The Lighthouse of Mankind: Prologue

This is what happened after my 21st Century: The Age of Innocence post.
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“Where have you been?” Beatrice Lawrence sternly asked, when her son Sean went home way past bedtime. “Do you even got any idea what time is it?”

Sean sighed. “Dad asked me to accompany him for a meeting with his colleague,” he said, “didn’t he tell you?”

Beatrice’s face went red in anger. “If you’re trying to make excuses, that’s a very poor one, you ungrateful excuse of a living, your dad’s been with me before dinner and that’s six hours ago.”

“How come? He’s with me, he’s been closing the garage,” denied Sean. The clanging sound of garage slammed shut sounded pretty obvious in the background.

“That’s impossible,” said Beatrice. “Nate, are you there? Nate, honey?”

“Sorry, B–I really couldn’t stand Peter Harvey on my own, so I brought Sean.” Nathan’s voice was heard from the darkness of the garage. “You knew him.”

“Wait… you’ve been away this whole time?”

“Yes, I picked Sean up as soon as I was out of office. Sorry I didn’t tell you, the dinner must’ve been cold right now.”

“But Nate, I–I think you’ve been with me this entire night…” Beatrice’s face turned pale. “We… we’ve been together, you know.” She glanced at Sean and as soon as Nathan emerged from the garage, she whispered on his ear, “We even made love…”

“Hey, hey, are you sure it was me? I’m really not even in the mood of that right now.”

“I’m sure that’s you, for heaven’s sake–unless you have an identical twin who had a record of your traits and history, that’s totally you, Nate. We even talked about Harvey. You even told me about repairing the leaky attic tomorrow.”

“Strange, I do want to repair the attic tomorrow…”

“Did I see a doppelganger or something?” Beatrice’s voice sounded tired. “That’s totally weird, you felt completely real.”

“Don’t sweat on it, sweetie,” Nathan embraced her wife, comforting her. “We’ll talk about it later, okay? Sean and I had dinner already, but I really need a shower right now.”

“Sean,” said Nathan, turning to the confused son, “just go to bed, alright? It’s a matter of me and your mom to discuss, I know that it’s strange but just forget about it, okay? Like it doesn’t happen at all.”

Sean totally agreed with his dad, he’d also been very tired to think about things right now. “Sure, Dad.”

He went upstairs to his bedroom, unintentionally overhearing his parents discussing about Peter Harvey and the leaky attic. Even if they’re talking about this late night’s madness, he didn’t care right now. He just felt so tired.

As he got upstairs, he saw his 9-year-old sister’s door open. It’s so unlikely that Janice would leave her door open when she’s asleep, and though the room’s dark, he could see Janice sitting on her bed, hugging her thighs. It looked like she’s been thinking of something too complicated for her age. Intrigued, Sean called her quietly.

“Janice?”

Janice looked back. There’s a confused but delighted expression on her face, delighted that he’s there to accompany her.

“Why don’t you sleep?” asked Sean. “For God’s sake, it’s two in the morning… way past bedtime for a 9-year-old.”

“I had a nightmare,” said Janice. Sean could notice her voice shaking. “I had this terrible dream of me playing in the sandbox at the playground near the school.”

“Was that terrible? I thought you had quite some fun playing in the sandbox all this time.”

“Don’t start again,” whimpered Janice. She’s almost crying. “At first I thought it was an antlion’s sand trap. But it’s getting bigger, the whole sandbox was sinking.”

“You’re too much watching TV,” said Sean. “Just sleep, okay? Listen, if you’re at my age you’ll find out that nightmares are pretty normal–it takes some getting used to.”

He turned and left, heading to his room. He was halfway through the door when Janice called her, her voice trembling with fear and her face’s almost as pale as a ghost. “Wait! Sean, please, don’t leave me alone… I’m scared.”

Sean sighed. “Deal with it, little sister, it’s just a dream.”

“I’m afraid it’ll come true!”

“Sandboxes don’t sink, okay? Now leave me alone, I’m too tired for all of this.”

“Let me sleep in your room, please… I’m scared!”

Janice leaped from her bed in a sudden jerk, as like there’s a ghost on her bed. She ran into Sean and held his hand with both of hers. Sean could feel the tiny hands ice-cold and that made him shiver.

“No way, I want to be left alone. Get off me.”

And as Janice kept holding onto him, he shook his hand off hers and pushed her back to her room again, before entering his, closing it, and locking it from the inside.

He could hear Janice crying from the outside. “You’re such a jerk! I hate having you as a brother!”

Whatever, he thought. Sometimes he could be very mean to his own sister, a way for him to blow off steam. He knew that it’s not right, but he enjoyed it–making his sister’s life miserable was somewhat a guilty pleasure for him. And whatever happened to her tonight, he didn’t care… he just wanted to sleep.
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When Sean woke up at the morning, he felt the threads of sunlight that shined through the curtains a little too intense, quite blinding for his unadjusted eyes. Wincing, he got up and checked out his cell’s digital clock. It’s seven. He stretched his body, yawning what’s left of his sleepiness, and headed out to brush his teeth. As he opened his door, how surprised he was to find Janice sleeping on the mat, curling in the coldness of the floor and the morning air, her face messy with dried tears. He couldn’t help to feel a little guilty, but for Sean, guilt is cowardice–and he’d been successfully got rid of it.

He just walked over her and went to the bathroom to brush his teeth.

When the whole family was downstairs having breakfast, Janice didn’t tell everyone about last night. She’s just staring down at her plate, trying to eat her meal, and she avoided Sean’s glances.

It’s Saturday, so Sean didn’t have to worry about going to school. In fact he already had his plans for today, perhaps hanging out with his friends. But the plan had to wait, he thought, as he saw Janice finished her meal and putting it to the sink, before heading to the garage, taking her little bicycle. Nate had unlocked the garage door earlier, so she just went out. Even when her mother asked, she just told them that she “wanted to play in the sandbox near the school.”

Sean couldn’t help not to be concerned, and as his parents told her to look after her, he did that at once.

Dammit, thought Sean, what a crazy weekend this is.

Janice’s school was quite far from their house, and even Sean hesitated to bike there, so he grabbed his motorbike and went after Janice, but as he hit the road, he’d lost her. Amazed on how fast the girl went, he headed straight to the school, riding his bike as fast as possible without drawing the cops’ attention.

Shit, thought Sean, she’s cycling and I’m on my bike, and still I lost her… what’s wrong with her!?

Within twenty minutes Sean arrived at Janice’s school, and the playground’s not too far from it. He could see Janice’s bike already, lying near the sandbox she’d been telling about–Sean expected to arrive earlier, but seemed like she’s there first.

Sean parked his bike right outside the playground and went to the sandbox–where he found Janice squatting, poking at the center of the sandbox with a twig.

“What the hell is wrong with you,” spat Sean out as soon as he got her, “going out this far? You made Mom and Dad worried!”

Janice didn’t look away from the tip of the twig. “Didn’t I make you worried?” she asked back, haunting Sean with guilt.

“Listen, I don’t know what’s on your mind, but be quick or I’ll leave you here.”

Janice looked up, staring at Sean. “I wanted to tell you that night, when you just wouldn’t let me in. I wanted to tell you what it’s like, but you just wouldn’t let me in.”

Sean sighed. “Are you going this far just to make me feel guilty about what I did last night? If you are, then you’ve been successful.”

