A/N: Hey guys! SteinMon here with another literary experiment thanks to my friends from reality (yes, I have those) ultimately asking for this (not that they'll read it).

I would like to personally thank Fanfic writers "misterbubblesishere", "T.J.98", and "MartyrFan" for their stories. Without them, the synapses in my brain wouldn't have fired in the write order (pun intended).

The story itself is part of a thought I had after my play-through of Burial at Sea part 2, specifically, the causality of entwined events (like Subject Delta and BaS Comstock dying on the same day, New Years Eve 1958. It blew my mind at least!) in conjunction with unexplained ideas that seemed to take root within the series (the quantum entanglement from Bioshock: Infinite being among the main reasons for the Vita-Chambers, or the Protector Bond being derived from Songbird).

My thought, to be blunt, was the Code Yellow - Lot 192 incident. It stood to reason that the WYK-phrase and Code Yellow were not the only conditionings (as it turns out, they were both mental- and Plasmid- induced... go figure). Sooo, yeah, Spoilers! Plus I wanted to see my own take on Jack with a thought process that reflects actual human cognition (instead of the limitations imposed by video games, but hey, that's what Fan-fictions are for). Plus, I really wanted to cover the discrepancies between Bioshock and Bioshock 2 Plasmids and Gene Tonics. Overall, there will be familiar themes and implications, with some original ideas to boot (I hope anyway).

That being said, I welcome your Reviews. If you have criticisms, I welcome those too. Would you kindly keep them constructive. I want to grow as an author, and I can't do that with destructive criticism.

This story is based with the entirety of the series as it's muse, my little moths

Without further ado. *Que the dimming of the lights*


Prologue: A Variable Becomes a Constant; and a Constant Becomes a Variable

Jack wasn't sure what was going to happen. Sure, it seemed to make sense. Go visit your cousins in England. Cousins he didn't know he had first off; not that he could recall any discussions about his extended family. Hmm? Must have slipped his mind.

The reasoning was also strange. His mother and father didn't seem worried, or in trouble when they had seen him off at the airport. If anything, they looked pleased, or proud. Yet the visit to his undisclosed cousins seemed almost spur of the moment on their parts.

"Son, you're special. You're born to do great things." Didn't all parents say that to their kids? That was confusing too. They seemed to believe it, but at the same time, it was like they had said it for the first time.

"Ugh," he groaned, leaning back in the first-class seat to close his eyes, the hand holding his open wallet face drooping. And hiding the picture of him and his parents. Despite his seated and comfortable position, he couldn't sleep though. Probably just nerves. The flight's lights were dim, but he could still make out a little girl sleeping soundly next her mother on the inside of the aisle, her little eyes fluttering behind her eyelids in a way that remind Jack of a butterfly. She was dreaming.

He smiled, retrieving out a half-smoked pack of cigarettes out of his jacket pocket and gently popped the butt of one out, pulling it free with his lips. The gentle click of his lighter opening, and the flick of a small flame igniting was mesmerizing. He held it up to light his peace, snapping it shut before putting it away. He inhaled deeply, retrieving the cigarette from his mouth as he flicked away the ash.

Absently, he lifted the package his parents had given him, the card opened in a small display. "To Jack, With love, From Mom & Dad. Would you kindly not open until: 63" 2' N, 29" 55' W."

Odd. Truly odd. Where was that anyway? He pulled out a complimentary atlas provided by the airline service. Hmm…. Somewhere in the middle of the sea between Greenland and Iceland, the space in between reminding him of a triangle. That added to the mystery, but… hmm, whatever. He assumed his parents had a good, maybe even special reason for that. He wondered if it had anything to do with the Aurora Borealis that appeared in or near that area of the world. He'd read a book not too long ago about it. Although, where had his parents got that book, and what had spurred him to read it?

Living on a farm came with its shortage of privileges in 1960, sure, but why did he remember that. Huh? He shook his head. It was probably just the nerves of being on a plane for the first time, and the jet-lag that was sure to follow. Yeah. That had to be it.

He glanced down again at the note, shaking his head as he set the gift off to the side again. He was worrying over nothing. He took another inhale from his cigarette. Hmm. They were probably about fifteen minutes out from where his parents asked him not to open the gift.

'Twelve minutes, twenty seconds,' he thought absently.

He stopped, his tongue perched curiously over his teeth as he ceased his hand from inserting the dart into his mouth once more. That was strange. He had no idea how he knew that… or even why.

