mysterious man says.

         “Sir, Mr. Morgan isn’t cooperating, he can’t be broken Sir.”  One soldier says, standing at attention.  “All his mannerisms report normal, he’s a rock Sir.” 

         “Any man can be broken, you need only find his weak points and apply pressure.  First and foremost lets review here.  Eight weeks ago a small object entered our atmosphere at a speed defying all known aviation physics, as we know them.  Upon entry, the object appeared a hundred miles off the coast of Southern California, reducing its speed to a complete halt and remaining stationary.”

         “The objects radar signature then began to expand instantaneously while still holding a stationary position.  Our vessel, the U.S.S Solitude was first on scene, confirming the presence of this pyramid now on the ocean surface.  Out of nowhere this small object came to Earth and turned into a pyramid on the ocean surface.  Reports say it’s almost twice the size of Egypt’s Great Pyramid, and composed of an unidentified crystal like material.”  The mysterious man continues using subtle hand signals.

         “Sir, is there no word on the composition of the structure?”  One of the soldiers asks.

         “None so far.  The entire area has been sealed off by our military, including airspace, as we are trying to keep a lid on this thing.  We are the only government currently having any dealings with the pyramid.  I’ve talked to the President and we’ve discussed our plans to evaluate this objects threat level to the National Security of the United States of America.”

         “On first approach of the object the assumed entrance seemed to be open.  First excavation team infiltrated and determined autonomous delivery, no signs of life were found inside.  Inside the main chamber our team reported unknown markings, similar to hieroglyphics and a cylinder shaped centerpiece standing eight feet high.  The cylinder has twelve rings, each moving right or left, designed to line up under a center marker, similar to a modern day combination lock.”

         “Each ring has a thousand symbols on it, making twelve thousand total.  Our combination specialist is saying that not knowing the meanings of the symbols associated with the language has produced a stalemate and for weeks now this pyramid has sat silently waiting for Mr. Morgan.  Gathering the top minds in the fields necessary to evaluate this extra terrestrial object was our first agenda.  Leading archeologist Tyler Morgan is brought in based on his extensive study and ability in deciphering ancient languages.”

         “Late last night Mr. Morgan somehow manages to break into the pyramid site undetected and unlock the cylinder using the mysterious combination for the twelve rings.  We believe Tyler retrieved an unknown object we have codenamed The Payload. He then steals a military speedboat and makes it back to the mainland of San Diego.  He is gone for five hours until he is apprehended returning in the stolen boat.”

         “After a thorough search nothing of interest is found, so at this point we know he took something from inside the cylinder object.  He then dropped the object codenamed, The Payload, off somewhere not far from the shoreline and was then apprehended and is now sitting one hundred feet down the hall. Would you say that about sums everything up gentlemen?”  The aged man’s presence is daunting as the soldiers take in the current events.

         “We also know he made a transmission to someone from the ship just before acquiring the boat to the mainland.  Mr. Morgan has encrypted the transmission so at most it will take us twelve to sixteen hours to get the information.” One of the soldiers adds.

         The aged man stares at the soldiers for a moment shaking his head.  “You can’t write shit this good, for God’s sake, we are the United States government.  FUCKING FIX THIS NOW!” The mysterious mans tone escalates as he throws his drink into the fire.

                        I hear the car come to a stop at Super Burger, a place Angela and I have loved for years now.  A small building, family operated, not quite a sit down diner, definitely not fast food, where the staff knows your name by face, sharing your experiences in life, a friendship even.  I sit in the parking lot realizing I’m a bit ahead of schedule.  Angela should be here shortly, so I decide to give my partner a call make sure the gallery show is on schedule.

         “Omega, open a video transmission to Kalden Skamar.”  I ask.

         “Yes Mr. Mortal.”  Omega responds.

         The seats in my car face inward in the front and rear, the center console, a counterpart linked to the Omega system in my home.  I sit rear middle usually, something about going forward and facing backward that doesn’t agree with me.  A holographic touch screen window appears centered in front of me.  Kalden picks up the call and I get a direct video feed to him.

         “Hello my friend, how are you?”  Kalden says, greeting me with a bow.

         “I’m good, just waiting on Angela, were grabbin’ some lunch at Super Burger before we head to the gallery.” 

         “I don’t see what your interest is in that place, every time we eat there I end up in the bathroom for an hour.” Kalden says humorously.

         Four years ago I met Kalden Skamar, an amazing fine artist, his works nothing short of inspirational.  Using multiple mediums and original techniques that imply artistic genius.  Kalden is thirty-three, and enjoying the single life, absolutely devoted to our art studio and the name it represents, Skamar & Mortal Art Company.  A Tibetan Buddhist, Kalden grew up in Dharslama India with the Tibetans in exile until the age of fifteen, when he was sent to a prestigious art institute in London for display of his superior artistic talent.

         He remained at the institute until he was twenty-four years old, when he moved to California and built his own private studio.  Kalden’s art styles are very 20^th century, still using a very traditional approach, captivating the viewer through use of color and texture.  It was late in the summer of 2021 A.D. that Kalden first came to me having seen my work through a mutual acquaintance.  With ideas and concepts I’d never heard of, he brought a new sense of art into my life, with his views on Buddhism helping corral a widely arrogant point of view I had generated over time.

         An amazing man, giving as much as he can from his success to the Tibetan men, women, and children still living in exile.  “Well everything looks like its going well Ash, I expect a large turn out tonight.  Oh, I got that lighting issue taken care of in your exhibit.”  Kalden says with a smile.

         “You know, I think this might be the first project where we aren’t runnin’ around like crazy people at the last minute.” I say with a laugh.  “Fine job Kalden, fine job.” 

         This is our first gallery show together, but the crazy thing about it is the fact that every piece available has already sold, before opening day.  Our golden tickets have already been paid in full, pushing our excitement over the edge.

         “What time do you think you and Angela will make it here?”  Kalden asks.

         “Well I know you already did your interview with the gallery promotions, but I lagged a bit on mine, so I guess were doin’ it at three thirty.  What’s the interview thing about anyway?”

         “I think they are doing a promotional thing with the projectors above the gallery.  Something about playing our interviews simultaneously to enlighten new comers on who we are and what we stand for.”  Kalden responds.

         “Oh, got it.  Well we’re just gonna grab some grub and head out, I should be able to meet you around five or so if that works.”

         “Five is perfect for me, until then my friend, go in peace.”

         “You too, see you soon Kalden.”  I say as the video transmission ends.

         Collecting my thoughts briefly, I open the door to my car and step out, as a slight breeze brushes against me so I turn back to my car and remove a black hooded sweatshirt.  Putting it on I begin to zip it up as I walk toward the restaurant, with large panel windows revealing a place I can feel at home, at least during dinner.  Standing a ways from the door, I pull a smoke from my pack and lean my head toward the flame to light it.  Pressing my back against the smooth wall of the building, I slide down resting my arms on my knees.

         Staring aimlessly for a moment, storm clouds begin to roll in overhead like an engaging foreign enemy, surely a preemptive strike.  Raindrops begin to fall from the sky and I snicker very irritated.  “Ah shit!  Every time I wash this damn car it rains the next day, hell if not the same day!  It’s just not in the stars for this damn vehicle and me!  I say with an annoyed tone as I exhale the smoke.

         As I sit taken in by the mysterious afternoon gloom I think to myself.  “So much for Omega’s damn weather report huh.”

         All the technology from the greatest minds on the planet and they still can’t seem to get the weather right.  Angela’s car pulls into the right entrance of the parking lot just then.  Hopefully she didn’t see me smoking, as I rush to destroy the evidence. She knows I smoke, but is under the impression that I’m quitting, as I see my wife round the corner of her car and head across the parking lot toward me.  She wears a smile on her face unlike any I’ve seen before, glowing in a way different from most days.  Not far from me, she makes a quick dash and jumps into my arms throwing her arms around my neck.  “Whoa!  Watch it gorgeous.” I say as I wrap my arms around her waist.

         “I missed you so much baby, you have no idea, it was horrible.”

         My good mood instantly shifts to concern. “Did everything go ok? Nothings wrong right?”

         “No, don’t be silly, I’m fine.  I meant it was horrible without you.”  She says sarcastically.  “I’m starving though, can we go inside already?”

         “What ever you say my queen.”  I say opening the door for Angela.  As she walks through she kisses me randomly, smiles for a second, then continues on.

         “You sure you’re ok weirdo?”

         Inside we stand in line to order, while Angela scans the same menu Super Burger has always had, as if she hasn’t seen it a thousand times before.  She always does that, my personal favorite as far as pet peeves go because I know she’ll just end up getting her usual meal, its like clockwork.

         “I think I’ll just get the usual babe.” She says.

         “Didn’t see that one coming.”  I mumble as she turns and sticks her tongue out at me.

         We wait for the couple in front of us to finish with their order and then approach the cashier.  His name is Ronny; he works with his brother Ryan, in their family operated restaurant.  Ronny is the youngest in the family, same age as me, twenty-eight, although Angela says sometimes I’m going on seventeen.  “Mr. Ash, hey there buddy!  How are you and Angela on the beautiful now overcast afternoon?” Ronny asks.

         “Doing good, not to thrilled about the weather though, I just washed my car.”  I reply still upset.

         “Get over it Ash.  It’s just a car.”  Angela says laughing, always making fun of me with every available opportunity.

         “So what can I get you guys?”  Ronny asks.

         “Angela will go with a BLT, no crust, well done fries.  I’ll have a double bacon cheeseburger, extra bacon.” 

         “Must be nice eating whatever you want and still staying cut, huh big fatty.”  Angela pokes at my stomach laughing.

         “Anything to drink with that guys?”

         “Two medium drinks, one diet please. Thanks Ronny.”  I reply.

         “Ok looks like the damage is twelve thirty seven, eating here or to go?”  Ronny asks finishing our order.

         I press my thumb to a scan pad next to his register.  “Dining in today.”

         The scan pad reads amount tendered. “Thanks Ash, we’ll have that right out for you guys.”  Ronny says, as he turns to get the order processed.

         Angela and I turn to find a table, as she already heads for her favorite spot next to the window to the right of the door. We stare at each other for a moment after we sit down, as she then proceeds to stick her tongue out at me again.  “Real mature! You’re crazy you know that, just crazy.  What are you, twelve?” I say with a chuckle.

         “Guess its true what they say, there’s a kid in all of us.”  She responds sarcastically.

         “So tell me what happened at the doctor’s office babe.” 

         “Just checkin’ things out making sure everything under the hood is working correctly.  I passed with flying colors, aren’t you proud of me?” She smiles blowing a kiss to me.

         “Sure thing, I was just a bit worried, that’s all.  I think it’s what’s been freaking me out all day.”  I say continuing to express my concern.

         “Don’t worry so much, nothing’s going to happen to me.”  She reassures me. “We will be together forever babe, you’re stuck with me.” 

         “No matter what?”

         Angela leans in over the table and takes my hand.  “Come hell or high water, I love you Ashton Mortal.  Nothing will ever change that, besides I have to keep you around now, I’m gonna’ need your help.”

         Just then Ronny strolls up holding a silver tray with our order and sits it down on the table.  A large party enters the restaurant and heads for the register as Ronny quickly scrambles back to his workstation to take their order. I reach for my straw and begin to jab one end against the table to open it from its packaging.  “So your gonna’ need my help huh?  I knew you needed me!” 

         Angela stares back at me with loving eyes, lost in a daydream it seems.  I push the straw through the drink lid and begin to sip from it.  Reaching her hand across the table to hold mine again she softly whispers, “I’m pregnant Ash.”

