Clack! Clack! Clack!
My fingers flew across the hard keys of the typewriter.
Clack! Clack! Clack!
Ding!
The blank paper was now filled with words. I pulled the release lever.
As soon as my fingers touched the rough paper, a flicker of light, like a firefly sparked, growing bigger until it became an orb of light. It hovered a few feet away in front of my table. The resins of the wooden floor and walls gleamed.
This was it, another shot in escaping. I rose from the chair, and like a moth, I was drawn to the light, closing my eyes as I approached.
White. Blinding white.
I stood still for several moments until my eyes adjusted to the new scene before me.
Chrome. Everything was polished chrome. It was sterile. Not a whiff of pine or damp earth of the cabin, just a metallic tang that chilled me to the bone. Tables, or at least vaguely table-shaped objects, were scattered around the room, along with figures slumping over them.
At least I didn't write myself into a story that involved being within that place again. Beggars can't be choosers, right?
Mind clear, body surprisingly fresh, I looked to the left to find a window. Beyond the window was not a cityscape, not a forest, not even an endless lake. It was a whole blue planet that came with a moon. The alien sunlight was reflected by the planet's vast ocean, causing it to glimmer as fluffy white cloud slowly drifted across the surface.
Only then I realized this place was beyond normal.
My hand met the cold glass that separate me and the coldness of space. That purgatory seemed like a distant memory compared to the view before me. Unfortunately, the view wouldn't be able to keep the nightmare away.
I tore my gaze away to focus on the room. I approached the figure slumping face down over the table-like objects. The body was still warm but I couldn't find a pulse. Muttering "sorry" to the corpse under my breath, I turned the body around to face me.
It was a man. From the white lab coat, he was a researcher. However, an inspection on their ID card revealed the written words on it weren't in English or any language I recognized. His outfit wasn't a standard white lab coat either. It was a stylized version of it, with differing colors of grey and blue and even green at the edges. No information or items I could use.
Despite the three doors in the room, I couldn't read the signs above them for direction. Stumbling into the culprits of the massacre were the last thing I wanted, but I didn't want to be stuck here waiting either. I took my change by going through the door that was the opposite direction of the large window.
Floating eyes and two humanoids wearing crystallized armors greeted me on the other side. I quickly reached for my revolver under my jacket only to grab empty air. I saw no other exits in the hallway beside the one behind them.
We locked eyes for a heartbeat. Then, the aliens brandished their weapons that hummed with mysterious energy at me. It wasn't my welcome party to the space station for sure.
"Fuck…" I muttered, slowly turning my body to the opposite direction.
They charged at me.
"…ME!" I roared a battle cry for running away. My legs worked at maximum capacity as I headed towards the room I was in before. A beam of white from the floating eyes narrowly missed me, scorching the wall in front of me.
"Fuck!"
Inside the room, I picked other exits thinking that it would automatically slide open when I approached. Instead, my body slammed into the door, hard, knocking the wind out of my lung. I stumbled backward. A dead end.
The aliens already blocked the other exits. Flicker of light caught my eye. A small, standing panel next to the door. It glowed orange.
Ignoring the aliens' approaching footsteps, I scrambled over to the panel. It displayed a series of incomprehensible symbols. I jabbed my index finger on the largest icon. The panel flared red and spat out a stream of indecipherable gibberish. The large circular airlock door didn't move an inch.
Turning around, my pursuers were now lazily sauntering towards me. The floating eyes didn't fire their lasers as if they were mocking me with their silence. They knew I had nowhere else to run. My teeth clenched. Anger and frustration bubbled from within.
First minute out of the purgatory and I'm already going to be sent back.
I squared my shoulders and raised my fists in a boxer's stance. As I waited for the aliens to reach me and launch the first strike, I mentally outlined my plan.
First, I would dodge the sword swing and disarm the sword-wielding alien with a punch to the wrist. Then, I would use the disarmed sword to slice the rest into ribbons.
A self-deprecating snort escaped my nose. Taking them down with my bare hands was a story I wouldn't even write. I doubt the feel my punch through the armor. It's certainly better than going down without a fight, however.
We were about to tangle when a male voice shouted.
"There's a survivor here!"
The voice belonged to a humanoid with futuristic armor, a gas mask that concealed their faces and armed with futuristic looking guns. He was followed by 5 people wearing similar gears.
