"...And now, coming to you live, we have a breaking news report with our favorite Field Anchor Bethany Lytle"
"Bethany?"
A panic-stricken young woman's face flashed across the wall-mounted flat screen. She squinted her dark brown eyes, and brushed aside her unruly bangs. "Y...yes Dave. Well, as you know we're here at Lackland Air Force Base this afternoon to follow up on several unverified reports of the entire base being placed on lockdown." She briefly chewed on her bottom lip before continuing "Well. I'm afraid it's true Dave. They aren't letting anyone in or out. And as of now, no explanations are being given to the public as to what exactly is going on in there. I think its pretty obvious that..."
"Sir? SIR!"
Alan Robbins' attention was torn from the news report and brought back to the frumpy Park Ranger running the Canyon Lake State Park Bait and Tackle shop. "So sorry to interrupt your quality T.V time, SIR. But as I keep trying to tell you WE. ARE. OUT. OF. BAITFISH!" She practically shouted, making sure to emphasize each word.
"I obviously have other customers standing in line. So if there's nothing else I can get for you..." By this point she'd begun animatedly swinging her arms around in sync with her words. The rapid movements made her loose jowls flop around, awkwardly reminding Alan of an angry turkey.
Before she was able to build up any more steam, or possibly even begin to gobble at him, Alan cut in over her. "I apologize ma'am, the thing is, I'm a Master Sergeant stationed at Lackland AFB. Just left there this morning matter of fact. Now I'm hearing about a lockdown, and its got me wondering what the Hell is actually going on."
As Alan turned around to leave, the news report was already finishing up. He sighed in resignation. With no reason to say another word, he exited the bait shop.
He was unfortunately left without any answers, or a single bait fish.
Opening up his flip phone, Alan pressed the speed dial button for his eldest daughter Jessica. As always, it went directly to voicemail. Wondering why he even bothered, he pressed the speed dial button for his daughter Jolie, the youngest of the pair. After eight or nine rings, Alan once again found himself sent to voicemail. Not one for leaving messages, he hung up and pocketed the phone.
The return trip to his beat-up old Honda took less than a minute. If it weren't for rush hour traffic, he would've dropped his plans and headed straight home to check on the girls. If for no other reason than to ease his mind. Alan understood that they were perfectly capable of taking care of themselves, but still, he couldn't help but worry.
Although he knew if he headed home now, chances were, he'd end up spending an hour and a half in traffic on the way. He decided fishing for thirty minutes and then making the forty-five minute drive home with minimal traffic sounded a lot more enjoyable.
Alan turned the key to his twenty-year-old car, and the motor started up with a smooth rumble. He glanced at the rear view mirror and frowned at what he saw. The lined and worn face looking back at him did not look like that of a thirty-nine year old. He looked old and tired. The receding and increasingly grey hairline, and heavy wrinkling around his eyes belonged on someone ten years his senior. Sad thing was, old as he looked, he felt twenty years older.
Life in the Air Force had been exciting at times, but in no way could it be considered easy. Finally, after twenty long years, he was less than a week away from retirement. It was time to explore a whole new chapter of life. No planning, no hassle, just wake up and see where the day went. It was time to enjoy himself. The long days of waking up early, and going through the grueling day to day routine that came with being enlisted had finally come to a close.
"Pay attention to the road Alan," he mimicked the nasally voice of his irritated wife as he carefully backed out of his parking spot, and made the short drive to the newly built fishing pier.
As he stepped out of his car, a fierce gust of wind filled with the scent of rotting fish caught the brim of his baseball cap, and tore it from his head.
Alan curled his lip at the rancid stench, and chased after his hat. He tried valiantly to reach it before it blew into the water, but in the end, he was unable to stop his prized Dallas Cowboys cap from sinking into the deep, dark lake. "Curse this Gods blasted wind, and every Green Bay fan worldwide!" Alan continued to curse the world and everything in it as he collected his fishing gear out of the trunk of his Honda.
Thankfully, the pier was mostly empty. Aside from a small family at the opposite end of the T-shaped structure, he had the entire thing to himself.
Alan opened the bail on his spin-cast reel, using his thumb to hold the line in place. He whipped the rod back over his shoulder, and made his first cast into the dark, choppy water. After allowing the swim-bait to sink for a solid five seconds, he started reeling it in. Swimming the lure back towards the pier at a slow speed, while occasionally jerking the tip of the pole from side to side. It took less than a minute before he felt a slight tug on the opposite end of the line. Alan immediately set the hook while channeling his best impression of Jeremy Wade.
"FISH ON!" He bellowed at the top of his lungs.
Judging by the pathetic fight, Alan immediately knew he hadn't hooked anything big. Regardless of that fact, his heart began to race. Highly exaggerated thoughts of a personal-best-smashing ten pound largemouth bass began spinning around in his imagination like a rat on a wheel. However he was quickly brought back down from the clouds after sighting his catch.
