Topsy-Turvy

            There are many worlds willed into existence by a sudden burst of energy, by the stroke of a pen swaying on paper, life emerging on a canvas, or ideas set in motion. All destined for a greater cause yet the universe spins out of control, why? By the will of influences hidden in secrets no one was meant to know, but do? How is anyone to know? Professor Knows, “Glad of you to come,” he welcomed a group of five young faces as they entered a bright extensive lab. Tables decked in chemistry with tubes twenty inches high cluttered the surface. Sweet aromas enticed their curiosity as the professor lectured a quick tour around the lab, herding them along.

            Data scrolled in every monitor at every station while chimes of unstable chemicals boiling into one harmonized in the air. The kids wondered in amazement as the professor opened their minds to endless possibilities. Fumes rose from their glass tubes as it swirled into miniature tornadoes, vanishing in midair then fading in a dim cry. “Remember kids,” the professor concluded as they reached the end of the tour, “The solution to any problem is always simple, only our teachers cloud our better judgment with their corruption,” he paused, “Or was it our leaders who teach, what’s the difference?”

            Two blue rubber gloves came out from the side of his coat pocket as he turned to reach for a cylinder oozing fog. “Behold,” he pronounced as he turned back around, “The power of the universe.” He held the small cylinder with tongs up high in the air for them to praise but the kids remained silent, unamused. The professor kept the cylinder up high in the air, allowing them time to process his bold statement. He stood waiting, looking around to puzzled faces, and still another minute of silence.

            “Behold the power, the power of the universe,” he repeated but to same results. He leveled the cylinder down by his side and pondered for a moment. The kids turned to one another with the same question in mind. “Of course,” he mumbled underneath his breath as he made his way around the table. He carefully set the cylinder down on its podium then dramatically began signing his statement out loud.

            “We’re not deaf.” said the oldest of the bunch, Riler. The others smirked and giggle.

            “Very well then.” the professor replied with a sigh of relief.

            “What exactly were you holding?” asked a girl who stood in the back, Ali.

            “Good of you to ask,” he answered enthusiastically, “Behold, the power of the universe.” He sarcastically gestured them over, “Gather children, gather.” The kids huddled by the table as the professor explained the mysteries behind the cosmos. Scrolls magically unfolded, spilling onto the floor with letters sliding in the end, stating theories and thesis. The kids drifted into space as he began to write mathematical formulas on the blackboard, solving advanced algebraic equations far beyond their youthful minds could comprehend.

            “And thus, by countering the pull of gravity to the tangents of space I was able to create a chemical engineered element capable of opening a wormhole to another dimension. It’s simple Physics simplified to a more advanced basis really.” He leaned back to double check the symbols he had written on the board. The symbols represented a message read in science and alchemy. The kids did their best to follow the professor but were too lost to even ask.

            “You’re just making things up.” interrupted the second oldest, Miles.

            “Am I?” the professor answered, “Who’s wearing the coat then?”

            “How would you know if it works?” questioned Noel, a shy but intuitive boy.

            “But of course it works!” proclaimed the professor. “Has history not taught you that?”

            “Prove it then.” Riler suggested.

            “Such eager minds yearning for answers,” Knows replied, “And the people wonder why they’re being monitored.” He grasped the cylinder with the tongs again then added, “You might want to step back, if any of the slime gets in your skin while…” he sparked an alarm amongst the group, “Just stand back, okay?” In an instant the chemical splattered all over the blackboard, simmering as it spread.

            The kids gasped as the splatter morphed into breathing swirling colors of deep green in shades of blue. Slowly and magically, the slime grew into a glob engulfing the board with its portal; opening a dimension behind its veil. They stood in awe for no words came to mind. “Who dares knock at devils door,” he turned to look at the kids, “What do you say?” He asked the littlest of the crew, Zoh.

            Each turned to one another, asking without saying, questioning their fear as curiosity called their name. The professor stood by the portal, arm out, waiting for someone to answer his plea. Zoh reached for the professor and the others followed soon after. Together, they stepped into the swirling breathing whirlpool and entered a vast field of bright flowers riddled in oceanic green hills. Riler turned and noticed the portal was gone, replaced by a tree as massive as the eye could see.

            “Where is it?” Riler scouted through the vines, searching for the way back home. “Where’s the portal?”

            “Gone, apparently.” was the professors’ reply. “No point in fussing about it now. Let’s just keep moving forward.”

            “To where?” Ali asked in her small little voice.

            “To the horizon.”

            Noel was the first to venture off into the fields, disappearing among the flower beds of an unknown Eden. “Stay close kids,” the professor instructed as he observed the missing particles in the air. The girls hung by the shades of a massive rose bush while they braided their hair, interweaving them with mesmerizing pedals and twigs. Riler nagged at the professor as Miles watched Noel be lead into the wild by a mysterious invisible butterfly. Noel was gone before he knew it, but to where they never knew. Wind swift by while Miles stood dazed. He turned to the group who seemed lost in their own special haven.

            “Wait, guys Noel is gone.” Miles slowly addressed the situation at hand.

            “But I had said to stay close,” the professor replied as he stood next to Miles, scouting the perimeter.

            “Where exactly would he have gone though,” questioned Riler. “There’s nothing but flower beds and mountain hills.”

            “I think I saw him over there,” added Ali pointing to the opposite direction. The professor took a look at the direction Ali mentioned and became puzzled. Riler prompt him to make a decision, prolonging his clarity for a solution. At last the debacle was settled, Ali lead the way with the professor and the others following behind, venturing deeper into the fields, passing an array of beautiful flowers in a variety of hypnotic colors.

            The search party came to an abrupt end as the grass swallowed them whole, sinking them deep into the sea. They were running out of air but they couldn't break the surface. It wouldn’t be long before they reached the bottom of the ocean when they suddenly realized they were never sinking, they were upside down; swimming to the ocean bed towards a sharp metal spear that broke in the abyss. They balanced themselves in the water, figuring what was up and what was down. The professor swam towards the spear when a school of bubbles caught his attention.

