Dimensia

by Steven Thornton, Jr

  *

  As I looked into the town, I saw people as we are today: gathering, trading, living, and loving. I began walking around and scanned the area in search of wormholes. I was hoping one would emerge, preferably sooner than later. I had no idea how much time had passed but it felt like hours. Out of frustration I decided to climb to the top of one of the two pyramids. I looked out into the land, scanning the horizon and hoping for a sign. It was then that I realized that I was lost, and not even alive. I was just a spirit or soul. I felt like I could be seen by some, but not by most and not for any length of time. I felt more alone than ever and longed for home. To complicate matters, I had no plan or idea of what to do. All I could do was wait in a land foreign to me, with no guide or handbook to follow, no one to turn to or to ask for guidance. I was left with just my basic instincts.

  The sun, at one time in front of me, was now at my back. This confirmed that much time indeed had lapsed. Upset, I paced the top of the pyramid and blamed myself for my ignorance and reckless behavior. It was in this moment of frustration that I saw a wormhole appear faintly in the distance. In the instant I felt rejuvenated and took off sprinting as fast as I could with time in front of me, at the same time, against me. Soon I arrived at the base of the sphere, where with no regards to thoughts I dove in headfirst. Once inside I saw the end and my original starting point. I jumped forward, extending my legs, gliding toward the end. Excitement building, seconds later, the sprits of the tunnel began to speed up considerably. Consequently, the wormhole was beginning to close and I noticed the same picture as before, only not as far to go. As I looked to the end, I saw my room with myself in bed. Next to the bed I saw machines with clear tubes connected to me. Becoming anxious I worried that I was not going to make it out of the wormhole in time, unaware of the consequences of being stuck in a dissipating wormhole. In a relentless effort, I prepared for the reality that I wasn't going to make it out by closing my eyes. Seconds later, I felt an intense gravitation that took my breath away as I landed hard into my body and in present time.

  Gasping for air, I opened my eyes and realized I had succeeded with my escape. I looked around the house and was more than thankful to be back. Only things had changed dramatically. Looking toward the living room I saw my Mother sitting on the couch. Only she was much older. Continuing to look around, I saw no sign of my Step-Dad.

  "Mom," I yelled aloud, but received no response.

  "Mom!" I yelled again, only louder, and saw her sitting on the sofa in front of the television yet looking toward my room.

  "I'm back!" I yelled. She strained to stand. I watched attentively as she proceeded to walk towards my room. Her skin had aged immensely and her body appeared older and frail. With slow, calculated steps, she hunched over a walker. Moments later arrived at my room as the door slowly opened. Standing in the doorway, she began to cry, while trying to hide her face.

  "Mom, I'm back. I love you." I said as she approached my bed. She bent over and gave me a hug.

  "How long?" I asked, beginning to cry. She released her hug and blankly stared while standing next to the bed.

  "How long, Mom?" I raised my voice and was eager to know just how much time had passed.

  "Forty years son . . . forty years. I have been waiting for you," she said with a shortness of breath as her arms began to shake.

  "I prayed that my body would hold out until I got to see you one final time," she said. As she looked down at the floor tears streamed down her face.

  "How are you?" I asked, becoming blinded by a storm of tears. She smiled and tried to contain her tears. After catching her breath she softly whispered,

  "I'm good son. I'm glad to see you. I'm so glad you're back."

  "You look great." I said, my voice quivering with emotion. She simply stared into my eyes,

  "Thank you. I have to go make some phone calls to let everyone know you're back," she said as she turned to exit the room. At that moment I had a strange feeling, similar to d?j? vu, and didn't know what to think or say.

  As the night progressed, my family came over to the house. I remained stationary in bed. I stared in disbelief as I witnessed the drastic changes everyone had experienced. Dallas was a grown older man. Amanda was grown and on the downhill slope of her life. My nephew Billy, whom I was lucky enough to have been acquainted with near his birth, was now grown up with a family of his own. I saw my Brother's wife and their kids, who were now adults with kids too. I had obviously missed out on a great deal. I felt a wave of nausea sweep over me. I was sad that I hadn't been able to attend my Brother's wedding; that I hadn't been present in my Sister's life or in the lives of this new generation of family members. My Mom was old and was suffering from Parkinson's disease, twitching uncontrollably. I saw in my Mothers eyes the pain I had inflicted. It wasn't as happy of a reunion as I thought it was going to be. Forty years! I didn't recognize them but I was still the exact same. I couldn't think of anything happy to talk about. I was a stranger in their eyes and I felt it. I couldn't get over the fact that I had abandoned them and taken their love for granted. I saw them all standing in my room as before. The elders introduced me to the younger generations. Everyone stared as I noticed their minds wander.

