NOLAN
If you’re a Human, it’s a lot likely you have dreams - some weird little movie your brain decides to play whilst you’re asleep. It could be a nightmare, walking around school or work with no trousers on, maybe it could be something nice like getting with the person you fancied for quite a bit now. And you wake up completely forgetting the entire thing the second you try to recall any of it.
Now here, this wasn’t a normal case. I started this one finding myself in… well, I was in my flat in Birmingham, lying on the sofa. It wasn’t anything special at first, some thing appeared distorted, sort of melding in with other places I had been to recently. For some reason, Mila’s ship had been parked right in my surprisingly enlarged kitchen lounge.
I got up, feeling like I was in control. Not subject to the weird things my subconscious would make me do in these things. Others had been walking around my flat, not really in any proper form, they were just something that would always remain in the corner of your eye. Except for one, sitting down on one of the stools by the pub counter in my kitchen. They weren’t Human, I had no idea what they were. Like a dark cloud taking the shape of a Humanoid, staring out through only purple eyes.
They were drinking a glass bottle of coke from the toaster, seemingly after throwing a can of Prosecco to the floor. “Oh,” they - I guess you could say a he - said to me, “You’re awake.”
“Who are you?” I asked.
“Well, Naakesh, or do you prefer Nolan?”
“Nolan. Answer the question.
“I was once known by many, many names in my time. The Butcher of Hamingral, the Enslaver of the Jynri, the—”
“Didn’t ask for your autobiography. Get on with it.”
“You know,” the being said, “In my time, whomever would speak to me in such a manner would have their tongues sliced, eyes gouged, and their wives and children raped before them.”
“Okay, I’ve dreamed up a Nazgûl Genghis Khan. Perfect,” I muttered to myself.
“Of course, those times are over. So, you can refer to me as Ga’angrelhoelin.”
I paused for a bit. “What?”
“Ga’angrelhoelin.”
“Yeah, can I call you Gary?”
“You attribute me to such a common name?”
“It’s just for the sake of time, mate. So, Gary, what are you doing here?”
“You remember what happened, yes? On your wife’s ship?”
“My wi— Mila and I are strictly friends.”
“Whatever fits your narrative,” Gary said, taking a drink of the coke. “I understand this is simply a creation of the mind, yet this is simply delightful. The luxuries of food and drink, I had not had the pleasure to enjoy in a long time.”
“Get on with it, Gary.”
He began explaining, “You were in the realm of… subspace, as you call it. I, along many others, have attempted to escape through that which brings you there - the subspace drive. I escaped, taking over your vessel. We were thrown into a conflict of control. Your ‘friend’ rendered the vessel unconscious. And now we remain here, within these mental confines.”
“Right okay, erm… well, you’re in my head now, I guess.”
“We share the same mind, yes.”
“Can you leave?” I asked him.
Gary gave me a stare, he wasn’t too happy with that, was he? “Do you understand the circumstances I was forced to endure in subspace? To a mind of such limited dimension, one may describe it as simple madness. Every atom, every dimension, every wave, colliding and folding to such an infinite degree. I witnessed the birth, the finality of each thing over and over. Sanity showed no grasp. My banishment there I do not wish to repeat. We are one being, Nolan, whether you wish it or not.”
“No, I mean can you leave my body, go somewhere else?”
“Of c— actually…” The stool he sat on somehow melded into a wheelie chair, to which he leaned back on as if he owned the whole place. “I will assess at a later time. For now, I must study.”
“You what?”
All around, we were soon out of my enlarged flat, all the bits melting and colliding, forming somewhat of a familiar road. At first, it was the level overlooking Broad Street, then that… I don’t know, everything quickly stabilised and I was outside a pub.
The sign above was blurry, but the odd but recognisable layout of the buildings made me realise this was the Alford Arms. Came here every Friday after work. Some people went in, like in the flat, absolutely formless. Sometimes I saw a familiar face, though. Nobody notable.
Gary stared around. “This is the homeworld of your species?”
“You’re in my mind, mate, I’m pretty sure you already know the answer.”
“The people here… certainly not evolved.” The surroundings changed again, shifting between hospital rooms, to… well, my old room. The posters of old TV shows, my old Kestrel games console, some other things that was clearly the dream being the dream. Think there was a hand dryer or something?