            Riler couldn't hold his breath any longer as he desperately kicked in the sea. They each swam to his aid to prevent him from breathing in the ocean but they were too late. Riler gasped for air, swallowing the ocean whole. Surprisingly, the water tasted just like air. A question appeared in the professors face when Ali, Zoh and Miles began to breathe the water. “Water has oxygen, I suppose, but without gills?” The professor, Riler, and Miles swam to the metal spear as Ali and Zoh questioned where they were.

            As they floated near the spear, they came to find the spear was held by a hand. That hand was connected to a colossal man frozen in time. He stood cemented upon his throne among his kingdom. “I don’t believe it,” said Miles in the water. Darkness crept away, shedding light to a city lost at sea. To their surprise they floated above a city only remembered as a legend, Atlantis.

            Coral reefs sheltered a culture buried at the bottom of the sea as tiny critters roamed the ocean streets. The statue once guarded man, now protected the voiceless, those who abide to the ocean current. Far beyond the borders of the abyss came a group of sharks sniffing the water for food. The girls inched their way closer to the professor as they swam near the cliffs. The sharks kept their distance until the tides suddenly changed.

            The ocean current began to build. The surface turned mad with ships crowding the sea. Echoes rumbled in the tides, upsetting the balance. Decapitated bodies fell into the sea, inviting the sharks for dinner. The crew became alarmed. They scattered around, searching for a place to hide as the sharks appeared feet away. Fortunately, an abandoned submarine lay close by. They swam as fast as they could with the sharks right at their tail. The professor twisted the lever and with Riler’s help they managed to enter the submarine and escape the sharks sharp bite.

            The hallways drummed as the sharks hammered at their door. “Let’s get out of here,” said Riler. They fastened their seat belts as the professor switched the ignition. The motor jammed as the sharks pounced on the submarine. The professor tried again and as the alpha shark ran into the submarine, the motor started; skyrocketing them away. The girls turned to their side as they dashed through the lost city of Atlantis.

            Zoh noticed a small figure guarded by mermaids near the capital of the city, waving them away as they quickly passed by. She looked around and became puzzled. Ali turned to her and held her hand for she too knew something was odd; masking her own need to be held. The rumble up above continued until it faded, along with the statue and the city. They adjusted themselves in their seats as the submarine entered the walls of another abyss, leaving behind a forgotten comrade.

            The submarine became cooler the further they propelled into the darkness of the unknown. The professor gestured his way around the controls, pretending to steer the ship. The remaining kids stared at the small window forgetting the difference between sea and sky as diamonds appeared twinkling in the dark. It wasn’t long before they noticed the sea had become a blanket of breathing, wondering specks of light inhabiting the fate of someone’s existence. When did they enter Space? They never knew, but would it make a difference if they did? They crowded around the professor for answers, explanations, accountability but he looked at them as they looked at him; lost and intrigued.

            The alarm blasted through the speakers, amplifying in the halls. Up ahead, a belt of meteors stood straight for them and there was no way out. The kids searched the submarine to gear themselves for impact. Unfortunately, there were no suits in sight; but they weren’t going to give up. Riler and Ali went their separate ways, desperately searching for an escape pod. They raided the submarine inside out, finding nothing but the imminent truth. “What do we do then, professor?” Zoh asked as she stood by the wheel, pulling on his coat. He turned to her and smiled for he knew the answer.

            “Nothing.”

            The impact knocked them to the floor. The professor held Zoh underneath him, forgetting the other two. Meteor rocks fired like bullets in the zero gravity air, destroying everything in its path without having anything to slow them down. Debris hung in the vacuum of space as the submarine split into bits. They hung in a cluttered mess, surviving fatal blows, all while breathing in the universe. The professor and Zoh drifted in space alone until they found a sense of ground. “Look over there,” the professor pointed. A shooting star disappeared as quickly as it came. So they found a way after all, he thought.

            “How are we doing this?” asked Zoh as she tip toed in nothing. They weightlessly floated away deeper into space, accompanied by warm orbiting lights.

            “My guess would be the coating from the slime.” the professor answered moments later, remembering he had a companion. “Watch this.” he later added, changing the subject. He attempted to jump in an empty pool then fly away. “It’s like you’re swimming but you’re not, see?” Zoh looked up at the professor as he grew smaller. Her smile reflected upon his face for he had never seen such oblivious bliss.

            His voice was beginning to drift as he swam away. “Look around you kid,” he began, “Everything is upside down. Left is right, right is left. Backwards is the new forward, haven’t you heard?” His voice trailed off and she could no longer hear him, “If you try to make sense of things you will never know what sense actually is because your sense of sense is what doesn’t make sense in the first place. Confusing, isn’t it? BUT now we’re just being redundant.” His laugh trailed off, leaving Zoh behind in a sea of stars.

            And so, Zoh did what the professor had advised her to do. She pretended to fly into a weightless gravity and swim towards to shore. She took her time crossing the galactic horizon across infinite parallel worlds not knowing where she was but knew where to go. The professor soon appeared, sitting on a moon; waiting for her arrival. She emerged out from the shores of space, and joined the professor in a sandy moon as he enlightened her of a new world. “Took you long enough,” the professor said as he held her hand.

            Together, they wandered across the moon with the professor lecturing Zoh on all the planets in the sky. He pointed left then right then left again. Up, down, and back around; every direction had its own unique beginning. “The brighter ones are old because they’ve used up all their fuel,” he commented, “It’s the dim ones that store all the answers.” He beamed at Zoh whose eyes held many.

            Zoh followed every direction the professor aimed, feeding her mind his numerous adventures.  Her bright wide-eyed expression lit every star and fueled every twinkle. “Fate my dear may change but destiny always remains the same. Care to know where yours leads?” he smiled. “I, Professor Knows, know,” he declared as he pointed to a mysterious door with no nob. The two stood by the door as the cracks creaked the hidden adventures that reside behind its silver hinges.