CHAPTER: 3

MORTALITUS

                        “Tell us where the Payload is damn you, this is a matter of national security!!!”  The soldier screams as he batters Tyler repeatedly.

         Facing ongoing punishment, Tyler gives the mysterious soldiers no information; blank threats do nothing to sway him. Again and again the soldier pounds away at him, striking his face splitting his eyebrow and lip. Spitting blood on the floor it’s almost as if his intentions are to provoke the crazed soldier.

         “You think this is a fucking game!”  You have no idea what you’re getting yourself into!  They will execute you if you don’t start playing ball buddy!”  The soldier threatens.

         “I have nothing to say.”  Calm and collected, Tyler replies.

         Just then the door to the interrogation room opens and in walks the mysterious man that sipped his scotch, the man with the details.  The aged man stands in the center of the two soldiers and peers at Tyler, as he once more spits blood to the floor.  Battered and beaten, Tyler returns the dangerous stare trying to tempt the predator.

         “Jason, Greg, will you excuse Mr. Morgan and myself for a moment.”  The mysterious man politely asks.

         The two soldiers leave the room as the aged man continues to stand on the opposing side of the stainless steel table, stalking his prey.  After a minute or so he pulls the chair at the table back and sits in front of Tyler, never taking his eyes off him.  “Tyler Morgan, my name is Jonathan Reynolds, that should do for now.  Needless to say, it’s a pleasure to finally meet you, my associates tell me you’re not interested in helping our investigation.”  Jonathan says, with a soft tone.

         “You’re wasting your time Jonathan!”  Tyler fires back.

         “Please, call me John.  You know something Tyler, you say I’m wasting my time but I’m not too sure about that.”  Jonathan says, smugly.  “See all things considered, I’m going to get the information I need regardless of whether or not you help me.” 

         “You seem pretty sure of yourself, so why are you even here talking to me then?”  Tyler asks.

         Jonathan just returns a blank stare, studying the reactions of Tyler Morgan.  “Whatever fate may be, whatever brought you here and made it possible for you to accomplish this mission you’re on, whatever that thing may be is dangerous. For the rest of your life, we will be watching you.  We own you now son, everything you will ever be, so go on, keep smiling asshole. I promise, when we find the Payload, you will regret this, you have no idea what I’m capable of!” Jonathan says, as his voice escalates.

         “Ask yourself this John, did you ever think that some things are more important than your so called intimidation tactics. One day I promise you, this moment will be in the back of your mind, and you will respect everything I am, all the things you will never be.  Bet your life on it government hero!”

                        No words will ever help to describe the feeling in my soul on that fateful afternoon with my wife.  My heart racing, my life changed forever, as we share a moment unlike any before it.  “Are you serious?  No way!  I’m gonna’ be a father!”  I shout barely able to contain my excitement.

         “One hundred percent confirmed, I’m five weeks pregnant.”  Angela responds with a huge smile.

         “I’m gonna’ be a father!  Did you hear that Ronny?”  I yell to my friend.  “I’m gonna’ be a dad!” 

         “Great news bro, congratulations, hope it’s a boy.”  Ronny says, calling back from the kitchen.

         I turn my focus back to Angela who seems thrilled at my reaction.  “Babe, you had me so worried with being sick lately.  I can’t believe this stared me in the face like that and I missed it all together.”

         “The doctor says I’m fine, that everything is going text book so far.”

         The future seems like anything is possible as I sit across from the woman I love, my beautiful wife.  Many ideas of family come to life in this moment and I’m ready for whatever comes next, to raise my child in this world, or at least I thought I was. 

         “Have you thought of any names for our son yet?”

         Her smile seems to get wider and wider as her excitement grows.  “Our son huh?  Completely convinced it’s a boy are you?”  Angela says, an eye wider to me.

         “Call it a hunch, I do need an heir to my kingdom.”  I reply with a laugh.

         “I thought I was the master of the universe babe.”  Angela says with a laugh.

         “You know I am the one true master of the universe, my kingdom stretches far.”

         Within an instant, something comes rushing over me, as my vision flashes and then fades.  So vivid now, so clear as I follow a figure moving fast, faster than anything I’ve ever seen.  Ahead of me, eluding my approach, a cloak ripples in the distance, like the figure that appears in so many of my paintings.  This world is foreign, with two distant stars that paint a constant feeling of surrealism.  Such a strange concept, such an alien place and I ask myself with a sudden awareness, dear God, is this my painting?

         Following the figure, we scale the colossal mountaintop as he comes to a stop at its edge.  Matching his speed, I feel the very fabric of space bend to my command, faster toward this target, faster, till I too share the mountains end, as the figure keeps its back to me.  “We are one, together.”  The mysterious figure’s tone is cryptic. “Are you ready Lord Mortal?”

         “What?!”  I ask.  “Who are you?!”

         “We are Mortalitus, we are one.”  The figure says, as it turns sharply toward me.

         A black cloak covers this figure, hiding its identity, a face hidden in shadow.  Its eyes glow through the darkness surrounding, burning, and seething with energy.  What is this place, what does all this mean?  With that final thought I snap out of it to see my wife’s smile turn to concern, for I’ve been away.  “What happened?  You ok sweetheart?  Angela asks with a look of worry.

         “I…I’m fine, just daydreaming…Mortalitus? What does it mean?”  I ponder aloud.

         “Mortalitus?  Where did you hear that?  Angela asks.

         “Um, I heard it earlier today.”  I quickly reply reaching for my cell phone and pushing a button to give a command, a world of information at my fingertips.  “Define Mortalitus.”

         “Mortalitus unknown.”  The simple answer leads me to another dead end.

         “We are Mortalitus?  We are one?  Who is Mortalitus?”  I question, continuing to search for answers.

         “Hey, that’s kinda cool, as a name ya’ know, I like it.”  Angela says.

         “Strange days sweetheart.  Let’s finish up; I have to get to the gallery for the interview.”

         Angela begins to collect her purse and belongings as I clear our table.  “I’m gonna head home and change, why don’t I just meet you at the gallery? Good luck love.”

         We both are ready to leave as I walk to the trash bin to empty our tray.  I wrap my arm around my wife as we walk side by side heading for the exit. Pushing the door open for her rewards a beautiful smile, as I call to my friend from the restaurant.  “Take care Ronny, have a great day!”

         “Ok Ash, we’ll see you next time, give my best to your family, and congratulations again, well done.”  Ronny answers back.

         Heading out the door after my wife, I suddenly stop as she looks at me puzzled.  “Everything ok Ash?”

         Lately the moment has passed me by, but not this time, as I reach over and dip my wife kissing her passionately right there in the parking lot.  Seize the day, this life, and all the emotional spoils, advice from my father in his wisest years. 

         “And the Academy Award goes to!”  Angela says with a huge smile.

         Leaning in close I feel her hair brush against my brow as I whisper.  “I love you Angela.”

         “I love you too Ashton.”

         The weather begins to clear as we part with plans to meet later in the day.  I get into my car and begin my journey to the gallery with a thousand thoughts running through my head.  My unborn child is my new constant, a day I’ve waited for and with such a perfect woman, and I finally get to be a father.  Wanting to share the news, to scream out to the world, I know I should wait for Angela, for her and I are one. 

         Since the moment I met her I’ve been lost in these ever-detailed pages of the most beautiful story.  Instantly I fall from these amazing thoughts, these wonderful dreams, back to the figure with the black cloak.  This figure in my dreams, the dark one I paint over and over, the one that lives in the back of my mind.  Mortalitus, a name that’s become burned into my heart, as I wonder what are the reasons for all of this?  Such a chaotic beginning to this important day, and nothing feels right, as seconds are stripped away, with a storm approaching and I fear its final path.  I lean into the seat getting lost in the melodies trying to shake these feelings of dread.

         Angela sits in her car as she heads to our home, rubbing her stomach still in shock herself.  For this new life growing inside her, she promises the world. “Dearest child, you are my blessing, my hope.  Your father is a good man, and he will always be there for you.  Your mommy and daddy love you more than you’ll ever know.”

                        Sitting in a cell alone, no light, the coldness of concrete his only consolation, Tyler Morgan, a man of religion prays for all these things he does not understand.  Vivid images paint a picture of what’s to come, and his fear is for his friend from long ago, for these visions are of his future. The moment he touched it, the moment he held it in his hands, his role in the redemption of all things became official.  This new path, inescapable, and his current predicament, undeniable as he searches his soul for the courage needed.

         Ashton Mortal echoes through his mind, as he looks to God for guidance.  Possible scenarios, dark manifestations that shake Tyler’s heart to its core reminding him to be diligent.  Forgiveness this day, for the truth is yet to be seen, and he knows that the seconds tick against his friend, the man fate has chosen, but why?  A prayer from the dark cell can be felt in the musty air, as Tyler’s words flow freely.

         “Father in heaven, I look to you for guidance, for reason Lord.  Everything I’ve seen in these weeks desperately says you have plans for me. I can only hope that my choices are that of your will.  My God, I ask you to watch over my friend.  Whatever your plan for him may be, please keep him safe.  If this is your true desire, then let thy will be done, let this truth light up the darkness Lord.  In the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit, Amen Lord.” 

                        My clock reads 3:15 P.M. as the sun shines once again today and the cloud cover begins to give way.  Pulling into the gallery parking lot with a few minutes to kill, I step from my car and reach into my trusty jacket pocket. Opening my pack of cigarettes I’m reminded I shouldn’t have another, yet with everything so far, I’ve earned this. After the course of events surrounding this afternoon, I may just have two.  Approaching the large building that is the gallery, I finish my smoke and toss it to the floor, stepping on it as I walk past. 

         The building itself was built late in the 20^th century but has had its share of renovations and is currently in pristine condition.  Large one-piece glass windows, line the whole front of the building with a brilliant shine.  Above the entrance, large plasma displays, no doubt the ones that will play our interviews to guests this evening.  As I walk inside the gallery, Karen Shull, the gallery manager, greets me; she will be the one interviewing me this afternoon.

         “Hello Mr. Mortal, right on time.”  Karen says.  “We’ve prepped the conference room for your interview. Please follow me and we can begin shortly.” 

         From the entrance, we journey through the dark tiled center hallway to the conference room.  The gallery will be separated into two sections this evening, the main displays in the rooms flanking the center hallway.  The room to the left will display all the works of Kalden and I, to the right, an exhibit of my own works I’ve entitled, Nightmares of the Cosmos.  These particular pieces are from my earlier years as an artist, the story of my nightmares, paying homage to the birth of my art.

         Continuing to follow Karen down the long hallway I scan the amazing collections of art on display, all from legends that have dawned these grounds before me to tell their own story.  “Mr. Mortal, I am very excited about tonight, I’m thinking were going to have a massive turnout.”  Karen says.  “I’ve been here for about eleven years now and I can’t remember an entire show selling out before opening night.  You must be very impressed.” 

         “I don’t know about impressed, more blessed than anything.”  I casually reply as thoughts race about in my head.  “This is just something I’ve known I had to do for a long time.” 

         “Well, here we are Mr. Mortal, just take a seat over there so we can begin shortly.”          

         The conference room is large with a black glossy table in the center, maybe seating twelve or so.  I take a seat at the end of the table as Karen instructs, as she too has a seat near me beginning to program a control pad.  “What’s that for Karen, if you don’t mind?”

         “This is the controller for the Nano camera system that we’ll be using today, it will save some time seeing how late were getting the footage.  The computer system can edit and arrange the video in a few minutes after we are finished here.”  Karen explains.

         Tiny microscopic cameras take in billions of visual and audio inputs signals and compile them into precision video imaging.  Nano technologies have found a place in today’s world radically changing the face of many fields of interest.  Amazing breakthroughs in the worlds of medicine, science, and even forms of entertainment are accredited to their success. 

