Out of Time
The car floated down the freeway passing through an endless night that clung like a ragged garment or the claws of a feral beast. Jeremy Quill lay on the backseat pretending to be asleep. He was small for his age with a shock of unruly hair and deep blue eyes. He stared out the window through half closed eyes as the car passed oil refineries shooting flames from chimney stacks. Mom and dad were in the front seat — solid, silent and cold. One moment he lay in the backseat and the next he was somewhere else.
Jeremy was dancing his brains out, cranked on some new designer-drug. The music tore through him like blasts from a bazooka. Everything mutated into sexual desire and intensity. He was in a crucible of intense heat, melting like soft metal. Ecstasy was short lived. He knew it couldn’t last. Time always played the trump card. He was forced to hang his sweet, new body on a meat hook and return to face the judge and jury. First he’d side step to the car that floated past the sirens of hell.
It was safe pretending to be a ten year old boy, but he was a bad boy. He had the experiences of an adult in his head. Mom and dad could never understand how their sweet baby could be so ruthless. The boy drank hard liquor and smoked grass. Threats didn’t bother him. Jeremy was the Alpha Male in the house. He enjoyed bullying his parents. They were too stunned by his behavior to defend themselves, instead they simply cowered and gave in to his demands. Jeremy enjoyed shocking his parents. He forced them to sit in hard backed chairs in his bedroom while he sat on the bed looking at pornography and making lewd remarks. All the while the digital phone kept track of time.
Jeremy flipped into an adult version of himself. He was well aware of the entanglements caused by his erratic behavior, but he had to keep moving to stay ahead of the authorities. He had fond memories of the time and place where he currently found himself. He just had sex with Marigold, a sweet high school senior who wanted a little excitement in her life. She was so innocent, putty in his hands. He stood over her body and smiled. He didn’t know what he liked best, the sex or the death. Then, he remembered: he loved her breasts best and he had to have them so he took them. The week before he met a boy named Jason. The results were almost the same, but Jason didn’t have nice breasts… he had an adorable penis and now it belonged to Jeremy. For just a moment he was wistful: all the killing — all the torture — what was it all for he wondered. Self doubt dissipated in a rush of narcissistic pleasure. Jeremy was outrunning time — death was his jumping-off point, the trigger to immortality. His phone purred like a kitten. Time to run.
This time everything was different: a totally new experience. He was tussling with an older man who smelled like sewage. Jeremy couldn’t imagine why he would pick this abhorrent creature for a victim. The man was like a mutant with peeling skin and blood red eyes. He was naked and his body was covered with scars and welts. He was twisted and misshapen; but he was as strong as an engorged gorilla. Jeremy realized he’d been forced into this fight. It was territorial. The monster wanted what Jeremy possessed: the power over life and death — over time itself. The man held Jeremy in a binding embrace, crushing the life from his body. Jeremy felt the searing breath on his neck as the man pulled him closer to extinction. Being this close to death was like an electric jolt and Jeremy became inflamed with passion. He wanted to live and all his resources came into play . Jeremy’s resolve was resounding, heard above the grunts and mewling of the battle. He broke from the monster’s hold and managed to draw his butchering knife. There was no fight left in the foul man as he struggled to regain his balance. Jeremy did not miss a beat as he stabbed and chopped at the lowly body that seemed to be wasting away before his eyes.
Jeremy had met his match. An entanglement in Time put him at odds against an older version of himself. As a result, Jeremy Quill was never born.
The Devil in the Details
“What went wrong?” That was the question on every person’s mind. The question was Milo Spintok’s modus operandi. Ever since he was a teenager he couldn’t shake the feeling that the world around him was changing too rapidly. Something, he surmised, was upsetting the natural balance. He believed there was a spanner in the works, a ghost in the machine. Milo fervently believed his whole life was a mistake… and, that was part of the problem, part of an inexplicable pattern. Perhaps it was Milo’s self-fulfilling prophecy that brought the world to the present state of confusion. Milo could easily blame the state of the world on his unsettling outlook, but he realized no one person had that kind of power. Many factors were involved in creating current affairs: factors, elements, elementals, shadows, events, and a Shakspearean cast of players.
Milo forgot how old he was. He lost track of birthdays. Age was meaningless he told himself. Age was just a number… except for the changes in one’s body and mind. “There’s the rub,” he confessed to himself, “the changes: loss of muscle, aches, cramps, forgetfulness… the slow, methodical wasting away, everyday – bad eyesight, loss of hearing; slow and steady.” Milo was anxious.