  As the night played on, I tried to absorb the stories, memories, of times I had missed. A lot had gone by and things had definitely changed. Heaven knows that I couldn't wrap my brain around the fact of the matter that I had missed out on forty years of life. In a matter of possibly hours from my standpoint, so many years had passed for them and I found this reality to be unbelievable. As time passed, my family members began to leave. Soon enough I was sitting in my room alone.

  The following days, I had doctor after doctor drop by the house, run tests, take blood, and analyze my condition. I answered question after question, and felt more like a prisoner or test subject than a human. It took weeks of physical therapy for me to get to the point to be able to stand. It took even more months for me to be able walk. They ran tests proving my bone structure, tissue, and cellular levels to be those of an average twenty year old.

  I also learned of Dr. Scott's demise in recent years, and of my own Father and Stepfather's passing. My family helped explain to me how our new form of government was called the New World Order. Of the universal currency and laws that had been in effect for sometime, it was my understanding that we as a world had adapted a new policy for government. An autocracy was in full swing. I learned that each citizen was to receive a chip. The V chip as it was called and was implanted into one's hand. After doing this you were allowed to function in society. If one didn't have the chip, I learned the adverse effect. With one appointed leader, all trade went through his country of Turkey, a city-state, and through the central hub for business and government, Babylon. The leader had personally introduced the cure for cancer, AIDS, and his most important contribution was, drum roll please . . . the fountain of youth. Age? (An immortal pill. Which is a semi-present reality.) Apparently scientists had invented a cellular serum (MEMS) that slowed the aging process, promising to extending humans' lives five times the normal expectancy, with no foreseen complications or interruptions. He also brought with his power peace, the likes of which never seen before. He was a true leader and respected with high regard. Almost everyone worldwide accepted him. Some even proclaimed him as a prophet. To the best of my understanding, the chip had been introduced for international security reasons, and supported all the attributes of technology. It was at first hard to understand. I understood some and saw it more as a control issue, but those who accepted him argued that it was liberating. It wasn't long before I was approached for the implant. If I refused, I understood that the consequences were severe.

  It happened on a normal afternoon while I was sitting in bed, when I saw a military vehicle pull up out in front of my Mom's house. Two men in military attire came up and knocked on
the front door.

  "Two men from the New World Order are at the front door," I said to my Mother, sitting next to me. She stood up and explained that if she didn't go and greet them, she could be charged with severe crimes. At the door, I saw the two men speak to my Mother as she invited them in. Moments later and still in bed, the men came upstairs and entered my room. After their spiel, with no thought process involved, I decided not to go through with receiving the chip. My family hadn't received the chip and nor would I. Actually, it was my understanding that there were a lot of people that had refused to buy into the (commercials) New World Order. This may have automatically made me an outcast in society, but we still had the freedom to choose. They told me that for babies it was mandatory to receive the chip. Upon refusal, food markets, bank branches, airports and other public freedoms that were given at one time were strictly prohibited to utilize.

  Mixed emotions ran when you spoke of the New Order. The consensus of the populous majority regarding the chip was nothing but positive. These people claimed that the New Order was transforming the world into a better place. Others argued that it was not at all what is seemed, in fact much different, and spoke of end times.

  I was living in a time that I never would or could have conceptualized. The New Order controlled everything you could think of; nearly all of the general public's intake of information. They had even established curfews. Stores were no longer allowed to carry certain things and people without the chip were forced to work for next-to-nothing. It was not what I was expecting to come back to and witness. I had heard that if you broke laws and were one of the ones that didn't have the chip, you were banished all together. Rumors had spread that the New Order had built and legalized concentration camps for those disloyal. And by disloyal, they decided what deemed as disloyal. Those banished were never to be seen or heard from again. I had landed in a real life horror story.