         “We can speak freely once the system’s programs are running.  Just be natural, the program will run the material that has the most relaxed and comfortable tone.”  Karen says.

         “Sounds good to me.”

         Karen sits for a minute fiddling with the device and then turns her attention back to me.  “Ok Mr. Mortal, try and tell us what Nightmares of the Cosmos means to you, and where does your inspiration comes from?”

         “Well first and foremost, all my artistic inspiration comes from my wife, Angela Mortal, who I would definitely consider my muse.  Nightmares of the Cosmos believe it or not, is based on a series of dreams I’ve had.” Pausing briefly, I remember not but a few hours ago, the vivid manifestation at lunch.  “I think their relevance definitely comes from my father, and his wild explanations of the universe, from his own perspective of course.”

         “So your father would definitely have a part in the creation of these works of art, that seem literally out of this world?”

         “Definitely, my father is a brilliant man.  A professor at San Diego State, most of his work is done in the fields of theoretical physics and quantum mechanics.  Some of the deep conversations we’ve had over the years definitely helped shape a view of worlds beyond our own, or at least I assume.”

         “General reactions so far from some of the leading figure heads in the world of fine art have been great, if not exceptional. When asked opinions on the mediums and content you work with, there is a consensus amongst your brethren.”  “One quote, Ashton Mortal is tapping into something the world may not necessarily be ready for.” 

         “They are too kind.  I just think in a world where innovation is becoming exceedingly difficult, you must break new ground any way possible.”

         “So how did you get your start in the art world Mr. Mortal?  What point in your life did you feel your destiny behind a paint brush?” Karen asks.

         I think back to my high school days, and a friendship I’ve missed over these last years.  “I felt I needed a form of expression early in high school, but didn’t find anything of interest.  Sophomore year stands out to me, being the year I met a student named Tyler Morgan, and we quickly became friends.  He was the one who initially suggested the medium of art as an outlet for my creative ideas.”

         “My art became an obsession as I was beginning to experiment with painting, acrylic being one of the first styles I sought to understand.  I began producing some of my most vivid artwork once I started using oil paints, finding that I could build textures and tones that could give my paintings a new sense of realism.  One of my famous early oils was a piece called, The Artifact, and is still Tyler’s favorite to this day I imagine.”  I say explaining my origins in the art world.

         “So this friend of yours, Tyler Morgan, are you still presently friends?” 

         “Of course, our bond is a long term one, though we have lost touch over the years.  I have a feeling we’ll see each other soon.”  I reply with a hint of sarcasm, realizing in that moment how full of shit I am.  This entire interview would give anyone incite into the robot that is Ashton Mortal.  Into this web of lies I spin with the true purpose of my work.  A friend that sends me cryptic messages, and flashes of scenarios that makes no sense to me whatsoever.  This mysterious figure I paint over and over, the dark one from my dreams that today has become very real, within the weird manifestations from earlier today. I can’t help but wonder in these surreal moments, what the hell is happening to me?

         “So, Nightmares of the Cosmos, what does it mean Mr. Mortal?  A twenty piece set depicting epic battles amongst multiple forms of alien life.  Only one character seems consistent through these works, the black-cloaked figure.  It seems as if the figure has a specific purpose within your imagination, almost some sort of symbol subconsciously imprinted in your work.”  Karen says.

         “The cloaked figure is definitely a focal point of my work, although I’m not sure if I entirely understand his role just yet. In time perhaps, but rest assured once he reveal’s himself to me, I will share him with the world, I promise.”

         “I just want to say that your painting, Liberation, is by far my favorite piece Mr. Mortal.  The humanoid figure in the center of the painting leaves a lasting impression.”  Karen explains.  “A glowing figure, arms aside, seems to be composed of pure energy, yet is almost breaking down into a particle structure.  There is something very familiar about this idea, primordial even.” 

         “Ultimately it’s a form of fictional art, nothing more.  Creations from my imagination, cosmic dramas that have no meaning other than to inspire cosmic thought and the dream of worlds and species we have yet to discover.”

         If only I could see, how the words from this interview would return to haunt me. Seemingly I needed this, to walk myself through the craziness that seems to be coming to a head this particular day.  I suddenly feel like a fake, like the thing I would rant about for hours to my friends, the thing I swore I would never become.

         “How long have you been working in the art field at this point Mr. Mortal?”  Karen asks.

         “I would say it’s been a solid twelve years now, with a lifetime left to finish my masterpiece.”

         “Ok Mr. Mortal, everything looks pretty good, that should be enough to put an impressive display together, thank you for your time.”

         “So is that it?”  I ask.  “Am I finished?” 

         “Yes, now enjoy the rest of your evening. We will meet back here at 5:00 P.M., so you have a good hour or so.  Please feel free to check out the arrangements in both gallery halls, and by all means help yourself to the refreshments.”

         “Thank you for everything Karen.”  I say getting up from my chair.

         She extends her hand to bid me farewell. “Good luck Mr. Mortal, I know you’ll do great.”

         Karen gets up and walks out of the room messing with the Nano device on her way out.  I find myself standing in the conference room in complete silence, feeling a sense of anxiety once again creep down my spine.  Deciding I need some air, I head for the rooftop of the gallery to relax a bit.  Heading for the door to the conference room, I exit the room and run into my partner Kalden.

         “Ash, everything ok buddy?  You look a little pale my friend.”  Kalden asks with a look of concern.

         “Oh it’s nothing, been a long day. Seems like a million things are all going on at once, but I got my interview done.”

         “Great, everything’s all set then, just remember to relax, our work is done now.  After today everything will be different, the skies the limit. Reach for the stars my friend.” Kalden says.

         “Sounds good, just gonna’ head up to the roof and relax for a sec, collect my thoughts.  If you need me, that’s where I’ll be.  Do me a favor and let Angela know where I am when she gets here.  Thanks bro.”

         “No problem my friend, see you shortly.” Kalden says shaking my hand and continuing down the hallway and out of sight.

REVELATIONS

PROLOGUE 

                  I am the Alpha and the Omega, the one chosen to carry the fates of all creation, the unstoppable force of the righteous, the one named Ashton Mortal, the king known as Mortalitus.  Born to a small terrestrial planet called Earth, I am the one to stand against those who seek the end of all things within my universe.  These seekers of chaos, as judgment approaches demanding payment for the debts owed to those forgotten in stardust. Long ago I was a simple man of simple thoughts and ideals, yet now destiny reveals a warrior of truth, a legend of heroism. 

         Still, I feel less and less like the hero I must become, for the damage already done is great as I feel the rigid embrace of anger and hate.  For these atrocities paved with the bones of fallen heroes have become like splinters in my mind, causing my chest to flex as my heart feels the pain of these lost innocents.  My counterpart can feel it also, this change in my soul, the extent of the damage already done as I struggle to walk the lines of justice.  Mortalitus, the Creator that summoned me to the shorelines of Father long ago, this omnipotent being has spun the epic web of existence walking with each stride of my heart, bonded with the core of the human man I once was. 

         It was upon these shorelines that I first learned the truth of existence, of the many reincarnated sagas I’ve taken part in.  The glowing being that was revealed to me exiting the pool of energy high atop the cliffs edge has changed everything I thought I was destined for.  Mortalitus has become apart of me in every breath I take yet this creator of all things has been led astray.  Even the Creator could not know every truth in this final stage of liberation, as the Xxirian hordes plan for victory led by the diabolical reptilian conqueror Lord Erazux, and the cloaked mystery advisor that now guides his hand.

         Desperation in each step but my heart is ready come what may, no matter the cost I will make it back to my family as their safety is my true motivation.  How I’ve longed for the embrace of my wife, the touch of the son I can only imagine, that beautiful life I left so long ago.  If only to sit with my father on a summer night and discuss the mysteries of the imaginative universe, now revealed to me.  Oh to hear my mother’s repetitive stories about life so long ago and her praise for how far I’ve come with the gifts of my artwork. I struggle with each moment to remember the days where paintbrushes would dance and Kalden would guide my visions to perfection. 

         Our late nights spent creating the beautiful images that were forever locked in the back of our minds, now revealed for all to embrace.  Mere shadows of a life I can barely remember, reminders of a demanding destiny I could never forget as I pledge my soul to this cause, to ensure that all will have their entitlement to freedom, to peace.  Years of fighting this chaos as we push forward with Mortalitus helping me away from the edge of insanity, but his goodwill can hold out only so long.  The true test lies within and as this realized dream becomes tangible I persevere to never give up, to hold on for destiny is filled with uncertainty. 

         This is our only chance to remind the Xxirian hordes that there is fight in us still and for those who plot against me in the shadows, the time has come.  For those who seek to destroy the sanctity of peace ready yourselves, for your enemy seeks you.  Summon your greatest courage in the face of Mortalitus for judgment is upon you and mercy will be left to hindsight.

CHAPTER: 1

5/28/2035

5/28/2035 – 3:16 P.M. – EST

                  So begins the day as the hourglass of destiny pours its final grains on this day of remembrance, a day that will live on in infamy.  The planet Earth freezes in motion, a metaphor embraced by the entire human race as most watch the large alien warship from worlds unknown come to a stop on the South Lawn.  Sitting silently for a moment, it quickly becomes an iconic image as a house of white reflects the hopes of a passionate nation, destined for greatness.  Questions and answers soar through the clouds as this defining moment has found them all, with a purpose shrouded in the dark cloak of mystery.

         President Jonathan Reynolds sets the pace as his calmness is on display for the world to see, with panic turning to fascination. What initially was sheer terror has become majesty, with this alien encounter not appearing to be hostile toward the humans of Earth.  The inhabitants of the blue pearl wait for resolution as the legendary image is born, with the large alien warship now sitting motionless in the face of the President of the United States of America.  Flashes of light flutter simultaneously as cameras capture the moment from all angles, every available vantage point.  The evolution of the human mind desperately searches for reason, for hope, as the alien warship remains silent.           General Greg Knight stands at the side of the President also awestruck, ready for anything yet terrified of the countless probable scenarios.  A small heavily armed force of Secret Service surround the President as advisors urge him to leave the podium to be transported to a secure location away from the unknown.  Jonathan Reynolds is a man that has seen many things in his years as secrets claw to the surface of an aged heart, standing behind the colors of a flag he would die to protect.  An old soul, Jonathan has served his country well, as a younger soldier a religious war was his battlefield and like the privileged few, this soldier against terror became a man with the keys to a kingdom, the choice for destiny. 

         In another life he patrolled the deserts of injustice and now leads the free world into a frontier vastly imagined in the minds of those who look to the skies above for answers.  Today they have come, for the dreams of the cosmos are finally realized, today is that day.  As with any answers come more questions, for truth is the spectacle of imagination.  Truth is the unknowable fate now locked within a moment thought only to happen in the legends of old.  President Reynolds glances into the heavens once more as an entire fleet of allied alien warships breaks through the cloud cover overhead. 

         Silently, they remain in a defensive formation awaiting their audience with these newfound comrades, a union created by the king of this vast universe, a king named Mortalitus.  Twenty first century entertainment has depicted this moment in so many ways to be uncontrolled, sheer anarchy, yet the reality of it all is quite calm.  The eyes of the blue pearl stare with anticipation, enticed by these mysterious visitors and their unknown purpose.  One by one, the massive alien war machines and smaller battle cruisers descend from the skies above, slowly and without a sound. 

         Worldwide, the allied alien coalitions continue to land as every walk of life allows curiosity to take hold.  Anxiety builds as anticipation’s grip becomes tightened with seconds creeping by ever slow, in tune to the soft tone that can be heard weaving with the drumbeat of destiny.  “Please remain calm everyone.”  President Reynolds says as the entire world watches the event via live broadcast.  “They’re not here to harm us…I give you my word.”

