Prologue
The rain dripped down onto his black hair. It didn't have a chance to collect as the rain fell even harder, pushing the limits of how much could stay on his head. The weight eventually overtook his head and it toppled along with his body to the ground. And the pool that once sat in his hat splashed down onto his already soaked shirt. The black, button up shirt was completely submerged in water, as his knees found their way to the ground. He was numb to the pain. Gray and dismal, much like his mood. The repugnant smell of his own death surrounded him. The wounds hurt no more. He had dried up, and all the tears had left him. Everything had left him. And soon, so did his consciousness.
The brightness of his eternity, the thought of meeting his maker, so to speak, scared him. The thought that he was stuck were he was put frightened him. He was in control of his own life, no one else was. He was the lone director, the lone dictator, the navigator of his own fate. No one could tell him who he was. But he wondered sometimes, if he was in control of his own fate, then why did it happen? Why did it happen that night? It couldn't be chance, it couldn't be coincidence, nor is it happenstance. Was it fate? Was it destiny? No. It can't be. He doesn't believe, he can't believe, he needs to be in control. Control of his own.
Something was always wrong. No doubt about it. The air seemed stale, the water tainted, the life he lived contaminated. But what was it? What was this stench, this stink that filled his lungs and created this disgust that compelled him to look for answers. Answers that had no question, no sane question, not one logical thought process to reinforce his complete confusion that clouded his mind every night, night after night, while he laid by himself in his bed.
He longed for someone. This someone would make him free, feel free, and be free. His freedom from this mass delirium that he so believed entrenched him. But to what? For what? To this question his curiosity jousted him and inevitably took him to where he is, and away from what he was. A new man seemed to exist. It is what he wanted to become.
His mind trapped by an unknown force, bound by limitations and boundaries, restrictions and precincts. Trapped in a world that he was not aware of.
He found his life pointless. Pointless. A useless chip jockey, bouncing around from job to job in the Silicon Valley. Sitting at coffee shops all day with his co-workers, sipping expensive lattés, speaking of their latest hacks they supposedly did. Breaking impenetrable firewalls and cracking government E-Mails seemed more redundant than the gas stations and Rite Aids combined on any given trip. He found himself withering away, that same confusion taking him over.
His life was pointless. At night he stayed up all night, keying like his keyboard was going to disappear the moment he took his hands off of it. If he even stopped to think, he might lose his pace, lose that step that he grabbed, the edge he desired. His mind in a trance completely locked into the chemical reactions the adapter guns fired onto his monitor.
But how could his life be pointless? He had almost everything that he wanted. He wasn't drop dead rich, but the wealth he had acquired in his day supported him in his bachelor pad. A 3000 square foot brick home stood as the entranceway to the richest part of town, his street of Hugh Lane. It served as a marker, just past the gates with guards patrolling them. The security resembled the seen force that the White House empowered. No one disturbed this neighborhood.
Davis was a small town, with not a lot to it. But it was on the map. When six out of the fourteen people on Granny White could buy out the town, the map seems to have a special dot for you. The corruption of the so-called government seems to uphold its end of the bargain and grant the town its own marker in the history of this country. But this is all to belief.
Without a love, without a want, without purpose, his life was pointless. He was tired of being pointless. Sick and tired of going through life, feeling oblivious to the world that he believed behind the curtain. What was this life?
He was scared of meeting his maker. But now, he is ready. His life was pointless, and he wanted some good answers from his maker.
Inauguration
(n-ôgy-rshn) A formal beginning or introduction.
"To fear love is to fear life, and those
who fear life are already three parts
dead." - Bertrand Russell
The revolving door magnified the outside heat in the midst of summer, taking his perspiration to a whole new level in the smallest sliver of time he was inside the rotating entrance. But just as it came, it left as the door opened a new path to the buildings main lobby. The artificial temperature the air conditioner created soothed Eden's skin, almost crystallizing the sweat beads that hung from his hair. The roots seemed darker than the tips as the sweat continued to withdraw, the blue in his shirt darkened around his armpit just from the ten minutes it takes to come from Davis to the outskirts of Silicon Valley. The Microsoft building would hopefully evaporate some of his rancidness, the same as it does every day.
"Good morning, Mr. Kaminski! How has your morning been?" Eden turned his head to see the voice. A lovely lady, Ms. Madison Foster, was the speaker. He couldn't help himself from taking a glimpse of her, which she tightly wrapped in a black skirt and a low white shirt. Those were the only two things he noticed before he caught himself staring into the green eyes that inspired his lust for her. He quickly averted his eyes, and kept himself from blushing.