“My dream,” Janice continued, ignoring Sean’s words, “someone told me that it’s going to be true. There’s been someone before you who came to my room last night, and he told me that it’s going to be true. He really scared me. I was afraid that he’ll be coming back and got me, so I asked you to let me in, but you just wouldn’t let me. I slept next to your door, hoping that if he came back, you could hear my yelling and trusted me. But he didn’t come back.”

Her words stung deep to Sean’s heart, and he couldn’t help but to feel, sincerely, guilty. He couldn’t look at Janice’s eyes now, it’s felt too painful. But something else came into his mind–there’d been someone else in the house last night?

“Wait, you said that there’s someone else in the house last night?”

He glanced at Janice quickly, and he could see the fear in her eyes. The twig that she’s holding was shaking, as her tiny body trembling. Ever so slightly, she nodded.

So there’s somebody else in the house last night, thought Sean. How if she’s wrong; how if the stranger did bad things to her, and worse, to everyone in the house? I put her in a huge risk, but I was so stubborn not to let her in! Wait, it’s not being stubborn–it’s being mean. Being evil. No matter how she was a nuisance, I couldn’t put her in such a risk like that. She doesn’t deserve it.

“He looked like Dad,” told Janice, “but he’s not Dad. I knew it. He’s someone else. But he really looked like Dad. I knew that he’s not Dad, but I didn’t tell him, I was so scared. He asked me what happened, and I told him nothing. But he made me, and that made me scared, so I told him about my dream. And he told me that it’s going to be true, and he told me to watch out. Then he smiled before he left, the most horrifying smile I’ve ever seen.”

Sean reached out and get a hold of her shoulder. Her body was ice-cold, and she’s trembling even worse.

“Please, don’t tell Mom and Dad about this,” she begged. “Please! I don’t care what happened to me, but I don’t want something bad to happen to them. Please, if you love Mom and Dad, don’t tell them.”

Her words got Sean taken aback in guilt. “No, I won’t tell them, even if it’s only about you. I don’t want to put you in such a risk, no matter how jerky I was. You got my words.”

There’s a great relief in Janice’s eyes when she heard that. “Do you… do you really mean that?” she asked.

“Yeah. For this time only. Sorry for being such a jerk.” Sean smiled, for the first time, sincerely to his little sister.

Janice smiled back.

Suddenly something turned the two’s attention. The tip of the twig Janice’s holding sank into the sand as a cone of sinking sand swirled around it.

“That’s not a sand trap,” said Sean, while Janice jerked the twig off the sinking sand. “That’s not the work of antlions. Maybe there’s a hollow under this sandbox, and it can’t hold our weight. Get off, Jan, or we’re gonna sink!”

Both of them leaped off the sandbox, while the cone grew larger. There sure to be a hollow under the sandbox, and the sand is caving in. Just how deep is the sandbox? thought Sean. Maybe six to nine feet, but that’s rather unusual to build a sandbox that deep.

“See?” said Sean, as both of them watched the sand sinking. “The dream does come true, but it doesn’t turn up to be that bad, does it?”

Janice stood still, staring at the sinking sand. She was frozen, and Sean could see the fear back to her eyes. “It wasn’t just like this,” she said. “The sand was sinking, yes, but then the whole sandbox, then the ground sank together with the sand. It was the whole playground first, then the school, then the entire hill. Everything was sucked to the center, then there were a huge hole on the ground.”

“That wouldn’t happen,” said Sean. “That’s just too absurd to happen.”

“But he said it’ll happen, and it happens,” said Janice. “Quick, we have to go, or the sand will get us!”

Janice’s words seemed to be true, as Sean watched the whole sandbox turned into a sinking sand trap as the concrete walls broke and fell apart. He could feel movements on the ground he’s stepping on, and instinctively, he pulled Janice out to his motorbike. “You’re right, we gotta get out of here.” He started the engine as Janice’s bike started to slide to the center. A roaring sound followed, and it’s getting more and more intense, as the ground around them started to shift.

“Hold on tight!” yelled Sean, and Janice did so. Their bike quickly darted off and left the now sinking playground to the asphalt road.

“Holy shit,” said Sean, as he looked back and saw a huge cone of sand trap whirling behind them like a whirlpool of solid earth, pulling everything within its reach to the center in a thundering voice. Any structures caught within it broke apart, and pieces of it quickly joined the expanding piece of disaster. His eyes started to feel sore, as the huge sand trap spouted dust to the air, but he had no time to think about that right now. “Tell me I’m not dreaming,” he yelled to overcome the roaring of the dust.

“No you’re not!” Janice’s squeaky voice yelled back. “We have to go downhill, the entire hill is going to sink!”

There were cars and bikes around them, all going downhill to avoid the catastrophic sand trap as far as possible. “Shit, there were people…” Sean looked around and saw people who couldn’t hold on to vehicles ran with all their might. “What the hell is truly going on? Did that dream tell you anything else?”

“I only saw the entire hill sinking, that’s all before I woke up!”

It turned up to a complete chaos; people started to pour to the street to get a hold on any passing vehicle. Cryouts like “Run! Run!” “It’s sinking!” or “Lemme out of here!” was heard all over the place. And there was this particular girl Sean ran into; she was thrown away and her head hit the ground with a loud SMACK.

“She’s bleeding!” yelped Janice. “You gotta help her!”

“There’s no time! Either she dies or we die!”

But the girl got up and with a might out of nowhere, she ran–head still bleeding–after their bike.

“She’s after us!” shrieked Sean.

“She’s bleeding! She could die! Please, just slow down!”

Slowing down sounded fair enough for Sean, so he did so. As he slowed down, the girl jumped to the back seat, squeezing Janice between her and Sean. “Don’t mind me, just keep moving!” she yelled.

The other people on the street who saw the girl’s maneuver seemed inspired with it, they started to chase other vehicles and jacked them. Sean knew that he couldn’t afford another passenger, so he sped up further downhill back to the suburbs.

The girl, bleeding too much, lost her consciousness and fell toward Janice and Sean. Janice grabbed the girl’s both hands and wrapped them around Sean while doing the same thing with her own hands, securing their position.

“It won’t get our home, will it?” shouted Sean.

“No! It’s only the entire hill!” replied Janice.

“Good! We’re heading home! Wait…”

He looked around and started slowing down. They’re already out of the hill, although the other people kept running away.

“What’s going on?” asked Janice, letting her head out of the girl’s body to look around as well.

“The sinkhole… it stopped expanding.”

Sean’s right; though still sinking, the sinkhole had stopped expanding. Their position was now higher than the sinking hill, and from their current place, they could see an amazingly terrible scene: the entire hill was torn apart from the other part of the city, hundreds of buildings around them were badly damaged, not to mention hundreds that were destroyed; and the yelling of people who were caught and dragged by the sinkhole, all dragged into the ground. So many casualties. So many damages. What the hell is going on here?

After a while, the roaring stopped–the ground had stopped sinking, leaving a huge, extremely deep hole on the ground. It was so deep that they couldn’t see the bottom even though the hole itself could reach a mile and a half in diameter. For a few minutes, there’s only silence; as there’s nobody else between them and the hole.

“I forgot to tell you something,” said Janice finally, after a long, tense silence. “Before he left, the man asked me one thing.”

Sean was too tired right now, but he couldn’t help but to pay attention. “What’s that?”

“Do you believe in the obvious?”

“What did you tell him?”

“I didn’t say a word,” said Janice, “but the answer is no. If I do, I wouldn’t notice that he’s not Dad. I was afraid if I told him, he’d be suspicious that I knew he’s not Dad.”

“Smart thinking,” said Sean. “You’re so smart, Jan.”