                  General Jason Scott watches the events from Washington D.C. unfold from the now overcast coastal area in Southern California as his three car convoy heads for targets in San Diego.  Years ago he remembers the similar order, a similar target on 4983 Utopia Drive, a place General Scott knows all to well. Once again he must storm the Mortal residence and acquire all subjects on the property by force if necessary, for these orders come from the highest authority.  Jason is forever locked within this final chess game as he wonders about his friend from long ago, the one he thought he’d buried.

         The purpose behind this visit is clear, to complete the mission, acquire the targets and return them safely to the President at the request of the man behind it all, the friend he knows as Ash.  White-knuckle fists clench as his hair stands on edge, with a floating holographic screen supplied by the Omega System as his window to the President, the armored transport vehicles still speeding to their destination.  Jason Scott knows something’s coming, he’s always felt it as the iconic vision in Washington brings with it a harsh truth.  A defining moment that will change this soldier and everything he could’ve been, forever. 

         Special Ops soldiers accompany him in the transport vehicles that speed toward priority targets, now under the command of the decorated marine who became a General.  “Ok Bravo team, we’ll rendezvous with the targets in ten minutes.”  Jason says.  “Keep in mind these are good people.  Use the least amount of force possible in the transfer.”

         Three other team members sit with General Scott as they view debriefing codes via the Omega System.  “Sir, should we expect hostile contact?”  One of the men asks.

         “Not according to intel, but trust your gut Ramirez.  Keep your wits about you, we’re dealing with an extreme crisis.”

         “Yes Sir.”  The men respond in unison.

         Continuing toward their targets the soldiers arm their weapons as they begin to see alien warships overhead, with the pride of determination driving them.  Tension builds as the warrior’s tune strengthens, a new history in each moment.  This day of remembrance belongs to them and who’s to say what it might bring, for no one could see what was coming.  “Omega, open a direct line to General Knight.”

         “Yes General Scott.”  The Omega system replies as a notification is sent to his comrade in Washington.

12:19 P.M. – PST

                  Angela Mortal has traveled a road filled with tragedy, grown accustomed to the pains that rip at one’s soul, haunted by an unexplainable past.  Dreams of the life that could’ve been, accompanied by visions of the husband she’s loved so dearly.  Ten years is a long time for anyone to forget a heart so cherished, yet now in her mid thirties a love that could never die burns onward.  My wife, the one I’ve loved so purely, the heart that beats for the hope of a universe, for in my eyes all of creation was spun from her beauty, her embrace.  Surreal moments have become the norm in her world with her husband dead and gone for sometime now, but deep in her soul she’s always known different.

          Finally for the first time in ten years, the truth has made it to her doorstep as her heartbeat gains a familiar rhythm.  “Look, I know how crazy this sounds!  I didn’t believe it at first either!”  Tyler Morgan explains with a searing truth in his eyes.  “You gotta’ believe me Angela!!  I’ve seen him!!!”

         Standing in the doorway, the words crash into her over and over as family and friends crowd her backside, all equally stunned by the shocking news, unable to fully process it.  A father feels the first moments of peace as he grips his wife’s hand ever so tightly, with a beautiful smile breaking across the face of dear Grace.  “What?!”  Angela asks confused. “What’s all this about Tyler?”

         “I don’t know where to start.  Ashton asked me to come here, to deliver a letter to you.  I swear to God Angela, this is as real as it gets!”

         Instantly she wants so desperately to cry out, to allow these beautiful emotions to take hold, for she can feel the truth in the words of my friend from long ago.  Angela turns to her family and friends as they too have a look of surprise and disbelief.  Scanning face to face, she sees the hope in their eyes, a hope for the truth, finally here in this moment but they have to get to the bottom of this mystery.  “Come inside Tyler.”  Angela says wiping away tears from her face, same as most who have heard the unexpected news.  Seth Mortal sits on the couch in the living room, glued to the news coverage of the massive alien vessels landing around the world. 

         His family walks back into the room staring at the boy who remains unaware of his father’s fate.  “Mom!  Grandpa!  You gotta’ see this!” Seth says with excitement in his voice.  “Aliens are landing everywhere!”

         “Yeah!  Come quick everyone!”  Michelle Livingston says as she sits on the floor in front of the couch facing the large holographic screen in the Mortal house.  “Seth is telling the truth Daddy!  Aliens are here!”

         Angela walks inside slowly, Tyler Morgan at her side with only silence between the two of them as they make their way to the living room where the congregation sits in shock.  “What’s wrong Mom?”  Seth asks.  “Why are you crying? What happened?”
         “Don’t worry honey, just watch TV.  I’m gonna’ talk to Tyler in the kitchen.” Angela says as she looks to Daniel Mortal.  “Give us a sec Dan.”

         “No problem sweetheart.”  Daniel replies.  “Take your time.”

         Walking with Tyler into the kitchen, she takes a seat at the dinner table across from him as he reaches into his jacket pocket and pulls an envelope with a crimson wax signature seal.  Slowly he places it on the table and slides it toward Angela and she just stares for a moment, wondering about the contents of the envelope.  The envelope has a sepia tone, with an intricate M shaped logo pressed into the wax.  “Everything ok in here?”  David Livingston asks as he pokes his head into the kitchen with concern.

         “Yeah, no problem Dave.”  Angela replies.  “Just need a minute.  Thanks.”

         “Let me know if you need anything Angela.” David says as he turns to join his wife Naomi and daughter Michelle in the living room.

         Angela Mortal once again returns her focus and attention to the mysterious envelope that lies motionless in front of her. With a steadily increasing heart rate she reaches her hand forward and picks up the letter.  Quickly, she breaks the wax seal to reveal the message she’s been waiting for.  Reaching into the envelope, she pulls out the neatly folded sheets of paper from it.  Opening them reveals handwritten text on the front page, handwriting she instantly recognizes.

3:25 P.M. – EST

                  President Jonathan Reynolds continues burning a stare into the large alien warship that holds its position on the South Lawn in Washington D.C., still absolutely silent.  Sunlight reflects through patches in the heavy cloud cover as the rays bounce off the silver strands of hair atop the President’s head. Remembering his conversation with this man of mystery only yesterday, the one that evaded him for so long, Ashton Mortal.  So far, everything he’s foretold has happened, leaving the imagination to wonder what is around the corner. 

         With a sudden burst of courage the President makes a decision for the world, showing bravery in the face of the unknown as he walks from the podium down the stairs toward the alien spacecraft.  General Greg Knight quickly rushes to the side of the Commander and Chief, his dear friend for many years now, as he too has the courage some would define as greatness.  The crowds of people begin to split as the President makes his way toward the silent spacecraft, with Secret Service flanking his position but he quickly lifts his hand to ease the tension. 

         Slowly, he walks toward the mechanical titan stopping short a hundred feet away as his eyes trace the sharp curves of the ancient alien machinery.  Absolutely magnificent in his mind as every moment, every tragedy and every divine miracle has paved the way for Jonathan Reynolds.  He has become the man from the twentieth human century, who will welcome a new age of humanity.  The alien machine suddenly decompresses as large platforms extend from the hanger bays, dropping to the terrain below. 

         Bright luminescent lights instantly spray in every direction revealing the mysterious inside of the spacecraft.  Once more the planet takes a breath, for the moment of truth has arrived as suddenly lines of alien warriors exit both sides of the platforms, straight toward the President and his men.  Twenty warriors on each side file toward their positions, then turn and face each other, revealing a collection of alien beings with a multitude of different species.  United under one flag of freedom, these prideful alien creatures quickly take to a knee as their highest Commanders approach. 

         President Reynolds stands centered with the platforms, General Knight at his side with Secret Service surrounding the entire location, as the President continues to try and ease the tension.  The media presence shifts into a mode like nothing ever witnessed as every available resource is called into effect for this event.  Thousands of reporters and news agencies scurry about trying to handle the fast paced media extravaganza.  Cameras zoom to each alien warrior slowly examining them and their instinctual rituals. 

         Finally revealed for the entire world to see, having multiple alien species visible as the feelings of loneliness within this vast universe begins to fade away for the humans of Earth.  Jonathan Reynolds, the man with all the answers, stands questioning his logic as the Commanders of this allied coalition walk down the large platforms to meet the President face to face.  General Xenom Bairix, the Xxirian second in command to Lord Mortalitus himself, makes his way down the platform with Commanders Tikik Ranklix, Halex and also of Xxirian decent, Jasfire.  The four creatures are covered in beautifully adorned ornate armor, as the world stares in awe at the majestic beings from the stars. 

         General Bairix, standing nearly eight feet tall, towers over the others with a fierce look in his eye as he makes his way to the President.  The large Xxirian leads the Commanders who follow close behind him, as the soldiers lining their flanks honor and salute them.  Greg Knight stares at the massive reptilian creature as it makes its way toward the President and remembers to trust his friend’s words.  Stopping just short of the President, General Bairix allows his eyes to wander a bit as the world claws for the holographic screens that are showing them the history-making event. 

         The ultimate nail biter as the humans of Earth wait for the first interaction between mankind and an alien species, or so they assume it’s the first.  General Bairix suddenly takes a knee, bowing his head in the presence of the President as his fellow Commanders mirror his example.  Suddenly there is a roar from the massive crowds of people as cheers of praise are sent to the alien visitors from worlds unknown.

12:29 P.M. – PST

                  Seth’s eyes remain absolutely glued to the large Omega display floating in his living room, as it’s become an event no imagination could ever fathom.  Seated next to him, Daniel struggles to take in these new developments, struggles to maintain his awareness.  He too watches the President standing in the presence of the extremely large alien creature.  Seemingly, it controls the military coalition that has made its presence known worldwide.  Kalden Skamar and his girlfriend Kyoko Chiyo also sit together watching the Omega display, examining the alien spacecraft, acknowledging that there’s a frightening similarity between these images and the ones from his artwork.  

         Questionably, these ships do not look identical to the ones from his painting.  Together, they all struggle to process the information just revealed, for they do not know if there is truth in Tyler’s words.  The name Ashton Mortal continues to resonate silently in their minds as Angela sits in the dining room with Tyler.  “Dear God!”  Daniel says trying to put the hopes for his son in the back of his mind, reluctant to bring him back to life in his heart.  “In all my years I would never have guessed something like this could happen! Contact with an extra terrestrial species!  Magnificent!”

         “Are they really aliens grandpa?”

         “As real as it gets Seth.”

         “There are so many different kinds!” Michelle says.  “Are they gonna’ hurt us?”

         “No sweetie.”  Naomi quickly responds trying not to frighten her daughter as she gives her husband a look of concern.

         “What do you think happens next Dan?”

         “I don’t think anyone could have expected this situation Dave.”  Daniel replies as suddenly an anxious feeling comes over him, one that tells him his long lost son has something to do with this, somehow his fate must be tied to the landmark event.

         Still quietly sitting at her kitchen table, Tyler watches Angela read the letter from the husband who vanished ten long years ago.  Her eyes quickly water collecting the lost memories, revitalized by the words she struggles to read, these precious words she’s prayed for.

*****

My Dearest Angela,

         For days now I’ve tried to write this letter, countless hours trying to imagine a way to show you how sorry I am.  My greatest pain has been every moment without you, my true failure, as I replay the last time with you over and over, our last words exchanged so many years ago.  I love you today more than ever before, you are forever my constant memory.  Here I sit, literally worlds away in such a beautiful place, I know you would love it just as much as I do.  My home away from you is called Avothina, I’m sure you’ll see it one day, my love, my queen. I know nothing makes sense anymore but trust in these words, I will love you and our child always, all I do is so you might be safe.

