Prologue
Santa Claus—an old, jolly, red fat man commonly believed by so many young ones—is considered, by most, a fake. It took me a while to realize that he wasn't real—no, scratch that—I never believed in that myth after all.
Sliders, ESPers, aliens, time travelers, fairies, Cinderella, the Ugly Duckling, flying mint bunnies, etc., those took me longer to realize that they were fictitious as well. Oh, how I wanted those alternate realities to be real!
As a child, I always made wands, trapped fireflies in jars and treated them as if they were fairies, and chased down rabbits hoping they would lead me to a hole I would fall in.
I was a curious, naïve one, to begin with. I always wondered how we got here, considering theories on how this vast area known as the galaxies in space was formed. Was the world created by a supreme being forming the entire universe using only his hands, or by a cosmic explosion which is expanding to this day? Who knows?
How could such simple, multi-celled organisms, known as humans, come up with fantasy? Were we even programmed to think and imagine things with that much creativity? I was determined to find out why when I was in middle school.
During my elementary school years, I had always hoped someone—anyone—supernatural, or strange, at the least, would appear to be an exchange student from out of the country that had magical powers, like telekinesis or ESP. Sadly, it never happened.
Once the world was thrown into a war state, just a few years ago, I had to defend the country I had represented, and had left the academy for a while. At first I thought life would be perfect, after the wars were permanently over. And so I went back to World W. Academy.
After closing the door on such childish beliefs and wonders, I returned without a care in the world—
Until I met Andrea Jones.