“That’s the first time you ever complimented me!”

“Uh-huh. How was the girl?” Sean was just aware, for the first time, of the girl’s presence. If she didn’t chase the bike with all her might, she would’ve died. It’s amazing what a human can do in the brink of death.

“I think we should bring her to the hospital,” said Janice.

“I don’t think we should,” Sean smiled. And he’s right. From the distance, helicopters, ambulances, and military trucks came in a response of disaster aftermath. “The hospital’s coming here on its own.”

Sean stood up and got off the bike, ever so carefully so that he didn’t hurt the unconscious girl. “Stay where you are, Jan, and help me get hold of this girl.” With Janice’s help, he lay the girl on the ground. That’s when he noticed the girl’s appearance–she was about eighteen, and was very beautiful. Simply the most beautiful girl Sean had ever seen, even compared to Hollywood actresses. Her brown hair was soaked in blood, added a little mess to this creation of beauty, but it didn’t spoil her beauty. Sean started to feel grateful that she survived, especially with his help. Her body was taut and thickly built, a result of regular intense physical activity, which quite explained how she could get up quickly even after her head was hit.

To Sean’s surprise, the girl got up. She held her head–the bleeding had staunched and the bloodstains had dried.

“Are you all right?” asked Sean, trying to reach her out, but she got up before he got her.

“Goodness…” she said, looking down at the huge hole. “What’s just going on? The people around me? They… they didn’t make it, did they?”

“It’s a miracle that you survived,” said Sean. “It happened so fast, it caught most of them by surprise.”

Janice got off the bike and got to the girl. “Are you alright? You look terrible.”

“Yes, I’m alright… I guess the bleeding’s staunched by now.”

Sean looked away in apology. “I’m sorry for hitting you back then,” he said. “If it’s not for my sister asking to slow down, I might’ve left you alone.”

The girl, though a bit shocked, did not seem to be traumatized by the disaster. She was strangely looked like a prepared soldier in a mission. And she didn’t even disturbed by the fact that Sean almost killed her–she didn’t respond to Sean’s apology. Perhaps she’s just too optimistic, or the impact had caused her to be quite absent-minded.

“It’s glad to see you’re OK,” said Janice after a long pause. “I’m Janice, and this is my brother Sean.”

“Nice to meet you, Janice,” she smiled to the little girl, “and you, Sean,” she turned to Sean, but she didn’t smile. Guess I’ve got what it takes for almost leaving her to die, thought Sean. “I’m Nicolette,” she continued.

The sound of helicopter rotors distracted them. Not only helicopters–VTOLs–aircraft vessels designed for vertical take off and landing–were filling the air around them, while the land vehicles came closer.

As the chopper and VTOLs landed, an army man yelled, “We’ve got survivors here!”

In a moment, the site was surrounded by all sort of people–from the army and paramedics who tried to seek for casualties and survivors, news reporters looking for information, and other people–some of which Sean remembered as fellow survivors who returned to the site once the disaster was over–who just wanted to watch. All of a sudden, the three of them were surrounded by those people.

The army men pushed everyone else behind them, while one of them, a black man which seemed to be an officer closed by. “So you two are survivors?” he asked.

Two? Sean looked around, but there were only he and Janice.

“Where’s Nicolette?” whispered Sean to Janice.

“She was here a second ago, but she told me that we’ll meet again,” said Janice. “I think we shouldn’t tell everyone about her.”

Sean agreed with Janice–he didn’t want everyone to know that he ran into her with his motorbike.

The officer, a US Army Major, gave orders to his men to search for other survivors before he turned back to the two. “I’m Major Reed Taylor from the US Army,” he said, giving a gesture for the two of them to come with him. “I was receiving order to bring the two of you to St. Olga a few minutes ago. You’ll be escorted there with one of the VTOLs.”

Both Sean and Janice gasped. “But, we’re supposed to be going home,” said Sean. “Are our parents informed about this?”

“They will be,” said the Major. “You’ll get the details once you’re on the way.”
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Perceiving the World and Yourself

Take a sheet of blank paper.

Draw a big circle in it. Try drawing as big a circle as you can in one quick scratch.

Draw another circle in the big circle, not crossing with the outer circle. It could be big or small, as you like.

Draw a small circle within the latter circle, as small as you feel comfortable. If it’s rather big, then so be it, as long as you’re comfortable with it.

Alright, that’s it. Now take a look at the paper.

Think of the sheet of paper as REALITY. That’s it, whatever realm of existence you’re in, both tangible and intangible.

The big circle is humanity’s LIMIT OF TOLERANCE. The bigger you drew it, the more optimistic you are and the more open you are with any kind of people.

The medium circle is YOUR LoT. If it’s big, then you have a pretty good knack in toughing up unpleasant things, or doing things that you don’t like. Also, you’ll be able to do a wide variety of activities, though not as well as the experts. If it’s small, then you tend to be less adjustable–but you also have a good though hidden potential. Who knows what you can be?

The small circle is your comfort zone. The bigger it is, the more things you feel comfortable with, and vice versa.

The results will require some contemplation to conclude.

21st Century: The Age of Innocence

The boy sat next to the TV, playing some stacks. He didn’t necessarily watched the TV, but his ears were listening. The TV was left on by his father who left for work in a hurry just a while ago, and his mother was probably too busy to even notice.

The TV screen displayed a random array of colorful lights and some people dancing in a robot-like style, which didn’t bother the boy. It was the song that turned the boy’s attention, and the message hidden among the lyrics that everyone didn’t notice but a very young, innocent boy. To the boy, the song was heard like “Internet killed the movie stars”, for that’s the only line he could understand. The catchy recurrence of that part of lyrics caught the boy, and all of a sudden, he was mesmerized by the entire display of the program.

Not for long, though, before his mother returned from the kitchen and switched the channel to his discomfort.

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Several years later, the grownup boy was browsing some audio CDs with his friends in a local CD store. Sean was his name. He seemed excited in contrast with the other boys. One of them, Brett, just looked around and yawned a little before turning to Sean, saying:

“C’mon, man, this place is a museum. What’s fancy in browsing CDs when you can just download them at home?”

Sean was viewing an album on his hands while the question got his mind. “I feel more like having something when it’s present in my room physically. Look at the album, look at everything they added in its case. Most of them are stuff you can’t download from the Internet.”

Wallace, another guy, raised his brow comically and said, “The fact that they’re sold in albums bothers me. Music are better released in singles, that’s how we know what’s quality and what’s shit.”

Sean opened the case of the CD he’s holding–the album must’ve interested him. “Almost a century ago, all radio stations were broadcasting album-oriented rock. If you’re saying that in the 1970s, you’re not going anywhere.”

“That’s it, Sean–you’re stuck in the past.”

“Hell, we’re bored–Sean, we’re leaving.”

“Wait, where are you two going?”

“Sasha and Penny are waiting for us in Burger Queen. We’re gonna hang out Beyond the Bars tonight. Are you with us?”

“Yeah, just a few–”

“Catch ya up later,” Wallace waved his hand, and left the place with Brett.

Sean sighed at the sight of their back and the door slamming shut. He looked back at the album he’s holding, and smiled a bit–at least he’d got what he’s looking for.

“Those kids don’t live in the 20th century.” Sean looked up and saw the half-aged storekeeper approaching him. “You’re something rare–brings me back to the old days.”

“Thanks, Mr. Lopez. They just can’t see it.”

