Wednesday, March 14th, 2029
JOHN
I'm in a world of black. I'm lying on the ground. Or...at least it is what I believe to be the ground. I try to stand but find that it is impossible. A pair of glowing eyes appears in the distance, farther, farther, closer, and then finally right in front of me. Once I get a closer look I see that it’s a humanoid shape encased in shadows.
"W-Who are you?" I ask
"I've been...waiting to meet you,"
I recognize it as the voice in my head. "How do you know my name?" I ask.
"I know all about you. Poor shame what happened to your...parents."
"Why you-!"
"You really shouldn't address your future god in such a tone."
"God?"
"You're more clueless than I had originally thought. I have been called many a name in my day, but you may call me Reinhardt."
My eyes go wide. "You're the one that was in that note," I answer, looking downward. "What the hell did you do?!"
"That isn't important, Jonathan."
"Don't call me Jonathan," I say, gritting my teeth.
"Why not? It is your name."
"I don't want you saying it. It's just John to you,"
"My, my."
"Don't patronize me."
"I'd like to think that you'd want some answers." I stop talking. "Yes, that is much better."
"Where...are we?" I say, waving my arms around. We’re still surrounded in complete darkness. Reinhardt waves his arm around and then holds it out as if he were presenting the darkness to a potential customer.
"This is the Dreamscape. It is the foundation of my life's work," Reinhardt begins.
"What is that...I mean, what does that mean?"
"It’s name comes from it’s appearance in dreams, not of its function. It is a probability matrix I control within my own mind. It is the physical manifestation of the coming future. It comes with the ability to project these futures onto you."
What the hell does that-?
"I can construct this world’s future like it were a grand theater. You’re one of the select few with the pre-show tickets.”
“There's another like me,” I say.
"Sarah is quite the special child," Reinhardt begins smiling.
I look into his dark eyes for the first time and in the darkness I see not light reflected, but words.
"Memento Mori," he says, turning his head down to me. "These are the words you see in my eyes, are they not?"
I nod slowly.
"It's Latin. Remember death."
Remember death? What the hell could that mean?
"That is the literal translation. You could take it to mean, Remember your mortality. Remember those who have died. Remember that you too will die."
I look downward and the scene below me begins to change. It is as if I am standing on a glass pane above a giant city, but not just any city. It is the city from my dreams. "This is Denver, Colorado, where it all began."
"Where...what began?"
“The tests, don’t you...” He looks momentarily confused. "Oh, my sincerest apologies. I had accidentally mistaken you for...gods you were so much alike."
"What the hell are you talking about?"
“Just an old...acquaintance or two..." Reinhardt trails off.
I look below me the city begins to change. I see smoke begin to rise and through the smoke I see outlines of purple and red lights. They seem to be like beacons of a sort. They pop up almost exponentially. One at first, then two, then ten until the whole city is filled with purple and red lights.
"What...are those?"
“This is the outline of life that once was. Memento Mori. This scene is that phrase in action. This is the eighteenth."
"So, those lights..."
"Are all the people that will die."
I look down at all of the glowing lights. "It can't just end like that, how can it just end that way?" I say. "You are human. How can you do this as one?”
"I was human."
“There are good humans out there who don’t deserve this,” my voice grows in volume.
"Ubi sunt qui ante nos fuerunt?”
“Excuse me?”
“You should take up Latin, John. It teaches you some lessons you might not learn otherwise.”
“What did that mean, then?”
“Where are those who lived before us? Where are the people that used to live? Where are the supposed good humans you speak of?”
“Well...”
He looks towards me and casts out his arm, immediately, the world around us returns to darkness and the shadows around him seem to tighten and become more mysterious. “They’re dead. The people before us are all dead. We are a race that is destined to die and every second between life and death we only cause damage. I’ve transcended the human imperfections and will continue to rule this world and bring it back to its former glory.”
“Y-You’re insane, you do know that, right?” I ask. “I’m going to stop you,” I say.