Found Among the Lost

            Pollution lingered in the smog across the valleys of the city. The year 3004 in New York on a hot summer solstice was not good for the neighborhood crops down the street let alone for anyone roaming around in the scorching heat. Tall metal towers echoed all around, amplifying the summer rays; evaporating the water in the air. Noon struck the city as the sun rolled by. A hot thick breeze swept dirt gathered in the piles. A small wondrous bug-eyed boy watching cartoons ate his cereal alone. Sweat trailed down his cheek, slowly simmering from the heat in the air.

            A loud thud coming from the window caught him by surprise. He stood to find a bird with a twisted neck lying stiff on the window sill. Its wings lay spread-out, revealing nature’s design. “If you can’t handle the heat,” the boy began as he reached to grab it, “Stay out of the city. Sorry little guy. You’re in a better place now.” A much cooler place. He remained by the window nesting the broken bird on his palm while down below tiny critters roamed about. His eyes wondered to the streets, captivated by their light as they crossed one another creating a whirlpool of intricate colors illuminating in the heat.

            He turned to the bird, feeling empathetically, silently asked it to rise. With a breath of fresh air the broken bird stood, stretched its wings and began to sing. Static buzzed behind him while he stood in disbelief. The tiny bird miraculously rose then flew away, disappearing into the corners of the city. A strange woman called his name but he remained by the window sill, awestruck. “Jova,” the woman called again. Confused, he turned to find a blond woman in a white room beaming at him through the television screen.

            “How do you know my name?” he questioned. Blushing for he was talking to the woman in the television.

            “Jova,” she began brightening the screen with her smile, “At last we meet again.”

            “Again? Do I know you?” He asked, lost in the ordeal.

            “You mean you don’t know me?” she asked morosely. “In your defense, it has been forever since we’ve last seen each other. Jova my boy, my special little boy, you don’t know how relieved I am to have finally found you.” Chills ran down his spine as the pale woman spoke to him through the screen. “We’ve been apart for too long. There’s so much to take, places to conquer. Would you not want to be a part of the grand design?” She asked, noticing a question appear in Jova’s eyes. “It’s our destiny.”

            “Destiny?” Jova took a step back, gathering his scattered thoughts to what has been presented before him. “I…” he began piecing the confusion, “I don’t know you. I’m only seven, I can’t go anywhere without my mother’s consent.” With his mother in mind he continued, “My mother always said not to talk to strangers.” He stood behind a wooden chair, looking at the strange woman who beamed at him; following his every move. “How are you…” He struggled to piece the puzzle together, “How are we talking?”

            “Have you forgotten little one,” she laughed lightly, “I am everywhere. I’ve been on a hunt for you and at last your arrival has come, after all these years. What perfect timing. Join me, Jova, for you were destined to lead us to our fate; eternal peace and glory to all.” She finished and waited for a response. Jova shook his head dazed and confused. Who was this woman he knew nothing about? How did she find him? “Escaping is futile; running will only get you so far. Don’t forsake us, Jova.”

            Howling engines roared in the air as its propellers balanced a patrol wagon midair outside his window. “We have the place surrounded, surrender immediately,” ordered the enforcers through the intercom. More buzzed around as excitement raced in the polluted wind. Jova panicked, not sure of what to do. A team of enforcers barged inside the complex and raced up the stairs sealing every exit in sight. “Kneel with your hands behind your head.”

            They were close, he could sense them. Jova opened the door and ran down the hallway. He turned every corner hoping they would get lost in the maze. “Holt, terrorist two o’clock,” one shouted as they all aimed their toys at a small fearful boy. Outside, the hovering patrol wagon bobbed with its brightening beams twirling in circles. “Get on the ground, now.” They all shouted with lasers aimed at his forehead. Jova got to his knees and surrendered. “We got the boy.” The commander informed the station. “We’re bringing him in.”

            As the hunter gathered their prey, Jova tightened his fist and shut his eyes. A blinding pitch rang in their ears. Painfully deafening, the pitch rendered them to their knees from the constant scream. They were unable to escape the silent tune that lay imprinted in their minds; echoing in their silence. Jova got to his feet and made a run for it. He climbed out the fire escape and made his way down.

            The hovering patrol spotted him shortly after. The patrol wagon stretched its tentacle arms and reached straight for Jova. Tranquilizers torpedoed in the air, each aiming to pierce his skin. Jova jumped the last staircase, fumbled to the ground nearly missing a metallic grip. The patrol sirens signaled his location, inviting a swarm of swat teams at his tail. Jova was on the run, not knowing where to go or what to do. No matter where he hid, he could not escape the target implanted onto him.

            The streets were cluttered with hills of trash piled in every corner. Foul reeked in the air, suffocating in every stench known to man. Tamed souls and preying eyes wondered the valleys of a utopian city run by lies. Jova pushed among the crowd, the lost, as the enforcers hovered above their heads. Its wondering lens scanned every face in sight, searching for the one they sought. Data of every living person caught in their preying lens ran in the patrol monitor while the wagon searched around.

            Billboards ran Jova's picture across the city labeling him a terror, a menace to society. Jova was uncertain of the crime he did not know he had committed. The thickening heat smothered his lungs as he gasped for air. The chase was a marathon he could not endure. The tracking propellers of the hovering patrol found his every location, bringing along a team of armed enforcers. The smoldering heat dragged his feet behind, slowing him to their grip.

            His legs were heavy, mouth dry as ever, his spirit crumbled and weakened by the hour. There was only one place left to go as he ran for his life. The bay to the other side was all that stood between him and his freedom from the enforcers. With no boat in sight, Jova’s survival seemed slim. “What am I to do,” he asked the heavens desperate for an answer. In a matter of seconds the waters began to smooth out before him, solid to the touch but liquid to the eye. The surface straightened, clearing a path for him to stand on. The sirens soon echoed in the distance, it was now or never.