“I see that you’re sharing enthusiasm with your father. He also lived in the the 20th century, but it’s your grandfather who lived in the age of AOR.” Mr. Lopez returned to the counter as Sean led there to pay. “CDs are uncommon these days, and those people are just stupid for passing by on this very generous offer. Collectors could pay a couple of grands for a CD of Prince and I’m selling them here for just ten bucks.”

“My dad now starts collecting vinyls and cassettes,” said Sean, putting the CD on the counter. “He said that it’ll bring him back half a century further.”

“I have some names and numbers that can help your dad,” said the storekeeper. “I’ll e-mail you for that. Well, what do we have here?”

“It’s Ron Lewis’ Discover,” Sean watched as Mr. Lopez put the CD in a plastic bag. A smile grew on his face. “Internet Killed the Movie Star.”

“Quite explains,” said Mr. Lopez, taking the money from Sean and returning the changes. “You really brought me back to the old days, when thousands of new-release CDs were sold fresh in stores. These days you can’t buy CDs or DVDs without pre-ordering them. Well, Lewis wrote it based on an older song by the Buggles, ‘Video Killed the Radio Star.’”

“Cool, do you have one?”

“Stock naught,” the shopkeeper consulted his smartphone, “but I promise I’ll get one by next week. I’ll e-mail you when it’s here.”

“Thanks, Mr. Lopez.”

Sean walked out of the store to the pavements of 11 Central Ave in downtown Arkantos. Welcome back to the 21st century, he thought. The age of innocence.

At the corner of the city square, Sean saw a street prophet preaching to a number of people. Funny to see that some people really don’t have a life. Street prophets began their preach somewhere in 2041, and now in 2049, they’re quite common. They preached the end of the world, and people viewed them as a sign of the end of the world. But the street prophet was nothing of his concern right now–he couldn’t wait to play his CD.

I’ll rip the CD as soon as I got home… wait, oh shit. I’m supposed to be hanging out at Beyond the Bars. But to hell with them, I’ve got my business. He took two pill-shaped plug earphones out of his pocket and plugged them on, before setting the wireless of his palmtop for radio cast receiver. Let’s see what’s on air.

Revenge of the Young

We’re young,

we’re free,

we’re hopeful!

We see the world as an opportunity instead of threat!

We find challenges fun, and idleness frustrating!

We tend to have fun in being responsible!

We’re optimistic boundless by reality, and we often alter reality itself!

It’s our explosion of expression that keeps humanity moving!

Energy of the young, wisdom of the old, is civilization! But it’s not the time to talk about the old… it’s US, the YOUNG, that we’re talking about!

We do everything to express what we think is right! The dumb old system can’t confine us, if it fails to contain us!

Dedicated to every young people out there: we’re something, we’re significant, we can make things happen!

Ka-Ching?

It’s summer, there are lots of work to do, and shit has already followed. I’ve got a personal financial crisis lately, and since then, I had to borrow money here and there to patch things up. That’s when I realized that it’s time to plan my budget, and I found something that I wish I realized earlier: my monthly funding can’t afford my lifestyle. I’m pretty happy with this lifestyle, so I try to look for another option: earning some extra money!

I’ve got plans. I know that I’m pretty good doing some particular things, and I have a slight idea of how I’m gonna make money out of them (business peers and relations, market targets, and stuff). Now I’m learning to make business proposals, while looking for some producers and distributors to make this happen. That’s it, buddies, Elmo Lawrence means business.

Who’s interested? Just drop by and have a chat, let’s see how much we can make out of it.

Micromanager

A swarm of assignments and exams had passed by, and now it’s calm again. To keep myself from getting really bored (and doing inappropriate things as a part of relieving process), I tried to list things I’m supposed to do and their due dates. To my surprise, I have to prepare for another swarm.

At first, I merely reviewed my targets and goals, trying to find things I should have done but haven’t, and it seemed like there were quite a lot of them. Those targets and goals couldn’t happen overnight, they need preparations, and preparations for one is already another thing. I tried to calculate my available time during the summer holiday and allocate my planned activities on them and ended up having so little time to spare.

Well, to relieve the pressure is by simply taking each activity as sort of recreational, so that I can rejoice every time I switch activity. And it requires an extremely good planning to happen, which makes me a micromanager of my own activities.

Time to get busy–only by getting busy one knows that he’s alive and living.

Elmo Lawrence’s Journal: Before the Flight

DISCLAIMER: The World Government, the United Resistance, the Lobotol Army, the SFOXAS, the United States Reformed, the plasma gun, the Vylar, and the Cyron movement, are subject of author’s creativity. Note that none of such had existed in the real world at the time this note was made.
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The ride through Minneapolis was a pleasant one for Elmo Lawrence, if only he had nothing else in mind. About eight million people lived in the prospering city almost intact by the world wars–except that at the beginning of the World War III, where the World Government Army took over the Twin Cities and the whole state of Minnesota in a highly efficient blitzkrieg sweep operation. The term ‘peaceful revolution’ coined by the World Government elites referred to this momentous operation, of which none of the citizens were killed or harmed during the takeover. The reigning Governor of Minnesota at that time, Zebulon Warding, instantly surrendered to the WGA following the earlier surrender of 12th Army Division of Minnesota. The Twin Cities then, under the reign of Military Governor General A. T. Keqta, were merged into the city of Minneapolis by August 2053, while Minneapolis being the Lower City and Saint Paul being the Upper City. Hundreds of thousands of refugees had flocked in from all over the war-torn States every year since then, causing the population to skyrocket and the city itself to become one of the largest cities in the world post World War III–with Arkantos being the largest (of 38 million population).

However, even with a vast number of immigrants flocking into the city each year, the new government was able to contain them–even improve their condition. They established infrastructures at the same rate with demands, no matter how high they were–an evidence of a perfect city planning backed up with an infinite source of funding, not only in Minneapolis, but in all World Government-occupied cities Elmo had visited. The WGA regulators and their SFOXAS extreme measure squad did more than necessary to keep the United Resistance at bay, leaving the urban areas intact by war, no matter how tough it was outside the borders. Just like the old USA foreign policies, Elmo thought, the last place for battlefield is the backdoor of their own country.

World Government territories were always peaceful, even progressing, while the rest of the world is at war, and the effects are predictable–people turned their favor towards them. One by one citizens of the occupied regions started to accept the new system the World Government employed, thus believed that a One World Government is the most suitable system with the globalized post-World War III world. Every year the World Government gained new territories, mostly not through war–they were lining up to surrender, to integrate with the World Government and its system.

At the time the World War IV broke, United Resistance was made of all freedom fighters in the world and their patriotism spirit summed up. But, as the war wages on, the young, energetic and revolutionary, saw the opportunity the new system gave–how the world regulated by the World Government was far better in every aspect than the pre-World War III world. They saw a chance the World Government offered to humanity in general, a chance of living a better life with a better system with harmony and balance in it. They learned that people of the pre-war world were forced to choose between humanity and Earth, a hard choice which left humanity running in circles for decades while the Earth was still decaying. The World Government offered them a chance to live freely without such concern–an opportunity impossible to miss by humanity’s generation of hope. Most of them then turned to the World Government–and recently, the United Resistance consisted mostly of the old people being shadows of their former countries’ glory, what’s left of their spirit of freedom. With most of their revolutionary motor gone, the United Resistance could barely stood a chance. By the end of World War IV, which Elmo predicted would be somewhere between 2066 and 2067, the world would be a unification under the World Government, and a new era of humanity would begin.

The World War IV was both a war physically and a war of belief, and the World Government was winning in both of them. It was clear for Elmo– he too, he could’ve been siding with the World Government, but he knew there’s something behind it.

