Chapter 3: A twist in the digital realm
The scientist raised his head, his voice heavy with emotion. “It’s done,” he announced.
In the back of the room, a soldier’s gaze hardened into a stony glare. With a fluid motion, he unslung his high-powered energy rifle, disengaged the safety, and fired. The shot left a black, smoldering hole where the scientist’s face once was, the edges riddled with bloody, glowing dots. Lifeless, the scientist collapsed backward onto the floor.
The second soldier, witnessing the scene, subtly adjusted his visor, a silent acknowledgment of the grim act.
The shooter turned to the small, frail man in the suit, who stood holding two folders of paperwork in his nearly translucent, skinny hands. “Jerry,” the soldier barked, snatching the papers. “Clean this up. No traces. Dispose of the bodies properly.” He grunted, “I’ll fill out the forms.”
Jerry snorted, about to protest, but the soldier cut him off aggressively: “You want to do the two hours of paperwork? You can’t even read, man. Get cleaning.”
The man in the suit remained indifferent, turning on his heel and exiting the room.
Jerry, left behind, began to unroll body bags and unlock the clamps on the chair that still held Lee's lifeless form.
Meanwhile, for Lee, trapped in an eternity within a white void, his existence felt devoid of meaning. Desperately, he searched for a way out, a glimmer of escape from the endless expanse.
As Lee wandered aimlessly through the stark whiteness of the void, the edges of his reality began to blur and warp. Hallucinations crept into his vision, a kaleidoscope of memories, fears, and fantasies that twisted and turned around him. Each step felt heavier, each breath a little shallower, as if the very air was thickening around him.
His mind, once sharp and clear, now teetered on the brink of insanity. Images from his past flickered before his eyes – moments of joy and pain, all distorted like reflections in a broken mirror. Voices whispered and echoed in the emptiness, some familiar, some alien, all melding into an unintelligible cacophony.
Lee's breaking point loomed ever closer, a precipice upon which his sanity balanced precariously. The void, once a silent expanse, now roared with the noise of his fracturing psyche. He stumbled, clutching at the nothingness for support, but found no anchor in this digital nirvana.
The line between reality and illusion blurred, and Lee found himself lost not just in space, but in the depths of his own unraveling mind.
Amidst the chaos of his hallucinations, a voice thundered louder than the rest, almost screaming at Lee. From the maelstrom, a figure emerged, distinct and commanding. Tall and handsome, he had a dark, fair complexion, and his piercing green eyes shone through strands of ebony black hair.
Lee halted, holding his breath. “Are you real?” he asked tentatively.
The figure, Rahish, offered a knowing smile. “As real as you can be in here,” he replied.
“I’m not losing my mind completely, then?” Lee asked, a hint of hope in his voice.
Rahish glanced around the void. “You mean the digital fragments you’re noticing? They're not yours; they're from users across various realities. You need to learn to focus on them to step into their worlds.”
Lee’s confusion was evident, his brows furrowed, one eye squinting in concentration. “I don’t understand,” he admitted.
Rahish’s smile returned. “I’ll teach you. You’ve fallen into a digital void that exists between realities. It’s a safe haven if you know how to navigate it.” He paused, his gaze drifting, as if seeing things Lee couldn’t perceive yet. “If you are who I think you are, you'll be able to control it all.”
Lee stared for a moment before determination set in. “If it means a way out, teach me!”
Time seemed to lose meaning.
“There you go,” Rahish said, his voice tinged with fatigue, his form beginning to flicker. “Just in time, it seems.”
Lee's concern was evident. “What about you? Why are you fading?”
Rahish looked down, a hint of sadness in his tone. “Don’t worry about me. I've been here too long and can’t leave. Let this be my final lesson to you: never spend more than a perceived year here. It might not let you leave.”
Before Lee could probe further, Rahish dissolved into the white expanse.
Turning, Lee felt a newfound purpose. “Home it is,” he whispered to himself, now armed with the knowledge to navigate the digital void.
With a focused mental effort, Lee conjured a rift that burst into existence before him. It shimmered with an otherworldly energy, a doorway to the unknown.
Through the rift, Lee glimpsed a shabby cabin, pieced together from metal sheeting and weathered wooden panels. Linen curtains served as makeshift dividers. People meandered by, lost in their mundane routines. Among them, he spotted his mother, but something jarred him – she looked markedly older, aged by at least two decades.
A wave of panic washed over Lee, his heart racing with a mix of fear and confusion. Had he lost focus? Had he chosen the wrong timeline?
Then Rahish's words echoed in his mind, a solemn reminder: “The longer you spend in here, the more time progresses in the outer worlds.” Lee etched these words into his consciousness, understanding that a return to his timeline would mean accepting the progression of time. Any other timeline was open to explore, but his own had moved on without him.
With a heavy heart, laden with the weight of his realization, Lee stepped forward, crossing the threshold of the portal.
Stefan:
If you were all alone, in an endless white expanse of void nothingness, how would that make you feel?