'I guess I did learn something from Ms. Albreight's class.' He was disappointed though. It only took him how many years to apply Geography and Social Studies since high-school. That wasn't even his strongest subject; that had been History. Well, better late than never he supposed. And the distance-over-speed equals time? Wasn't that math and physics? He hadn't been good at those either.

What the f-?

"Mister Wynand?"

He was pulled from his thoughts, only realizing then that he had jumped from fright. God, that was a new feeling. And strange. He didn't startle easily, if his friends back home had anything to say about it. Huh? For some reason he couldn't picture their faces.

"Mmm-hum," he responded as he cleared his throat, looking up to meet the inquirer in question. Whatever social graces had prompted him to clear his throat was gone now, his tongue screeching to firm and utter halt.

Jack would say he had a fair eye for recognizing beautiful dames, both in stature and in personality. Strange though, he couldn't recall being robbed of his voice either. Huh? He kind of liked the thrill of being surprised now, and this lady (because "woman" was now not gracious enough to describe her) had done so twice. Now if only he could open his mouth and speak.

But those eyes held him captive in their blue prison, as if he were slave to the sea far below. He wasn't sure he noticed anything else, but… wow! She was a brunette, her hair brushed out into pin curls. Easily in her early twenties- just like him. Her applications of makeup were light and seemed more for social uniformity than actual necessity. It took him a few more moments to realize she was dressed in the same outfit as one of the few other airlines attendants, complete with a small, slightly crooked cap that he could only describe as "cute".

He also noticed peripherally that she was in a tight knee-length skirt but did his damnedest not to look down at her legs. If there was one thing his father and mother had taught him well, it was to be a man first in all things and following closely to that lesson was to be a gentleman. He'd be damned if he didn't at least attempt to curb his base appetites.

But he immediately went back to her eyes all the same. They were gorgeous. He saw a lot in those eyes. A bright innocence, stern ferocity, laden regrets, burdensome sadness, mystic-like intelligence. But the willfulness in those eyes gave him wonderous pause, like she knew everything she was doing was because she refused to let anyone else make the decision for her; almost… Rebellious. He could see a lot of darkness in those eyes, but she wasn't bad. She had a heart underneath those beautiful sapphire prisms; he could just… sense it. And there was something else-

"Mister Wynand?"

"Oh! Um, sorry. What was that?" he sputtered, blinking a few times as though that would clear his thoughts. The only thing it seemed to clear was his voice, his thoughts still muddled.

She smiled kindly at his stuttering, as though she were accustomed to it. "Code Blue, beginning activation sequence," she stated simply, her smile remaining the whole time, strangely comforting despite her strange words. "Sequence confirmed?"

His head felt fuzzy all of a sudden, his ears ringing, and the air rippling with static. Something wet touched his lip, and he moved to wipe it away, only to see a trail of red. His nose was bleeding. Eyeing the vibrant red on his fingers benignly, he heard himself speak. "Confirmed."

He turned, watching as the flight-attendant's eyes moistened. It was such a sad look. He wanted to reach over and comfort her, but… he couldn't. "Just remember when a dream appears." Her eyes opened and closed a few times as if to blink away the unformed tears, taking a deep breath as a look of determination entered her eyes. She quickly took hold of his hand, her fingers moving from the sinew and muscles cords from the backside of his hand and reaching around to his palm, until nestled in, interlocking their fingers and hands. It was close; intimate.

Almost impulsively, his mouth opened. "You belong to me."

Before he could find the words to express how apologetic he that was that his tongue was running rampant, his mouth filled with different words. "Just remember till your home again." He didn't know why, but he felt a smile touch his face, and even- those were tears trailing down her face.

The stewardess gasped slightly, looking at him with a warm familiarity that made his chest ache. That was new. He had never seen her before. He was positive, and yet- She cupped his cheek with her free hand, planting a gentle kiss on his forehead.

"You belong to me," she whispered back. "Code Blue, activate."

His hand clenched around hers as his body erupted in agony. He couldn't scream; but it hurt all the same. Every vein pulsed like liquid fire. Every breath stung his lungs like ice. If he could claim awareness so deep, he might think that his cells were screaming in agony as every nerve seemed to both tense and loosen all at once. His eyes spared a glance to his empty hand, watching as a gentle orange glow shone through the veins visible in his hands and wrists.

"Shhh," the lady soothed, no passenger seeming to take notice of them as she continued to hold his hand. The pain was subsiding, even as she gently brushed his face. "Until we meet again."

The pain finally relieved, he blinked, and she was gone; only the ghost of her hand in his, and her hand against his cheek. His head shot between the aisles, looking both toward the cabin and the tail end of the plane. She was just… gone. And he- what happened?!