"It was great. I'll talk to you later." Eden continued to walk past. God, Eden! I'll talk to you later? It was great? That is all you could come up with? Sure, you can come up with complex computer codes in seconds, but when it comes to interaction with another human being that you are attracted to, you resort to the simplest sentence possible!
He twisted the oblong metal door handle and entered the room in the corner, his nameplate staring him back in the face as he stared the door down. He threw his briefcase down onto the seat beside his desk as he took his seat behind it. His blank computer monitor stared at him. Do something. He stood back up, ready to talk to Ms. Foster a little more. Who are you kidding? You're going to go and try and pick up the cutest and smartest secretary in the whole building? You are a geek! Get it through your head that you will never get a date with her! He collapsed back into his chair. He shook his mouse and watched the screen fade into existence.
He quickly slapped the keys with his muscular fingers. Small calluses were starting to form because of the endless keying he went through out the day, as well as night. He knew what would become of them. They would soon smudge his fingerprint, and he would be almost unrecognizable by any law enforcement. But his intentions weren't illegal.
The password lit itself, each letter its own asterisk in the separate text box. The computer synced itself with the network. His business E-Mail was sufficiently full, but his mind was not in work today. He filtered through these, half paying attention to them and half of them being deleted. He went into the Internet and started checking his personal E-Mail. His Verizon E-Mail Network account, or VEN, worked fine for him. Free and "hard" to crack. But he liked the challenges. They often said no one could crack into these E-Mails. He did. He often wrote kludges to block E-Mails from SPAM'ers, and to stop the pop-up ads.
He found his log-on screen and put in his hacking alias "Hecht". He hit enter on his E-Mail password and watched listened to the computer hum as it processed his request. The account opened itself, and a pop-up ad showed itself. He quickly went to close it, but stopped. How'd this get through?
"Re-adjust your clock, Mr. Kaminski, it is 9:12 and your running out of time." His fingers hovered over the keys as he tried to comprehend how this pop-up came through, and secondly, how it had his name. Hit Alt-F4 and get out of it. He did, and continued with his work. He lost himself inside his machine.
The rain was hitting its hardest now. It was immerse him into the water that would be his grave. Not like this. He couldn't stand it. His eyes flashed, pain using him as a passage, a link to the outside world. His screams reinforced its overbearing presence. He needed to find that inspiration that would free him. What could free him?
The conclusion he often came to is that nothing could free him. He wanted something that no one, not one thing could give him. He wanted it. But what was it? The emptiness showed itself through his heart, blanking his thinking pattern and creating his self-loathing.
He didn't want to hate himself, but he couldn't help it. He had no reason to not feel this self-loathing, and his resentment for himself surpassed any other feeling he had. He was missing something.
He knew exactly what he wanted. He wanted some condolence from someone. He wanted some feeling from someone…some love.
His parents left him at fifteen. He always wanted sympathy for that. But no one cares if you are left at fifteen, no one does. They care if you were seven and left alone, even twelve, but no one cared that he was fifteen and already on his own.
It's not like it was the first time it happened though. His parents would leave for weeks at a time. He figured they wouldn't come back sometime. It was only a matter of time before dad got himself so focused on his work before he would forget about his son, Eden. And mom. She was pathetic. She would come home drunk, almost every night. And almost every night, with a different man.
Dad never knew. His business came first. He never caught her. But he didn't need to. His Fortune 125 Company he had raised had become an empire. He often wouldn't come home at night, and the business was only ten miles away. Eden believed that he probably was with a different woman every night also.
Eden didn't want that. He wanted love from one person. This is the only thing a machine could not give him. This is why he was so hopelessly dependant on seeing Ms. Madison Foster every morning. But it couldn't happen for the rest of his life. She would find another job, other than a secretary at Microsoft. He knew she was trying to leave. He already received a call because he was a reference. It was only a matter of time before his life collapsed. When she was gone, he was done.
He fingers feverishly were typing now. He was running out of time.
"Type faster, Mr. Kaminski! Type faster!" The voice was louder each time. He panicked. His fingers were flying across the keyboard, gently brushing each key but each time making the impact required to impress the letters onto the screen. His concentration focused hard. Every keystroke was being hit with perfection, swiftly being guided by instincts and reactions. Out of nowhere: Ms. Madison Foster. His finger slipped.