         Understand if there was another way we would be together right now, with all my heart I swear that.  The story Tyler has come to tell is the truth, you must believe him.  I love you a thousand times over, from the limitless depths of this hell I long for you still, dreaming of you always.  One day this fight will end, one day it’ll all be over and we’ll be together again.  No matter what, I swear I will make it home, I swear I’ll come back for you both.  Just know that I had to do this, to see that it’s done right.  My final hope is that you can forgive me one day, never stop believing sweetheart.  Give my love to our child.

Love Always,

Ash

*****

         Angela’s heart explodes with feelings that instantly remind her of a love she struggles to remember.  She quickly begins to sob aloud, her cries strengthening with the weight of this burden in her heart.  Tears roll down her cheeks falling to the pages below, smearing the ink in spots as she rejoices, unable to control the deep emotions spiraling outward.  Turning to the second page behind the letter, she finds a charcoal portrait of herself, done by the hand of the man she could never stop loving.  It’s all too much for her as she recognizes his beautiful craft, with her cries growing louder as she continues to weep at the dinner table.

         Tyler stands and walks to her side of the table to try and comfort her as she sobs in her arms.  “It’s true Angela, all of it.”  Tyler says trying to console her in any way possible. “I’ve seen him.  He gave me this letter and asked me to personally deliver it to you.”

         “What’s going on Tyler?”  Angela asks trying to wipe away the tears. “Why would he leave us like this? “What did I do to deserve this?”

         “It’s not like that Angela.”  This is far bigger than you can imagine. Ashton’s changed, become something very different from the man you and I both knew.”

         “What?!”  Angela asks as her cries continue.  “WHAT COULD BE SO IMPORTANT?!?!”

         “It’s a long story Angela.  I’ll tell you all at once.”  Tyler says.  “Everyone needs to know the truth, Seth needs to know.”

         “I know what my son needs.”  Angela replies as she rises to her feet adjusting herself.  Turning, she walks toward the living room where her family and friends are patiently waiting. As she enters the room, Tyler follows.  “I need to speak with you all, please turn the screens off.”

         “But mom!”  Seth says.  “The aliens just came out!”

         “Do as I say Seth.  Now!”  Angela replies in a firm tone as the screens are turned off and the attention is completely turned to her.  Facing the group, her mother along with Daniel and Grace sit with Seth on the couch, Michelle sitting on the floor close by.  The young girl’s parents sit in the loveseat, as Kalden and Kyoko sit at the breakfast bar near the kitchen trying to understand the events in Washington, and whether or not Ashton Mortal is truly alive.

         “Is everything ok Angela?  You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”  Cynthia Winters asks concerned for her daughter, even though she can see it in her eyes.  Her daughter’s love for Ashton knows no bounds and within the glisten, her mother can see the truth.

         “You all heard what Tyler said at the front door.  It’s true, Ashton is alive.”  Angela reveals to her guests.  “I’ve just read a letter from him.”

         “How can you be sure Angela?”  Daniel asks wanting to believe so badly that his only son is ok.

         “I just know Dan.  Trust me.”  Angela replies with tears continuing to roll down her cheeks.  “Tyler is gonna’ tell us exactly what’s going on.”

         “My dad’s alive?!?!”  Seth asks.

         “Yes.  Your father lives.”  Angela says as she kneels down to hug her young son.

         So many feelings unknown rush through the young boy who has lived in this moment so many times before in daydreams, a hope to one day know the man, to one day tell his father just how much he loves him.  “I don’t understand.” Grace says as her eyes also begin to tear up, for the stress surrounding her son’s disappearance has drained her through these long years.  “How can this be?”

         Cynthia leans over to comfort her dear friend, for Grace had lost the heart she once had when she watched what was left of her only son lowered into the damp soil on that fateful day in March. “Explain yourself Tyler! Look at what this is doing to this family!”  Cynthia demands, as the events unfolding would be too much for anyone to comprehend on a day like today.

         “I’ll tell you what I know.”  Tyler replies.  “But you gotta’ trust me, it’s gonna’ sound crazy.”

         Just then the doors to the Mortal home once again bursts open as the Bravo Team soldiers enter the living room. The last to walk in removes a set of dark sunglasses revealing a familiar face as Angela’s eyes instantly connect with General Jason Scott, and she knows the road to the final truth must now be traveled.  Jason has one purpose today, to make good on a promise to a dear friend, this order handed down by the highest human authority.

         “I need you all to come with me at the request of Ashton Mortal, and by order of the President of the United States.”

CHAPTER: 2

THE DARK ONE

5/28/2035 – 3:31 P.M. – EST

                  The roar from the crowd sends chills down the spine of President Jonathan Reynolds as history is made on the South Lawn of the White House.  Kneeling proudly before the Commander and Chief of the free world, the alien General represents the militaries of Mortalitus and Lord Mortal, presenting a pledge of honor to the humans of Earth. Truly a beautiful moment in the hearts and minds of humanity as tensions dissipate and for once an eternal truth can be felt.  The past preconceptions are finally put to rest as the blue pearl has found alien creatures, some very similar in likeness, a defining moment indeed. 

         Questions race to every corner of the globe with the commotion slowly settling and a new age of mankind moments away.  Standing proud and humbled against the awesome power of this revelation, Jonathan Reynolds embraces this instant that will define humanity for ages to come.  Always two steps ahead, the fates of the universe now carve his name into the precise stonework of infinity.  Cheers are muffled to his ears, as his focus remains straight giving him a second to scan the large alien General displayed in front of him. 

         His eyes trace the beautiful metallic armor as his warped reflections stare back at him, shifting with the subtlest movements.  Xenom has grown accustomed to these moments, for this is not his first planetary induction into the Reformed Imperial Nations of Avothina.  Great responsibilities rest on the Xxirian’s shoulders, as his command extends to the far reaches of the cosmos, leader to the allies of Mortalitus.  So much left to learn in the mind and heart of this General, second in command to Lord Mortal.  The reptilian’s breathing is slow as he can feel his right thigh pressed firmly against his chest, his eyes trained on the ground below. 

         Visions flash of the countless worlds he’s journeyed to on behalf of his king, to help this cause be known.  Many alien planets have been seeking the same answers as the humans of Earth, desperately searching for the truths of infinity. From the depths of time and space these truths have been revealed to Xenom as he remembers what the tyrannical do to the weak.  No matter the cost, this fight against the darkness belongs to warriors of light.  Lifting his head slowly, the eyes of the large creature connect with the President and for Jonathan, there are no distractions as the continued roaring from the crowds is drown out altogether. 

         The surrounding environment simply melts away as the human leader locks eyes with the Xxirian, who in turn begins to rise to his feet, once again towering over the President.  Cheers turn to silence as the world watches the alien creature standing with the President, his Commanders rising to their feet as well.  From behind the large Xxirian General, a small beautiful Mezarian female walks forward revealing an exotic image with legends of her own to tell.  President Reynolds slowly shifts his attention from Xenom to the beautiful humanoid female, spellbound by her majesty. 

         Decorated in intricate designs, her armor reveals sections of bluish silver skin tones, allowing the purple highlights within her eyes to lure him to calmness.  Tikik Ranklix knows this cause as good as any and prides herself with an ability to calm the beasts within.  Jonathan watches the light impulses dance within the long strands of optical hair follicles on her head.  “Greetings Mr. President.”  Tikik says standing at Xenom’s side.  “Thank you for honoring our arrival.”

         Never in his wildest dreams could a vision such as this be imagined in the mind of President Reynolds as he stares at the Mezarian female, awestruck.  “Forgive me child.  I don’t mean to be rude.”

         “Do not worry.  I’ve seen this look before.”  Tikik says with a laugh.  “Allow me to introduce you to our leader and second in command to Lord Mortal himself, General Xenom Bairix.”

         Quickly the General removes his Xxirian blade and presses it to his chest, startling the President and those who reside around him.  “My blade and warriors are yours Mr. President, by order of Lord Mortal, King of the Reformed Imperial Nations of Avothina.”

         “Pleasure to meet you General Bairix.”  Jonathan replies turning his focus toward Tikik. “What's your name miss?”

         “I am Commander Ranklix.  Tikik Ranklix.”

         Commanders Halex and Jasfire stand from their kneeling positions to also make their introductions with the Commander and Chief.  “I am Commander Halex Mr. President, and this is Commander Jasfire.”

         “Good to have you all with us.”  Jonathan replies.  “So what happens next Commander Ranklix?”
         General Bairix steps closer toward the President as General Greg Knight continues to stand at his side, a bit uneasy. “Might I address your people Mr. President?”

         Moments like this are indescribable in the ways that instantly change things forever, spellbinding as their majesties take hold.  Within moments a speech the world has been waiting for will reveal the new ways, the new views and finally, the first interaction with worlds and creatures unknown.

                  Silently within the Alpha Centauri multi-star system, the massive titan warship the Shadow of Deoth holds its position as the moment is finally approaching.  Surrounding the alien war machine, hordes of Xxirian warships and battle cruisers hold to the orders of the reptilian king, Lord Erazux, here before the final storm against humanity.  Such a massive fighting force, like nothing the universe has ever imagined, a splinter in the minds of the servants of peace.  Lord Erazux’s thirst for blood and war is insatiable, as the Xxirian king has run out of patience, having craved this moment for years now.

         His tactics are deeply sinister, desperate to stop at nothing until he reminds his human nemesis of true pain, true hatred, aiming to strike at his heart and everything he’s ever known as home. With a warrior’s pride his advances will continue to the truest death, however that may be delivered.  This universe and any that might mirror its reflection were born to the sound of chaos, and from the ashes of creation the legends of old come forth as the dreams of freedom sail these nameless seas.  Lord Erazux works hard to forever be the defining force within the concepts of evil, the devils of human mythology, the legend of chaos and yet he is not alone in the final endeavor. 

         The dark one stands at his side, malice in his intentions as this cloaked villain was born from the definitions of secrecy, with a purpose that still remains unknown.  With relentless hate, this dark creature fuels the fires toward this endgame leaving only the question, only the reason, for truly, what could drive such madness?  The truth of this matter will echo for all time, in all places as the dark one’s origin is beyond the limitless fathoms of comprehension.  These final seconds before revelations tick away as the dark one’s plan is realized, for this chain reaction will never stop once unleashed, with ramifications that will change the universe forever. 

         Lord Erazux is finally ready, having thought only of this carnal rebuttal for the last five human years, dreaming only of retribution in the face of the so-called King Mortalitus.  The name sends boiling blood through his veins as the defiance of this human will not go without severe consequence. This leader of the Reformed Imperial Nations of Avothina does not understand the force in which he’s now pitted against, the intolerable hatred they all share as a collective. 

         How can one reason with such lunacy, such chaos, or even begin to understand those who wish to light these fires simply to watch them devour.  With each relay of information, as the armies of Mortalitus take back enslaved planets under Xxirian control, the madness of Lord Erazux deepens spiraling forward.  Beyond the stars he once knew as home, a foreign glowing beacon of life on a blue pearl called Earth, and his eyes remain fixed like a predator ready for the death strike. Light-years behind him now, the king’s claimed home world Edoxus, is now held at the command of newly promoted Master General Veorix Deif, long time trusted advisor to Lord Erazux himself.

         Promises of glory filled battles and honor for the Xxirian hordes floating patiently among the stars, released from the sinister workings of the dark one that came to them from the true unknown.  If only they could see the story of the dark one, if only they could see his agenda.  Maybe this moment in time might have unfolded differently, maybe a ray of hope would have shown brightly pressed against the contrast of space, the eternal darkness.  Nameless, heartless, the dark one follows the call of lunacy, with a purpose known only to a soul encased within the tomb of what could’ve been. 