The aliens sprang at me. Whether they wanted to take me hostage or finish me off, their plans were cut short as bullets whizzed and beams streaked. The projectiles slammed into the creatures, breaking through their armor. Their forms flickered before dissolving into swirling vortexes similar to mini-black hole.
"Clear!"
The man whom I assumed to be the leader of my rescuers approached me and asked, "Are you okay?"
"Yeah…Thanks for the help." I thanked my small blessing that they spoke English.
Adrenaline still flowing in my body, I let out a long sigh to slow my breathing.
"Were you really going to take them on with your bare hands?" another guard asked me, incredulous.
I looked at the guard directly into his mask's lenses and retorted, "What else did you expect me to do? Use the power of friendship?"
"I didn't mean it in a bad way, sorry." the guard quickly apologized.
Before I could retort further, the leader of my rescuers ordered, "Alto, bring the men to secure the perimeter. Ren, inform Arlan we found a civilian in the supply room."
The three guards scrambled, leaving me with their leader and another faceless guard that radioed in to whom I presumed was this 'Arlan'.
My eyes turned to their exotic weapons. Without the line of yellow sparkling energy that ran across its large rectangular barrel and peculiarly shaped triangle iron sight, it would've looked a revolver-rifle hybrid from the Wild West era in the States.
I asked, "Are you with the FBC?"
"FBC?" The guard asked.
"Federal Bureau of Control." I clarified.
"No sir, we are with Herta Space Station." The leader replied. Then, he eyed me from head to toes.
"I never see you on the space station before…Who are you?" The lead guard demanded.
"Depends on who you ask." The non-answer came out from my mouth instinctively.
"Do you have your identification with you?" the lead guard asked.
"No." I admitted.
The two guards tensed.
"I have to detain you." The leader stated.
"Go ahead." I extended my hands towards them. It was either them or the aliens.
The leader nodded towards the other guard whom approached me with a high-tech looking cuff. His finger hovering near his rifle trigger as the guards patted me down, only to find nothing.
The leader then brought out an slab of transparent plastic. He pointed it at me, as if it was a camera. Then, he put it away into his pocket.
"What was that?" I asked.
"Documentation." The leader answered vaguely before gesturing, "Follow me."
I walked between the two guards. They led me across bridges made of solid light before entering an elevator. When the circular platform rose, they took off their masks, revealing them to be decades younger than me.
The elevator opened up to another chrome lined hallway that filled with more guards. I was taken to a small room with nothing but a steel table and two chairs facing each other. The guard prompted me to sit on the chair facing the door.
"We'll be back shortly." The leader said before exiting the room, leaving the other to keep an eye on me.
It didn't take long before a young man with white hair, dark skin and striking red eyes walked in. He was short, considerably so. I would've mistaken him for a teen if it wasn't for that confidence in his eyes and the 'x' shaped scars across his face.
He calmly sat across me and asked, "Do you know why you are being detained?"
"Trespassing, I guess." I answered.
He asked, "What's your name?".
"Wake. Alan Wake. You?" I reciprocated.
"It's Arlan. Mr. Wake. I apologize for this situation, but we have to make sure you are not a threat to the station." Arlan began.
"I understand. I presume it have something with the aliens that attacked me?" I replied.
"Yes, and the fact you managed to get into the station despite the lockdown."
"So, you want to know how I got in?" I clarified.
Arlan nodded.
"You wouldn't believe me even if I told you." I replied.
"It's better than nothing. I don't want you to be locked up because of a misunderstanding." Arlan remarked.
"I prefer being locked up than being sent to a mental asylum, honestly." I tried buying time. Honestly, I wasn't sure how to proceed without my decision backfiring.
"Let's avoid both if we can. Tell me what happened from the beginning. I'll do my best to understand." Arlan ordered.
I hesitated.
Screw it. I'm going with the flow.
"Let's just say that I'm a writer." I said, gauging his reaction. His right hand was now holding a pencil and the other, a small notebook slightly bigger than his palm.
I continued, "One moment, I was working on my manuscript, and the next, I found myself on this space station. That's all I could remember."
Arlan eyed me. So intense was his scrutiny that it became awkward for me to sit still.
"Before you was displaced, did you notice anything out of place?" Arlan asked.
"There was a bright light that appeared in my room." I answered.
"Your room? What does it looks like?" Arlan asked.
