"Ok Ash, we'll see you next time, give my best to your family and congratulations again, well done." Ronny answers back.
Heading out the door after my wife, I suddenly stop as she looks at me puzzled. "Everything ok Ash?"
Lately the moment has passed me by, but not this time as I reach over and dip my wife kissing her passionately right there in the parking lot. Seize the day, this life and all the emotional spoils, advice from my father in his wisest years.
"And the Academy Award goes to!" Angela says with a huge smile.
Leaning in close I feel her hair gently brush against my brow as I whisper. "I love you Angela."
"I love you too Ashton."
The weather begins to clear as we part with plans to meet later in the day. Getting into my car I begin my journey to the gallery with a thousand thoughts running through my head. My unborn child is a new constant, this day I've waited for and with such a perfect woman and I finally get to be a father. Wanting to share the news, to scream out to the world but I know I should wait for Angela, for her and I are one. Since the moment I met her I've been lost in these ever-detailed pages of the most beautiful story. Instantly I fall from these amazing thoughts, these wonderful dreams back to the figure with the black cloak.
This figure from my dreams, the dark one I paint over and over, the cryptic figure that lives in the back of my mind. Mortalitus, a name that's become burned into my heart as I wonder the reasons for all of this. Such a chaotic beginning to an important day and nothing feels right, with the seconds stripping away as a storm approaches and I fear its final path. I lean into the seat getting lost in the melodies, trying to shake these intense feelings of dread. Angela sits in her car heading toward our home, rubbing her stomach still in shock herself.
For this new life growing inside her, she promises the world. "Dearest child you are my blessing, my hope. Your father is a good man and will always be there for you. Your mommy and daddy love you more than you'll ever know."
Sitting in a cell alone with no light, the coldness of concrete his only consolation, Tyler Morgan, a man of religion prays for all these things he does not understand. Vivid images paint a picture of what's to come and his fear is for his friend from long ago, for these visions are of his future. The moment he touched it, the moment he held it in his hands, his role in the redemption of all things became official. This new path, inescapable and his current predicament remains undeniable as he searches his soul for the courage needed. Ashton Mortal echoes through his mind as he looks to God for guidance, wondering the possible scenarios and dark manifestations that shake Tyler's heart to its core, reminding him to be diligent.
Forgiveness this day, for the truth has yet to be seen and he knows the seconds tick against his friend, the man fate has chosen, but why? A prayer from the dark cell can be felt in the musty air as Tyler's words flow freely. "Father in heaven, I look to you for guidance, for reason Lord. Everything I've seen in these weeks desperately says you have plans for me. I can only hope that my choices are that of your will. My God, I ask you to watch over my friend. Whatever your plan for him may be, please keep him safe. If this is your true desire, then let thy will be done, let this truth light up the darkness Lord. In the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit, Amen."
My clock reads 3:15 P.M. as the sun shines once again today and the cloud cover begins to give way. Pulling into the gallery parking lot with a few minutes to kill, I exit the car and reach into my trusty jacket pocket. Opening my pack of cigarettes I'm reminded I shouldn't have another, yet with everything so far I've earned this. After the course of events surrounding this afternoon, I may just have two. Approaching the large building that is the gallery I finish my smoke and toss it to the floor, stepping on it as I walk past.
The building itself was built late in the 20th century but has had its share of renovations and is currently in pristine condition. Large one-piece glass windows line the whole front of the building with a brilliant shine. Above the entrance, large plasma displays, no doubt the ones that will play our interviews to guests this evening. As I walk inside the gallery, Karen Shull the gallery manager greets me, as she will be the one interviewing me this afternoon. "Hello Mr. Mortal, right on time. We've prepped the conference room for your interview. Please follow me and we will begin shortly."