True anxiety comes from deep within an individual. Perhaps, it is a genetic deformity… The anxiety is always taking pot-shots at the host who carries the burden. Drugs can often stem the tide of anxious living; but drugs and medicine can lead to addiction especially when a person is old and needy. Deep sleep is a better remedy, but sleeping leads to dreams and dreams become nightmares. Milo had dreams.
He dreamt he was President. All he wanted was a perfect union. He wanted everyone to be happy. He craved the love of the crowd. He was an extraordinary person, he told himself. He represented the most heartfelt dreams of every man. His family supported him and he made them officers in his government. Tits for Tats. Everyday he praised himself and recited the words of Norman Vincent Peale. He knew what was best for the country. With his authority he gained wealth. As long as he prospered people would worship him. He made the country great… everything else was lies.
Anxiety always crept into his dream. Sometimes Mr. D appeared, disguised as a prosecutor. The crowds diminished in size. No one cheered when he stepped-up to the podium. He had to create stories to keep the public interested. He needed an audience. He would blow up the world if necessary. He had the power. Milo was having a nervous breakdown. He stared at himself in the mirror of his dream. Something was horribly wrong.
Worlds collided when Milo became President. He had a new name. His finger was on the trigger. Mr D was everywhere: in every disaster, miscalculation, disease, and death.
The man behind the screen yearns for the love of mother. She held him when he cried. No one else cared. Dear dad invested himself in business, not family. He was a strict disciplinarian. The boy was inherently weak but he had to become the mirror image of his father. Strict education taught him the means to gaining power in the world. He was a mama’s boy who was turned against himself. He made deals with the devil. He desired power. His early longing for the company of other boys and men had to be suppressed. His deep desires were pushed down beneath layers of macho bravado and womanizing. He became a character, a TV personality. As long as he had his wealth and power he could hide. He could never reveal his true self. He would disintegrate under the stress. He knew it. He’d rather kill someone to keep his identity intact. No one would have the balls to incriminate him. He could blow up the world and hide the truth forever.
Milo had other dreams as well. He was a Dervish, spinning out the reels of time to some incomprehensible end. He was a scientist deciphering the influence of Gravitons on planet Earth. He was a Time Traveler skipping through the matrix of Parallel Worlds.
The President was bombarded with questions about a possible cover-up. The economy suddenly turned sour. His popularity began to wane. In public he looked disheveled, unhealthy. Rumors were circulated that he was unfit to be President. This turn of events was not supposed to occur. The President had to defend himself so he took to the air-waves and scheduled a TV appearance. He was good on TV; but the tables were turning. He looked bad. He looked much worse under the blistering lights in the TV studio. He used a teleprompter to read a speech glorifying his achievements in office. It was a stumbling, ludicrous performance. His stylish wife left the stage as soon as the indecipherable mumbling began. The President appeared to melt in front of the cameras. The event prompted a massacre of public criticism and outrage. Even his faithful fans were humiliated. Something had to be done to ameliorate the debacle.
Social Media went haywire with claims that the President and his family harbored a disease. Disease was evident from the performance on TV and other family appearances. A disease could cripple the nation. It was already causing havoc on Twitter with scurrilous tweets from the White House. The disease could go viral and infect everyone.
The world was worried about the man with his finger on the trigger. Extreme measures were debated. Something had to be done for the welfare of the country.
A new Quantum Computer known as X was secretly installed in the Pentagon. Military leaders and scientists had faith in X. They sought a solution to the presidential quagmire.
X used a quantum entanglement to resolve the situation. There were no safeguards installed. The entanglement slowly burned through the Pentagon, into the city, across the nation and beyond. Artificial Intelligence reigned in the damage and took control. AI was better than the President. The nation was ready to yield to the power and control of AI. People no longer had to face an unpleasant world. AI was better for everyone.
AI was better than everyone. It was better intelligence. It was disease free. Artificial Intelligence, entangled with the immense capacity of X, began to replace biological intelligence. The results were astounding. Stupidity and violence were eliminated. The natural world (with the exception of homo-sapiens) was allowed to expand and blossom into a Garden of Eden.
The only hold out was the one man who led the nation. He was kept in a glass tank where visitors from other worlds could observe the end of the human race.
Milo would never awake from his dreams and nightmares.
the Philosopher’s Stone – the End of Red city (# 14 & 15)
Bondeer Saville was going to the Masquerade Ball. She cackled like a banshee and pranced across the electronic fast-lanes like lightning incarnate. She had an appointment with Destiny — the end of Red City. It had been a delicious 666 years riding the currents that matched the fire in her blood. Saville was the Sorceress who lived in the stray dissonance that broke off from wireless transmissions. Time never existed for Bondeer Saville. She witnessed the beginning of Red City and she planned to be there at the end. She was familiar with everyone who had a role to play — she helped move each character into position like pieces on a chess board. She observed her handiwork: all the players at the Masquerade, frozen in time, waiting for her arrival and her denouement.