“What the hell are you doing, Gary?”
“Understanding the history of your kind.” The strange dream stuff phased into normality. “I lack much to work with but your memories.” He picked up my old mobile. And the second he opened something… sensitive, I snatched it off him.
“I’d rather you not do that,” I said to him. It felt weird holding the phone, my hands were too big for it.
“Was that female—”
“I was a teenager. Big deal! Look somewhere else.”
What I think was a sigh came from Gary, and my old room shifted through the months and years, with a congregation of rain, sun beams and snow constantly hitting the window. Posters were torn down, the games console changed a couple times. People have spoken about watching your life flash before your eyes, I guessed this is what they were talking about. Maybe this whole thing was a weird metaphor. That I was dying and Gary here was really some demented Grim Reaper, going through my life, seeing if I was worthy of entering the afterlife.
I was always in my room there. It was usually where I spent most of my time, either on the computer or the Kestrel. Weird seeing yourself grow up, though. First acne, first facial hair, you get the point.
Eventually, Gary stopped. I think he realised there was a lot more to this place than my bedroom. He opened the apparently newfound door, and left.
“Where are you going?” I went after him.
He stumbled downstairs, into the kitchen lounge. It wasn’t anything nostalgic to me as I followed on, my parents were still living here last time I checked and not much had really changed.
The TV was on, the lights were off. Dad had dosed off on the sofa, and so did my sister, Amy. Year 10 me was sitting there, playing Tetris on my phone. I stared at my Dad and sister as I moved closer to the sofa, never actually realising how much I missed them.
Young me didn’t seem to notice I was there, I tried touching him on the shoulder, but my hand went straight through. Gary sat down on the sofa, and began watching the news.
“—negotiations for a territorial agreement with the Arva Trade League had broken down as of yesterday. The Zohrik Empire’s ambassador to the United Nations, Gadalv’ir Sa’rim, stated it was ‘an honourless merchant facade’. A meeting for the members of the UN General Assembly has just now begun with many believing this could escalate. We now go to our EU correspondent, James Llewelyn.”
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“Thanks, Sam. I am outside the UN Headquarters in Brussels, as delegates from all over the international community gather. This is a harrowing turn of events, the likes of which we haven’t seen since the conflict with the Yntal Alliance nearly twenty years ago. Nations and colonies bordering the Zohrik Empire have already been put on high alert—”
“Fascinating,” Gary said. “No Solar Empire.”
“What?”
“Your ancestors dominated a great deal of the galaxy, you know that, I assume?”
He was in my mind, he should already know the answer to this. Actually, maybe this was his way of picking out the main bits of information. Which is honestly worse. Other than the fact I already have to deal with a Q&A, he was able to go through every gruesome secret I held the second he would’ve thought something interesting was around there. And I couldn’t do much about it.
I answered, “We’re all taught in history class.”
“No Solar Empire.” I think he chuckled. “A United Nations seems to be the pitiful successor.”
“I’m guessing you have a bit of history with us?"
“An ancient grievance. Both our realms are but ink on paper. Vengeance on your race has been rendered null for me now.”
Young me had his eyes off his mobile, and began to stare at the screen. Dad woke up, taking in a loud breath. He looked left and right, trying to make sense of everything. “What’s happening?”
On the TV now, the reporter, James, had started speaking to an Arvan, I think he was a delegate. “Mr Afhan, what sort of response should we be expecting from the Zohriks?”
In a thick accent, Afhan replied, “They are a warlike species, double that of the Yntals. It is our highest hope that this will not escalate, but for now preparations for the worst must commence.”
My dad cursed something in Hindi, then the memory paused, only me and Gary were moving. “Your civilisation engaged in war, I assume?” He asked me.
“Ended a while ago,” I said to him.
“The outcome?”
“Absolute victory. Bombarded their homeworld within a decade.”
“Your people have never changed. Perhaps less barbaric, but when it comes to war, to you, it becomes a game, an art.”
“Yeah, yeah, sure. Can you check if you can leave please?” I asked him.
“At a later point.”
Balls. I had a feeling we were going to be here a while. People usually dwell on the past quite a lot, try being forced to dwell in it. I wasn’t going to sit and watch, maybe I could’ve been more friendly with the Nazgul, get used to the whole bloody idea that ‘we are one being’ now until I found a way to evict him.