From the entrance, we journey through the dark tiled center hallway to the conference room. The gallery will be separated into two sections this evening, the main displays in the rooms flanking the center hallway. The room to the left will display all the works of Kalden and I, to the right an exhibit of my own works I've entitled, Nightmares of the Cosmos. These particular pieces are from my earlier years as an artist, the story of my nightmares paying homage to the birth of my art. Continuing to follow Karen down the long hallway I scan the amazing collections of art on display, all from legends that have dawned these grounds before to tell their own tales.
"Mr. Mortal, I am very excited about tonight, I'm thinking were going to have a massive turnout." Karen says. "I've been here for about eleven years now and I can't remember an entire show selling out before opening night. You must be very impressed."
"I don't know about impressed, more blessed than anything." I casually reply as thoughts race about in my head. "This is just something I've had to do for a long time."
"Well, here we are Mr. Mortal, just take a seat over there so we can begin shortly."
The conference room is large with a black glossy table in the center, maybe seating twelve or so. I take a seat at the end of the table as Karen instructs, as she too has a seat near me beginning to program a control pad. "What's that for Karen, if you don't mind?"
"This is the controller for the Nano camera system that we'll be using today, it will save some time seeing how late we're getting the footage. The computer system can edit and arrange the video in a few minutes after we are finished here."
Tiny microscopic cameras take in billions of visual and audio inputs signals, compiling them into precision video imaging. Nano technologies have found a place in today's world, radically changing the face of many fields of interest. Amazing breakthroughs in the worlds of medicine, science and even forms of entertainment are accredited to their success. "We can speak freely once the system's programs are running. Just be natural, the program will run the material that has the most relaxed and comfortable tone." Karen says.
"Sounds good to me."
Karen sits for a minute fiddling with the device and then turns her attention back to me. "Ok Mr. Mortal, try and tell us what Nightmares of the Cosmos means to you. Where does your inspiration come from?"
"Well first and foremost, all my artistic inspiration comes from my wife, Angela Mortal, who I would definitely consider my muse. Nightmares of the Cosmos believe it or not, is based on a series of dreams I've had." Pausing briefly, I remember not but a few hours ago, the vivid manifestation at lunch. "I think their relevance definitely comes from my father and his wild explanations of the universe, from his own perspective of course."
"So your father would definitely have a part in the creation of these works of art that seem literally out of this world?"
"Definitely, my father is a brilliant man. A professor at San Diego State, most of his work is done in the fields of theoretical physics and quantum mechanics. Some of the deep conversations we've had over the years definitely helped shape a view of worlds beyond our own, or at least I assume."
"General reactions so far from some of the leading figure heads in the world of fine art have been great, if not exceptional. When asked opinions on the mediums and the content you work with, there is a consensus amongst your brethren." "One quote, Ashton Mortal is tapping into something the world may not necessarily be ready for."
"They are too kind. I just think in a world where innovation is becoming exceedingly difficult, you must break new ground any way possible."
"So how did you get your start in the art world Mr. Mortal? What point in your li
fe did you feel your destiny was behind a paint brush?" Karen asks.
I think back to my high school days and a friendship I've missed over these last years. "I felt I needed a form of expression early in high school, but didn't find anything of interest. Sophomore year stands out to me, being the year I met a student named Tyler Morgan and we quickly became friends. He was the one who initially suggested the medium of art as an outlet for my creative ideas. My art quickly became an obsession as I was beginning to experiment with painting, acrylic being one of the first styles I sought to understand."
"I began producing some of my most vivid artwork once I started using oil paints, finding that I could build textures and tones that could give my paintings a new sense of realism. One of my famous early oils was a piece called, The Artifact and is still Tyler's favorite to this day I imagine." I reply explaining my origins in the art world.
"So this friend of yours, Tyler Morgan, are you still presently friends?"
"Of course, our bond is a long term one though we have lost touch over the years. I have a feeling we'll see each other soon." I reply with a hint of sarcasm, realizing in that moment how full of shit I am. This entire interview would give anyone incite into the robot that is Ashton Mortal. This web of lies I spin surrounding the true purpose of my work, with a friend that sends me cryptic messages and flashes of scenarios that makes no sense to me whatsoever. The mysterious figure I paint over and over, this dark one from my dreams that has become very real within the weird manifestations from earlier today. I can't help but wonder in these surreal moments, what the hell is happening to me?