         Beyond forgiveness the agenda remains hidden, its cause, the very definition of the chaos that sparked this existence and even Mortalitus does not know of the dark one.  General Raithus Bairix has lost patience with the situation, for this Xxirian has sacrificed much at the call of his king and now in the furthest depths of space, he struggles to understand this next course of events. Raithus recognizes the ramblings of madness and his king has only vengeance in his eyes, so cautious are his motions as the tides begin to pull to destinies whim.

         With no certain future, General Raithus remains proud with his heritage, not haunted by one choice or moment, for it’s all been in the name of his king and home world, a place he hasn’t seen in many human years.  Although secluded in the Rokkilux Galaxy, Deoth is a monument to thousands of generations now and before Lord Erazux that gave way to the Xxirian way of life, however brutal.  Long years spent on the Shadow of Deoth and in secret, Raithus reflects on the brothers he’s lost to this cause.  Remembering the moment his hatred was born, the moment Mortalitus stole them both, and for this thievery he will never stop fighting.          

         Somehow he always hoped Xenom would change his ways yet now he accepts the fates, for he knows the battle his king seeks is against the family he secretly cherishes.  The throne room aboard the Shadow of Deoth has a cold feel as General Raithus stares from a transparent wall into the darkest reaches of space, a view of this star system like no other.  Such a seemly primitive race, with the same desires taken for granted so easily, as Raithus longs for days long since passed.  This passage of time has changed some perspectives, for a being of honor can sense the true darkness.  Although his perspectives remain brutal, the aura of the dark one absolutely terrifies him.

         “We must be ready.”  The dark one says.  “The time has come.”

         Lord Erazux clenches his large fist with the moment enhancing his perspective, awakening his carnal nature as he takes a seat at his oversized throne.  “Then so it begins!  Now we crush them!”

         “My Lord, I beg of you!”  General Raithus pleads turning his view from the cosmos.  “Be cautious my king. I’ve seen the one you seek in battle, being more than capable.”

         Suddenly the dark one moves faster than a thought toward the Xxirian General, clenching at his throat.  The large reptilian creature is slammed against a wall in the throne room, with the dark one’s fiery eyes staring back through a black hood.  “WHO ARE YOU TO QUESTION MY WORD INSECT?!?!”  The dark one screams in the face of the Xxirian General.

         Raithus stares back with a warrior’s eyes as he struggles to control his breathing, trying not to pass out from lack of oxygen.  “I do no-not fe-fear you crea-creature…”  Struggling to maintain focus the reptilian General remains proud, not showing any sign of weakness in the face of a desperate enemy.

         “YOU SHOULD XXIRIAN!!!”  The dark one shouts, still hidden in shadow. “YOU SHOULD TREMBLE IN MY PRESENCE!!!”

         “That’s enough!”  Lord Erazux commands.  “Release him!  NOW!”

         The dark one holds his grip a bit longer peering at the Xxirian, only releasing him just premature of affixation as the reptilian creature struggles to stay on his feet.  The raw power this dark creature displayed in anger is fierce, an outburst that frightens General Raithus to his core.  “Forgive me my Lord.”  The dark one says with a subtle bow.

         “You obey my command!”  Lord Erazux says.  “That was the bargain!  You’re a soldier in my Xxirian army, do not forget that!  Show our General respect!”

         Cringing at the thought the dark one reinforces his patience, for in this moment a power greater than any imaginable brews inside his heart.  He alone is the only true opposing force to Mortalitus and what a fool this beast is, if only the Xxirian could see the true motive. Flashes of a life once lost, images that haunt the soul of this mysterious reaper as this pain he carries spirals into the laughter of hatred.  The psychotic laughter that echoes in the minds of the sinister. “Yes my Lord.”  The dark one replies.  “Your will is my only reason.”

         “Do not believe this evil Lord Erazux!” General Raithus says in absolute defiance.  “We are honorable, yet this darkness slithers amongst us.  We conquer for the honor of all Xxirians, controlling the weak because of our strength!”

         “I hear hesitation in your words General.” Lord Erazux quickly counters. “Choose those next wisely.”

         “Forgive me.  I believe the dark one does not care for the Xxirian cause, or for your rule Lord Erazux.

         “Find your place Xxirian!  Prepare my fleets for the invasion of Earth!”

         “Yes, Lord Erazux.”  General Raithus replies as he kneels and rises, exiting the throne room with an enraged look about him.

         Lord Erazux stands from his throne moving towards the shadowy dark one, standing much larger than the mysterious creature. The cloaked figure shows no signs of intimidation, no fear in the face of such a menacing creature.  “You do not fear me dark one?”

         “I fear nothing my Lord.  Not even you.”

         “Do not betray me.  I know what evil lurks within you.”

         “You know nothing of what I am my Lord. Remember, we share a common enemy, that is all.”  The dark one replies.  “Do not make an enemy of me Lord Erazux.”

         “We shall see when this is done, who is the victor.”

         “We will face victory together Lord Erazux, one way or another.  I will begin the process.  Ready your fleets, for your gateway to Earth is about to open.  Forget not, you must disable all communications first upon entry.”

         “I know what must be done.”  Lord Erazux replies.  “And what of Edoxus, and Mortalitus?”

         “Leave that to me Lord Erazux.  I will reinforce your primary defenses under the command of Master General Veorix.  We will hold Mortalitus until the time is right.”  The dark one says.  “Now all will know my true name.  I am Chaos.”

3:38 P.M. – EST

                  General Xenom Bairix walks slowly behind the President of the United States of America and the entourage that follows him closely, toward the podium on the South Lawn.  Crowds silently separate as the alien creatures make their way behind the President, with live media feeds showing the world each precious second. Every available image and sound streams across the Omega Network as the world waits for the meaning of these alien visitors.  Billions share in such a beautiful moment, as the footsteps are slow to the front stage of the planet Earth.           The Commanders from far away worlds walk up the stairs toward the podium as the spotlight is on, ready to change the history of history forever.  Anticipation builds as the President stares out at a massive crowd from behind the podium, his alien counterparts at each side, with General Knight keeping a close watch.  Tension spreads among the Secret Service agents that stand guard as no one can predict the outcome of such an unprecedented event.  Overhead, alien warships remain in formation, awaiting orders from their commanding General. 

         Xenom stands at full attention with the pride of a warrior, happy to extend a hand in peace to the humans of Earth in the name of his savior and king.  Questions race through the minds of the alien comrades as well for none of them have ever seen such a large gathering of humans, and some have never even seen a human until recently.  President Reynolds watches this ocean of people as he tries to preserve the moment with all eyes locked in his direction, scanning the alien creatures that stand at his side.  Surprisingly the President is calm, his thoughts collected, simply because these creatures bring with them a token of friendship from a human king. 

         Jonathan stares for a moment longer, a calm somberness about him.  “My fellow Americans, please let me introduce our first extra terrestrial ambassador, General Xenom Bairix.”

         The spotlight shifts to the large Xxirian General as the President turns the podium over, with Xenom taking center stage and the world waiting, dreaming of what this moment could mean.  He can feel their heartbeats rush over him like a wave as humanity shares in this singular moment, with alien warships continuing to hover silently overhead on full alert.  Xenom’s eyes scan the crowds studying the unfamiliar humans, brothers and sisters to his king and so to him they’re all family, as he raises his fist into the air to honor them.

         “Humans of Earth.  We’ve come to your planet by order of our king and liberator, Lord Mortalitus, King of the Reformed Imperial Nations of Avothina within the Neshuza Galaxy.”  General Bairix says with strength in his voice.  “We are friends to humanity, please do not fear our approach.  We’ve come to stand at your side through these dark times, at the command of Lord Mortalitus himself.”

         Suddenly General Bairix is blind to the reactions of praise from the human masses as his eyes are quickly pulled to skies above the allied fleet hovering overhead.  Grouped by the thousands, the humans of Earth huddle around every available streaming image, from holograms to simple am/fm transmitters.  They watch with curious eyes as the alien creature casts a fierce stare into the heavens above, sensing something is wrong high in the clouds.  Lighting shifts as the skies slowly begin to whirlpool increasing in diameter with each passing second, as streamlines of electrical currents pull and rip at the fabric of space and time. 

         With each second that passes the vortex expands larger, turning a sunny day to a burning dusk as the power grows, drawing the attention now of all who inhabit the blue pearl.  Many times the General from world’s afar has seen this display of power, but only from his king and the real question on his mind is simple.  Why would his king not send word of immediate reinforcements or additional units?  Swiftly, a dreadful feeling creeps up the Xxirian’s spine as things are different now and something approaches with the haste of change. 

         Commander Tikik Ranklix is quick to the side of General Bairix expressing similar concern as he pulls his focus from the podium to the surrounding entourage.  “General!  What’s going on?” Tikik asks with a look of worry. “Reinforcements?”

         “I’m not sure Commander.”  Xenom replies.  “I was not informed.”

         “I don’t like this.”  Halex says.  “Something’s not right General.”

         “Ready yourselves.”  General Bairix orders.  “Summon your courage.”

         President Reynolds and General Knight stand facing the alien Commanders, completely unaware of the origin of these unfolding events.  “What’s goin’ on?” Greg asks.

         “Not sure.  Lord Mortalitus is the only one known to possess such power.” Tikik explains.  “He gave no word of reinforcements.”

         “Are you sure he’s the only one with that kind of power?”  Greg asks as he turns his focus back to President Reynolds.  “I don’t like this Mr. President.”

                  Gears turn within the massive floating enemy coalition assembled by the tyrannical Xxirian king, Lord Erazux. Funneling their enormous numbers from every corner of the Alpha Centauri multi-star system, the alien warships hold to the call of their king as they rest just behind the Shadow of Deoth. The one called Chaos takes center stage as he floats silently in the confines of deep space.  A dark cloak still shields his identity, revealing only glowing eyes as the creature calls forth the wickedness within, focusing his mysterious powers. 

         Lord Erazux looks on through a transparent wall onboard the Shadow of Deoth, with his General and loyal servant, Raithus Bairix, at his side.  The cosmos begins to shift to the whim of this dark messenger as something begins to happen to the fabric of space and time, with the Xxirian hordes watching in anticipation.  This dark creature extends his arms revealing glimmers of light that scatter across a metallic armor exposed briefly.  Whirlpools of energy slowly begin to form in front of the one called Chaos, doorways within the universe revealing the final approach of revelations. 

         Strands of pure energy encase the multiple gateways, giving them secure structure as the Xxirian hordes stare from the creature’s backside, awestruck.  Lord Erazux feels his heartbeat escalate to the drums of war, for the moment has arrived and his eyes reflect the storm now just on the horizon, as this reptilian dictator seeks bloodshed.  Only moments away from destiny as these monsters seek a young human world, hoping to strangle any chance of peace that might befall the home planet of a king.  The one called Chaos has been seeking this moment with all his might now speaking to the mind of Lord Erazux and the Xxirian hordes. 

         “My Lord, your gateway is open.  Make haste Xxirians and remember our plan. Upon entry all communication systems must be disabled simultaneously.  I will return to Edoxus to reinforce our military defenses under the command of Master General Veorix.”

         “So it begins.”  Lord Erazux says, as the gateways to Earth becomes stable, generated by the dark deity Chaos and this mysterious power he possesses.

         “I’m with you to whatever end you seek my Lord.”  General Raithus says in hopes of once again gaining favor with his king, for distances grow between them with each passing second.