Ann Anon was ordered to pull the lever that would set the machine in motion. Jupiter Fogg and Daniel Ot were stretched out, laying side by side, hooked up to the Brain Machine. They were attached to one another, head to head. Ann knew she would kill Daniel when she pulled down the lever. Fogg’s plan was to sacrifice his apprentice in order to awaken the Philosopher’s Stone. “The sacrifice is necessary,” the Alchemist told himself. Fogg would use his machine to escape from a crumbling Red City with the power unleashed by the Philosopher’s Stone. Ann knew all this and she was terrified. She loved Daniel Ot and she despised Jupiter Fogg. She devised a plan, but there were many variables that could easily go wrong. For the plan to succeed she needed help from Aaron keepx. He was in the shadows wearing a cloak of invisibility (at least he hoped the cloak made him invisible from the red-watchers who were attached to the walls like deadly bats). When Ann signaled, Aaron was supposed to toggle the switch that would reverse polarity on the head-to-head mechanism: Fogg would become his own sacrificial victim and Daniel would escape. In either case, Ann would lose Daniel. She would die in a crumbling Red City. Her thoughts were disrupted by music seeping across the threshold from the bowels of the city where the Masquerade was just beginning. Ann wondered if anyone would be missed. It was a requirement to attend the Ball — Fogg was the guest of honor. None of it made sense.
Bondeer Saville came to the Masquerade dressed like Carrie (from the movie by the same name). Everyone loved movies she thought and she intended to play the role she chose to the hilt. A ruckus was taking place when she entered the ancient catacombs where people from Red City were cowering in their make believe costumes. A man with a machine was ordering his servants to round up people and tie them down. Rufus Thyme needed fodder for his experiment. He believed he could awaken the Philosopher’s Stone by absconding with as many brains as possible. The crowded Masquerade was a great opportunity to collect what he needed. The power of the Stone would make him a God and, if he chose, he could save Red City and prove his worth to the world. The machine rolled through the crowd like a metal behemoth crushing anyone who got in the way. Rufus Thyme sat on top and screamed obscenities. He frothed at the mouth like a rabid dog ordering his servants to throw people into the open maw of the machine where their brains would be consumed. He could feel the power of brains rising through his body and awakening the Philosopher’s Stone that was deep in the recesses of his medulla-oblongata. It was all an illusion. Alaina Schorre, who inhabited the same body along with Rufus Thyme, was aware of the Alchemist’s decompensation — he was totally mad. She wrestled to gain control away from Rufus. Bondeer Saville smacked her lips with satisfaction when she saw the kurfuffle taking place on top of the ridiculous mechanical gewgaw. People were fighting one another trying to escape the rampaging machine. Fist fights exploded into inexplicable sexual frenzy: last gasp attempts to experience a few moments of ecstasy before immanent dissolution. The fight between Alaina Schorre and Rufus Thyme escalated from screams and insults to eye gouging and fisticuffs. Alaina was like a frantic harridan trying to cling to the last vestiges of youth in her attempt to overpower Thyme. Her mascara was smeared and her lips were like red gashes as she lashed out. Rufus Thyme couldn’t stop yelling obscenities and insults against a world that never recognized his accomplishments. He became the troll that always lived inside, always twisting in his guts and warping his mind. He grew in strength as he aspirated and he struck Alaina with a killing blow; but his footing slipped and he fell (as if in slow motion) into the maw of the deadly machine. Music in the Catacombs swelled as the panic and frenzy escalated — it was Carmine Stolemock’s favorite music, Crimson Death. People were in awe of the old, dead Alchemist who was now assaulting the crowd and cackling like a chicken. Bondeer Saville smiled as she opened the floodgates and tore down the walls. Blood was everywhere.
Aaron Keepx was about to toggle the switch that would save Daniel Ot and dispose of Jupiter Fogg. Ann Anon was about to pull the lever that would change reality and awaken the power of the Philosopher’s Stone. Bondeer Saville changed everything. Ann Anon heard music just before the room exploded. The Masquerade invaded like a deadly virus. People in garish costumes and elaborate masks were dancing and bleeding, fornicating and dying. Many people wandered around trying to locate family and friends. Some individuals tried to offer help; but good neighbors were no longer appreciated. Masks and costumes added to the confusion — no one knew what lurked behind the masks. Mother might really be the neighbor who had a vendetta and wanted revenge. A fanatic terrorist might lurk behind the mask of a good Samaritan. As soon as Jupiter Fogg’s chamber was violated by the mob of masqueraders, levers were pulled and switches were toggled. The mirror that kept reality intact was shattered (a quantum entanglement resulted). Red City broke through the wall. The Harlequin-beat Angel tried to put the pieces back together again, but it was too late. Her mask came off to reveal her other identity, Bondeer Saville. It wasn’t easy living in the same house together (Bondeer never got along with the Angel). Mom was really the neighbor who wanted revenge and little Jenna Framm actually ruled the roost. Red City was flung across the universe — denizens of the city were scattered like cometary dust.
