Contents
Thanks
Preface
1. Fuck!
2. PART I - The Cave
3. Battle Flight
4. Moving Day
5. PART II - Jim
6. First Day at Work
7. The Facility
8. Beach Paradise
9. Get Back in There!
10. PART III - Day 1
11. The Requests
12. Sleep Routine
13. Interruption
14. Exhaustion
15. The Club
16. Party Time!
17. Ocean Overlook
18. Hangover
19. Perfect Sunday
20. Hot Sauce
21. Blocker
22. Rafael
23. Board Meeting
24. PART IV - The Surfer
25. Details
26. Wall Breach
27. Exercise and Coffee
28. Lee
29. Future City
30. Wall Climb
31. Changes
32. Canyon
33. State Fair
34. Skatepark
35. The Search
36. Jessie
37. Trial
38. Murder Plot
39. Board Game
40. The Fight
41. David
42. Old Town
43. The Bunker
44. Zoo
45. A Stinky Plan
46. Balloon Festival
47. The Reef (Bonus)
48. Fusion Room
49. Retribution
50. Red Alert
51. All In
52. A Cigarette
53. Incoming
54. Believe
55. Tacos and Tequila
56. The Visitor
57. The Decision
58. Flying
59. Wormhole
60. The Fall
61. Purple Status
62. PART V - Rememberance
63. Explanation
64. Monday
65. It Begins
66. Tuesday Prep
67. Early Rise Wednesday
68. Launch
69. Rescue I
70. The Getaway
71. El Paso
72. Rescue II
73. The Storm
74. END
Thanks
First I’d like to take a moment for appreciation. I’d like to thank my wife for helping me proofread this book. She’s always by my side and patient and helpful with my ideas. Thank you Lorena, my love.
I’d also like to thank my good friend and professional graphic designer Adrian Juman for his fantastic work on the cover. Excellent job and thank you again Adrian for your patience while we went back and forth with ideas.
As well I thank family and friends who supported me along this journey and everyone who purchased this book. It’s finally here—the wait is over!
The saga is now complete after about fifteen months of long full days—however the core substance is years in the making, involving years of research and experimentation with my longtime passions. This includes but is not limited to studies and experience with lucid dreaming, coding and computers, fitness and nutrition, science, hiking, exploring, and of course a good deal of explosive partying.
Get ready to go on a fantastic journey. And please remember, even though it might be difficult to remain lucid at times, this is a work of fiction. It will take you into the world of dreams, to the ends of the universe, to the future and the past—and beyond. It will make you laugh and yes, even cry. There will be horrific and shocking moments, scathing challenges and tribulations, and times of wonder, awe, and inspiration. And, as hard as it will be to believe, everything from this page forward is NOT real. Names, characters, places, businesses, events and incidents are either the products of my imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
So stay lucid and welcome aboard.
Now buckle up and enjoy the ride!
Preface
We are riding a high-speed roller coaster, right now, every single human on this little blue ball. And it’s speeding up, faster and faster each day. We cannot stop or change the course of this fantastic ride. We cannot halt to make sure it’s okay to proceed—because we are too divided. It is going to happen, it meaning the inevitable, and cannot be derailed. This is not the movies; we do not get to pick and choose technologies in order to carve an interesting future—a world where a spaceship full of curious individuals delve deep into the universe, explore, and especially, remain fully human. We, we will get it all. And all, everything is going to change. Everything about life will be different, and relatively soon.
Right now humans are plugging away—putting the puzzle together, obliviously and counterintuitively, for profit and individual gain. And yes, we will find what we are looking for, everything. It is only a matter of time then everything—unlike its fictional counterpart—will change the world in ways not expected; the road ahead could be painful, or worse, a total cleanse and wipe.
Time, and its many perceptions…
The simple perception of the everyday masses: things will always be the same, it’ll never happen. Not in my lifetime. Yeah, well, it might happen one day, but to someone else. Far in the future, at least 50 years—and I’ll be long gone by then.
And then there’s the other perspective…
We’ve been here for a mere fraction of a second on the true and real timescale. Like an ant looking up, we cannot perceive everything, or fathom the totality of the universe and beyond; and it’s something we do not mundanely worry about. We’re here, now—and soon we’ll be gone. And there is plenty of time for others, thousands of others, new and unique species, thinking and creating, maybe even breathing like we are now. Some might even find this book, and decipher it.
We, we, we. I hear us talk about us, and we. We are dust in the wind, a phase. We will not be we forever, maybe not even for much longer. We will change. And our ride, however fun or torturous it may be, is a blink.
So we are not molding our future, yet it is being shaped for us. The outcome is a wall, or a high speed turn, and the roller coaster will be obliterated one way or another. Unfortunately, and very possibly, like all civilizations of the universe, those that cannot unite—bolstered individuality and pride, carelessness and rash overly spread-out and uncoordinated endeavors—will meet their end before the beginning. It’s killing us before we are born, and we don’t even realize it.