  That night, while carrying on a normal conversation with my Mom, she briefly paused mid-sentence as her eyes swelled with tears.

  "Son, why don't you leave?" she asked out of thin air.

  "What?" This shocked me. I could not believe what I had just heard. She smiled, cleared her voice and continued,

  "Son, this is no way to live; this is torture," she pleaded with her eyes.

  "I can't imagine you coming back and accepting this." She smiled as I stared into her worn out, weary eyes. She slowly reached out with her right hand and began to spread her fingers apart, gently placing her palm against my face.

  "You are something else son," she whispered softly.

  "I will always love you," as tear fell from her eye and raced down her face.

  "No time, place, or circumstance can change that." Her delivery of words rendered me motionless and I was unable to express what I felt. I just sat speechless. Her hands trembled non-stop and her eyes slowly closed. Her breaths noticeably short, appearing to struggle for air.

  "Mom, what's going on?" I asked. Experiencing the feeling that she was sinking in troubled water. Waiting for a response, I saw her head beginning to slowly fall as her arm fell to her side. I reached out, grabbing her arm and lifting her head,

  "Mom . . . Mom . . . please wake up!" I yelled, crying, grabbing her by the shoulders and shaking her upper torso. A note fell from her left hand and floated down to the carpet below. I tilted her head back and checked for a pulse, but there was none. As fear swept over me, I slowly reached down for the note, and wiped my running nose. With the note in hand, I dried my eyes and took a couple of deep breaths, trying to get a grip on myself. I unfolded the piece of paper that read:

  "Son, I love you and am happy for you. I waited as long as I could, but the time has come for me to go." I couldn't continue to read and became destitute of vision as my nose ran profusely. It was hard but I pressed on,

  "You have a gift son. You have something special that I don't understand, but I am proud of you. I will always be with you. The world is dying, as am I. Stay focused on what is right and don't let anyone discourage you. Until we see each other again, I love you, see you soon. Take care, love Mom." Instantly my body felt numb with emotion. My knees buckled from underneath me and I found myself falling to the ground. Out of anger, I slammed my fists against the floor over and over. I cried to the heavens and cursed God.

  "God, if you are real, show me! I don't feel you, show me! Show me a sign. Strike me with lightening, anything!"

  An hour passed, perhaps a bit less, when I finally built up enough strength to phone Amanda and Dallas to see if they wanted to come over to help with Mom's proceedings. I had felt alone before, but at was this point in my life I felt more alone than ever. My Mom was everything to me. I looked to her for guidance. More than anything I wanted to be with her. I wanted to die. She was an incredible woman who stood by me no matter what. She was smart, loving, caring, and will forever be missed.

  As I stood with Amanda and Dallas, we watched the coroner leave the driveway and felt empty. One cannot describe the emotions involved with losing a parent. This night in bed I was unable to sleep. It was at four o'clock on the dot that I rose up in bed, but to be precise it was more like held up. Being awoken. I saw a gold blur in the air about five feet away approaching me. In a daze and with blurred vision, a gold collection of particles materialized and hovered midair. Strange, perplexed, my eyes saw one thing but my mind saw another. My mind had gathered the particles as the collection looked like arms reaching out. Coming within inches of my face, it didn't slow until it made contact with me. Upon doing so I inhaled a deep breath and felt an intensely good feeling. I was gently laid on my back, paralyzed from any movement. Staring at the corner of my room toward the ceiling, I heard words from the right of me, words that I'll never forget:

  "You have not yet, but yet not want to have. You have not yet, but yet not want to have." It repeated the same words over and over, then said,

  "Your heart will open up." In that moment I felt another intense and sudden rush of energy consume my body. I would associate to a euphoric, natural high or an explosion of energy, like none other. After a few moments of this, I gasped for air and could move once again. I sat up in bed and instantly started to cry. I add, crying for an hour, overwhelmed with the energy. My nose ran as I tried to catch my breath. Then it dawned on me what I had said earlier. Unable to fall asleep, I stayed up the rest of the night with more than usual on my mind.