Upon lifting it out of the water, he was greeted with a six-inch Sunfish. The puny thing likely weighed in at less than a quarter of a pound.
Stifling a groan of disappointment, Alan unhooked the small, yet colorful fish and snapped a quick picture of it with the crappy camera on his flip-phone. It was far too small to keep, so he cocked back his arm, and hurled the Sunfish as far out over the choppy lake as he possibly could.
"SEND YER MOMMA BACK TO ME SON!" Alan hollered at the frisbeeing fish in an overly exaggerated southern accent. Like a good, flat stone, the unlucky animal struck the surface of the lake, and skipped six times before finally swimming away.
Unbeknownst to him, the bizarre action had attracted more than a few confused glances from the family at the other end of the small pier. Not that he would've cared had he noticed their discomfort.
After he opened a cold beer and inhaled half of it, Alan realized he probably should have kept that sunfish to use as cut bait. Deciding to swap out his swim-bait for a hook and bobber set up, he glanced around for any viable bait options. A casual search revealed a partially sun-dried fish head sitting on the ground next to the trash can.
With luck on his side, Alan hooked the mummified head, and prepared to cast it out. He was interrupted when his pocket began to vibrate.
He set his fishing pole down with a sigh. Of course his phone would wait to ring until his hands smelled like fish and death.
If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.
After wiping his hands on his cargo pants, Alan answered the phone with the usual, generic "hello". His reward was an unintelligible rush of garbled words from his long-time best friend, and next door neighbor Steve. A super smart guy, but a bit manic, he was one of the lead scientists that developed the Lackland AFB quantum computer. As well as being the programmer for the AI running said quantum computer. "Wanna repeat that for me" Alan replied with a grimace.
Steve immediately, and a little too energetically, obliged.
"I've been given clearance to go live with the planned upgrades to GEMMA!" He practically screamed into Alan's ear, "Those stuck-up nut sacks actually came through this time! It's already practically done anyways, I just have to give the go ahead and Gemma will do all the work herself."
Gemma was what Steve and company decided to name their quantum computer's Advanced AI, or quantum AI? Alan honestly had no idea, but the thought of allowing a Quantum intelligence of some form or other to upgrade itself really hadn't sat well with him. And he had no problem with voicing his opinion.
"So how long after your 'Gemma' connects itself to that particle accelerator will the world end in a fiery cataclysm?" Alan probed, "I'm getting an image of humanity falling to an army of mechanized Arn-dogs. If you think about it, self-upgrading computers ALWAYS go wrong in the movies bud".
Without even bothering to respond to Alan's teasing, Steve just kept on rambling about his quantum creation.
Concluding he had heard all he could stand, Alan had one last thing he needed to ask Steve before hanging up on him.
"Am I right in assuming the lockdown at Lackland has something to do with this? I just saw a report on the news and I admit it had me worried."
It turned out that indeed, the lockdown was because of the upgrade. All too happy to explain, Steve began ranting once more.
"Those sweaty testicles in development are determined to make this as difficult as possible for me," He stated matter-of-factly. "As you know, they aren't at all happy that I'm in charge of Gemma. I guess you could call it a compromise? I get my upgrades, they get to cause a stink, and make people question my sanity."
Well past his fill of info on Gemma, and Steve's colorful 'ball' talk, Alan swiftly hung up the phone, and downed the last half of his beer. Attempting to enjoy the last few minutes of his fishing time was turning out to be more trouble than it was worth. Another decent cast was made, and the fish head bait sank into the frothy lake water. It was kept from hitting the bottom by the bright orange bobber suspended 3 feet above the bait.
The bobber thrashed back and forth among the small waves like a tiny ship tossed about by a storm. The dance came to an early end when it plunged below the surface, and out of sight. That was when the real show began.
"FISH ON!" Alan yelled out yet again. Giving the rod a quick yank back over his head, Alan smiled when a tug was felt on the other end. It would seem he still had luck to spare.
Peering into the choppy water, Alan attempted to locate and identify his most recent catch. He almost dropped his fishing pole when the strange-looking fish attached to his hook hopped out of the water and looked right at him before flopping back into the water. Before he could regain his composure, it swam down deep, and made a bee-line directly back towards the pier he was standing on.
In a sudden race to catch up with the swiftly fleeing fish, Alan began reeling in line as fast as he Possibly could. He had to admit it was a lost cause when his quarry fled into the shadow cast over the water by the pier, and immediately disappeared. Along with his hook, bobber and around ten feet of monofilament fishing line.
Well isn't that the damnedest thing? Alan pondered.