            With one foot before the other, Jova miraculously walked the surface of the shore. He tipped toed his way a few feet in before sprinting to the other side, careful not to slip or fall into the polluted gulf. The swat team arrived on the scene within minutes, bewildered by the miracle at hand. “Stay put,” the commander shouted, his message echoing across the bay. Jova turned before landing on the shores to the other side. Across the pond, a herd of armed enforcers stood waiting for further instructions.

            The New York skyline mirrored in the bay from where he stood. He marveled at its fading shimmer and vibrant vines. Across the bay, the city stood scared by a troubled past. As the sun began to set, Jova disappeared into the jungles of a deserted city, hiding from the injustice eye. A glimmering light deep in the jungle led him further into the unknown. He only hoped to find a sense of reason in all of the confusion.

            Night critters crept in the dark as Jova made his way through the gloomy jungle. Empty cans and plastic bottles lay poking in the grass. Broken towers scattered throughout the vast emptiness. Jova did not know if he were alone in a city famine in poverty. The lonesome city told a tale of infamous glory. The past lingered in the future, haunting the present. Forgotten bones shined in the light from the rising crescent moon. Jova only guessed what his imagination could conjure of the history the city foretold.

            Owls echoed in the vastness while Jova made his way to the glimmering in the opening up ahead. It wasn’t long before Jova came to find the deserted city sheltered few who sought refuge from a city run by corruption. Peaking behind a thick tree, Jova observed a small group of foreigners who huddled around the fire. They seemed friendly but Jova kept his distance. “You can join us if you’d like,” a man called to whoever was lurking. “We’re not going to kill you.”

            Jova slowly stepped beside the tree, looking to see who had spotted him. Their faces were smeared in dirt, their hair disheveled and their rags were old but their welcoming smile assured him he had found safety among the lost. “Come,” the man added as Jova stood in the dark, “Here, there’s still some left.” The man tossed an open can of beans to Jova as he stepped into their circle and sat on the other side. He wondered around to questionable faces, all curious to know of the new arrival. “Got a name kid,” the man asked as Jova settled by the fire.

            “Jova.”

            “Names Phoenix,” the man introduced himself, “Where you from?”

            “New York.”

            “New York? Hasn’t been new for centuries. What brings you to our neck of the woods?” Phoenix asked. “You in some sort of trouble? Running from the law? I wouldn’t blame you.” He scrapped the bottom of the can with his finger as he savaged for remains.

            “No, actually, I was chased out of my home.” Jova replied. “I don’t know why.”

            “You said you’re from New York,” added a man who sat beside Phoenix. Jova nodded in response. “They probably wanted to sell you; kids are valuable labor these days. You know how I know? The cartels are running the city with the king pin as their mayor.” A question appeared on Jova’s face. “You do know who your mayor is, right?” Jova sat oblivious to what he was being asked, unaware of what they knew.

            “He’s just a kid Mak,” Phoenix replied, “He’s from the city. They’re told what to think, remember. He don’t know any better.” Phoenix turned to Jova, “There’s a lot you don’t know kid. You being here means you know something you shouldn’t. The future is ever changing, and this is what we’re left with. Speaking the truth can get you killed; opposing the law will get you on their list, turn you into a slave or worse,” he paused to recollect. “The world took a turn for the worst, and there’s nothing we can do about it; at least not any more. All we can do is hide, run at best but it can only take you so far.”

            “That’s what she told me.” Jova replied.

            “Who?” questioned a figure who stood in the shadows.

            “There was this blond woman who talked to me on the television, it was weird.” Jova began. “She said all sorts of confusing things. Do you know her?” The figure remained in the shadows, pondering. Unbeknownst to Jova, the figure in the dark knew many secrets kept hidden in plain sight. Of all the refuges huddled by the fire, one led the few who dare oppose a future left in ruins. Only they remain in the shadows, hiding from a loss they could never prevail.

            “Mona?” Phoenix called. “What are you not telling us?”

            “You must have done something extraordinary to have gotten her attention.” Mona began as she stepped into the light. A battered woman with a missing arm sat in front of Jova, making sure he noticed every scar lay exposed. “What Mak had mentioned before is that the world is no longer a safe place to be because there’s a lot you’re unaware of. The truth has been fabricated to the people by the regime, for ‘their’ greater good.”

            “What truth is that?” Jova asked, puzzled.

            “The truth is,” Mona continued, “The world has been at war for over a hundred years.” Jova sat in disbelieve. “It all began with the assassination of the president during a meeting with world leaders. They were to sign a peace treaty to unite the nations, but the regime had other things in mind. After the assassination, propaganda created by the regime spread all over the media warning people ‘Terrorists were on the rise’ when in fact, it was us all along." Jova cocked his head back, unsure of what he heard. “We were the terrorist on the rise. We killed our president to ignite a profitable losing war.”

            “How?” questioned Jova.

            “One brave veteran stumbled upon the truth behind the regime,” she replied. “He exposed the regime’s plan to assassinate the president to gain sympathy from the UN but not many believed his accusations because the regime had already labeled him a terrorist. He later formed a resistance to protest against the war the regime created but by then they had gained too much control. Those oppose of war were forced to fight it. No one made it out alive and those who did were never whole again.” She looked down at her arm. “Seen for that matter.”

            “That is why we hide here in the jungles of old Brooklyn.” Phoenix added. “We may not have been a part of the resistance back then, but we sure as hell weren’t going to side with the enemy.”

            “The regime scammed the people with promises of peace and protection but all they did was deceive the public with lies everyone bought.” Mak interjected. “They raised taxes to fund their war. They enlisted every orphan; they even went as far as to kidnapping new borns in order to gain more soldiers. The thing is they didn’t call it kidnapping, they called it an honorable act of service. To fight for their country, to fight for the regime.”