“Honestly,” said Mindy Amberton, a young woman Elmo encountered on his mission in Minneapolis and currently driving his car, “I think the reestablishment of the old United States is ridiculous. The USR is a joke. They just couldn’t see the greater picture, being brainwashed by their patriotism and thousands of hours in battle.”

Elmo merely sighed. He’s lying on his back in a position he deemed most comfortable, watching the scenery of the city as they crossed the Mississippi through the World Government-built Minneapolis Bridge, dedicated to the city itself as being a symbol of the Peaceful Revolution. One wouldn’t aware that the world was ever at war in Minneapolis–Elmo found out that it was true in all World Government-occupied cities.

“And so everyone of your age would say,” Elmo grinned. “I begin to see the World Government as a sort of popular culture.” He enjoyed the way his words irritated Mindy.

“Very funny. Is that how everyone in the USR see things? No wonder the war does not stop, you closed-minded, narrow-thinking bigots blinded of your old times…”

“Hey, I take offense in that,” said Elmo, though he didn’t really. “I don’t belong to the USR. I don’t belong to anything but myself.”

“So what are you,” Mindy asked carefully, glancing at the .45 heavy duty handgun on Elmo’s lap, “a random terrorist?”

Elmo burst in laughter. “Hell that’s the last thing in the world I would be! You don’t know how chaotic it was at the time the WWIII started. There were riots raging everywhere, people burning, looting, killing–they’re called the Savage. Can’t blame them, it’s mankind’s basic instinct. When they learned that order had failed, they seemed to recall the animal genes in them. The World Government was quick to contain them, though. All of them were piled up in a part of the city–every city where there were Savage outbreaks–and the World Government’s Vylars evaporate them into fertilizers. Funny, the sight of terror in their faces after all they’d done–most started to kill each other before the Vylars got them. Some claimed that they saw God floating, ordering the WG tyrants to accept their redemption. Others simply shat their pants–the most embarrassing thing to do before you die.” Elmo laughed on his own words. “No, I think the last Savage gene had been exterminated ten years ago. It’s impossible that I could be one of them.”

Mindy didn’t take impression in Elmo’s story. “You’re doing favors for the USR. If you’re not one of them, I bet you’re some sort of contract killer.”

Elmo laughed again. “You bet,” he said, wiping his nose with his index finger. “I could be. Or I couldn’t be. It could happen to anyone, couldn’t it? Oh, what does that matter to you?”

“Of course it matters to me,” snapped Mindy, “you’ve involved me in all of this!”

“Hang on,” said Elmo evasively, “we’re not taking a Maglev ride, are we?”

He noticed that they’re heading to a Maglev metro station at the heart of the Upper City. Maglev is short of magnetic-levitation, trains which levitates on railways due to electromagnetic repulsive force similar to those of the late 20th century. The difference is, mid-21th century Maglev did not harness electromagnetic levitation–they harnessed the Earth’s magnetic field so that they did not require rails. Cars were still wheeled since the World Government held the mass-production of Maglev cars until the end World War IV to increase public pressure against the United Resistance. “What else could it be?” asked Mindy, as if Elmo had asked something that’s already obvious. “You’re not thinking we’ll be leaving by plane, are you?”

“Do you think that shit-laden baggage I’m carrying will pass the security?”

Mindy scratched her head. “Well, I don’t think that far.”

“Hell you should,” Elmo shouted frustratedly, “once they’ve found the scene, we’ll be fugitives!”

“So,” said Mindy sulkily, “what’s the cute plan?”

“To the marshaling yard,” ordered Elmo, “we’re going to hitch on one of those cargo trains. We probably need to perform some evasive maneuvers when we cross the borders. Well, first, we’ve gotta find the maintenance hatch door to the subterranean yard–entering through the front door is suicide.”

“Oh,” he continued, “and never let your face being exposed to them–they’ll reconstruct the faces of their agents to the likes of yours, and doing so, they’ll be more than able to compromise the Cyrolab security. Remember I told you that Cyrolab will be the only safe place for you after all of this? So don’t let them.”

“Alright,” said Mindy, turning the car to the marshaling yard’s direction. “And what we’re gonna do with this car? Would they be able to track us down if we leave this?”

“Take the valuables–I’ll salvage the car of its microfusion drive, so that it will not explode as I evaporate it with plasma. Sides, I need the microfusion drive for my Elmo Gun component.”

He noticed the tension on Mindy’s face while she drove. She’s got the sense of how dangerous this is, Elmo thought, and that’s good–that means less questions to me.
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“Where are we?”

Elmo found himself in a deserted metro station. The last thing he remembered was that he could’ve fallen asleep during the ride to the marshaling yard–and when he woke up, he found himself here. There’s nobody else in the station but him and Mindy, and for God’s sake, the girl was lying there incapacitated.

“Mindy? Are you alright? What happened?”

Elmo paused, he seemed to hear voices around him. The voices of a conversation, and they sounded so damn familiar.

…the WGA struck again, they’ve got a Vylar with them, there’s no way we would win…

…but they seemed to be holding back. I don’t know, it seemed like they’re letting us escape…

…there’s something behind all of this. There’s something behind the WG, it’s huge, it’s full of intrigues, and it’s not good…

Elmo recognized the conversation at once–everything he asked before he was unwillingly recruited by the Cyron Beta Squad, to investigate the anomalies in an attack against a World Government installation at St. Olga, somewhere near Arkantos. It happened that they’re stumbled upon something far greater than a mere anomaly. The owners of those voices were dead by now–Elmo and Josh McKinnon were sole survivors of the doomed Cyron Beta Squad, caught by surprise by the level of unpredicted hazard in that mission they failed to contain.

“O’Connor? Willits?” he asked. “Doherty?”

The voices faded as quickly as they came, giving Elmo the chills of being alone in that dead-empty metro. But he quickly noticed a figure right ahead, emerged right out of the darkness, walking toward him…

“McKinnon? Josh?”

Josh McKinnon walked toward him in a frightening steadiness. He pointed his finger to his eyes, smiling, while asking Elmo a question,

“Tell me, Elmo, am I what I look like? Are we? Is the world really what it seemed?”

“Josh, what are you talking about?” Elmo reached forward, trying to get Josh, but something within him kept holding him back. “It’s impossible. It’s just a dream. I know it.”

“Don’t wake yourself up, Elmo, don’t you want to know how it ends?” Josh grinned–a psychotic grin of a spree killer.

“You’re not Josh,” said Elmo. “All I’m seeing, all I’m hearing, they’re all nonsense.”

Josh stopped a couple of feet in front of Elmo. “You don’t want to believe the obvious–you’re afraid of it. But your mind is dying to know it, Elmo. You can’t lie to yourself no longer. When you’re failed to see everything else, what’s left is the truth. You know that.”

“What are you talking about?” Elmo shouted hysterically. “I’m not gonna listen to you, not anymore. This is bullshit. Mindy. Mindy! Wake me up!”

“It’s not what it seemed,” Josh continued, untroubled with Elmo’s struggle. “You and I, and the rest of the world… when they will finally see? The human race is at its critical point, when we were faced to two options: to change to something more, which is uncertain, or to return to the likes our ancestors, living side by side with nature, although it means we’ll be losing every trace of civilization we’ve achieved so far.”

Elmo didn’t listen, he kept struggling to wake up.

“And here comes the World Government, stepped into the trouble, offering a solution. Though it’s more than what the ordinary humans think. The World Government is preparing us for a Mass Ascension.”

“Elmo!”