“Many have said that before you, John. Who knows, you might even meet some of them, but what makes you so sure you’ll be the one whose sword drives home?”
I feel my voice leaving me. I can’t speak anymore. He begins to smile once more and I feel my body beginning to go numb. I drop to the ground, but I can still see the chaos that is happening below. I crane my head up using the last of my strength. Reinhardt walks over to me and kneels down. I see his smile one last time as he closes my eye lids.
“Wake up, John...Wake up, John.”
“John, wake up!”
My eyes open like a flash. I see solid gray above me. I realize I’m lying against something hard. I turn my head sideways and notice metal bars running horizontal. Then I notice it is the angle which my head is turned. Through the metal bars I see Sarah. She is gripping the bars with an iron grip and shouting at me. I sit up and I get a better view of my surroundings. I’m sitting in a jail cell for one thing.
“There you go!” Sarah says.
“Sarah?!” I ask. Turning myself upright and I hop off of the bed. I wince and fall down the instant I put pressure on my left leg.
“Don’t strain yourself!” She says.
I look down towards my leg and it’s bent at an awkward angle.
“I’m...I’m sorry, I just forgot.” I say.
“I was so worried about you,” she says.
“Me? I was worried about that detective leaving you there for dead! What is up with that?!” I ask.
“I don’t know,” she answers.
“Where’s Iris?” I ask.
“She went home a few hours ago. I told her I was going to stay until you woke.”
“What time is it?” I ask.
“I think it’s a little after three, still the fourteenth.”
“So…this is all real?” I ask, rubbing my head.
Sarah’s face grows sad and she nods slowly. “The story seems to be that you killed your parents and then went to kill Mr. Underwood.”
“So…it doesn’t look good,” I reply. She shakes her head. “So, you really waited all this time for me to wake up?” I ask.
“Well...I wanted to make sure you were okay,” she says, blushing. Immediately after she perks right up, “Right! I’ve also got some good news! I called around for a lawyer for you and I found someone who said he’d help.”
“Help? Help with what?”
“I think I should just let him explain.”
Sarah backs away from the bars. A new face enters—it is a very clean cut gentleman-like man. It takes me a minute to realize that he is the man from my dream—the one with the black hair. He looks to be wearing a very expensive suit. I don’t see light in his eyes, but I feel a panging sense of guilt...in front of that I do sense duty and compassion for those around him.
“Hello, John. My name is Andrew Cress, but I'm not one really for formalities. You can call me Andy.”
I realize where I’d heard of this man before—even before my dream. “Wait, I heard about you, you were in that game, weren’t you?” I ask.
Andy lowers his head. “The experience that you are going to refer to happened seven years ago. I would like for it to remain there,” he says stone cold.
“Oh, of course,” I say, nervously.
“What I’m here for is to help you and to do that you need to help me.”
“How are you going to help?” I ask.
Andy looks back up at me, smiling, “I’m here to defend you in court.”
His mood sure changes on a dime.
The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.
“Andy here is a really famous lawyer back in Colorado,” Sarah begins.
“I used to work back there, but I moved up here for personal reasons.” Andy finishes, laughing. “Can’t say it’s the weather. Gotta say I like it much better down there.”
Colorado? That is the second time today that something relevant has come out of Colorado and the second time it has dealt with Reinhardt. Maybe he was right and this whole thing is related to Andy’s case seven years ago. “What’s all this about court, anyway? Don’t trials take like, months to start and finish?”
“That was before the shutdown...Times have changed, John. Your trial is scheduled for Friday,” Andy explains “Avery made the change. He took the “speedy trial” bit from the constitution a little bit literal.”
“You don’t say?” Sarah asks.
I sit back. “So, you said you need my help?” I ask.
Andy nods his head.“Yes, you can tell me everything you know as you believe it to be. Is there anything you remember at all about the time of the murders?” He stands back and takes a breath. Next, he takes out a small notepad from his coat pocket and a pen.