            “This is the truth behind the regime’s perfect administration,” Mona replied. “Only those who oppose are aware of the truth behind their illusion. The damages are too grand not to see but their threats and manipulation are too keen. As war ventured on corruption broke the system, justice became blind and many lives were lost fighting a war that was never theirs to fight. The regime wanted war for resources but instead they got a crumbling nation left in ruins with everyone oblivious to the truth. This is the future they keep creating for the rest to abide.”

            “But why would they come after me?” Jova asked, puzzled. “I’ve done nothing wrong.” He scrambled for reasons, anything that would have made some sense in the confusion, “There was this bird.” Silence hung in the fire while the rest sat and waited.

            “What do you mean?” Mak replied moments later.

            “I was eating cereal when a bird dropped dead by the window,” Jova explained. “I held it in my palm and felt sorry for it, so I asked it to wake up; and it did.” Everyone sat in disbelief, Mona grew concerned; she knew something they didn’t. “Next thing I know a blond woman is calling my name asking me to join her in fulfilling a destiny.”

            “Destiny,” Phoenix interrupted, “Lies; they’re all lies, kid. The only destiny you know is theirs. You want to know how they found you. The regime is everywhere. Everyone is bugged with trackers that listen in on everything you do. Everywhere you go, anything you say is theirs to keep, observe, and use. By raising the dead, you’ve revealed yourself to them,” he continued, “You’ve accidently made your presence known without knowing it. Anyone who seems out of the ordinary are possible targets; but you wouldn’t know that because they don't want you to know that.”

            “But what does that have to do with me?” Jova questioned.

            “It has everything to do with you,” Mona replied ecstatically as she sat beside him. “Jova, do you know who you are?”

            “I do,” he answered, “My name is Jova and I’m only seven years old.”

            “Yes you are.” Mona replied turning to Phoenix, “Of course he wouldn’t know who he is.” She then addressed Jova, “If one thing you should know by now is that there are many, many secrets hidden from the public by the regime. God being one of them.”

            “Who is God?” Jova asked, confused but intrigued.

            “God is the answer that can be traced through religion,” Mona answered. “Religion is a power the regime felt threatened by, so they controlled it. Before everything was rewritten, religion foretold of a second coming. Their version spoke of no second coming. They took matters into their own hands by eradicating all aspects of God. The second coming would be lost forever, not knowing of its own truth; a move the regime could utilize to their benefit. They forged an apocalypse on the people knowing it was their own. They tamed our fate to their will. The only God you were to praise, fear, was the one the regime created for the rest to believe.” She paused, “It’s a good thing you escaped. A weapon like yourself is far greater than any of their nuclear reactors. That is why she is after you.”

            “With the powers of God,” added Phoenix, “Victory is theirs. They will use you as a weapon one way or another. They will turn you into their slave or who knows what other acts they can do onto you. They’ve done it before, succeeded once. I wish it weren’t true, it’s a lot for one to handle let alone a kid.”

            “Powers,” Jova repeated, lost. “Is that how the bird came back to life; by the powers of God, me? It would explain how I managed to walk on water.”

            “You walked on water?” Mona spat, astounded.

            “What was I to do?” Jova answered defensibly. “I couldn’t swim across, the waters are polluted. I had nowhere else to go. I stood there asking the sun who watched what to do. Next thing I know the waters began to smooth out, clearing a path for me to stand on; right before my very eyes. I didn’t believe it at first but my options were slim. I walked on the surface until I reached the other side, it was my only escape.”

            Mona inched her way closer to Jova who seemed to pull back. “I know we haven’t given you any reason to trust us but believe me when I say we are on your side.” He turned to the rest who were now kneeling before him. “God has returned in the form of a child. Jova, will you join us as we seek the hidden and find a way to bring an end to this dystopian world our leaders created?” Jova looked around, not sure of what to believe or say. He felt the heaviness in their eyes, the pain in their hearts and the glimpses of hope rekindling in their spirits. The second coming was upon them, fate delivered Jova to his destiny.

Prologs

            Down the microscopic lens hid an alien world waiting to be discovered. “Eureka,” after years of research, the answer to a question asked a million times has finally been solved. This microscopic strand that wills the mind, a bottomless pit of information, to infinite conclusions never thought to ask now no longer represented a theory, but a reality. “There you are.” A young scientist whispered to himself. His eyes explored his discovery through the lenses as he observed, questioned, and praised. What endless possibilities you will bring me.

            Cataloging his every move, he took a sample of the gene and began to explore the root of its core. Monkeys rattled their cages as they were given their daily meals. Caleb, our young scientist, leisurely roamed the lab, picking the right subject to test his theory. A calm, but cautious, chimp ate its banana while observing the others. He slowly cuffed the chimp by its neck and brought it to his station. “Come along boy,” he spoke to it, “Let’s play a game of trial and error.”

            Unknown to his colleagues, he was beginning an impossible experiment. Testing his theory ambitiously, he documented his procedures, formulas and trials. He injected his test subjects with chemicals not yet tested by any federal lab, known by that matter. Caleb was embarking on a whole new expedition no other scientist would never dare. The experiment was considered inhumane. If others discovered his agenda, he would lose his fundings or worse his license. Secretly, he experimented with the animals provided by the lab.

            Prolog Entry: Day 5. He wrote. M10 has been injected with strand H and has shown similar symptoms to that of M5. Both share hair loss, discoloration of the skin and an unusual increase in appetite for rotten spoils. No sign of breakthrough. He continued his research, formula after formula, prototype after prototype; his quest for the answer kept him proceeding even throughout the dead ends. Countless animals fell to their death, all in the name of science. Yet another falls.

            Days turned to weeks as Caleb feverishly worked to find the right formula to make his theory possible. Close he could almost taste it, Caleb found a light at the end of the tunnel. He took his new formula and conjured a new chemical to inject his subject. Unfortunately, the new formula he’d thought would work failed. The monkey died horribly, slamming its head intensively; trying to end its own misery. Defeated and frustrated, Caleb pondered in his chair in the dark brainstorming yet another formula.