         Floating silently, Chaos watches the Xxirian hordes make their way toward the whirlpools of energy, these mysterious singularities that will take them to the ultimate battleground.  Finally, all these years of planning for a moment of revenge that will forever echo in time, as Chaos will have his war against the creators of all things.  Forgotten atrocities in the mind of this dark war bringer, memories held sacred to him alone and for their constant reminders, he will have vengeance. His enemies should fear the moments of calm for Chaos is coming, desperately seeking to strike at the heart of Ashton Mortal, and so begins the final destruction of all creation.

*********************************************************

Written by: Nick Anderson & Mark S. LaMaster

Word Count: 4,859

Email: Nick.Anderson@bostonbeer.com

Atmcbom@MortalitusArt.com

6 – 1 – 20 – 5 

       Dr. Brotman hung up the phone and stood absolutely motionless for an eternity if it was ten seconds.

“What’s the matter?” Elizabeth cautiously asked.

 “Come on, we have to go.”  The doctor helped Elizabeth out of the chair, paying little attention to any residual pain caused by her hastiness.  As Dr. Brotman opened the door and peered down the hall, Elizabeth rifled through her belongings to find her phone.  Occupying the office was one nurse, a receptionist, and three people in the waiting room.  Dr. Brotman stood in the doorway for no more than a blink before handing down their sentence.  She grabbed Elizabeth’s hand, and began to run in the opposite direction.  She led her terrified companion to the office’s alternate exit and down a corridor to a stairwell.

“What’s going on?” an exasperated Elizabeth cried.

Elizabeth had been waiting for approximately forty-five minutes before the nurse came into the waiting room and escorted her to the back. 

“The doctor will be right with you,” said the nurse as she closed the door behind her.

The room was not one that was designed to set a person at ease.  It was an incredibly sterile environment for what had been described as a “relatively informal procedure.”  She did her best to appreciate the situation, as any other doctor would have required her to share a room with at least five other patients. In addition to her solitude, this unique practice afforded her the chance to avoid facing her paralyzing fear of general anesthesia.   The only down side to these luxuries was that they had required her to wait an additional two weeks beyond the moment that she made her impetuous decision.

Elizabeth had been in many doctor’s offices. This one was the first where she noticed that the walls had not been plastered with any type of product advertising.  She would have appreciated something to occupy her mind and wished that she would have grabbed one of the magazines from the waiting room.  The six minutes that she sat alone in that room felt like two hours.

Dr. Christina Brotman was an aging, yet statuesque beauty.  She entered the room with a calming flow and spoke with a softness that would downgrade a hurricane to a tropical depression.  She used subtle informalities such as greeting with the word “hi” as opposed to “hello,” and sitting down to shake her patient’s hand. Elizabeth felt that Dr. Brotman understood her without requiring any form of explanation as to why she was there.  More than that, she reserved any form of judgment, and that placated the largest of all of the young woman’s concerns.  So soothing was this doctor, in fact, that she talked Elizabeth out of her pants faster than the man that had put her in this situation.  There was not a moment of awkwardness between the doctor entering the room and Elizabeth’s ankles resting in stirrups.

“Now I’m going to get started,” stated Dr. Brotman.  “I promise this will be nice and easy, and we’ll be all finished here before you know it. Does that sound good to you?”

Elizabeth agreed with a nod of her head as she turned her stare toward the ceiling.  She exhaled a thin, yet long breath and felt her grip on the armrests of the chair loosen.  As the doctor moved gracefully through the beginning stages of the process, Elizabeth was comforted to realize that it was likened more to a routine exam than any sort of mission of destruction.  It could not have been more than one minute later that there was a knock on the door.

“Dr. Brotman, there is a phone call that you need to take,” exclaimed the interrupting nurse.  “It is your husband, and he insists that you speak with him immediately.”  Her words came out as if she had been frightened.  Elizabeth reformed her white-knuckled grip on the chair.

“I am so sorry, Elizabeth,” said the doctor. “You’re doing fantastic.  I had just better see what this is about. I will take the call in here, so as not to leave you alone, okay?”  She then raised her voice just enough for it to penetrate the thickness of the door.  “Jean, can you connect him in here?”  She grabbed the receiver from off of the wall, leaving Elizabeth lying in the most vulnerable of positions.

“Hello, Alan.  As always, your timing is…” Her words were cut short with the precision of a blade splitting a hair.  Elizabeth looked up to the see the infallible doctor’s face flushed as white as the wall behind her.  She could hear that the man on the phone was frantic, but could not make out what he was saying.  That is, until Dr. Brotman tried to ask a question and was promptly halted; the words ringing through the phone as clear as day:

“JUST GO NOW!”

Dr. Brotman hung up the phone and stood absolutely motionless for an eternity if it was ten seconds.

“What’s the matter?” Elizabeth cautiously asked.

 “Come on, we have to go.”  The doctor helped Elizabeth out of the chair, paying little attention to any residual pain caused by her hastiness.  As Dr. Brotman opened the door and peered down the hall, Elizabeth rifled through her belongings to find her phone.  Occupying the office was the nurse, a receptionist, and three people in the waiting room.  Dr. Brotman stood in the doorway for no more than a blink before handing down their sentence.  She grabbed Elizabeth’s hand, and began to run in the opposite direction.  She led her terrified companion to the office’s alternate exit and down a corridor to a stairwell.

 “What’s going on?” an exasperated Elizabeth cried.

 “Just stay right behind me.  We have to get down to the basement.”  Dr. Brotman proceeded to descend the stairs as if they were covered in oil.

“What about those other people in the office?” Elizabeth questioned.  “Is something wrong?”

Dr. Brotman continued down the stairs as if she did not hear Elizabeth’s queries.  The pair spiraled down a distance of five floors; one more than either had traveled upward on that day.

 “Come on, we’re almost there!” Dr. Brotman shouted uncharacteristically.

At the end of the stairwell was a door. The only marking on it was a yellow and black symbol that looked like a crude representation of a fan.  At that moment, there was a thunderous blast.  The two women locked eyes; shock rendering them unable to move.  Dr. Brotman then opened the archaic steel door, shoved Elizabeth through, and pulled it to close with a thunderous blast of its own.

Elizabeth locked her focus onto the screen of the cellular phone that she clutched in her right hand.  She watched with longing eyes as the inanimate object struggled to obtain a signal that would connect her to the world above.  A panic overcame her that resulted from the fear that it was not several feet of concrete that were blocking the efforts of her mobile device, but rather the fact that there was simply nothing up there to connect to. While she still maintained an absence of knowledge as to what was going on, she was perfectly capable of deducing that it was something terrible.  She closed her eyes and prayed that a divine intervention would establish a means of communication.  She felt that she needed to warn those who still had a chance to get to safety, provided there was any such chance left.  Her brow furled as she tried to scream with her mind.  As she did this she realized that, on this day of all days, she had a lesser chance of being heard than the struggling instrument in her hand.  She looked down again to confirm her suspicion that no signal had been obtained.  Then, a voice spoke up from behind her.

“Alan, can you hear me!?”

Clearly, Dr. Brotman was in better standing with the technological deities, as she seemed to have managed to make a connection.  Elizabeth listened intently to the only half of the conversation that she had access to.

“What’s going on?”

            Elizabeth was grateful that Dr. Brotman opened with the same question that weighed on her mind.  If it is possible to flex ones aural muscles, then that is precisely what Elizabeth did.  To her dismay, her ears lacked the strength that she summoned.

            “Yeah,” she heard the doctor say.  “Are you alright?”

            Elizabeth hoped that the silent partner in the exchange was the enigmatic Mister Brotman with some overdue answers.

            “Are you safe, Alan? 

            Alan was Elizabeth’s father’s name.  She wished that it was her father on the phone, but determined that it was unlikely.

            “Wait!  Wait a second!  What do you want me to do?”

            The heightened concern in the doctor’s voice led Elizabeth to believe that the conversation was drawing to a close, and the dialogue did little to reassure her that it had been a useful one.

            “Alan!  You are scaring me, damn it!” 

            Elizabeth nearly grabbed the phone from her hand to demand that Alan resolve the situation, when Dr. Brotman drastically calmed her demeanor.

            “I love you, Alan.”  She spoke softly into the phone, very much like she did upon introducing herself.  “Just come and get me, ok.  Please be careful and come and get me?”

Elizabeth grew more concerned for Dr. Brotman than herself.

“I love you.”

Neither woman had spoken a word in over an hour when Elizabeth finally abandoned the hope that her phone was of any use. There had been several instances already where she nearly spoke up, but in glancing over at the tear covered face of the doctor, could not find the proper first word. 

Upon turning her attention away from her failed technology and neglected implorations, a myriad of thoughts flooded her consciousness, bottlenecked in processing, and slipped through for consideration one at a time.

What was that blast? 

It could have been caused by anything, she supposed.  Early indications led her to give credence to the thought that it was a nuclear detonation or some other sort of attack.  Based on her observation of their surroundings, they did appear to be taking refuge in a bomb shelter.  She realized, however, that whatever it was, the doctor’s husband knew that it was coming.  She concluded that it could not have been a terrorist attack, because terror does not call ahead.

What about the people upstairs?

She recalled the image of Dr. Brotman pausing in the doorway to survey the lobby.  She was certain that the doctor had seen the people sitting there; people that she knew.  Elizabeth could not comprehend why she would whisk away silently and leave them to a sudden demise.  She could have screamed to them.  What was she thinking?  They were close enough that she could have pleaded for them to follow.  It was not as if the hallway was as long as a football field.  They could not have been more than twenty feet away.  There was certainly enough room in the bunker.  They could easily have fit another ten people in with them.  Why did she leave them?  Doctors take an oath to help people for Christ’s sake.  Elizabeth began to hate Dr. Brotman.

How big was…whatever it was?

Suddenly, she feared the worst for her family and friends.  The fact that this doctor was located so far from the dwellings of anyone that she cared for soothed her trepidation momentarily.  She looked down one more time to see if all of those commercials about cellular signal strength in remote areas were at all accurate or just marketing bullshit.  She began to hate consumerism.  She would have given anything to be able to make one call, if just to know that they were not the only two people alive.

Elizabeth pondered an endless chain of questions that ranged from the safety of the President to why she would grab her phone and not her clothes.  The latter arose upon recognizing that she was developing a chill, due to the less-than-ample coverage provided by the hospital gown.  She could picture her jeans and sweater sitting there on the counter of the doctor’s office.  She could see the blank walls.  She could almost feel the steel utensils.  Then she thought of another question.

What about the baby?

Elizabeth again looked up at Dr. Brotman, as if she expected an answer to the most important of her uncertainties. She began to feel sick as she contemplated the numerous possibilities that existed for what was to be the rest of her life.  Dr. Brotman continued to cry with her arms wrapped around her knees, as Elizabeth silently demanded to know whether or not the abortion had been completed. At this point, she was unsure of what outcome she would be hoping for.  Finally she spoke.

“What was that blast?”

*****

There are only so many ways to sum up the accumulated meaning of one’s life in a few short moments, as the many roads traveled now remain forever behind me, here at the end.  Maybe this is my fault…all of it…just a fool’s hope that things could change; that a guiding light might forever rid us of the hopeless notions of futility plaguing every avenue.  So many thoughts here at the end and, regardless of my imagination, I assure you that I’ve never pictured such a conclusion for myself.  My eyes remained locked on the cellular device in my hand.  ‘Christina’s Office,’ the screen reads.  With a call duration of only one minute and thirteen seconds, our last conversation was merely enough time to tell her to run, get to safety, and to say goodbye.  My God, if only she knew.