I shake my head. “Not much, unfortunately. I remember waking up to an empty gymnasium. I looked around me and all there was on the ground was blood,” I say.
Andy begins writing in his notebook.
“Mr. Underwood’s body was stuffed near the bleachers, but the weird thing was that there wasn’t any blood around the body—just where I was. Well, that wasn’t the only weird thing. He had scratch marks all over his body—especially this big claw mark in the middle of his abdomen. I guess it’s because of that one that all his internal organs were strewn about...but I don’t understand why whoever did it went through all that trouble if there was already a bullet hole in his forehead.”
“Forehead?” Andy asks.
“Yeah, I don’t know which happened first, but it doesn’t make sense to do one thing if you’ve already done the other, you know? It...” I close my eyes, “It was the same with my parents. Scratch marks, internal organs, bullet wound.”
“Would you mind putting that in writing?” he asks, finishing up.
“Don’t you have it in writing right there?” Sarah asks.
“These are for me to keep a handle on the case. The court won’t accept notes in my own handwriting. I need something from you, like an affidavit,” he explains.
“Sure, could you get me a pen and paper?” I say.
“It’s going to be a tad more difficult than that,” he says, looking away.
“How so? Don’t I just write it down and sign it?”
“Affidavits need to be sworn in by someone of legal ability. Now, we’re in short supply of legal advisers able to sign off on affidavits, what with the whole legal revamp that Avery did.”
“So, what do we do now?” I ask.
“Couldn’t you just swear it in?” Sarah asks.
“I could...if I wanted to get our case thrown out before it even begins. It’s in extremely bad conscience to have the presiding lawyer sign in on their defendant’s affidavit. If it doesn’t disbar that lawyer, then it ruins any credible reliability in this country that they have,” Andy says.
“So, we have no legal ability to put in my word in?” I ask.
“Not exactly, One of the changes to the system is that we can get the judge to swear in your affidavit through testimony and as long as your story doesn’t conflict with available evidence we should be fine,” Andy explains.
“Okay, so just tell the same thing as I write down?”
“What I need you to do is to tell the truth. If you do that, then there isn’t any need to remember anything.”
“Is that...Judge Judy?” I ask.
This seems to catch him off guard, “I...didn't expect anyone your age to get that,” he says.
I smirk as Andy hands me the pen and the notepad and I begin writing. I write down everything from the smell of the blood to the positions of the stab wounds and bullet hole on Mr. Underwood.
“Is there anything else you remember, like anything before the crime?”
“No, I was unconscious for about two weeks prior to the incident.”
“What?”
It’s Sarah who answers. “He was registered as a missing person from February 26th to March 14th”
“Give or take,” I answer.
“I find that hard to believe…but you aren’t lying to me, very strange.”
“You can tell if he is lying to you?” Sarah asks.
Andy nods his head, “Now, you may not believe this and I don’t expect you to, but I can usually pick up on people’s nervous habits. The visual tells that tells the whole truth when people lie.”
“That sounds incredibly useful,” I say. He seems more connected in this whole thing than I originally had thought. I mean, he can see things like this? Is he just like Sarah and me? How far back does this thing go?
“So, tell me what you remember last, John,” Andy begins.
I shake my head for a few seconds, clearing my head.
“The last day I was conscious was February 26th. I went to my room after meeting up with Sarah earlier in the day. I had a dream where a man, Micah, handed me a note saying he was going to borrow me-”
“H-Hold up, John. I don’t have to tell you that dreams don’t count as admissible testimony in a court of law, do I?” Andy interrupts.
I think to myself for a moment. “The…note!”
I reach for my pocket and then I realize I’m wearing some prison-wear.
“Where are my clothes?” I ask.
“What?” Andy asks.
“My clothes I was wearing when I was arrested. Surely they must be somewhere?”
“Let me go check,” Andy goes to leave my field of view. Sarah and I wait in silence just staring at each other. No words are needed to share our tension and worry. Andy comes back a few minutes later with a plastic bag and my clothes inside them.