Mindy’s voice caused Elmo to jump forward out of his sleep, almost bumping with the front window.

“How could you sleep in times like this?” asked her furiously. “I’ve been driving with all the pressure you’re giving me and you just sleep like that?”

“There’s no way I can avoid that one, okay?” Elmo wiped the sweat off his forehead.

“What do you mean by that?”

“Did I say something when I were asleep?” Elmo asked back evasively.

“No, you’re sleeping like a baby,” said Mindy. “This better be good, or else I’ll be regretting the day I met you. Oh, what the hell, I am already.”

Elmo winced, pitching his eyes to see clearly–the sunlight was stinging right into his eyes. “Where are we?”

“We’re almost there,” she said. “You better know which train going to where else we’d end up in Nevada or something.”

“I’ve got to tunnel the timetable database first,” said Elmo, withdrawing a handheld device with a display on it.

“Well, judging the way how you say it, it sounds easy to you.” Mindy took a glance at the device.

“It is, thanks to Connor.” Elmo waved the device. “He made the programs in this device. It even compromised the World Government’s cyber-security link and anti-tracking firewall.”

“That’s impressive,” said Mindy, and she meant it. It took more than the cross of an egghead and a nutcase to compromise the WG network systems. “Is he a friend of yours?”

Elmo curled his lips in a humorous way. “Well, used to,” he said. “Now he’s swimming in the stomach of some worms. I met him in a covert top-level operation that turned up to be much bigger than that. We sent a dozen of America’s second best agents, the Cyron Beta Squad, only two of us managed to escape.”

“Seemed that you were in so much trouble,” said Mindy.

“You have no idea,” said Elmo, as they drove near a cargo station and Mindy started to slow down. “I think we’re here. Just slow down… I need to find someplace to hide this fucking car.”
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Gimme feedback.

Elmo Lawrence’s Journal: The Invention of the Gatling Plasma

DISCLAIMER: The World Government, the United Resistance, the Lobotol Army, the SFOXAS, the United States Reformed, the plasma gun, the Vylar, and the Cyron movement, are subject of author’s creativity. Note that none of such had existed in the real world at the time this note was made.
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“Caramba!”

Alejandro Martinez took out his plasma gun, but it’s too late. Elmo Lawrence had shot him on the head.

Disgusted on the scene, Mindy Amberton got out of her hiding spot and yelled, “Is it necessary to leave such a mess?”

Elmo wiped the blood, brain juice, and skull pieces of what’s left of Alejandro Martinez’ head with the tip of his boots, picking up the plasma gun. “Don’t have a choice,” he said, taking a grimy mop out of his windcheater inner pocket and wiped the bloodstains from the gun, “else he’d got me first, and that’s worse mess for you to handle.”

Mindy watched on how Elmo put the plasma gun into his backpack, and how the 80-liter backpack was laden with similar objects.

“What do you have in mind, piling plasma guns on your back?” she said, peeking into the backpack. “You can only fire one each time, and you barely used them.” She glanced to the .45 heavy duty pistol in Elmo’s tight grip.

Elmo holstered his pistol and took one gun out of his backpack, holding it on the mid-air with two arms for Mindy’s convenience.

“Plasma guns are the most powerful weapon known to man,” said Elmo, admiring the sight of the gun he’s holding, “and though there were many series of them, the Lobotol models were always the best–see, the one I’m showing you.” He wiggled the gun. “The reason I’m piling them because, after yesterday’s Lobotol invasion, I’ve got this idea that the potential of these babies could be greatly amplified, making this Elmo Gun–I named this schematic weapon that–the most efficient weapon EVER.”

Mindy took a look at the Lobotol Model Elmo’s holding. It’s a weapon used by the Lobotol Army, a separate rank in the World Government Army which focused on fighting the United Resistance and reclaim their declared nations. Mindy had seen similar weapons used by the Lobotol troopers at the news on TV–she couldn’t believe that the gun was present on her very eyes.

After the United States Reformed Government joined the United Resistance and declared war on the established World Government, the USR Army along with the United Resistance–following a series of massive defeats with numerous casualties–finally fought off the World Government Army in the battle of Portsmouth on July 2063. Aware that the sounding of the defeat of their proclaimed invulnerable army in a decisive battle that could be the turning point of this World War IV would rally the United Resistance and other freedom fighters in the world, the World Government leaders in Jerusalem decided to adapt extreme measures to fight the United Resistance and its most stubborn participant–and thus the Lobotol Army was formed. The Lobotol Army is more capable of destuction than even the feared World Government special force SFOXAS, and after three major invasions in Boston, Philadelphia, and the D.C., the USR Government was at the brink of abolition.

Of course, if what Elmo had said was true, the United Resistance–humanity–would have a chance to ward off the World Government tyranny.

“What’s your plan?” Mindy asked, while Elmo put the Lobotol Model back to his backpack. “You’re trying to establish a plasma army against the Lobotol?”

Elmo shook his head. Mindy helped Elmo strapping the backpack shut.

“Selling them to the USR Army?”

“Nope,” Elmo fastened his backpack. “I saw the battle, you know. I saw how a small squad they called the Alpha Omega Squad erased a fleet of seven battleships, fifteen destroyers, eleven frigates, and two carriers in the last Battle of Boston. I saw how huge caliber plasma cannons, mounted on combat-efficient Vylars (a Vylar is a superscalar bipedal armored vehicle with the capability of manlike movement, usually operated by a strike team of four or five), tearing apart the deck of USS Oklahoma and sank her in seconds. Even with plasma weapons distributed like daily ransom packs in the USR Army ranks, we could not match the firepower of a Lobotol squad.”

“The gun I showed you,” he continued, “is extremely rare. The reason why a Lobotol organic weapon came into possession of a USR citizen is, this weapon is stolen by a Cyron infiltrator team–and the issue is fresh, less than three days ago.”

“I’ll bring this to the Cyrolab in Arkantos to be examined,” he said, “and all of this plasma guns are my objects of convenience.”

The words ‘objects of convenience’ intrigues Mindy in a way she didn’t like. “What do you mean, objects of convenience?”

Elmo crouched next to Martinez’ body, searching for every valuables he could find. “They’re components for my Elmo Gun,” he said, while counting on the money in Martinez’ wallet. “You know, the concept is, I try to make a plasma gun capable of rapid fire. I don’t know how the World Government made it possible for a plasma gun to fire continuously, but the concept of a plasma gun is to reduce the projectile to plasma using fusion power, while the particle accelerators produce kinetic energy for the plasma to travel forward just like a ray of light. The difference between laser and plasma is that laser consists of a ray of electromagnetic wave, mostly the gamma rays, while plasma consists of a gel of alpha and beta particles reduced from greater particles through means of fusion reaction.”

Mindy rolled her eyes. “What I learn in college is that laser has relativistic momentum, while plasma has kinetic momentum.”

“Well, let’s say it’s extremely hard to produce plasma continuously,” said Elmo, checking on a safe combination in the inner pocket of Martinez’ trench coat, “since it will cause the gun to superheat and melt the owner. Plasma could only be produced in discreet successions, thus causes every plasma gun we have to fire like an old flintlock rifle back to the 18th century.”

“But the Lobotol issue fires continuously,” said Mindy.

“To hell with that, perhaps those eggheads in Cyrolab could find out once they obtain one,” Elmo put off Martinez’ gold Rolex, gold-buckled crocodile skin Aigner, and Prada suede shoes. “Richard M. Gatling invented what becomes the modern ballistic minigun in 1861. My idea is to invent several separate plasma reaction chambers mounted around a revolving cylinder, which revolves in a rate of two separate fires of a single reaction chamber. Short, you can call it the Gatling Plasma.”