"Mr. Kaminski!" Eden sprang up from his desk.
"Boss? Are you okay?" He looked at his keyboard. Hhhhhkkkkkklllllllllddddd was displayed in his composed mail.
"Yes, I'm fine, I just had some things I was doing." Had some things you were doing? Idiot! You were fast asleep dreaming of hacking! What else can be said about the drool on your keyboard? Eden frowned. He felt stupid.
Ask her out. He turned away from his machine. I mean, why not? It isn't like you are trying to sexually harass her. You are just asking if she wants to go to dinner with you. No big deal, correct?
"Yeah, no big deal."
"What was that boss?"
"Nothing, it's nothing."
Madison began to leave. She turned and grabbed the door handle. No! The door shut behind her, and Eden was left defeated. Again.
Timing of Choice
/Instance.of.Option/Moment.of.Selection/Point.of.Preference/Era.of.Alternative/
"The strongest principle of growth
lies in human choice." - George Eliot
It seemed it was too dark. Maybe the bed was too hard, or he wasn't that tired. Nope, it wasn't the latter, and neither of the former.
He was still sweating. He couldn't remember a time when he wasn't. But it wasn't the heat this time. He was still confused. How did that pop-up have my name? Maybe it was some form of a virus and could see into my computer, simply grasping my user name. But my kludges, they are flawless. How could anyone get into them and why would they attack the manager of the Microsoft in Silicon Valley?
He was wide-awake for the next three hours still. Counting sheep was pointless. He thought of all the times he was sleeping, the dreams he had. He often dreamt in code, scripts for computers to interpret.
He slipped his leg outside the sheets, letting it hang to maybe cool down his body system. He thought of his body like a computer. It could overheat and burn out memory, do unspeakable damage. He has seen a lot of things done to computers, and feared it on himself.
The other leg followed. The pure white pajama pants he wore stuck to his leg, matting the hair on his legs against his skin. It felt sticky, and he didn't enjoy it. It was the feeling he always had, the stickiness, the stink and sweat. But now he was stuck on his computer.
From the idle state his monitor glowed, an eerie black glow that it always seemed to have. The screen image was almost burnt onto the screen. He had been there so many times. A blank chat room.
You couldn't have a blank chat room. It was impossible. Someone had to be in it. You can't have a chat room with no one in it. The chat simply destroys itself when everyone leaves.
He was always in that chat room. He always entered it every time he saw it. He had to, it mystified him. It brought up the curiosity inside of him. He had no choice but to go in. How could it be? Then he would leave it on sometimes.
No one else was ever in it. Never. Whenever he logged into his name, whenever his "Hecht" logged into the IRC, it was open. No one in it.
The black screen was still staring him in the face, and the green outlines simply made it to seem that there were actually rectangles spread across. No text was present, besides his name by its lonesome in the user log.
He stopped. His computer hummed. What the…
A new chat room opened itself. No one was in it according to the users box, but he was sitting there viewing it. Letters suddenly came into view without him touching his keyboard.
Who are you and what do you want…
Eden stared at his screen. His confusion overwhelmed him, not knowing how this came onto this screen, even though he was a genius programmer and could understand almost everything about a processor. His fingers graced the keyboard as he responded.
How did I get here and who are you
Eden sat back. The letters slowly generated onto the screen. Who is this guy? How did I get here? Why is this happening to me?
Though my name is masked, you hold the key…
Eden tapped his fingers furiously on the keyboard, not even taking the time to blink much less think about what he was writing or who he could be writing to.
Who the hell are you and what do you want? I have never done anything to anyone and now I am being mentally assaulted!
The anger was consuming him now, and he was holding nothing back. The sweat was dripping like it always does, and like it always has. His pounding was slipping and he would hit multiple keys at once, a problem quickly corrected and easily forgotten as he mashed through it.
Now I'm giving you a chance to come out and tell me who you are or I will completely destroy your computer! With this kind of a connection, I could load up a virus and eliminate everything that you have ever done!
Eden was breathing hard. He waited for the response, the answer to the madness that he was forced to sift through.
I know you won't…
"Huh?" He leaned closer to they monitor and typed again.
What makes you so sure?
You are the only one that has ever looked at this, something so insignificant and believed it to be something much bigger than it is. And you're right. This is only the beginning of something that could be beautiful and completely fulfilling. You could complete your world, Hecht. You could complete what you have been brooding over for the past six years of your life. Do you trust me?