But, I and others, I hope, have hope. We hope technology will allow us to catch up. We hope it will focus our civility, for the good of mankind, while we are here. And, allow us to see. And, hopefully our desires will change: from mass individualism to compassion and sharing; from that of a prideful, conquering, owning, mining, incinerating, chopping, economically exploitive, priority-lacking mass plague, to a world in which we can all live peacefully, without the need to be a show-off. That, we will no longer wonder what it’s like to bend the magnificent universe to our own individual wills: conquer and harness the sun, then the solar system, then the galaxy and beyond—and we can live alongside it, for the right reasons.
Ideally if we can come together as a civilization, and think, and move forward carefully, slowly—for there is time, from our perspective there’s oodles of it—we can halt this ride. We can step out for a moment and take an objective look around, together, and avoid what follows…
Let the saga begin.
1. Fuck!
Abandoned. It fuckin’ happened, he was right all along. And here we are, on this mountaintop, waiting. He’s not coming back. Shit, it’s been two weeks. Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! This means, I don’t want to believe it, I can’t, bec
ause that would mean—we’re really done for. Probably the last humans on Earth already. Well, seems like it except for the occasional drone, searching, blasting. We’re well hidden but we have to watch it zap every deer, bunny, even the rats and roaches. Nothing is safe. Total extermination. A chance alright, he said, but to live, like this? Two weeks ago, oh did I have it made. Life was perfect, with my girl. On top of the world, in my top floor office, managing my effortless top-level job. Bots everywhere, so helpful—and pleasurable. Well at least we have Jerry because without him and his survival know-how we’d really be screwed. And we have supplies, enough to last at least another three weeks. And the girls. And Amy, without her, there’d probably be no reason to continue anyway.
2. PART I - The Cave
The musty old cave wasn’t the worst place they could end up, although Jon hated raising Amy there. Jerry excelled at survival, but even he knew, this was no place for a little girl. Amy was a cutie, skinny with a thin face and high cheekbones like her mother, short wavy brown hair that lightened as it got longer. She had tan skin and big light-brown eyes iridescently feathered with a trace of green. Actually, she was quite happy, for she didn’t know much else being only eight years old. Jon and Jerry were her parents and did their best using any resources they could find. They’d survived living together underground for five years now and the cave allowed them to stay hidden. It was located on a mountainside in the woods near a farmhouse and barn, only a few miles from a desolate and once ravaged town.
Amy liked the colorful walls, graffiti scribbled by someone long ago, but surely not the smell, dank and dewy. Quite the artist, she added a touch of her own to further spruce it up. There was a small section reserved especially for her artwork and it was the highlight of the home. Various drawings adorned that wall, and under it, her blankets—the area that was her bedroom. Some basic furniture: a table, a couple old wooden chairs, even a dresser, was scavenged to make the grey cave as livable as possible.
Divided by a land bridge that was held in place by tree roots, there were skylight openings high above and sunlight would illuminate the hole at noontime. It was somewhat homey, for a cave; the three sure had plenty of time to make it so. At the base was a thirty-foot round flat area, a clay floor with the occasional large boulder, and besides the skylight above, openings pierced the earth via one of two ways. The pitch black and chilly-aired head-height tunnel—which doubled as a hideout during times of drone (or other) activity; likewise its floor was flat, and the arch was near symmetrically carved, so much so as to look man-made. It went fifteen feet deep ending with a vertical exit shaft—now, mostly sealed off. When Jerry made stew the smoke would flow through the tunnel, thinning almost completely against the jagged and twisting walls of the opening, dispersed further through the cap: stacked brush. On the far side was the larger opening. It sloped gently downward into the cave. The steps were made with clay and logs—thanks to Jerry’s handy-work.
Another cloudless late summer morning—clouds being scarce these days—the sky had its usual orange tint. Jon stayed home; he never left anymore. He’d go as far as the graves, then lug himself back inside after a few hours of crying.
So Jerry and Amy foraged for supplies when needed. They were at the farm looking for supplies, anything they could find useful: cloth and rags, bottles, wax, rope, tools, but especially food—bugs mostly (those went in Amy’s bug bag); rats were a rare and special treat. They had to be resourceful, using anything and everything wisely, and as always, tread quietly. The barn was just out of the woods, about a mile below the cave, and twice as far, more out in the open, the charred farmhouse—Amy’s secret getaway. She liked to play on the old tractor and junk cars. Many times she’d gotten in trouble for her curious explorations, but now as she grew up—almost nine—and drone activity had lessened drastically, she was occasionally allowed to roam.
Jerry was a skilled hunter and outdoors-man who’d also become the family cook. He’d grown a mountain-man of a beard, and stood nearly seven feet tall. And Jon the city boy, although quiet these days, kept himself as trim as possible for it was his way of retaining hope, hope that the world could one day return to its former glory, hope for rescue, anything. He was the intellectual—yet dimly lit in mind and spirit these days. Together they taught and protected Amy, and their skills complimented each other’s well making survival in a dead world possible.