"It's a cabin. Wooden cabin on a small island." I omitted.
"A cabin. So you was planetside?"
I nodded. Arlan quickly scribed on his notebook.
Arlan cupped his chin, "What planet this cabin was located?"
"Earth." I replied.
"Earth?" Arlan asked.
"Yes. Earth."
Arlan furrowed his eyebrows.
"Does the term Homo Sapiens rings a bell?" I asked for confirmation.
"It's a scientific name for human." Arlan replied.
"So, are you a Homo Sapiens?" I asked again.
"…Yes." Arlan tilted his head slightly confused.
Did I wrote myself into a future where humanity was fragmented? I thought they would recognize humanity's cradle if they were human themselves.
I continued, "I doubt you'll recognize it since my civilization have yet to develop the technology for interstellar travel."
"Can you tell me more about Earth? Major landmarks, political structures?"
"We have over 100 nations. Democracy, most of the nations at least. This will take another hour to explain."
"Let's skip that over. Do you have any proof of Earth's existence, such as photographs or digital records?"
"Your guards already searched me. I only have these." I gestured towards the tweed coat and the parka I'm currently wearing underneath.
"Now that you mention it, your fashion design is not common around this sector." Arlan remarked.
"Back to the light in your room, can you describe it?" Arlan asked.
"It's orb shaped. Very bright. It floated several inches above the ground."
"Any physical effects? Pain, tingling, or anything else?"
"My mind does feel clearer."
"What time of day it was when you saw the light?"
"Night time, I think. About midnight. I really didn't keep track of time."
"Also, I did try to touch the light orb. It blinded me and sent me here." I replied.
"Is it possible your planet has developed teleportation technology without public knowledge?" Arlan asked
"Maybe?" I replied unsure. My mind wandered to the FBC.
"You said something about working on manuscripts. Can you elaborate?"
"It's a manuscript I wrote for my new novel. I think they were brought along with me but…"
"You lost them?" Arlan finished.
I nodded.
Arlan went through pages of his notebook before continuing, "Based on what you've said so far, you were working on a manuscript inside a cabin on a planet called Earth. And then an orb of light materialized, which you touched and displaced you here."
I nodded again.
"But earlier, why'd you say you'd rather end up in jail than an asylum?" Arlan asked.
"Because I thought nobody would believe the story. I didn't think your people have the technology for teleportation...do you?"
"We have teleportation." Arlan confirmed before snapping closed his notebook. He stowed it away into his pocket.
"Well, Mr. Wake, until we can process and corroborate your story, you'll have to stay here."
"Fair enough," I said, understanding his position. "But what will happen after you confirmed that my story is true?'
"We'll send you home."
"And then? You said you don't know about my home planet." I asked
"We can ask IPC or…search our record." Arlan replied.
"That's reassuring." I deadpanned. I had no idea what the acronym IPC stand for as Arlan didn't bother to elaborate.
"We'll cross that bridge when we have to. We'll first have to confirm your story."
I sighed.
Arlan was right. Overthinking wouldn't help.
"Do you have any immediate needs or medical conditions we should be aware of?" Arlan asked.
"No. But…" My mind was clear from the place suffocating influence for the first time in decade. I wanted to enjoy it while it lasted before being pulled in again if I failed, "…I don't want to be locked up here," my voice unexpectedly trembled, almost pleading.
I cringed.
Arlan looked at me for a few moment.
"Three conditions."
"First, you will be under supervision at all time. Second, you need to cooperate with the investigation. Third, you need to stay away from restricted areas." .
"That's it?" I blinked twice. It was so simple despite their accusation on me.
"Yes."
I have no idea how long I'll be staying here before the plot moved forward again. Might as well took in the scenery, "they are acceptable."
My stomach growled, "I don't have money to buy food." I asked.
"I'll try secure you some funding." Arlan said.
"Thank you. I also have another favor to ask you."
"What is it?"
"If you found a typewritten manuscript anywhere, please bring it to me. Big chance they are the manuscripts I lost." I requested.
"Understood. I will be assigning someone to you. Wait here." Arlan said before exiting, leaving the room in silence.
I stared at the ceilings. I looked at the guard that I forgot standing by the door. Uneasiness prompted me to greet him.
"Can I ask you something?"
The guard looked at me.
"Can I ask you something?" I repeated.