I do not know if trust is a prerequisite to my decision, but rather what would I do…
Confusion is the name of your game, Hecht. Your confusion has overrun your life so much, even within your last three weeks of existence in your job, you have been pushed in and out of belief and perplexity.
When you believe what you are, you can get what you want. I'm not confused, I know what I am so I know what I can get.
Then maybe the lines of uncertainty are similar to your indecisiveness.
As your talk consists of indirection, deluding from your point at hand.
Then we know much about each other.
I can't help wondering if this is a trap.
There's a difference, Mr. Kaminski, between a trap and a test.
That there is…but tell me. Why does it feel more real when I dream than when I am awake. How can I know if my senses are lying.
There is some fiction in your truth, and some truth in your fiction. To know the truth, you must risk everything.
Eden wiped the sweat from his forehead. He wanted to believe him, wanted to believe this mystery man to get him out of the world he believed trapped him from his true power. Whatever his true power was, he did not have control of it. That feeling of fate, of destiny, intrigued him and consumed him. He wanted what all men want, more power. But his doubt and disbelief held him back. All of his morals and principles lead him away, to a more safe approach. It made all much more sense to not do this, to not meet him. It would be better for him to not take the time out and to meet this guy that he has never met before. He leaned away from his computer and gently put his hands on his weapon, closed his eyes and typed.
A sigh of relief came out. This is what he wanted to do. He opened his eyes back to observe the reply.
Who are you? Am I alone?
Assembly and Departure
/Meeting.and.Exit/Gathering.and.Leaving/Conference.and.Disappearance/
/Convention.and.Removal/Congregation.and.Exodus/
"If you limit your choices only to
what seems possible or reasonable,
you disconnect yourself from what
you truly want, and all that is left is
a compromise." – Robert Fritz
Eden hated Fridays. He truly believed they were the root of all evil. All of his meetings were on Fridays. They thought the meetings would be better because of it being casual Friday. Microsoft took casual Friday to the T. But it was still the day he hated.
This is when he had to meet with the big executives, the chiefs of this company. Eden was everything in Silicon Valley, but nothing at these meetings. These were the rich people, the stand out wealth. These are the guys that look at the President of the United States and wonder what it is like to live at a level so low. His measly Creativity department wasn't the big time to these self-centered pricks.
The meetings were boring. These types of meetings were the only ones were he couldn't bring in his laptop. With his laptop he could lose himself in the net, wander around and search for the answers of the inexplicable person that contacted him three weeks prior. It drove him, it consumed him.
Eden strolled into the conference room, enthusiasm shattered from his expression and body language. He lacked the excitement he once had to be in the same room as all of these "greats" that he knew. He once made them feel appreciated as he talked to them, asked them questions, and tried to learn from them. They were all a joke. Not one of them a true computer genius. He was the only one with true computer knowledge. He now despised the rest of his group, and had a way for each one of them to kill him during a meeting just by the simple things they do that drive him crazy.
Mark Hellens was the first he saw. The obese man was already sitting, sticking his fat fingers into the donut pile that was presented at the beginning of every meeting. The stains on his shirt meant that he had eaten recently, maybe even last night in his white Tee-shirt. It was faded red, giving Eden the belief it was Italian. Plus, the guy can't get enough of the spaghetti when they have it at their monthly executive meeting in Seattle. This was always, the big one, with the man there. Bill Gates hosted this monthly, and Mark could not stop eating. But here he was a big man in different ways. He was Head of Distribution, but Eden always thought he should distribute the food evenly first before the rest of the companied died from starvation.
Next to him was Ryan Stallings. This guy was so average, it wasn't fathomable. His face had no distinct features, not even a trademark expression that would spark interest at any point. A face you could lose in a crowd of three. He didn't even have the nerd glasses that eighty percent of the guys at this meeting did. This was the only place he looked different at any point, and it was because of glasses. Red shirt, blue jeans, white tennis shoes, sitting a black leather chair. He had no differential to him. He was a blend between everyone. His field was assembly. He never talked, he never said a word. He could easily kill someone with his lack of companionship. He never had anything to give.