“Now, what did you need these for?” he asks.
“In the…right pocket there should be a note,” I say, running up to the bars and gripping them hard. Andy picks up my blood stained jeans and ruffles through the right pocket. He pulls out a slip of paper, it has dried blood splattered on it.
“That’s it!”
Andy unfolds it and begins reading it.
I want to learn about you, Jonathan. When the time comes I’ll have to borrow you. It is only because Reinhardt has an interest in you, so nothing personal, okay? March 18th is approaching.
~Micah
“How…did you get this?” Andy asks.
“You said you had the ability to see people’s habits, did you not?” I ask.
“Yes, what does that have to do with-”
“I want you to do it, right here.”
“What?”
“I’m going to tell you how I have that slip of paper and it is going to be the truth. You will know it is the truth, am I correct?” Andy is silent for a minute and then nods slowly. “You aren’t the only one…with a strange ability. With something that you can do that nobody else would believe. I do too and in fact, Sarah has it too.”
“You aren’t considering-” Sarah says.
“I need to.” I turn to him, “I got that note in a dream from the man named Micah. Surely you’ve heard of him?” I ask.
Andy nods his head and takes a deep breath. “More than you know.”
“Whenever I dream since the 25th I’ve been able to see images or visions or what have you of the future.”
“Of...the future?”
“It’s not just that. Things that happened in these dreams started spilling into the real world—where’s my watch?” I look down to my wrist and then back to the bag Andy is holding. “Get out the watch from inside there,” I say.
Andy reaches inside the bag and takes out my Pulsar Mark II. “This looks familiar,” Andy says.
“Press the button on the side twice,” I say.
Andy does so and I see the holographic projection come up and it is the same message as before.
CONSPIRACYaGETOUTpoc/=/03182029al/ENDWypseORLD
“This looks like a bunch of...wait a second,” he says. “It’s talking about the end of the world?”
“It lists a date, March 18th, 2029. I’d seen that date the day before this message popped up.”
“I’d seen that message too, that’s the one Micah hacked into the local news, right?” Sarah asks, looking over Andy’s shoulder.
“The next night I dreamt that I received a note that mysteriously arrived in my pocket that next morning—different than the one you were holding. This one was from Sarah.”
“It had my phone number on it,” she says.
“The next night...the night when I was kidnapped, I received that note in your hands from Micah and then the scenery started shifting around me in the dream. Then I was being grabbed by what seemed like several people. I was half awake and half in the dream and it all blended together and then the next time I was aware of my surroundings I was sitting in the gymnasium, covered in blood.”
“That is...a lot to take in,” Andy says.
“It’s true,” I say.
“I believe him,” Sarah looks to Andy for confirmation.
“I didn’t sense any nervous habits from you,” Andy says. “None that convince me you’re trying to lie to me, at least. You’re a very nervous guy John, but in the right ways, I guess.”
“Thanks...I think,” I say. “There’s one more thing though that I have to add. Just now before I woke up I had another dream. I met with this figure that was cloaked entirely in darkness.”
“You too?” Sarah asks. Andy turns to look at Sarah and then back to me. “I sort of nodded off, before I woke you up. I’d only done so when I’d woken up from it. He said his name was...something with an “R”, right?”
“Reinhardt, but I don’t think that’s his real name,” I say.
“What...what is it?” Andy asks.
“The figure, he showed me this place...the place where I go in my dreams, Sarah too, it seems. He called it the Dreamscape, it was a manifestation of these dreams. He called it like...a theater. He must be like projecting these dreams to us.”
“So, this shadowy figure is showing you these images, this supposed doomsday on the eighteenth of March?” Andy asks.
“I saw them—sometimes they show up as bursts of light in people’s eyes. But the first time I saw it was in the first dream. Denver was being destroyed with no survivors.”
“Hold it.” Andy interrupts. “Just now…I sensed your habit. When you were talking about there not being any survivors, your hand began to tense up.”