            His patience was running thin, but he was still determined. His infinite source of intelligence kept his mind active with ideas, questions and solutions. He would not give up so easily, especially now that he found his answer. No one had a clue as to what he was up to. A cure to all illness was the only lie everyone bought. The truth of the matter is he was on a mission to prove his theory correct; to find the gene that gave him his power. Now that he had found his gene, the next step was to incorporate the gene to a new host; but how? The strand rejected every subject. Distant he became with his colleagues as his research took him to depths he never dreamed of.

            Prolog Entry: Day 20. M24 has been injected with strand 347-H. Subject developed signs of fatigue, a possible small allergic reaction and flu like symptoms. For the most part, subject has shown some improvement, better than the previous two. He stopped as he observed the monkey. It sat gasping for air while others swung around. I’ve modified the strand with extra concentrated steroid hormones. I predict the subject might undergo a seizure or fall into a heavy comatose killer flu, too which, in some sense, I might keep this one alive.

            Weeks later, under constant observations, the test monkey did not die but instead became sick as he predicted. The other monkeys kept their distance for the infected subject radiated illness and toxics. Caleb took his experiment to its own cage and there, he kept a closer eye on its development. Prolog Entry: Day 37. M24 has fallen into a severe illness, nearly died but has improved. Subject is now swinging from vines, climbing faster than normal and its intelligence keeps improving. He took a look at his experiment. Have I come to the solution?

            At last, it seemed, Caleb had come to a conclusion. Countless months of sneaking around, lying to whoever crossed his path; hiding his true mission. The lives of many defenseless animals he took in the name of science now came down to one single monkey who managed to survive. It wasn’t long before his superiors began to question his hibernation. “Mr. Barnett, what a pleasure.” His superior began as he made his way inside Caleb's peculiar lab. “I hope I’m not interrupting anything what with you being locked away for months end. Productive, No less.”

            “No, not at all Doctor,” Caleb replied. “Come, sit.”

            “Rumor has it you’re on the hunt to find a cure for all cures. Sight restoration, limb rejuvenation, permanent remedies for hair loss, ear canal surgery procedures for hearing loss, memory loss. It seemed too good to be true so I thought I’d come by and check it out for myself.”

            “That’s the goal.” He answered. “But I’m not completely done. See,” in the midst of Caleb’s excitement of reaching his conclusion to his experimental quest, he had forgotten to keep his secret a secret, “I’ve been testing the monkeys lately and I’ve managed to keep one alive.”

            “You managed to keep what alive?” His superior repeated, shocked and bewildered. “What do you mean you managed to keep one alive? I don’t recall me signing you authorizations to use the animals in sector three. You don't have clearance for this.” The more he authorized, the more Caleb realized the trouble he had put himself in. “As your superior, I’m authorizing a cease and desist of this lab. You’re finished!”
            “But you don’t understand.” Caleb objected. “I’ve come so far to stop now. My research is almost complete! I can give you immortality if you just let me stay.” Caleb begged but was left ignored. He lied, said anything to keep them from stripping him of his license. Security confiscated his equipment. Scandal shocked the laboratory halls as rumor spread of his inhumane experiments. Dead carcasses of deformed monkeys, or what looked like dead animals, were wrapped and sent to the infirmary to be disposed of.

            Before he knew it, Caleb was kicked out into the streets. He was banished from the Science Exploratory, his only lab and home. Stripped of his license and left with nothing but his personal prologs, he were to provide his own equipment if he were to continue on his research. His once active lab now stood empty. The once Barnett Laboratory now read, “Doctor Asylum, home of the freak show,” as a reminder of his unspeakable experiments. Defeated but determined, Caleb moved back home with his family to finish what he started.

            Distant and short tempered, Caleb placed one rule for his family to obey. If ever he was needed and the only place to find him was the basement now turned lab they were not to disturb him, under any circumstances. “I don’t ever want to be disturbed,” he proclaimed the first day at dinner. “It cuts my train of thought.” Days, even weeks, he would spend locked in the basement, developing a new, better formula to test his theory. It wasn’t long before he began to seek subjects to test on. He started low then made his way up the chain.

            When the rats failed, the family dog was next in line to fall victim to his inhumane experiments. The poor dog became deformed, monstrous, and died weeks later. Soon, another fell to his sickening injections. By then, his quest had taken him over the edge and down a demented path. He wanted human subjects for it was the only reasonable conclusion that could prove his theory right. He was, after all, experimenting on the human gene, desperately finding a formula to surpass its full potential.

            Then, it dawned on him. Testing on human subjects would in fact produce a better outcome rather than on animals. He wanted two subjects to test this theory, two who share similar DNA traits. Two particular subjects came into mind as his plot thickened. Two brothers would then enter a world full of madness devised by a courageous scientist. The two brothers entered the lab where God dare not look, an underground basement of horror suited for the perfect mad man.

            Stacks of rotting, deformed, flesh stood exposed in one corner, behind a plastic curtain. The boys wondered into the table where delicious but toxic liquids stood, inviting a sip or two. A labeled skull warned them not to taste its refreshing waters. On display, behind thick glass, stood stray animals each suffering from their own demented hell. Some had missing hair; others had swollen eyes while some hung from its socket. The oldest couldn’t bare the sight while the other intensively observed.

            “Now remember boys,” Caleb began, “I’m not trying to hurt you in anyway; I simply want to bring out the best in you. All I ask is that you keep this between us, okay. If anyone were to find out about our little trial and error, I won’t be able to awaken your gifts. Your powers will be lost forever, never to return, do you understand?” He looked at them square in the eye as the two blindly agreed to whatever monstrosity he could do on to them.

            Once everything was set and done; his new formula he conducted over the past week was ready for inserting. Prolog Entry: Day 60. Subject V1 and V2 have been injected with strand 3.47-H. Both subjects are predicted to fall under a tremendous illness, but with the new formula, they might revive quicker than expected. He watched the two infected brothers play in the fields, wondrously flying through the air imagining a better world. He only hoped his new formula proved his theory correct; not thinking of the dangers he had put the brothers under.