            My name is Alan Brotman; ID number 6-1-20-5. I am a Nuclear Fusion Physicist and co-designer of Global Tech Facilities’ Fusion Reactor.  The project was a bold move by the powers that be; those who had previously stood silent in the background, unlimitedly funding my experiments.  With this, they were presented a price demanding the highest of bounties; one that they could not afford to sit idly by for.  It was an idea beyond imagination; so far beyond the understanding of the 21^st century, yet only moments ago it sat before the world.  Even now, I can hear it just at my backside. 

I keep trying to remember where it was the first time I knew that I loved her; the first time I knew Christina would forever be mine.

            “Damn it!”  I say, trying to clear my head.  “Get a grip, Alan!”

            “Please confirm Protocol ID number.”  The computer screen in front of me repeats as a single message flashes, prompting only one choice.

            “Jesus.”

            Protocol 23, titled ‘Project Vanishing,’ has always been beyond comprehension in ways that will forever remind the human race of days when life seemed not quite so painful.  Its existence is known only by a few; this rebuttal to end all before it, the essence of the end.  Protocol 23 is a nuclear payload with orbital launch capability, which I have now targeted for the Global Tech Facilities installation that will forever remain my tomb. 

I should have tried harder.  I should have been able to stop them.  I can imagine even now the hundreds, if not thousands, of those chosen few that hold the keys to the kingdom barking orders at each other.  They can see every move I make, and in the back of their minds they hope only to stop these few final keystrokes.  However, their hopes are fleeting, as my decision is made.  I only hope for just a few more moments for me to reflect.  I still have a little time.  There has to be a few more seconds for me.  From every corner of the world, even those with clearance above Top Secret can only watch as the cursor continues to flash.  Protocol 23 hangs in the balance.

            “I THOUGHT YOU HAD A HANDLE ON THIS!” An irate figurehead shouts as he watches the live security feed of Alan Brotman’s final moments.  “HE’S ACCESSED THE SYSTEM, DAMN IT!”  YOU HAVE TO STOP THIS NOW!”

            “It’s out of my hands, Mr. Snyder,” a voice responds.  “It appears that he built a backdoor within the system before it went online.  It must be some sort of contingency.”

            “SON OF A BITCH, BROTMAN!”

            I never wanted any of this.  I never imagined how out of control everything could really get, but I guess when you’re present for the birth of a new frontier, the risks seem so very far away.  Yet here I am at my final location; Global Tech Facilities in Denver, Colorado - pioneers of Project Vanishing and sole proprietors of the controversial Fusion Reactor.  I first came to Global Tech Facilities seven years ago, when I was contracted through the United States Government for head design on Project Vanishing. Our goal was simple:  To plan for the worst possible wartime scenario; one in which we leave the enemy buried below a world crushed by our own final farewell.  It was to be a nuclear payload one thousand times stronger than any ever detonated within any hemisphere on the planet.  Since the moment Project Vanishing went online, the bomb has sat quietly in orbit, away from the eye of the public, waiting for today; waiting for a reason to exist.  It wasn’t until the Fusion Reactor became a reality - a tangible ability - that I even considered its use. However, like I said, I tried to reason with them.

            “Oh man…oh man.”  I repeat as my hands begin to shake furiously, my heart thumping away in my chest.  “You can do this.  Do it, damn it!”

My ideas were thought to be radical only three years ago.  That is, until I met Jim Snyder, CEO of Global Tech Facilities’ green department, which was working on innovative ways to improve the planet’s exponentially increasing energy crisis.  He had been following my work on Project Vanishing and knew that I was on the brink of a major discovery.  Every resource was at my finger tips as I pitched the idea of recreating the sun here on Earth to the heads of the company, with my silent years of research and speculation sitting there next to me.  I thought they would never go for it; never see a dream that followed me at every avenue, every turn.  I was wrong on levels that I could never see until right that very moment, when they immediately green lit the project.

            I began working on the prototype right away, desperately trying to break through the endless probabilities that might weaken my resolve.  Born in my mind’s eye, I remember it quite clearly - the day it all fell into place, as the notion of possibility became the realist form of actuality I had ever witnessed.  That fateful day was one week ago, when I suggested the prototype was in its final stage, and that we were ready for some preliminary tests.  Jim Snyder was the one to inform me in the early morning hours following my announcement, that the Fusion Reactor was going public.

            “We need it now, Alan.”  He said to me.  “There’s just not enough time.”

            “Wait just a minute, Snyder.”  I said.  “We don’t even know what will happen if we turn it on!”

            “The world will never forget your name, Alan.” He replied.  “You’re going to be a hero.”

            “Damn it, Jim!”  I said.  “The equations don’t all match up yet.  Something is wrong with the reactor.  I can feel it.”

            “I’m sorry, Alan…it’s out of your hands.” Snyder said.  “We’ll take if from here.”
            “You can’t do this, Jim!”  I said, pleading with him.  “What if something goes wrong?”

            “That is a chance that Global Tech Facilities is willing to take.”

            Maybe Jim really believed he was doing the right thing, on behalf of Global Tech Facilities and humankind.  I’d like to think that here in the final seconds of everything we’ve built, but I find it difficult to see past the bottom line. Sometimes progress must follow the natural way of things, for when ideas stretch the very fabric of time and space, caution must be exercised.  Snyder thought this company could save the world, and in return make its shareholders rich beyond their wildest dreams.  What a naive notion, as the true end seeks us like a predator in the distance.  I hope something will remember these mistakes, for in our greatest efforts to save our planet, we’ve only sped the clock to its final seconds.

            Arrogance defined by progress, like so many times before, forgotten are the dreams of the few, whose science has brought only tragedy. Here and now, my name is quickly rising to the top of that list, as all I can do now is hope someday they can see past this; see that I had no other choice.  Most of all, I hope that Christina continues to smile, even if I will never hold her again, as I can feel solitary tears crawl down my cheeks.  Sitting isolated in a large warehouse within the Global Tech Facilities massive installation, I can feel the Reactor just outside, pulling at the foundation, growing in momentum, with only a few more moments left. I reach for the keyboard on my laptop and guide my fingers to the numbers that will forever define this moment:  first the 6, then the 1…slowly, I strike the 2 and the 0, and finally the 5 and press the enter key.  The computer registers my commands as the screen shifts to the final prompt and, suddenly, my cellular phone lights up again to the tune of American Pie, my favorite song, which serves as a fitting ending tempo as I look down and break a smile across my face.

            “Hey, babe,” I say, as I press the phone to my cheek, with the final launch initiative waiting in my lap.

            “Alan, can you hear me?”  Christina asks, panicked.

            “Yeah baby, I can hear you.”

            “What’s going on?”

            “Did you get some place safe, Christina?” I ask, hoping that there is not a need for more time.

            “Yeah,” she replies.  “Are you alright?”

            “I’m doing alright, I guess.”

            “Are you safe, Alan? 

            “Baby I’m real sorry, but I’m gonna have to let you go.”

            “Wait!  Wait a second!  What do you want me to do?”

            “Enjoy every second, every day…for me.”  I reply, as the tears flood my face.

            “Alan!  Your scaring me, damn it!”  Christina says, not understanding the severity of the situation.

            “I know baby, but don’t worry…it’ll all be over soon.”  I reply unable to tell her the true fate that awaits me, moments away.

            “I love you Alan.”  She speaks softly into the phone.  “Just come and get me, ok.  Please be careful and come and get me?”

            “I will, love.”  I say with a soft tone.  “Bye for now.”

            “I love you.”  She repeats once more, somehow knowing this may very well be the last time she ever hears my voice.

            I close the phone slowly as my heart begins to beat faster and the reality of what I face now becomes crystal clear. As I gently set the phone on the floor next to me, the momentum outside continues to build a rage that will simply continue to grow until nothing remains of a world home to billions. My eyes once again connect with the computer screen as my final mission flashes before my eyes, reading only a simple command:  ‘Initiate Project Vanishing, Confirm or Deny.’  I reach for the keyboard and highlight the confirm icon and pause for only a second, to reflect on the choices that led me down this dark dead end road.  The equations never lie.  In a world built on hiding the truth, they were always the only things that ever truly made sense. Yet no matter the purpose or cause, I will forever be deceived.

It was only twenty-seven minutes ago when Global Tech Facilities famed Fusion Reactor went online. Twenty-seven minutes too late, as I raced to try and stop them.  They knew I would be coming, knew that I would try and stop the unveiling, and so I was barred from the main test sight.  I made my way to the nearest warehouse facility on the premises, found that my clearance was still active, and gained access.  On my laptop I watched as the reactor was initiated, and for the first time in human history, fusion was now within our control, if for only a moment. 

My reactor is very much the same as our closest star, providing life and generating energy for all creatures that call this planet home.  Our sun follows patterns etched in the eternal routines of creation, and as I’ve said before, it was bold of me, of us all, to imagine we could control such majesty.  I watched the live media feeds as the reactor instantly ignited and began to produce obscenely massive amounts of energy through the process of fusing hydrogen and helium together.  At first, everything seemed perfect as the reactor began funneling the endless amounts of energy to every available resource, redefining humanity’s need for the technologies that drive our society.

            It was a terrifying error on my part, as I watch the warning in my equations become a truth the world had never seen, for it wasn’t long before everyone onsite and around the world realized something had gone horribly wrong.  The reactor began to speed through its lifecycle effortlessly, the same way most stars will be born and ultimately die, with a massive super nova following a destructive gamma ray burst that, thankfully, I was just out of range from. The core of the reactor began to collapse with the intense pressure created by the massive surge of nuclear power until the density of the core became heavier than space and, with that, gave birth to an end no one could imagine; not even me.  My God, what have I done?  The infinitely dense core became so heavy that it collapsed upon itself, tearing through time and space, creating a dream in every imagination - the singularity.  An idea bore in the equations of my forefathers, one that told of an appetite for destruction that could never be quenched, forever lost within a black hole.

            I don’t even know if this will work, but somehow I have to believe that this is not the end of everything, that I can make things right again.  This building won’t take much more as the singularity just outside rips everything in its path down to a quantum foundation, smearing the remnants across its expanding event horizon, never to be seen again.  Just outside, it waits for me as the walls and rooftop of the building begin to shake with a thunderous tone.  If only there was more time to remember every day worth living; every moment in her arms.  If only I could see her once more, if for but a moment.  Yet sadly, I will forever wait for you, Christina. Here I will haunt the dream of what we could have had in our oldest days, as finally I find the will to reach down and press enter on my keyboard, selecting the ‘Confirm’ option.

            High above the large terrestrial landmasses that make up the planet Earth, a sleeping giant awakens in orbit, with its eyes fixed on Denver, Colorado as the systems engage.  Silently, from the heavens it falls toward the Earth below, powering through re-entry, toward my only redemption; this final equalizer. I have no doubts what will follow in its wake.  It will be a devastation the world has never seen, as its ferocity will tear across every open space, sparing only few from the horrors that are imminent.  By design, it will be an explosion so great that this growing singularity will be engulfed, leaving behind a cleansed world, free to continue to try and become what destiny has chosen.  My last and only hope now, as I can hear it coming, merely seconds away, is that tomorrow will still arrive.  Can you hear it now? It is the end of today, and the chance that the sun might rise again and remind the hearts of humanity to believe that anything is possible, even here at the end of the world we all once knew. Do you hear it now?

            “Enjoy every second…every day, Christina. Please remember the man that loved you more than you’ll ever know,” I say as a blinding light breaks through every available crevice.  “God forgive me.”

F – A – T – E

“What was that blast?”  Elizabeth asked, breaking the oppressive silence. 

Dr. Christina Brotman lifted her face from the sanctuary of her intertwined limbs for the first time since her final conversation with her husband.  She peered through the walls of saline that coated the irises of her eyes and gazed far below Elizabeth’s stare.

            “Whatever it was, we may be the only three to have survived…”