He slumped back in his seat in confusion, a small fraction of time seemingly missing from his memory. He looked down at his hand. There was blood? And it was dripping onto his sweater! He grumbled, picking up a napkin to try and get as much of it off as possible. Gah, his mother had bought him this for Christmas!

He sighed in resignation. He'd just have to get it dry-cleaned. Accidents happened after all.

No, something was wrong. His hand brushed his face, feeling a damp across his cheek. He was crying. His mother had told him tears were for good dreams, so he must have had a good dream. It must have been a dream. Yeah… that must have been it. Shaking it off and dabbing his nose to wipe the blood away, he leaned back, smiling as a wordless melody crossed his mind.

It was a sad and mournful tune, but somehow hopeful.

He began to hum it, his chest reverberating gently as he breathed with the wordless lyrics. It didn't take long before he settled into a comfortable content, made more so by a lingering warmth on his cheek, and the tightness in his hand. He might just get some sleep on this flight after all.

'Times up!' a thought sparked. No, he couldn't sleep!

He gently picked up the gift off to his left, eyeing the letter once again. Something felt wrong, but at the same time, he didn't seem to mind. It felt like a good time to open it. So he did.

An elegant bow, good paper wrapping, the packaging was interesting. 'What's the special occasion?' he wondered.

"Um?" he voiced to himself. Inside was pistol. A six-cylinder revolver. He quickly checked up and down the aisle, making sure no one noticed it. "What the fuck?" Why the Hell was there a gun? Why had they wanted him to open it here? Was there anything else?

His fingers sifted through the package, finding another piece of paper right under the revolver. Gingerly, he pulled it up, glancing over the lettering.

Would you kindly hijack this plane and crash it into the ocean. -FF

P.S. Toss this note to the side and forget you read this

Almost fluidly, Jack pushed the package off to the side, his breath quickening. His hand shook as it took the revolver in hand. He wasn't afraid; if anything, he was numb as he stood up, swing his aim toward a stewardess at the front. He felt half a lurch in his chest before realizing it wasn't her- Who?

Then, he didn't hesitate to pull the trigger.

He might have taken the time to notice her head whipping back, and a spray of blood streaking the plane wall behind her, but he didn't mind. He was numb. He was quick, methodical. The screams of passengers didn't bother him, nor did the pleas to God or himself.

His neck bristled as he felt something behind him, swing around to meet it.

'What?' Half a moment of clarity.

It was her. At the end of the barrel, the flight attendant, the one who…Who? His head rang again as he felt his nose begin to bleed once more, his aim seeming to shake for a moment from a muscle tremor.

But, it wasn't her. She looked roughly the same, save for the blood-stained and dirty blouse, the torn fishnet stockings, and… was that blood drying from around her eye. She looked like she had been through hell. She was holding what looked like a piece of paper. This time, there were no kind words, only patience as she looked down the gun-barrel, and right into his eyes, like she could see his future and where it led. He broke away first, looking down to wipe away his nose, he looked back up, and she was gone, the paper floating down to the plane's floor as though it had been dropped. The note from his parents.

Jack suddenly lurched as someone carried into him from the side, attempting to arrest the gun from his hand. Unfortunately, Jack was quicker. The butt of the gun met the side of a man's head as he was pistol-whipped back into his seat as Jack made his way closer to the front of plane.

Why had he frozen, staring down the barrel at nothing? He couldn't remember. He felt he should, but for some reason, it was like something was missing from the interaction. Or someone. But no. He was numb.

He pushed forward. He was uninterrupted after a second attempt to stop him ended with the brains of another passenger were sprayed all over the woman who had sat next to the now deceased. One hand gripped the handle of the cabin door as he began to try and open it.

"Do you think he noticed?"

"Probably not. Neither of her were able to do it subtly."

"Contrary-wise, perhaps he will. In time. The fact she didn't do it subtly either time suggests there was a meaningful interaction. It's a part of him now, whether he knows it or not."

"Hmm. Indeed. Perhaps that will drive him."

"The interaction?"

"No. The not knowing. It's terrible not to know. So many questions."

"But so few like the answers."

"Indeed."

Jack turned, looking at two front seat passengers. If there was anything that should have knocked him out of his numbed state, it was these two. A man and a woman, like two sides of the same coin. Both held well-groomed auburn hair; curious, calculating eyes, as though both of them were gambling the exact nature of how he would die. The man was a few inches taller than the woman, but both were impeccably dressed in duck-yellow raincoats that were oddly enough, soaked.