The guard remained silent.
What a stuck up pain in the ass.
Taking a deep breath, I sunk into the chair and stared at the geometrically designed ceiling, tapping my fingers on the table. The manuscripts hold the keys, like always. I only had to find them.
But how?
My thoughts were interrupted by the door sliding open to Arlan stomping into the room.
"Mr. Wake. Explain this." Arlan roughly placed two piece of papers on the table.
The Trailblazer stood before the Doomsday Beast. Himeko said they were capable of cracking planet open like an egg. If that was true, he doubted that even with all their powers combined, they could scratch its hide. Not when Himeko explicitly stated she couldn't use her ace card fearing it could destroy the space station.
'Cracking a planet'…the phrase drained the colors from my face. If the antagonists of this universe were capable of destroying a planet...no doubt that the rule of storytelling will enhance the Dark Presences significantly to create tension within the narrative. Fighting the invulnerable Dark Presence without a flashlight was bad enough. If it now could affect an entire star system now, it was not something a .357 Colt Phython and a double A batteries flashlight can take on. The word "fucked" seemed to be an understatement.
Why did my pre-amnesia self had gotten the idea to write a science fiction?
I took a deep breath. Again, overthinking wouldn't help. It was merely an assumption without the manuscript. I turned to the second manuscripts. It reads:
Arlan thought he could trust Asta until countless Antimatter Legion pawns pour towards him like a tsunami. The signal from the watcher zone is faint. Asta won't be able to see this situation.
He is now standing, alone, in the elevator. He has to make a decision, even if he has to disobey Asta's orders — No matter the cost, he has to block access to the elevator to save everyone. He cannot allow these monsters to get to the master control zone.
"Sorry, Miss Asta..." Arlan muttered.
Shit.
Out of all manuscripts Arlan could've find, it was about his last stand. No wonder he's pissed.
"Where did you find these?" I asked.
"So, these are really yours." Arlan remarked. "You said you was from a pre-interstellar travel civilization with no knowledge of this station. How would you explain this?"
"Where did you find these manuscripts?" I asked again.
"Answer my questions." Arlan's voice dropped dangerously low. He wouldn't accept anything less than the truth.
"Okay, okay." I raised my hands before continuing, "What I told you earlier wasn't a lie. They weren't elaborated." I admitted.
"Omitting information is still considered as a lie." Arlan countered.
"Because it's very complicated for me to explain. That's why I gave you the abridged version. Even if I told you the full story, I doubt you'd believe me." I explained.
"Explain everything." Arlan demanded. I've seen far scarier thing than Arlan's threat, but I know the consequences would be bad for my cause if I didn't.
I took a deep breath to gather my thoughts before releasing it in a sigh.
Here goes nothing.
"I am a writer, was a normal writer. I wrote bestseller crime thriller novels. But soon after I ended that series, I went into a slump. Writer block."
I paused and saw Arlan's frown, "I know it sounds unrelated but bear with me."
Staring at the blurry reflection of myself on the surface of the steel table, I gathered my next words. "My wife took me on a vacation into a rural town in the mountain to help me with deal with my…writer's block. That's where it all began."
I crossed my arms.
"It was actually a lure by the Dark Presence to set it free. It kidnapped my wife, forcing me write a story that can give its freedom in exchange for hers."
I continued, "I didn't know better at that time. I realized it too late. But in the end, I managed to swap place with my wife with me now trapped in that dimensional prison. I wrote many stories to help me escape since then. Each one failed until I wrote a story that put me on this space station."
Arlan stared at me. A mix of skepticism and confusion lingering on his still frowning face.
After a moment, he asked, "What is the Dark Presence?"
"All I know is that it's a supernatural force that wants to be set free on our world. It can take any forms it wished and can possess people to become their mindless slave. I don't know what its end goal is, but I doubt it's anything good."
"How does writing a story set it free?" Arlan pointed out.
"The Dark Presence is stuck inside the Dark Place. It abused the Dark Place to alter reality through work of arts created by people like me, artists, novelists, dancers."
"Why can't the Dark Presence write its own story?" Arlan asked.
"I don't know. It's an entity beyond human comprehension. They work beyond logic."
Arlan's writing speed on his notebook seemed to slow down. No doubt that my story is making him increasingly confused.
"You said you was writing in your cabin on Earth. How is that being trapped?" Arlan asked.
