Chapter One - The Construct
Update: Now that the semester is over, I'll be updating with more regularity.
Alvin and Dr. Gregor stood side by side, gazing into the flickering light of a blue computer console. The flat-screen monitor displayed a hazy aerial view of a mansion surrounded by a dense forest. Blue light from the monitor shone against Alvin's brown fur and the doctor's pale skin. The screen was the only source of light in the room. Beyond the two clearly visible faces was nothing but darkness.
"It isn't real." Dr. Gregor said, not breaking his gaze. "But it can still harm you."
Alvin breathed out softly before answering. He too would not turn his eyes away from the computer screen. "Doctor, I'm not gonna to pretend to know what you're talking about…" He paused for a moment. The chair he was standing on creaked as he leaned closer to the screen. He stared intently at image of the massive white door leading into the mansion.
"…but if you say I can go there and bring Simon back, I'm onboard."
Dr. Gregor glanced down at the chipmunk. Alvin stood wearing a hoodless red sweatshirt. His back was hunched and his eyes were wide, all giving the impression of an extraordinarily nervous person. From this angle, the doctor was able to see the square of freshly-shaven skin on the back of Alvin's neck. He looked back at the monitor and smiled.
"I was hoping you'd say that."
The doctor stood up to usher Alvin away from the chair and into the darkness.
"This will be a little disorienting."
. . . . . . . . . .
Cold. Hard. Unforgiving. Just a blurry mass. An unyielding plane stretching out to infinity.
Sharp. Pointed. Painful. Unwanted. Suffocating.
Nothingness. Emptiness. Dark.
Dark.
Dark.
Quiet. The world was empty; blank and shrouded in fog. Nothing outside. Nothing at all. Just…
Trees. Trees covering the uneven, slowly rolling terrain as far as the eye could see. Tall, mature evergreen trees covering all the ground in the vicinity, forming an impenetrable forest. A forest so dense that a person could scarcely force his way through it; so dark in the faint starlight that no one would dare do so. An unrelenting wall cut only by…
Crashing. Crashing of waves upon rock. There was an ocean in the darkness beyond.
From the perspective of the Estate, the Ocean could not be seen; only heard echoing through the forest. Sound flooded through the tree-line, over cement, past decorative shrubs, up pristine white stone walls. The soft sounds of the Ocean diverged around the walls of the building, bathing the entirety of the Estate on the hill with white noise.
Echoes traveled up the walls, past windows, over the green shingles of the roof, over the tops of the two chimneys, and back down again on the southern face of the house.
The sounds of the Ocean echoed up to the second floor balcony, through the open glass doors of the bedroom, bringing with it a breeze to stir the white linen curtains.
The thunder of crashing waves in the unseen distance reverberated throughout the large master bedroom, against the green walls, over the fireplace, past beautiful couches and lavish area rugs.
The ominous roar continued in to the center of the room, to the bed positioned there and finally to the bed's occupant. Simon listened attentively as the constant noise of the waves made its way into his ears, causing them to perk in the direction of the open door. His eyes were open. He focused on the white ceiling.
Lights from the garden and the driveway below beamed brightly enough to illuminate the balcony. The soft yellow light was caught by the curtains, which now thrashed more violently in the ever strengthening breeze, and caused them to glow. This light shone softly into the rest of the bedroom, casting faint shadows on the white carpeted floor and glinting against Simon's blue eyes. His gaze remained fixed on the ceiling.
The breeze had now strengthened into a strong wind. On the other end of the room, the curtains whipped against the ceiling repeatedly. Trees could be heard rustling off in the distance, and all the time, the sound of the crashing waves grew louder. A black book on an ornate coffee table shook slightly as the wind nearly lifted the cover. Simon's mind raced, but his gaze was unwavering.
On either side of the glass French door was a window that spanned floor to ceiling. Both were adorned with the same linen curtains that now also twisted and flailed in the breeze. The windows themselves strained under the force of the wind.
Outside, the once calm breeze had grown into a gale. The wind howled through the expanse of forest and broke violently on the north face of the Estate. The originally dim starlight was now darkened completely by storm clouds. Inside the bedroom, the strong wind was threatening to throw the sheets from Simon's bed. Yet his eyes did not move.
The sound of the Ocean had now amplified into a roar which drowned out the thrashing of the evergreens and the howl of the wind. Violent crashes of waves and the thunder of rushing water could be heard clearly in the Estate's bedroom. The wind gusted, throwing the curtains completely back, letting more light from below into the room. The book on the coffee table slid.
Simon felt his heart skip a beat, but did not dare refocus his eyes.
The wind became even stronger. The walls of the Estate groaned from the pressure and the windows whined, as if about to break. Paintings on the wall fell from their hooks and blew to the end of the room. Twigs and leaves from the shrubs below accumulated in the room along with the fallen artwork. Pillows from the luxurious couches and chairs in the room also were lifted from their places and thrown across the room.
Another gust, and the curtains on the door began to tear.
The book on the table slid again. It now teetered over the edge, ready to fall.
Although he did not turn his head to look, Simon was aware of this. His stomach twisted as he thought of the book opening, but all the while he kept his eyes focused on the featureless white ceiling.
The wind whistled against the frame of the door. The latches on the windows seemed about to break. One final gust came barreling through the open door.
The book slid off the table. Simon blinked. Time seemed to slow. The pages fluttered as the book opened and fell towards the floor. The cover folded backwards and the open pages shifted in the wind. A soft tap could be heard as the cover finally made contact with the floor.
Simon shifted his eyes, and then turned his head toward the coffee table. The black book struck the floor and bounced once, only to come to rest on the white carpet with its pages wide open. Immediately, the wind died down. Simon sat up in his bed.
The howl of the wind and the thrashing of the trees could no longer be heard. Only the sound of the Ocean was still audible, but only just. However, this was of no concern to Simon. His attention was now fixed on the book that had fallen.
All was quiet again. The curtains on the door came to a gentle rest against the frame.
All was quiet.
All was quiet.
Then, in an instant, the roar of the Ocean returned, now louder than ever. The sound of rushing water seemed impossibly close now. But Simon did not remove his gaze from the book, even as he felt a fine mist spray against his face.
The sound of the Ocean thundered as water rushed onto the second floor balcony. Powerful waves broke upon the wall and funneled into the open door. The immense force of the water shattered the windows. Water now rushed in from the entire north-facing wall of the bedroom. Simon continued to stare at his book as cold water flooded in, lifting up end tables and couches, and finally reaching the book. Water surrounded it and violently lifted it into the crest of the wave.
Simon sat motionless in his bed and watched as the water surged and crushed him.
His eyes snapped open as he woke. Simon gazed up at the ceiling of his room in the Estate. On the other end of the room, the door was open and the curtains fluttered peacefully. Sunlight poured in through the door and windows. The soft sound of the Ocean could be heard in the distance. He sat up to examine his surroundings. The coffee table in front of the door stood unharmed. There was no black book upon it.
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