"Oh. There now, you see? He noticed us," the man commented off handedly.

"Noticed us? Or our unconventional attire?" the woman shot back without missing a beat.

"Perhaps both? He's a little out of it."

"Probably won't remember a thing."

"Not yet. But the weight of his undeserved sins might cripple him," the man finished.

"Perhaps so."

"So what do you think of this experiment, sister?"

"Interesting. Nothing's changed."

"He did bleed."

"Yes, but he immediately forgot."

"His reaction was shocking."

"That I concur," the woman agreed. "In his proper place, in his proper time, in his proper universe. And yet he reacted as though it wasn't."

"He did hold her hand. And he didn't pull the trigger on her."

"Perhaps feeling something that wasn't there."

"Do you suppose they're attracted to each other?"

"Like animals, or like magnets?"

"Like a gravity well," the male answered. "Inexplicably pulling together across time and space, whether they realize it or not. Causality across causality all eventually converging on a single universe."

The woman broke habit and glanced at the male next to her, eyeing him suspiciously. "That sounds preposterously close to talk of fate, brother. If there's one thing we might have learned across the cosmos, it's that choice branches out in an infinite number of ways. Nothing is ever meant to happen."

"And yet," he countered, "this universe is feeding off of itself. One cause leads to the past, and the past to the future, and the future to the present. It's quite a pickle."

"It also intertwines with another universe, feeding off of the reoccurring events that bind them together."

"A universe simultaneously feeding off of the causality that keeps itself consistent in a period of time the emulates a never-ending cycle, and the trigger event brought on from a separate universe," the male concluded. "She created a pickle indeed. I think it's safe to say, the circle is broken."

The numb haze Jack was in, didn't stop a bolt of confusion from hitting him in the face. Had he been conscious enough to understand any of that, he still wouldn't have understood a word of it. Their nonchalance might have also bothered him, but he was numb, and it was all a haze. Continuing unaffected, it took less effort than anticipated to force open the door. He didn't blink as he shot both pilots in rapid succession, the plane instantly beginning to nose dive, passenger screams intensifying as they leaned into the plane's joysticks limply. Jack quickly pulled pilot out of the way, righting the plane quickly as he kept their decent steady.

"So what do you think of it?" the woman began.

"Of what?"

"She turned a constant into a variable-"

"-And a variable into a constant."

"We've never done that."

"Probably because we didn't know what would happen."

"Or we were afraid to find out."

The male made an unnatural attempt to smile. "There's always a lighthouse-"

"-There's always a man-" the woman agreed.

"-There's always a city," they chorused ritualistically. Those things never changed. They were the immovable constants. Oh, but how the constants and variables had shifted. Just another universe in play.

And with that, the plane groaned as it hit the water, the shock of impact splitting it in half, and began flooding it almost immediately. Jack smashed into the console, rendering himself unconscious.

As the plane began to take on water, the Luteces simply looked at each other amidst the screams of passengers trying to unbuckle themselves. As it stood, all would die of drowning. All but one. That wouldn't change either.

"What do you think, brother?"

"Perhaps we should stick around," he answered, glancing down at the rapidly sinking seats they inhabited. "Not here of course, but still, I should like to see what changes."

"I don't think much will."

"But much might. If it does, how much will be altered?"

"And how will that change him?"

"And her?"

"Precisely."

"Sister?"

"Yes, brother?"

"I don't know why, but I jovially look forward to the outcome."

"Well aren't you the kind one."

By the time they finished, the water had risen over their heads. A moment of buoyancy pushed the plane back toward the surface, revealing the "Twins" absence from where they had once sat.

And with that, the water rushing in slipped Jack from the seat of the cockpit, slowly pulling him down with the plane.


Author's Notes: Would You Kindly Read & Review! :) (I know, that is so overused, but it's still funny to me!)

And with that, it's going to be a beautiful day. As with all my other stories right now, I have no idea how often I'll be posting or if I'll finish it at all. Mostly, I just want to see how well this is received. I've been stewing on this story for a while, and finally saw to putting it to words in a moment of writers block. The concept is following that there were other contingencies placed within Jack, specifically the aforementioned "Code Blue Sequence". There is a reason I thought of this one specifically, though what it's effect is and why it was made into an activation sequence instead of a simple phrase will be explored later. Much later. Spoilers and all!

Take care, and don't forget to Review! Let me know your Questions, Comments, and Concerns (QCC) :)

Until next time. Chapter 1: Another Long Dive. Maybe a P.S. like "In a tank of sharks". I don't know, we'll see.