The oddball sat next to him. Peter Callow sat so still, so focused, and so intense upon what everyone said, and had a comment for everyone. He often tried to make them witty, to make people laugh. It seemed that he was looking in the wrong place for the attention he wanted. This guy could talk for hours, and most of the time got away with a good hour before someone had to put a limit on the time the conferences could go because he would take such an abundance of time up. These super nerds were not about to give him eleven nanoseconds of their time to listen to his personal ideas. He was the one that would keep you awake as he tried talking to you, keeping you from sleeping. Sleep deprivation was his weapon against humanity. God had taken the gift of speech from too many people to compile it into one man that abused his power. This all maybe because he was the head of OSC, or Operating System Creation, which handles creation of new OS's and modifications of the older ones.
The only two people that sat on the other side of the table were the Black brothers. Both of them were the same, but different in so many aspects. Edgar Black was head of IA, or Internal Applications which were the basic programs that were available on showcase personal units, and Edmund Black was head of R & D, Research and Development. Both of them are the most snobbish characters on the face of Microsoft.
They grew up with their parents northeast of San Diego, in Lakeside and had everything going for them. The sons of Humphrey Black, six time golf pro champion in the mid-70's, had everything they wanted. And when he suddenly died in '87, he left his whole estate to his sons. To bad they didn't inherit some of this athletic ability because they didn't have a life, but they sure could buy one.
They invested in computers, and now, as one of the chiefs of this staff, the run the meetings here, and they command the Microsoft army out of Silicon Valley. Now, they run the show. He hated it. He hated them. He hated this company, this world, this life. But he was forced to listen, to take his seat next to Peter Callow.
"Alright, as you can see we are all here now. Let us begin with…" And that is where Eden lost them.
His pencil in his hand began to tap in a slow rhythm. Tap…tap…tap. He stared at the white walls. Few pictures graced the room. A few were the Black brothers with Bill Gates himself, handshaking or arms around each other. His pencil tapping became quicker. Tap..tap..tap. Eraser shavings were gently rolling down the air, fluttering closer and closer to the table. Mark dropped a paper and it slowly floated down to the grey carpet. He turned his head upwards towards Mark's face. He didn't even notice the paper. His eyes were trained upon the freshly placed bagels, still warm and loads of toppings for the man to fill himself with.
He thought more and more about that man. His confusion towards what that was, when and if he was going to contact him, and his motives for doing any and all of it. Why? That was the main question. Why did he do this? He had to get this question answered.
His pencil tapped even faster as he grew more confused and anxious to discover an answer. Tap-tap-tap. Everything was silent besides his tapping. He could not hear his boss, couldn't hear him at all.
A screeching noise disrupted his thoughts. He winced at how loud it was as he looked towards the pain packed blare and caught sight of his cell phone.
Eden fumbled around for his black phone. His fingers slipped off and he dropped the phone to the ground. He quickly bent over and slipped his hand onto the rubber red button and pressed, ending the call immediately.
"Mr. Kaminski, what is my policy on ringing phones during meetings?" Edgar stared Eden directly in the eyes.
"Uh…I'm sorry sir."
"Yes. Well, you are barely keeping your end of the company running as it is, Mr. Kaminski."
"It won't happen again, sir." His co-workers stared in amazement. This had been the first infringement of the commandments set they had ever seen. It was dead silent and no one in the room found the courage to even swallow.
"For your sake, I hope not." His eyes released the strangle it had on Eden's neck and returned to normal. He took his papers back from the table and continued lecturing.
Eden immediately grabbed his phone. He held the same red button and began to shut his phone off.
He could see it. He could see the lights dimming as everyone could, but he could even see inside the phone. He could see the circuits immediately getting cooler and the phones applications were no longer running, no longer processing the data transmitted at all times for that split second more than air would enter the phones input. As the lights dimmed, he watched in patience, and then slipped the phone into his pocket.
He took his hand out of his left pocket and returned it to the table.
"As you see, we have been inflating out-" The phone rang again.
Confusion instantly set in Eden's eyes. What? Disbelief took him over. Edgar didn't even flinch. After three rings he twisted his head towards Eden.
Eden stepped up. His eyes were fixated on his pocket. He removed them and set them on Edgar.
"I turned it off…I know I did." Edgar slowly started walking towards Eden.
The shrill ring hung in the air, and continued its rhythm. He seized the phone out of his pocket and hit the green answer button. He lifted the phone to his ear.
"They know you know. Get out, get out now." He could picture that unknown man on the other line. Eden caught a glimpse outside the window and saw a black car drive up. The doors opened and men with black suits emerged.
Edgar came face to face with Eden. His glasses came up to his chin, and goatee was much bushier up close. He snatched the phone from Eden and pushed all of his hatred into Eden.