I look towards my hand and I can see the smallest of veins popping out. “So, you did see that.”
“What does that mean?” Sarah asks.
“It means…” I begin, clenching the bars. “...there were two survivors in my dream. It was you and Iris,” I say.
“You aren’t telling the whole story,” Andy says.
I look down at the ground and sigh. “I was there, too.”
“John...” Sarah says.
“P-Please, I don’t want to say any more,” I stutter. I fall to my knees, grappling the bars as my only support.
“Okay. I can tell you mean the truth behind your words,” Andy says.
“That power of yours is certainly potent,” Sarah says.
“And going by what you’ve said, so is yours,” Andy turns to Sarah.
“You have friends with you, do you not?” I say, remembering my dream. There were more with him.
“What?” Andy asks.
“Dirty blond, scruffy hair, two different colored eyes, sound familiar? Then a woman with long black hair?” I ask, standing back up.
“How did you…did you see it in a dream somewhere?”
“I saw the both of you talking. You were talking about looking for someone and how they were connected with dreams. I also got an interesting bit of information. When I was in the dream with Reinhardt, he mentioned he had previously met with the two of you. Well, he didn’t so much say it, but I can assume.” I say.
“That...could only mean one thing.” Andy says quietly.
“Which would be what?” Sarah asks.
“John, I want you to tell me if you saw any detail in this man whatsoever. Hair length, color, eye color, anything,” Andy says, grabbing hold of the bars.
I shake my head. “I didn’t see anything, all of his body was covered in darkness, his voice was really deep, if that’s anything to go off of,” I say.
“Then I fear I have to go off of assumptions as well. I hope I’m wrong, but I don’t think so. I’m almost certain that this Reinhardt fellow you two saw was the same man behind my experience,” Andy says, shaking his head.
“You mean…that game?” I ask.
“Game?” Sarah asks.
Andy lifts his head up, “Seven years ago I was trapped inside of a virtual reality video game. It was called Elysium and I was one of thousands that were a part of the virtual prison for the better part of a week.”
“A week?” Sarah asks.
“Don’t let that time fool you. Over four thousand people were killed in that game. Approximately ten thousand were sent inside of this game, that’s nearly half of the people dead. Those were ten thousand people and I that was forced to play this one man’s sick and twisted game…”
“This man...what about him?” I ask.
“I’m certain that the man behind Elysium is your Reinhardt, but back then I knew him as Jack Adata.”
“And what of your friend?” Sarah asks.
Andy is silent for a moment and then looks up. “His name is Gavin Daniels. His story is similar to mine, but he’s honestly been through so much more than I have. I’ll let him explain when you meet him.”
“Am I the one you were looking for?” I ask.
“It's looking like it, John.”
“Well, so what do we do from here?” I ask.
“You’re going to have to stay here for the night and tomorrow we have your trial. It’s going to start right at ten in the morning, so I’d say arrive a little early. Once we get you acquitted we’ll meet up with everyone else and we’ll talk about what to do from there,” Andy explains.
“Everyone else?”
“It isn’t just Gavin and I here, but I’ll explain more on that when you actually meet them,” he says. He nods to the both of us. He doesn’t say anything more as he walks out of the room.
Sarah approaches the bars once more.
“We’ve got one hell of a fight tomorrow,” I say.
“You can say that again.”
“We’ve got one hell of a-”
Sarah punches my arm playfully. The tension is still prevalent in the room, but I’d be lying if I said it didn’t help that she was here. That’s why I know that everything must be inverse for her—this whole thing must be a terrible bout of stress upon stress.
“I should go. It is getting late and my mother is probably worried sick.” She starts, and inside I smile. I know she wouldn’t leave if I asked. “I’d stay all night if it were possible,” Sarah says.
I know. “It’s okay. I understand. Go on and get some rest, it is going to be a long day tomorrow,” I say. She returns a smile back and then leaves the room. I am left alone in my cell.