            As predicted, the boys fell ill. Their mother came to him one night, tearful and full of panic. Loudly and rapidly, she knocked in his basement door pleading for his aid. “They must stay with me in the lab, May.” He informed her. She objected. “These boys mean the world to me!” He replied. “I will do everything in my power to restore them back to health, I promise.” And so, the lab became the boy’s new home. It wasn’t until they began to show signs of improvement, though, when they realized where they had been.

            Prolog Entry: Day 89. Both subjects seem to be in a coma like state but their brain activity is still very much active. Their will is strong but their state is fragile. It’s as if something’s keeping them alive. Breathing levels are normal. Brain functions are high, though V2 emits more activity than V1. I must confess, their state of illness should have reduced weeks ago. Slowly, it seems, their illness keeps increasing while their heart monitor slows. I’ve come to two conclusions; they’re either still in the weak state or they are slowly dying.

            Caleb feared his second conclusion was far more accurate than his first. Weeks turned to months and still the boys remained the same. The boys underwent strange unique stages of death, all curiously enticing his mind. Their mother grew impatient. “They’ve been under your control for some time now and still they have not improved. What kind of supervision are you installing on the children? You’ve had them for weeks, what have you accomplished since then?” She didn’t want to face the type of productivity he accomplished behind closed doors, but her motherhood instinct urged her to question everything.

            “I can assure you, they are in good hands.” Caleb replied.

            “I want to see them.” She demanded instantly. “I want to see my children, now!” No one, other than the two boys and himself, had ever stepped inside his laboratory. Caleb grew concerned. He didn’t want her to see the fragile state her sons were in because of him. Desperately, he tried to convince her he had everything under control. All attempts failed as she made her way to his underground basement. She was about to enter a world she could not stomach all at once. “Caleb,” she said as she discovered her two sons wired to a machine, “What have you done to our children?”

            Yet again, his attempts for the answer were stifled by the realization his wife had stumbled upon. First came denial. She didn’t want to accept the fact that her husband had been experimenting on their two children for selfish, inhumane reasons. Then came anger. She slapped him as hard as she could. She wanted to unleash all her frustration onto him for the pain he had caused their family. And lastly, she came to a realization. No more would she allow him to treat their children like mere subjects.

            Standing beside his desk, she skimmed through his journal. With each page came pouring regrets. The months of research, months of unspeakable deformity of experiments caused by one man’s quest to find an answer, were too fictitious to be true. “They aren’t just test subject, Caleb.” She began. “They are your children! How could you have done this to us, to them?”

            The next day, Caleb found a yellow folder on the table. Divorce papers filed by May for irreconcilable differences were placed before him, awaiting his signature. He would not let her take them away from him, especially now that the boys were showing signs of improvement. In the mist of all the drama, Caleb had found a ray of hope. Through the case hearings and meetings, Caleb continued his work for he had now come to a conclusion.

            Prolog Entry: Day 120. Both subjects have made an improvement. They are now up and walking. Let the data commence. The following week, as the house became empty, Caleb observed the kids every day closely and attentively. He wrote every detail, suspicion and hypothesis. Separately, he worked on the kids examining what traits they have gained through the past months. A lot has happened since, he added, Though V1 and V2 seem to acquire different skills.

            In his observations, Caleb came to find V1 had gained a queer skill in strength and agility. By the second day, he was lifting objects two times his own weight. He is able to withstand any amount of pressure and almost instantly shatter any type of concrete to bits. His strength is that of a mother’s will to protect her young, in a sense, invincible. He lifts 50 pounds of weight like if it were a feather. It’s come to the point where the strength of his legs allow him to jump at extremely high altitudes, higher than average; almost as if he were flying. He later wrote.

            His next focus was V2, the youngest of his experiment. Strength, it seemed, did not manifest on V2. It was but a far more precious skill V2 possessed, an unimaginable curiosity for the unknown. By the next day, V2 was solving algebraic equations Harvard students studied. No greater test kept him from solving the equation. I showed him a theory and instantly came to the conclusion it took me to solve months ago, he wrote, astonished.

            Unfortunately, his time with the kids had come to an end. As the divorce settlement came to a resolution, the family he kept his distance from now dealt the separation a broken family face. The two children were stuck choosing between mother and father. One instinctively chose his mother for he could not bear the sight of the senile man. He could not look him in the eye and respectfully call him his father. The other proudly chose his father for he provided what his mother could not, and that was answers. He was hungry to learn of the world he had awakened from.

            The family went their separate ways, only to meet on holidays at certain times. The brothers grew apart, distant if you may. They treated each other, not as brothers, but as strangers who meet every now and then. The brotherhood they once shared was now lost over the years that followed. As the brothers grew, so did their views of the world. Their goals and dreams would then shape their future.

            One brother grew to see the world full of hope with believes of a better today. Through the rough stages in life, he devoted his power to help those he loved; later those in need as the world became selfish with rage. The other brother grew with means of lunacy, mania and villainy . His father, known for his demented skills, helped mold the prefect villain. Together, their ingenious intelligence would bring forth a dark world where hope is lost and madness takes its course with no remorse. It is one, evidently, that will forever be immortalized as the king of all villainy.

Time Jump

         2000 years from Now… “International News Live, Sara Christo reporting 20 feet beneath Washington D.C.” An enthusiast journalist began as she broadcast an end of a nation. She steadied her microphone as the helicopter balanced it's course from the turbulence brought by the fire growing underneath. Her eyes screamed in horror as thousands upon millions of echoes vanished in the inferno. The world listened as they watched a nation burn to ashes. “An atomic bomb exploded in the capital, sending a blaze of nuclear destruction across the United States consuming the entire North and South American continent; incinerating the two nations into smithereens.”