“Oh, such a practical idea,” Mindy commented cynically. “I thought you’d rig the fusion reaction so that you could fire an issue continuously. I’ve started to think that you’re clever as well as practical.”

“Well, you could come with me to Cyrolab, I’m sure you’re in for a job there,” said Elmo, getting back on his feet after he could find nothing else valuable from Martinez’ body. He withdrew a syringe in a sealed packaging, ripped it open, and fill it with Martinez’ blood.

“What are you doing?” questioned Mindy, while Elmo injected the blood into a small canister.

“Taking DNA samples,” said Elmo, withdrawing a plasma pistol from his gun flap and aimed at Martinez’ body, “and annihilate the rest. If you don’t like the scene, don’t look.”

Mindy got a bad feeling about this–she looked away just in time Elmo shot Martinez’ body with his plasma pistol, reducing him along with the floor materials including the concrete foundation to gel-like substance of God-knows-what in a superheated plasma explosion. A foul-smelled steam emerged shortly after, causing Elmo to sneeze.

“Ah-CHOO!” Elmo snorted, wiping away the steam with his free hand. “I always hate close-ranged plasma fire,” he said.

Mindy was outrageous by Elmo’s actions. “Are all of this really necessary!?” she shouted furiously. “And who the hell is this man, do you really have to kill him?!”

“I’ve got to ensure that on this world, the only source of Martinez’ DNA is here in my pocket,” argued Elmo. “And yes, I’ve got to kill him, I told you. Well, if you don’t know Alejandro Martinez, you better keep it that way–believe me, you don’t really want to know.”

Elmo walked out of the flat room, but Mindy grasped his arm.

“You killed that man, you looted his corpse, and you destroyed it–yes, I do really want to know.”

Elmo sighed. “He’s Alejandro Martinez,” said Elmo, “a smuggler. He smuggled plasma guns into the USR, you know.”

“And?”

“Well, I’m on my way back to Arkantos. Listen, girl, if you seek sanctuary, you should come with me to Cyrolab. It’s the only safe place on Earth after what you’ve witnessed.”

Mindy raised her brows–she didn’t seem too concerned with Elmo’s last sentence. “What could come to me, after all?”

Elmo shook his arm off Mindy’s grasp, and continued walking out. “It’s only a matter of time World Government agents arrived here. This place–and me–are being watched. And once they notice that you’re with me in this scene, they’ll be right after you.”

He enjoyed the sight of Mindy’s face became pale, although just through the corner of his eyes. “I’m coming with you,” Mindy said quickly, totally unnerved.

“Good,” said Elmo. He took Mindy by the hand and climbed the metal staircases right outside the tenement building down to the alleys. Mindy could see a black topless muscle car parked on the street right ahead. “It’s Martinez’ car, I’ve got the key,” Elmo continued. “But we’re taking a train ride to Arkantos, I can’t risk being noticed. Besides, driving to Arkantos would be extremely dangerous by now–especially on the borders. By train, I could work a way so that we could slip away unnoticed.”

“The faster, the better,” said Mindy. “I hate being in this city for longer.”

“Especially in the World Government territory,” Elmo unlocked the car. He opened the baggage cabin and put his backpack in before shutting it.

He then threw the keys to Mindy, who caught it with confusion. “You drive.”

Mindy stood still next to the car, the keys hanging on her hand, while Elmo entered through the front right door. “Why me?” she complained.

“You can drive without arousing suspicions.” Elmo took a pair of aviator shades out of his windcheater pocket, and searched the car to find a hat, which he put on at once. He then took off his windcheater jacket, took the plasma pistol out of the gun flap, then threw the jacket under the seat. “To the nearest train station, wherever it is,” he ordered. “You live here, you know Minneapolis more than I do.”

As the American United Resistance established the United States Reformed Government in July 4, 2062, what used to be the United States was now torn in two: The United States Reformed and the World Government jurisdiction–not all of America had become a part of the new States, in fact, the USR only claimed response of states mostly in the Eastern America. Minneapolis was always under the World Government control ever since the beginning of World War III, when the World Government declared its establishment in 2052 and used its superior mililtary force with technology alien to the world at that time to wipe out every claims of jurisdiction of all existing nations in the world, including the United States.

The US, due to its position as a superpower nation, last the longest–it took seven years for the World Government to control the entire US territory (The second is Russia, due to its sheer vastness of territory, and the third is China, the world’s newest superpower), thus putting the entire world under its control–where the World Government claimed as the end of the World War III. But freedom fighters all over the world could not be wiped out–the World Government stood on a forced stability through military presence. Although most of the freedom fighters fought separately before February 2060, a movement called Cyron, with supposed connections to the abolished United Nations and the remaining NATO forces, united the Western, Eastern, Middle-Eastern-African, and the Pacific resistance movements under the United Resistance on February 2060, which united the freedom fighters all over the world under one systematic movement. This United Resistance gave every existing nation before the World War III the right to reclaim their independence from the World Government–and so far, 63 nations from all over the world had followed. India was the first, then second came the Chungkuo Renmin of China, the European Union, Korea-Japan union, the Arab League, the Federal States of Appalachia, Federation of Canada, and the United States Reformed.

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Whoa, whoa, I got it going. This is all for now, I’ve got a class. See ya, and leave comments if you like it!

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It’s a copy-paste of my same-titled note in my Facebook account.

It’s December, and hence a new post

It’s already December, which reminds me… it’s been a month. I honestly don’t know what to write, but something inside me tells me to keep on writing.
I’ve written a lot during which I haven’t posted anything here, and I realized… the power of paper and pen is far more influential than the power of the keyboard and screen. For me, at least, and at this time.
Surely I’ll write more things, but it can wait until tomorrow. For now, I really don’t know what to say.
Later.

Chapter 2: Letting Go

Author’s note: Written by Elmo Lawrence. I tried to put the perspective as first-person and the tense as present, to provide the maximum experience of this story. It’s about the life journey of a young man who lost his parents in a car accident, who tried to start a whole new life as an adventure and a mean to seek the truth and the meaning of his existence.

Make sure that you see the Table of Contents.

Chapter 2: Letting Go

‘“Don’t it always seem to go that you don’t know what you’ve got ‘til it’s gone.” I don’t know, but it seems right to me to say that even if something’s taken from me, it’s to make room for something new—something better.’

The alarm rings, waking me from my deep slumber. The thought of what happened last night makes me believe that it could be a dream. In fact, I saw my parents in my dream, as though they’ve never gone. I saw myself in my usual life; waking up finding my mother’s there in the kitchen, preparing for breakfast, while my father’s sitting at the dining room reading newspaper; going to school as usual and spend the day to find that nothing has ever changed. For the most beautiful split seconds in my lifetime, I think that everything will be as it used to be, and I believe that yesterday’s funeral was just a dream. I lie like that for what seems to be forever… until reality kicks in with the most excruciating pain I’ve ever felt in my life.

The funeral was real. My parents are gone forever, and there’s no way I can change that.

For a moment I feel tears emerge without even realizing that I’m crying—tears from the feeling of loss that I haven’t realized at the time of the funeral. I clench my fists and grit my teeth, how I’m really embarrassed every time I cry. Boys don’t cry, I think, as I try hard to stop myself crying, but the harder I try the sadder I become; and the effort to resist the sorrow becomes more and more painful. I’m still unprepared for such loss at an early age, I just know it. The thought of it makes the pain more and more unbearable and I become very, very furious to everything that made me lost my parents, even though I know that even if I destroy them all, it won’t bring my parents back.