"Your job is in serious jeopardy, Mr. Kaminski." Eden face finally found Edgar's.
Eden pushed Edgar out of the way and jumped over the table. His feet met with the fresh bagels, making a repulsive sound and slipping Eden's grip on the table.
"Hey!" Mark yelled out as the bagels went everywhere. Jelly found spots on Mark's shirt and joined the stains from before. Edgar slowly fell off his feet and onto the ground.
Eden bolted towards the door and swiftly slipped through the opening. He sprinted down the hallway. The doors were whizzing past him. His constant cutting prevented him from hitting oncoming carts, people, and objects. His feet came together and squeezed past a random lady and then quickly spread again to take full sprinting speed.
He noticed the officers heading straight towards him. This isn't good…
He sent the first officer stumbling to the ground by ducking a capture attempt, and threw the second officer to the ground with a hard stiff arm. Two more officers were ready to pounce on Eden's next step. One leapt at him and Eden cut left. The other officer skidded to a stop and kept after.
Eden broke loose and spotted a dilemma ahead. A table was on the right part of the hallway, and a man on the left with heavy boxes. He kept his full sprint.
Off his left foot, Eden took a leap onto the table and kept pace, in turn frightening the worker to dropping the boxes. Eden used the edge of the table to soar into the air above another officer who's futile attempt to seize Eden failed.
Eden's feet hit the ground running, creating space in between the officer and him. He slipped to the right, hoping to lose everyone. He bounded down the first set of stairs and turned the corner. The black suits were waiting. He didn't break stride and continued.
Off his feet again, Eden flew through the air and met the wall. His foot planted and sprung him past the black suits. I'm not going to make it…
More black suits were filling into the building. They wanted to catch him, they had to catch him. It was their duty, their purpose.
Eden's feet slapped the floor and was still running. His breath was gone from him, and needed to take a break. Not now, keep going…
The bolted through blue double doors and into the cubicle area. He stopped for a second. His eyes scanned the room so quickly, and he made his decision. He feet started up again as he ran to the left and down to the middle of the cubicle rows.
He took off right through the work stations, everyone staring. Keep going. No turns, get to the door. He pushed as hard as he could. He could feel his heart beating, surging blood through his system to try and sustain the work out he was enduring. His feet were already sore from the sudden force put on them, and his legs ached. He could already tell the lactic acid build up would be tremendous the next morning. He tried not thinking of tomorrow, but of today.
He kicked the emergency door open, and listened faintly to the roar of bells and people. Rain.
His car was parked neatly in his own parking spot. He jumped the door into his convertible. He hit the seat and splashed water all over the already soaked car. He shoved his key in the ignition and started the engine. He threw the transmission into drive and hit the gas pedal.
He expected to leap into the road, but the tires just turned on the wet pavement. He panicked. The black suits piled out of the building and made a beeline straight towards his car. Eden let the gas go and eased his way out.
His car jerked. He heard a hissing sound behind his car. He looked in the rear view mirror and noticed his back left tire was flat. BANG! Gunfire.
Eden slammed his head into the passenger seat of the Lexus. He heard another long hiss and assumed it was the other side tire.
"Mr. Kaminski, we only want to talk." Eden looked at his enemy.
"Our conversation shall be brief. You will be on your way as long as you…cooperate."
"What do you want?"
"You help." The black suit stepped closer. "We want you to help us recover something that has been taken away from us, taken away from our possession. Something that is ours and should be ours for all of eternity." He was now within fifty feet.
"We have no common purpose." Eden hit the accelerator and caught ground quickly, putting distance between him and the black suits. He relaxed. He leisurely leaned back in his seat.
Cease
(ss) To put an end to; discontinue
The air gently sifted through his hair, the breeze cooling his head, relaxing him. He felt so relaxed. He rested a little more, calmed down a little more. Just relaxing.
His hands were attached to the steering wheel of his car. He became almost oblivious to the outside world, and trapped himself in his own thoughts. He began thinking to himself.
Who was that man, and what was his purpose in talking to me? Could he be the one to tell me? Is he the one that will show me the truth? It's what I have needed to know all along. What is the Matrix?
Eden slammed the brakes and turned the wheel. His car turned and slid past a tipped over semi. The wet pavement gave no friction, and his car continued down the road.
His car twisted sideways and Eden jerked the wheel the opposite way. Nothing was stopping his slide.