         “Millions are known to be dead,” She continued as the camera lens zoomed into the fire. Footage of the unprecedented catastrophe incinerating in the flames of the atomic destruction sent horror to the viewers at home. Today’s news turned grim. “The UN has issued a national state of emergency and has sent the National Guard along with the embassy’s military for aid. No known attacker has been identified but sources say terrorist may be involved.”

          Now… “But does it work?” Asked the stubby little scientist, examining what has been presented before him. He secretly judged and took mental notes as he analyzed the remarkable invention. A helmet, of all things, sat on the table before three astonishing men whom stood hovering. One anxiously anticipating the others reply. Before them, a network of thin metallic rods intertwining with each other spread across the table, spilling onto the floor leading a trail to a massive computer. Patches of long thin wires were hooked onto the helmet connecting it to the computer that recorded its data.

          “What if by focusing on a distant memory and meditate on it, your subconscious mind could take you to that place? You're subconscious now would travel to your subconscious then, you're already there only you're here traveling to there. It may not work but it’s a step in the right direction,” the inventor began, “You see, by connecting the cerebral main brain to the computer’s core system, my assistant and I are able to run the numbers and in theory travel through time.” He paused as he noticed the scientist seemed more interested in his device than in his theory. “We haven’t run the procedure full course so we’ve yet to see any results. Everything is still in theory, as it stands. You see, we aren’t a hundred percent sure what the outcome may be. My concern lies in deciphering whether I’ll end up stuck between two walls or buried in rubble? The possibilities are infinite if you think about it.”

          “What do you think of me, a fool?” Spat the scientist. “Time travel is and will forever remain a theory. Power such as that must never fall in the hands of simple minded men. Power, Mr. Wonders, is man’s greatest weakness. Take the government for example, they deceive the people, the very foundation to their power, and turn average citizens into starving criminals. Then they justify their crimes with good intentions. They flawed their system then complain why everyone else continuously try to do the same.” He paused, “I take my work real serious and I'd advise you not to waste my time or yours any longer with such childish nonsense.”

          “No, no, please, you must understand,” begged the inventor, Mr. Wonders; the man who solved times tricky riddle. “If you could just separate politics and science for one second. The facts are staring you right in the face, look,” he showed the scientist his data once again, stating his claims and validating his theories. A set of series of infinite letters and numbers generating an advanced intricate vocabulary scribbled throughout the paper, solving a calculated time jump. A multitude of information overload bunched into little sections scattered across the paper puzzled yet fascinated the doubtful science man.

          “What kind of illusion material have you produce,” he finally asked, further analyzing the paper he held. “My God, have you been wasting your time on this? Mr. Wonders, if you ever wish to advance in the field of science machinery, you must develop a far more useful device than this mere sheet of cleverly formulated illusionist paper; of all preposterous silly little things.” He then took the focus back to the helmet that sat on the table before them, a far more suited construction worth his time; he thought. “This cerebral contraption, what exactly does it do?”

          “It’s my ship.”

          “Don’t toy with me Mr. Wonders for my patience is running extremely thin.”

          “Let me explain,” The inventor began, “By strategically inserting these wires into certain spots of the cerebral main brain, I will be able to be transported into the future or the past determining on the calculations my assistant submits to the computer.” The scientist seemed lost. “I can see you’re not following, because of this,” he gestured to the helmet then the computer, “I may be able to visit a time I no longer exist. Like I’ve said before, the answer is there only you have debunked it as an illusion.” The scientist noticed he still held the paper, a peculiar little thing riddled in words produced by numbers, letters and all sorts of hieroglyphics.

          “The computer is the captain and the helmet is the ship.” He finished. “Now, with my assistant’s help, I’ve come to find the right formula that will take me as far as 2000 years into the future. It’s a stretch but it’s a start.” He stopped to think of what he was about to propose, “If this works, I may be able to walk with our descendants and experience the impossible like never before; go where no man has ever gone. I must say, though, I am a little nervous for I am most aware and will try to prevent a paradox effect. Such a creation can alter time and space completely, I know.”

          “You’re a mad man for believing you can change history,” protested the scientist.

          “What do you care, you’ve convinced me you don’t believe.” He replied.

          “So then what, you expect me to stand by and let you alter the fabric of space, time and all reality?” He paused for an answer, but received nothing in return. The scientist aimed for the helmet but was too slow. Both the assistant and the inventor grabbed then dragged the scientist out of their laboratory. “You can’t do this.” He protested, desperately trying to free himself of their grip. “You’re making a mistake,” he continued, “You’ll be affecting the whole of reality. Come to your senses, both of you!”

          “It’s the price I’ll have to pay.” The doors closed with the frantic scientist trying desperately to stop him from altering history itself. Mr. Wonders prepared himself for the ride. The cold cerebral headpiece pierced his scalp as the thin needles dug into his brain. His assistant stood by the towering computer inserting the formulas, equations, and series of symbols. The machine began to run with the press of a button. The assistant turned as he watched the inventor rattle veraciously, a many side effects of jumping through time.

          He was gone in a blink of an eye, flying through time and space as his body stretched from miles end until his atoms tore into thin microscopic pieces. His bones scattered in the changing matter, his organs froze and his mind felt the pressures of traveling faster than the speed of light. Straight through realities worm hole then down its dark corridors of the unknown he disappeared. His head throbbed at every turn. Hoping he would soon reach his destination, a distant light appeared in the mist of the worm holes vastness. Images appeared in hazy particles stacking on top of each other until they formed moving stationary objects.

          Unbeknownst to the traveler and his assistant, they had missed one key element in successfully traveling through time. What they failed to calculate in their experiments was jumping through different dimensions in time causes a nuclear atomic reaction. Traveling at such extreme velocity creates a tear in the fabric of space, releasing an abundant amount of energy at impact. Mr. Wonders would fail to see his plan come into fruition. Once he arrived 2000 years into the future, he created a miscalculated apocalypse ending a nation in his tracks.