  A few days later my Mother's funeral took place. I tried to be optimistic since I got to see a lot of friends and family, some of which had long been lost. It was at the funeral that I felt like the black sheep of the family. I received cold and darkly stares, ones that someone would give to an unfamiliar stranger. Wolves and wolverines, I never saw it coming. I felt as if my presence was not welcomed. Some of them I still hadn't met. But the ones I had met acted distant and indifferent. Much like my experience with Chance and the circumstances surrounding the incident. Thankfully, Dallas and Amanda stood by me through most of it, but when I wondered off, it was strange. I wanted to go back in time to stop myself from going away the last time, but knew that nothing could change the present circumstance.

  After the burial service the immediate family went over to my Mother's house, where everyone talked about the good times and spoke kind words about her, celebrating her life. Hearing them spoken helped find peace and brought smiles to our faces, despite the obvious devastation. As I sat in a chair in the corner of the living room, reality really began to set in that my Mom was gone forever. Watching everyone else mingling, I felt out of place. Despite the obviousness of the situation, I felt I was still very different from others. After a few hours, everyone began to scurry off as Dallas, Amanda and I started to clean the house. It was nice to be with them. While picking up some of the leftover plates scattered around the house, I asked Amanda,

  "Had you ever heard Mom mention anything about Comfo
rt?" This comment made her smile from ear to ear,

  "Yesss, why?"

  "Well, what did she say, crazy?" Embarrassed, she revealed a mischievous look.

  "Well, I know that she would call and talk to Mom about you. She always checked up on you and that's all I know. Oh, Mom did mention that she liked Comfort, and thought if you were still around you two would have gotten married and had a family." In reaction to her statement, my eyes filled instantaneously with tears as I rested for a moment on the sofa. Thoughts of Comfort and I overwhelmed my mind. I smiled to myself, recalling how much my Mom had taken a liking to Comfort.

  "Do you know where Mom kept her phone number Rolodex?" I asked, snapping out of my daydream.

  "Fisher, Comfort would be late sixty to early seventies now, you realize that don't you? I didn't know you're into that kind of thing." She smiled, furrowed her brows and narrowed her eyes. I simply smiled and realized she was correct. Comfort was old now. Imagining how she would look, I wondered how much she had changed, because in my minds eye I saw her forever young.

  "Yes, give me her number." I said as I stood up and walked towards the kitchen. Amanda opened a sliding drawer containing the Rolodex and placed it on the counter. She retrieved an insert and extended it toward me. The card in hand was labeled 'Fisher's Comfort.' When Amanda handed me the card, it triggered a flood of memories. My mother's personalization on the card, her penmanship, her Rolodex; her.

  After a brief moment of silence, I bit my lip and proceeded to walk towards the phone hanging on the wall. I dialed the number from the index card and heard it ring on the other end. I waited nervously and wondered what to expect as Amanda stood quietly beside me. Seconds later I heard an older woman's voice pick up on the other end, instantly bringing a smile to my face.

  "Hello? Is anyone there?"

  "Yes. Hello?" I answered, and heard a brief pause on the line.

  "Fisher, is it . . . can it be?" As I heard her southern belle accent, my eyes began to water. I rested my head on the doorframe and became overwhelmed.

  "Yes, it's me, Comfort," my voice quivered.

  "How are you doing?" she asked, in a higher octave.

  "I'm okay. Been better, and you?" I replied.

  "Comfort, who is it calling at this hour?" a man's voice in the distant background asked.

  "It's nothing dear, go back to bed," Comfort said. I heard movement in the phone as it sounded like she was walking into another room.

  "Fisher, it's been so long, so much has changed," she whispered, excitedly.

  "How is your music career going?" I asked ignorantly, not knowing what else to say.

  "You always could make me smile, music career." I heard a smile in her voice, then a sigh.

  "I'm so sorry, Comfort. I should have stayed here with you. I never should have left," I said beginning to break down.

  "Fisher, everything is as it should be. I am blessed to have met you. But I feel I need to tell you that you need to get over me." I burst into laughter hearing the humor she hadn't lost.

  "Very funny, Comfort," I said as she laughed.

  "Well, it's nice to hear from you, but I have to get some rest now since I have the grandkids tomorrow. Stay in touch. Goodbye Fisher."

  "Goodbye." I hung up the phone. The word was more than goodbye. The word meant goodbye forever. I sank to my knees on the kitchen floor and rested my head against the wall. I asked myself, what should I do now?

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