He slammed into the head of the semi. The crunch of the sheet metal was deafening. The car bent and curled around it, halting the forward movement. The semi didn't budge. Eden was thrown from his seat. All too unreal. He couldn't help but notice the now scrap metal flying through the air with him. The red metal was everywhere. But his car was black. It was his blood on the car. On the inside door, the steering wheel.
He hit the pavement hard. He skipped a couple times and stopped on the side of the road. The pain. All of the pain. But he couldn't feel it. He was ready. But it scared him. It scared him to think about death. But he had to be ready.
He pulled his face up from the gravel, leaving the mud on his cheek.
"Mr. Kaminski, all we requested was your cooperation." The black suits were here. The same monotone voice was talking. It rang in his head.
"We wanted to help you, to be on your side, to get you on the right track. But you didn't want to.
"We know your plan, Mr. Kaminski, we know what you were planning on doing. We know that you were going to meet with him, we know that you have been attempting to contact this mysterious man that you have never truly talked to."
"Who are you?"
"Still asking questions, Mr. Kaminski? Don't you see what I am, who I am? Don't you understand? You don't get it, do you? This is about peace, Mr. Kaminski, and you are fighting for the wrong side. You are fighting for the opposition, for the ones that want you enslaved. You have the power to be great, but you can't see that this is not what this place seems to be. I was going to show you the truth. The truth of this world, the truth of what you are apart of." Eden forced himself to his feet. "But now, you will rest with your ancestors in the same bit of memory that many of have been in the past. Your species will never trudge farther than now, your species will never get out of this place. And the savior you supposedly have found is not going to even be considered a nuisance.
"You all will become what you are. You will all be trapped, and it is only a matter of time.
"Control, Mr. Kaminski. That is what this is about." The black suit pulled a gun out of his inside jacket.
The rain dripped down onto his black hair. It didn't have a chance to collect as the rain feel even harder, pushing the limits of how much could stay on his head. The weight eventually overtook his head and it toppled along with his body to the ground. And the pool that once sat in his hat splashed down onto his already soaked shirt. The black, button up shirt was completely seemed completely submerged in water, as his knees found their way to the ground. He was numb to the pain. Gray and dismal, much like his mood. The black suit took the shot, and it hit him in the abdomen.
He felt the bullet go deep inside, and it stuck. It wasn't leaving his body. Fire seemed to run through his veins now, and the burning was only getting worse. He wasn't cold anymore. It was a warm feeling now. He was at peace with himself. He knew what he wanted.
The rain was hitting its hardest now. It immersed him into the water that would be his grave. Not like this. He couldn't stand it. His eyes flashed, pain using him as a passage, a link to the outside world. His screams reinforced its overbearing presence.
The repugnant smell of his own death surrounded him. The wounds hurt no more. He had dried up, and all the tears had left him. Everything had left him. And soon, so did his consciousness.
"You could have been remembered as great man, the only human to successfully help the Machine race. But you chose to follow the rebels. Now we must delete your presence from this forsaken place."
I was right. There is something more to this world. Please, whoever you are, take me home to where I belong. I leave my life in your hands.
Eden slowly slipped into a personal oblivion.
Epilogue
He slowly opened his eyes. The white from all over poured into his pupils and dilated them to a miniscule size, forcing him to squint his eyes almost to a close. He could not gain focus on anything.
It hurt to hold them open. It was the same burning sensation he felt with the bullet. But he was calm this time.
He felt weak all over, and could barely lift his arm. He felt faint. His legs felt vulnerable and weak. He didn't even know if he could walk if he tried.
He noticed needles all over him. No pain came from the needles, but much confusion was still in his mind.
What is going on here? Where am I? What is going on?
A shadow was forecast over him.
"He's awake." A female voice was speaking. He couldn't decipher one thing from another, it was still too bright. The focus still wasn't there. He tried his hardest to interpret what was happening before his eyes.
"We have had more and more blue pills free themselves." He pulled his head away from the light.
"Self-substantiation is becoming more prevalent, and it doesn't even require us to jack in. There is no harm to us." A man owned this voice.
"Where am I?" Eden's face filled with confusion, as well as pain.
"You're home now. You are in a safe place. You are free." Eden winced.
"Where is home?"
"The real world, Eden. You have been sleeping your whole life away. The truth will come, get some rest."
Eden dropped his guard and rested. His eyes closed and he embraced the serenity.
I'm home.