It was a special day—what a catch! Jerry planted the walking stick and took another ascending step. He’d caught a whopping two rats using his homemade traps and amazingly enough, they saw a rabbit—a first in a long time. Just seeing any animal lifted his spirits. Amy bragged about seeing rabbits all the time and maybe he’d choose to believe her after finally seeing one for himself. There used to be so many, he thought, hiking up the mountain in her company. The tail-tied rats dangled from his belt and he carried a pack filled with the day’s finds, including a book for Jon; which he hoped would cheer him up. He always knew when the long monotonous days were getting to Jon: he’d stop shaving.
All uphill from here on out; Jerry paused looking up as Amy zipped by. Her energy was endless. They’d crossed the creek and filled the jug. On his back he also toted the plastic gas can, fashioned into a pack with brown straps and cloth. His muscular legs received a workout ascending with the five gallons; they bulged with each trudge along the steep path while Amy skipped, seemingly weightless in contrast. With her own personal finds and a few odds and ends that Jerry made her add to her sack she started talking, although softly—they’d just left, the quiet zone.
Not much else to do. Besides delving deep into his sorrows, Jon’s morning consisted of collecting wood and prepping his water purification gadget for Jerry’s return. And, reading. He was taking advantage of the afternoon sun which lit the cave, and the pages of his book. The hot noon sun staved off depression, as best as was possible. Reading was something he did a lot, almost constantly. The days were long and quiet—and boring. But Amy made sure it wasn’t too boring; she was their only reason to continue on. As he turned a page Amy arrived running down the wide steps of the cave. Jon looked up at her with a tired smile.
She said, “Daddy we’re back!” And the sun shone brightly into the cave, seemingly more so upon her arrival.
Later that night Jerry prepared dinner: rat stew, edible roots, and shrooms. Amy found some salt which made the soup delicious. And if she ate everything she could have ice cream—well, the best Jerry could invent, which he got the idea for one day after stepping on a roach, the white stuff squishing out. It actually wasn’t that bad, even Jon sort of enjoyed it; sweet and packed with protein it was the most filling and surprisingly nutritious item Jerry had invented so far. Dinner was good and the night was peaceful, quiet as always—and Amy did, as always, get her ice cream; the one unquenchable thing, no matter what: her appetite.
Jerry had read a few cookbooks to evolve into the master chef he’d become; actually he’d just scan them for ideas. Time, loads of it, helped also. He could prepare a feast with the most unusual ingredients, usually bugs—mostly roaches (the stigma of roaches being gross faded as the years passed, as needs won over wants).
Amy finished her ice cream and demanded more—typically. Jon, not eating much these days, gave her the rest of his. They relished each other’s company and before bed talked about plans to leave the cave—finally—to look for others, anything; the real reason the day was special. They were going to make the big decision. Perhaps the war was over, or human bases had been established, or even whole cities thrived again. They’d never find out staying put, and rescue was not coming; they’d finally given up on that idea a year ago. Jon crafted a detailed plan and Jerry agreed. Yes. They will be leaving soon. It had been over a year since evidence of drone activity, and the radio, unchanged since the day everything changed, still emitted nothing but indistinguishable static, weird murmurs at best. They raised Amy the best they could; she gave them a purpose and they knew they had to give her more than j
ust this cave. In a week—they would depart.
Also, it’d been more than a year since they had spotted another person. Oh, what a terrible day that was: Amy, silently waving her over—their last day in the crumbled town since. The three of them were witnesses to her death but helpless to aid—and sadly, she’d almost made it.
They attentively observed drones whenever they spotted one and the kill was no different from any other; the process: stun, scan, incineration—although the method of stun varied. The final hammer of extermination, flame, was always the same, they knew it well. Numb by the sheer amount of death they had witnessed through the years, they could watch without blinking. No one was surviving this, except them? Could they really be the only ones left? And all thanks to that little device. They wished they could have shared it with the rest of the world. But, it was too late. Life on earth had been exterminated, a clean slate; it felt lonely enough, as though they really were the last.
A few days later, before moving day, Amy was playing in the old junkyard on a sunny orange day; she’d snuck away, again. It had an acre’s worth of rusting vehicles and salvageable scrap and was the farthest she ever dared go. She didn’t always wander so far from home but as she got older war ensued, against her insatiable curiosity. Couldn’t help it, she loved exploring and learning, reading and drawing, especially dreaming. However, the drones did terrify her, but because it had been over a year since they’d spotted one she ventured further, more often—of course against her daddy’s wishes.
She treasured being outdoors. Her already tan skin darkened, taking a beating from the morning sun as she sat inside one of the cars pretending to fly. “Vrooom, Vrooom,” she mimicked. Her favorite—she played in it whenever she had the chance—was the old bug. This one had been converted into a hover-car, its wheels replaced by the newer silent type hover-cylinders. It was light pink, faded from hot pink and dried-out sunflower decals decorated the fenders. The faded purple interior remained in halfway decent shape, quite comfy thanks to tinted windows and aftermarket rain guards, a shield from the blistering sun. The driver side window was broken but she could slide it up and down manually (she closed it to keep her drawings and books safe while she was gone).
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