“So… what now?” I questioned.
“Further study of this vessel’s history.”
“Please stop calling my body a vessel, I was here first. Wait, more study?”
Gary replied by phasing everything into a quick peak at different points in my life. Early years - infancy, teens - he didn’t really care that much for. Nothing of interest there.
Eventually, he stopped to sometime when I was probably about sixteen. It was raining. Somehow, I, the current me, was getting soaked. I didn’t hate it. Being stuck in either space or the middle of some desert honestly made me miss this weather.
Looking around, it seemed we were around the corner from my old home. The metallic grey, semi-detached houses lined the sides of the empty roads, with a couple shops and that here and there. Anybody that would have been around during this time looked the same as those formless things back in that distorted version of my flat.
Just near the roundabout, young me was already safe, hood up, sitting inside a bus stop.
“Why are we here?” I said loudly to Gary.
He didn’t say anything, just pointed to the black girl running up to… oh, right. This memory.
Both of us crossed the road, getting a closer listen. The girl managed to get under shelter. “Jesus Christ!” She cried, looking like she just crawled out of the ocean.
“Lovely weather, isn’t it?” Young me said sarcastically. “Didn’t bring a coat?”
“How was I supposed to know it was meant to be raining?!”
“What country do you think we’re living in? Mexico? Besides, the weather app is perfectly free.”
She sighed. “When is the bus coming?”
“Five minutes, depending on the traffic. Going to George Stanley, I’m guessing?”
“Yeah.”
“Excited?”
“I’m drenched all over, the hell am I supposed to do, lie on a radiator?!” She collapsed on the metallic, orange bench.
“You do look a bit like you’ve been dragged off the set of The Ring.”
“Ha ha, very funny,” she said sarcastically, before asking, “Sorry, the what?”
“The Ring, old horror film?”
“I don’t watch h— actually, I don’t watch anything.”
“Oh come on, that can’t be true.”
“No, seriously. I don’t really watch anything.”
“What do you do in your spare time then?”
“Honestly, just browse my phone.”
“Christ, all right,” young me said, “Nolan, by the way.”
“Mila.”
“How you feeling about college?”
She sighed. “It’s going to be shit.”
“It won’t be that bad.”
“The area it is in is a bit dodgy, isn’t it?”
“It’s Birmingham, if anything, dodgy is the closest thing we have to posh.”
She let out a chuckle. “Oh you don’t know posh, my friend.”
“Boarding school, I’m guessing?” Young me said.
“How did you know?”
“My mom teaches at one.”
They kept on talking for a bit. Gary said to me, “That is your companion from the ship, is it not?”
“Yeah, that’s Mila,” I said, folding my arms.
“You have been companions for quite some time, I see.”
“Friends. Not companions.”
“I query, what made her not compatible to your liking?”
I tried thinking of a response. The simple answer would just have been that neither of us were into each other. But Gary here probably wouldn’t buy it, at least not for now. So, I just sighed, and gave him a look that… hopefully got him a satisfying answer.
Another teenager was coming down the road, a bit overweight, posture upright.
“Another companion?” Gary asked.
“Another friend.”
“I am being grammatically accurate here. Unless your mind possesses a faulty grasp of the English language.”
“Well, there’s being grammatically accurate and then there’s making things sound weird, Gary,” I told him.
“Made a new friend, have we?” The guy said to the young me and Mila.
“Greg, Mila. Mila, Greg,” young me said.
His name. Greg, Greg, Greg. Why was I focussing on him so much? He was at the New Years party wasn’t he?
Eventually, Gary had grown a bit bored of all the small talk, and shifted memories again. This time around, I was in a history class.
The formless students were staring at the screen. There weren’t any faces on them, but I could tell they were clearly out of it. The teacher, Stephen, was on about the early space age.
“Now, with the Arvans, the first time we met them it was very difficult to try any sort of communication with them,” Stephen explained. “The crew of the Gagarin knew very much that any wrong move might’ve caused a war. Obviously, that never happened, otherwise Joha over there would probably be in a concentration camp.”