The feeling that I’m the most unfortunate person in the world arises, makes me feel pity to myself. I just need something to blame, something to unleash my wrath upon. And as I find nothing, I start to blame myself… I become so sick of myself. How can I be such a weak person unable to overcome the sorrow? I put the pillow over my face as I cry and cry throughout the morning.

The second ring of the alarm disturbs me—I’ve been lying like this for an hour. My tears has run dry, my eyes damp, and there’s an emptiness in my heart, a deep puncture that not even time can heal. I can’t believe the idea of travelling around the world just to seek the truth and the real me ever came to my mind. The funeral—I must’ve sort of numb due to the sudden loss and now that I fully realized how it affects my life, it’s like withdrawal from taking drugs.

What time is it? 8 AM? I don’t even care. Time means nothing to me now. I just want to lie like this until I can finally let go of this sorrow and accept reality.

But in fact, I sit. I don’t know why I even sit. It’s like my body moves on its own. And I get up, walking towards the window, and reach out to open both the curtain and the window panes.

The sun stings right into my eyes. It’s so warm and so unbelievable, as if my hopeless body receives energy from the sunlight. The morning air is fresh and it feels my lungs as I take a deep breath and release. And the sky, it’s as blue and as beautiful as ever.

The world is beautiful, I know. More beautiful than I have ever known. And for years it’s been waiting for me to explore, as I often curse the fact that I was born behind these four walls…

…which reminds me. My father once asked me what I want to be. I remember that, it was after he and I watched a National Geographic documentary about the forests in Canada. It was indeed interesting, and never in my life I saw so many trees and so many wildlife, so many adventures await. I told him that I want to be an adventurer, maybe a geologist, maybe an archeologist—where I could experience every second of adventure in my life. I remember my father told me that every man was born a free man, that he’s only imprisoned by his own mind. There’s an adventure in every aspect of life, it’s just a matter of how I can find them.

Now that they’re gone, the reason to go seeking for adventure becomes absolute. And it already runs in my veins, the blood of an adventurer. It explains why I thought of leaving and living a new life at the funeral—as well as my actions that have started all of this by just opening the window a few minutes ago.

Suddenly the feeling of warmth emerges from the emptiness in my heart. An eagerness of having some great things to come. I can feel the rush of adrenaline already. The world is waiting for me out there. Thank you, Mom and Dad, for raising me to be what I am now. Now that you’ve both rested in peace, rest assured, I assure you that I’m ready to face what I’m born to be.

Now, to think about it, I should start the day. My day starts when I take a bath, at least that’s what I make myself to believe. And it always does.

I’m putting on my clothes as I hear someone knocking at the door. Geez, who could that be? I thought. I don’t have too many friends, perhaps it’s just an acquaintance or a relative that has heard about my parents.

In a matter of seconds, I’ve been in front of the door, opening it and see who’s behind.

It is Nicholas Wilkin, the best friend of mine, a school drop-out due to his parents’ breakup. Now he’s living with his mother, but from what I’ve heard, his mother’s moving in with her new fiancé to Pensacola, Florida, and there’s no way he’s gonna go with them. Nick’s having great fights with his mother over this. About why he shows up now, I don’t know, it can be he’s heard about my parents or something else. Perhaps I should ask him about this.

‘Gee, Nick,’ I say, smiling faintly. ‘Nice to see the likes of you in times like this.’

‘Oh, come on, man,’ Nick gives a hand which I frankly high-fived. ‘What happened to you? You look restless. Come on, man! I’ve been having dozens of trouble lately and I’m as happy as ever!’

Nick’s always been a cheerful person, I know, but it’s clear for me that he hasn’t heard about my parents.

Nick steps into the house and looks around. ‘Hey, where are your parents? I’m missing your mom’s apple pie—you know, 9 out of 10 reasons I come here is to have your mom’s food, thanks to my mom’s wonderful sense of cooking.’ There’s sarcasm in his words.

‘Nick,’ I stop walking and lean myself upon the wall, ‘my parents are dead. The funeral was held yesterday.’

Nick stares at me with eyes and jaws wide open. ‘You’ve got to be kidding me, right? C’mon, Justin, that ain’t funny at all. Wait…’

He looks at me again for quite a moment, and seems to understand. ‘…that’s for real? I’m sorry to hear that, dude,’ he says finally. ‘I’m sorry not to attend your parents’ funeral yesterday, I didn’t even know about that. I’m gonna miss your dad’s glasses, and your mom’s apple pie—(sigh) I know they’re nice persons. Cheer up, dude, I know it’s hard to lose those important to you. Believe me I’ve been through with it, too.’

I draw a breath. ‘Yes, I know, Nick. I’m trying to let go, but I know that’s way to go. I’ve got nobody now.’

‘Way to go?’ Nick says. ‘Justin, we’re at the same state—I’ve got nobody neither. You know what? I used to be Nick Wilkin, then Nick Keenan, but now I’m officially Nick Wilkin again. It’s been quite nice being a Keenan for quite some time, but now that it’s not, I’m Wilkin away.’ He laughs at his own words.

I look at him. ‘What happened between you and your mom?’

Nick drops himself onto the sofa. ‘What happened between me and my mom?’ He laughed. ‘I’m not supposed to deal with the past, but alright. I disagreed to move in with her and her fucking boyfriend told me that if I don’t want to live with them it’s okay, I don’t have to move in with them! And my mother agreed with him, preferring her new boyfriend over her own son! What does she think I am, just another bugger in her life? So here I am, nowhere to live, nowhere to go, being dumped by my own mother. Am I mad? Fuck me I’m not! That’s just enough knowing that my former mother is a whore, and I’ve had enough with her. Period.’

‘Are you going to live with your dad?’ I asked carefully.

‘Are you crazy? By preferring my mom over my dad you should’ve known what sort of man he is! He’s a good man, I know, but he’s being too serious for just anything, and if I live with him he’ll probably make me a lawyer or something like that I don’t like. He’s a good man to have by your side, of course, and he’s my father after all. It’s just I’m not going to live with him, I know it’s best for me to live on my own.’

I smile abruptly. Nick’s probably the best guy to have in times like this.

‘So Justin,’ said Nick, ‘what have you been up to?’

I hesitate a little. Should I tell Nick about my plans? If I tell him, it’s like exposing it to everyone I know. So far the only one knowing about my plans is Father Alan Wright, and he’s the type that keeps secrets in his coffin. I don’t know if I’m ready to tell everyone about my plans, not right now.

‘I don’t know,’ I lie. ‘What about you, Nick? What’s in your mind?’

Nick moves closer to me so our eyes met. ‘Listen, Justin, I’ve got an idea. I’ve got a plan to do something that’s so vital it’ll change my life!’

Somehow I have a funny feeling about this, but I don’t know why. ‘And what do you mean with “vital”?’

‘I was thinking all the time, with my parents suck, my life’s been boring, and how I’m fed up with all these troubles at home—why not leaving my past behind, going out to the world and finding a new life? It’s a life of adventure I’m looking for! You know me, you know what I mean, and you know that we have something in common—I don’t fancy going alone, so how is it? We both have nobody now, and nowhere to go. What kind of future will you have if you keep staying here? The world’s waiting for us to come, man, and the loss we had has given way to a new chapter in our life!’

Oh geez, I think. We really have something in common—perhaps I’m not meant to go alone.