With his face a mask of confusion, he finished reeled in his remaining line. Before he could tie on another hook, Alan found himself growing distracted by a random outburst of excited shouting coming from the family at the other end of the pier. Hearing the adults cheering for their children, Alan decided to take a moment to stop and watch.
Both of the kids had a fishing pole of their own. Judging by their pinched up faces, and excited squeals, they each appeared to be fighting decent-sized fish of their own. Both kids were obviously struggling to overcome their catch. With nothing better to do, Alan resolved himself to walk down and introduce himself.
After a brief hesitation Alan set down his now hookless fishing pole and started walking toward the cheering family.
After only taking three, or maybe four steps toward the family, a sudden almost crippling wave of vertigo, and a kaleidoscopic burst of dazzling color forced Alan to close his eyes. Unable to see, he grabbed onto the nearby railing to stabilize himself. When a muffled crack rang out from everywhere at once, reminiscent of a M80 popping under water, his vision returned in a flash of dazzling light.
Before he had a chance to get his bearings, a partially opaque, dull blue 32-inch screen randomly appeared. The damned thing was hovering directly in Alan's face. He threw a startled punch, yet met no resistance when his fist went directly through the screen as if weren't even there.
To hell with this, Alan thought, unable to understand what was happening.
Deciding it was time to head home, Alan turned and began to walk away from the blue screen, but he was quickly forced to accept that walking away wasn't going to work either. The blank blue screen was now just sort of hovering in his peripheral vision. "What the fuck is even going on right now, I'm being chased by the ghost of flat screen T. V..." Alan mumbled to himself.
A few more ineffectual jabs were thrown, which made no visible difference, forcing him to write it off as a lost cause. Instead, Alan looked around the pier, hoping to see someone else with a floating screen. Though he tried not to think about it, he was beginning to seriously regret eating those 'Special' mushrooms 15 years ago.
He feared that perhaps his sanity had finally fled him.
Out of the corner of his eye, Alan noticed that the man who had recently been cheering for his kids was now angrily swiping his hands back and forth around his head. It almost looked like he was being swarmed by invisible bees.
Deciding to take the risk and possibly seem like a crazy person, Alan raised his voice a little, and called out. "Hey bud... I'm Alan.. Alan Robbins, nice to meet ya. I realize that this might sound crazy, but you wouldn't happen to have a ghostly blue screen floating around your face right about now would you?"
The man's mouth began to move, but all of a sudden, the only sound Alan could discern was static. Soon after, he saw static on his new ghostly T.V. screen. Another loud pop echoed out, and the grey and black static on the screen quickly resolved itself into the image of something Alan could only identify as weird, and inhuman.
Alan studied the obviously alien creature. To him, its most striking features were most assuredly the four oddly thin arms, equipped with backwards-looking elbows. Also, far from what he'd consider ordinary were four massive, fully extended wings. Each one seemingly carved from solid obsidian. The creatures countless feathers seemed to have been painstakingly etched out in the finest detail. It had snow-white skin that was so shiny that it almost appeared wet, and the eyes and mouth were formed of what looked like dancing black flames. That was about all Alan had time to mentally process before a mechanical voice echoed throughout his entire being. Text appeared on his personal screen, arriving in perfect sync with the rumbling speech.
*WARNING* Planet has entered into forbidden space. Relocation to Terra sector in progress... Relocation successful! Planet redesignated as Terra-764. Establishing a permanent connection to Multiversal Core Servers... Success! Ensuring connection security... Secured! Commencing planetary scan... Scan complete. Multiple sentient races detected. Synchronizing SYSTEM TUTORIAL...Success! Initiating teleportation to System Tutorial in 3... 2... 1... ERROR! Planetary denizens of Terra-764 known as 'Humans' have been flagged by System Administration as being a potential [Apocalypse] level pestilence. Calculating Evolutionary Stage of denizen humans... Success! Racial Evolutionary Stage determined to be [G]. As [G] is the lowest known Evolutionary stage for sapient beings, System Administration has deemed outright annihilation to be too severe, and has instead levied a 10 year SYSTEM BAN against the denizen humans of Terra-764. NOTE: This SYSTEM BAN only applies to 'Humans'. All System Functions will be disabled, and Personal System Access screen will be minimized. A 72 day planetary embargo is now in effect to allow for global weather systems and flora/fauna to adjust to rapidly rising Mana levels, after which Colonization of Terra-764 will be opened to the multitudes of the Multiverse. Congratulations on taking your first step into the Multiverse> Any relief he found in the silence left behind in the wake of the Voices departure was very short lived. Waves of pain began radiating outward from the core of Alan's being. Consciousness fled before the unrelenting storm roaring throughout his cellular structure. His head bounced off of the floor with a concerning thump as he crumpled to the ground. When he awoke an unknown amount of time later, it was to the sounds of gunshots. And panicked screams.