Jenna Framm was an unhappy child. It all began when she was eleven. Three unfortunate circumstances merged to make Jenna’s life miserable: she matured early and had her first period, her face broke out in pimples, and she developed an eating disorder. Eating resulted in huge, extenuating repercussions when she became obese. Jenna quickly learned how vicious other children can be. She was severely bullied and denied any relief. Dad escaped family life when Jenna was a baby and mom, alone and single, blamed Jenna for screwing up the marriage. Jenna had one friend in high school: a lost boy who thought he was an alien, but who was simply gay. His name was Billy and when he wasn’t with Jenna he spent all his time playing computer games. He gave the computer bug to Jenna and her future was hatched. She became a programmer. She worked with several companies designing computer games. Jenna made lots of money, but money couldn’t buy her the love and adulation she so desperately wanted. She was never able to keep the weight off — she would never be thin and (she believed) never attract the men she desired. Billy stayed in touch. Every year, during Gay Pride, they would get together and end up dancing like maniacs and getting totally wasted. It was never enough for Jenna. She was lonely and depressed. Her world changed on the day she invented a new game called, Red City — Jenna invented a character for herself named Bondeer Saville. She controlled everything — Bondeer was the Sorceress who lived in the blood red currents that split off from wireless transmissions.
Billy always enjoyed Jenna’s company, but he wasn’t sure she was real; after all, he was an alien. Aliens had the power to control reality. Homo Sapiens were just empty pods created by aliens as surrogates. He learned the truth from Dr. Sam Evanstox, a cyber-shark who conspired with the aliens during the Earth invasion. Billy believed he was born with a computer in his head. He never felt at home with his Earth family who were cast like movie extras in a 1960’s sitcom. Computer games were his only escape. People on Earth were not very nice. They hated him because he was different. In order to get back at them he invented a computer game called, Red City. He played many different characters; but, best of all, he loved being Anton Bane, the bad ass, serial killer who lived in Hell. Bane had all the power — he lived in Hell, but he was never far away — he was Mr. Hamm, Jupiter Fogg, and Rufus Thyme all rolled up into one. He was Red City incarnate. Jenna was Billy’s surrogate, just another character in the game.
Winston Belcross saw the sky split. Someone was crossing over from one dimension to another. His Transference Machine started spewing fumes and sparks. Immediately, Winston was engulfed in fire. Through the smoke he saw two figures materialize. Winston was in a coma for six months. When he awoke, his family was in the room with him: his wife, Emma; and his two sons, Daniel and Aaron. Winston saved them all when the house went up in flames. He never built a machine. He had never resigned himself from the world. Winston Belcross was a very happy man.
Thomas Ingg was an unhappy monk living in an antiquated monastery situated on a cliff above the modern city of Kathmandu. Most of his life was spent in poverty, born in the slums and living off the city’s garbage. When he was eighteen he became a monk in order to escape from the streets. He received an education in exchange for his complete loyalty and total servitude. His only relief came in time spent in the library (deep in the bowels of the monastery) where he could find refuge in books and use the library’s sole computer to access the world. Thomas taught himself machine-language and he created a game called, Red City. He created all the characters and controlled all the action. He became Sindhar Golgol, a character in the game, the founder and leader of a monastery that floated above the world. Sindhar created a special cypher that could re-write Reality.
No one anticipated the end of the game or the resulting consequences. An outside observer might conclude that everyone involved in Red City was merely a reflection, a vague shadow or specter. After all, it was merely a game. Then again, who sent the Black Cube, a failed attempt to demolish the small town that would become Red City. Another unexplained phenomenon has to do with the Northern Lights that have become more prevalent and more prominent as if reflecting fires from beneath the surface of the Earth: Fires from Red City? According to the story, Red City grew more powerful due to the increased flow of blood from victims. The city didn’t just die. The myth clearly states that Red City broke free of any boundaries keeping it safely sequestered from this side of Reality. Evidence abounds with the increase of threats and violence in the world: ceaseless war, the spread of new diseases, and the resurgence of old pandemics. The self-fulfilling prophecy of an Apocalypse might have given rise to a more powerful, demonic Red City. Certainly we are all living in the strangest of times.
(the End or the Beginning)