"It was a cabin manifested by the Dark Place."
"You lied about being planetside." Arlan stated.
"…Yes, but the bits about the light orb was true." I admitted.
"What is the Dark Place and how it mimicked your cabin?" Arlan moved on to the next question.
"The Dark Place is a mirror reflecting all possible realities. It's infinite, far larger than the ordinary universe. The "real world" is just a grain of sand within it. It's also like a blank canvas where people can shape the place with their thoughts. That's how I think it manifested the cabin."
"How do you know the size of the Dark Place when you don't know about the Dark Presence?"
"Scratch, my evil doppelganger, the Dark Presence's avatar told me."
"Explain."
"I know the Dark Presence used him to spread chaos in the real world when I was trapped. Everything else like how he came to be? Nothing." I avoided mentioning about The Diver. That's another can of worm to open that requires dozens of speculations.
There was a very long silence as Arlan scrutinized his notebook. He furrowed his brow, a crease etching itself between his eyes as he meticulously combed through the pages. The guard stood attention but even I know he was thinking about the absurdness of my story. Hell, I wouldn't believe myself if I hadn't experienced it.
"If we take your story at face values, you said any work of arts will become true. Did you wrote about the attack on the space station?" Arlan put his hand on the manuscripts.
The million dollars question. I need to tread carefully.
"I…can't create something that don't exist. I can only nudge the narrative so it goes the way I wanted it. If I don't, or if the story is too ridiculous, the Dark Presence will fix the plot holes by making its version come true. Whatever entity that attacked your station, they had planned long before I tweaked the original outcome. I couldn't say for certain what I changed until we find the manuscripts."
"How do you know about the attack happening on the station when you are trapped inside that dimension?"
"I don't know."
Arlan frowned. "I don't understand how you can be unaware of how you know about these events, especially since you're the writer."
"It's because everything I wrote in that forsaken place disappeared like smoke in the wind."
"Sounds convenient." Arlan dismissed.
"I'd like to see you try when your mind was drowned by your own worst thoughts. It wasn't me who created the rules." I replied venomously.
Getting angry would only make things worse, so I took a deep breath to steady myself before continuing. "That is why finding those manuscripts is the only way I can know what changes I've made, see the future and prepare for the worst. For example, I knew you are—or was—in danger. So please, be careful."
"My well-being is not your concern right now," Arlan replied.
"Your safety IS my concern. I don't want it to be on my conscience knowing I could've prevented it."
Arlan sighed and replied coolly, "It happened a few days ago."
That's one problem gone. I sighed in relief before realization struck me, "Wait, how did you read my manuscripts?"
"What do you mean?"
"I couldn't make sense of the signs or symbols on this station. That's how I ended up stumbling into those aliens, because I took the wrong door. So how did you read the manuscripts?"
"The signs are written in the basic writing system…" Arlan muttered, shrugging before answering half-heartedly, "Maybe because it's the influence of this Dark Place?"
I cupped my chin, "That's possible." I looked at Arlan before saying.
"And at least it can prove that I'm not lying when you find other manuscript."
Arlan returned my stare, his expression unreadable. He tapped his pen against his notebook, seemingly lost in thought. Finally, he broke the silence.
"Mr. Wake," Arlan began slowly, "your story is… hard to believe. However, given the circumstances and you know about the events here that you shouldn't, I'm willing to believe the possibility of some truth to what you're saying."
I nodded, relieved that he was at least considering my words.
"Here's what we'll do," Arlan continued. "Our agreement earlier still stand. You will be allowed to move around the non-restricted areas of the space station. If you try anything suspicious, you will be detained. There will be no second chance. Do you understand?"
"Yes, I understand," I replied, grateful.
Arlan nodded. "We'll also provide you with amenities and some funding for food. As for your manuscript, we'll assemble a team to find them."
"Thank you," I said sincerely. "I really appreciate your understanding."
Arlan stood up. "Don't break our trust."
Arlan motioned to the guard by the door. "Escort and ensure Mr. Wake follows the guidelines we've set."
The guard nodded and stepped forward.
"You are free to leave the room." Arlan said before leaving.
As I walked out of the interrogation room, I couldn't help but feel a mix of relief and apprehension. At least now, I have help to find my manuscripts and perhaps, a way back home. But was it right for me to drag them into a battle they didn't choose?