Oh God, Joha. Nearly forgot about him. Absolute workaholic, he was. I think the last time I saw him was at some event in Hong Kong, I was doing a quick article for whatever was going on there. There were a couple chuckles to the joke, the rest of the class were silent. Young me, and this girl, were one of the few that did, sitting at the back.
“You don’t have to know all of this for the course,” the teacher continued. “Really, the examiner couldn’t care less about speculation. You could mention it somewhere, get a mark or two in the exam. Okay, time for the fun stuff!”
Everything muffled out. Gary pointed to young me at the back. “A companion of—”
I interrupted him. “Say companion one more time, I’m punching you in the face.”
“A friend,” he rephrased.
“Yeah, that’s Jen.”
“Just a friend.”
“Just a f— actually, no. We did ‘date’ for about… a week.”
And then he switched memories again. Standing in my brain and I still had to think about what I said. At this point, I think Gary just wanted to fuck with me.
We were in an alleyway this time. Again, raining. Genghis Cloud and I stepped out. There were police vehicles around, I eyed Jen being shoved into the back of a police van with many other dodgy looking people, mainly Humans, shouting curse words and slurs all the like. Beaten non-Humans were put into ambulances, with some being interviewed by the police. It was just noise where we were standing. All the audible stuff was with young me, sitting bruised on a bench.
A young Greg sat down next to me at the bench. “All right?”
Young me took a hand off his face, revealing a black eye.
“Oof,” Greg said. “I told you she was trouble.”
“How was I supposed to know that?” Young me asked. “It wasn’t like she had a swastika tattooed on her face.”
“Her Drive posts were a dead giveaway.”
“I’m not on Drive, am I?”
“Download it, Nolan. Easy to find out who’s crazy.”
Young me sighed, dropping his head backwards. “Everyone’s gonna take the piss out of me on Monday.”
“Don’t say that.”
“I dated a racist gang member. That right there is a goldmine for anyone to take the piss out of me.”
“You’re overthinking this. You withdrew when you realised things were going south, and got half-lynched for it. Still, you got out.” Jen gave a vengeful look to young me, who still had his head back. In response, Greg stuck two fingers up to her. “I don’t think you will be seeing her again anytime soon. No wait, they’ll want you in court probably.”
“You’re the police wannabe,” young me said, “What do you think she’ll get?”
“She’s eighteen now isn’t she?”
“A couple days ago, yeah.”
“Several years, maybe. You’ll find out if you go to court. If then, it’ll probably pop up on the news.” Greg peered over behind the police tape. “Speaking of the news, we’re going to have to leave. Those journalists over there will be crowding you like wasps around a bin.”
Gary didn’t say anything until the memory finished. It was just silence for an awkward half minute, before switching memories again.
We were cramped in the back of a car this time round. My car. This felt more recent, maybe sometime before the new century came about.
Young me was in the driver’s seat, a bit of a beard was growing on him. He was singing terribly along to the radio, I think The Kinks or something was on, I don’t know, it was like with the memory earlier, it was just noise. Somewhat catchy noise.
Everything shifted again. “Why’re you changing?” I asked.
“This moment lacks significance,” Gary said.
We were on a crowded road now. People drinking, laughing, pop music from the past three hundred years had been on here and there. This was London.
Gary looked to his right, eyeing the colourful, crystalline skyscrapers that dominated the view across the Thames. Holographic advertisements for films, tv shows, clothes, drinks, whatever popular you could think of painted the entire city.
I leaned on the rail, taking in the sight. The me a few years ago would have brushed something like this off. But after being surrounded by so much shit, this was a sight for sore eyes.
Gary picked up an unopened can of Prosecco off the ground. Some sort of instinct made him understand how to open it. He offered me some.
“How did you do that?” I said.
“How do you mean?”
“This is a memory, I thought you just… I dunno, phased through everything.”
“I cannot answer that, unfortunately. Do you wish to have this refreshment?”
I glared at the can, taking it from his hand. “Don’t you want some?”
“I trialed my tastes at the imitation of your abode earlier,” he said. “It is not to my liking.”
The usual feelings from whenever I had alcohol didn’t come round as I took a large sip. Maybe it was ‘cos I was in a memory. I tossed it in the Thames, it just wasn’t the same.
I noticed Gary pop open a glass bottle of Pepsi, downing half the thing. I felt like we were going to be here even longer. At least it wasn’t a dodgy memory this time.