"So, Nightmares of the Cosmos, what does it mean Mr. Mortal? A twenty piece set depicting epic battles amongst multiple forms of alien life. Only one character seems consistent through these works, the black-cloaked figure. It seems as if the figure has a specific purpose within your imagination, almost some sort of symbol subconsciously imprinted in your work." Karen says.
"The cloaked figure is definitely a focal point of my work, although I'm not sure if I entirely understand his role just yet. In time perhaps, but rest assured once he reveal's himself to me I will share him with the world, I promise."
"I just want to say that your painting, Liberation, is by far my favorite piece Mr. Mortal. The humanoid figure in the center of the painting leaves a lasting impression." Karen explains. "A glowing figure, arms aside, seems to be composed of pure energy, yet is almost breaking down into a particle structure. There is something very familiar about this idea, primordial even."
"Ultimately it's a form of fictional art, nothing more. Creations from my imagination, cosmic dramas that have no meaning other than to inspire cosmic thought and the dream of worlds and species we've yet to discover."
If only I could see, how the words from this interview would return to haunt me. Seemingly I needed this, to walk myself through the craziness that seems to be coming to a head this particular day. I suddenly feel like a fake, like the thing I would rant about for hours to my friends, the thing I swore I would never become. "How long have you been working in the art field at this point Mr. Mortal?" Karen asks.
"I would say it's been a solid twelve years now, with a lifetime left to finish my masterpiece."
"Ok Mr. Mortal everything looks pretty good, that should be enough to put an impressive display together. Thank you for your time."
"So is that it?" I ask. "Am I finished?"
"Yes, now enjoy the rest of your evening. We will meet back here at 5:00 P.M., so you have a good hour or so. Please feel free to check out the arrangements in both gallery halls and by all means, help yourself to the refreshments."
"Thank you for everything Karen." I say getting up from my chair.
She extends her hand to bid me farewell. "Good luck Mr. Mortal, I know you'll do great."
Karen gets up and walks out of the room messing with the Nano device on her way out. I find myself standing in the conference room in complete silence, feeling a sense of anxiety once again creep down my spine. Deciding I need some air, I head for the rooftop of the gallery to relax a bit. Walking toward the door to the conference room I exit and run into my partner Kalden. "Ash, everything ok buddy? You look a little pale my friend." Kalden asks with a look of concern.
"Oh it's nothing, been a long day. Seems like a million things are all going on at once, but I got my interview done."
"Great, everything's all set then, just remember to relax, our work is done now. After today everything will be different, the skies the limit. Reach for the stars my friend."
"Sounds good, just gonna' head up to the roof and relax for a sec, collect my thoughts. If you need me, that's where I'll be. Do me a favor and let Angela know where I am when she gets here. Thanks bro."
"No problem my friend, see you shortly." Kalden says shaking my hand and continuing down the hallway and out of sight.
CHAPTER: 4
REVOLUTION
Flames dance wildly as the fireplace continues burning aboard the U.S.S Solitude, with Jonathan Reynolds sitting silently, staring at the flames consuming the wooden logs. Warmth can be felt against his aged face as he looks on, battle scars from a youth lost in the service of his country. Jonathan is a man with no future and a past he often wishes forgotten, the last phone call made in the direst of situations. His particular branch of government, the highest amongst the world super powers as decisions are made in the mind of a man that knows his life will never be the same.
In that moment when he first saw the pyramid, he knew things would never be the same, how could they? Only one thing matters and that's to make sure no one ever finds out what they've discovered on the ocean surface. A secondary objective has also been ordered; retrieve the object known only by codename, The Payload. Jonathan is notified of an incoming call, one he's been reluctantly waiting for. "You have a call from the President Sir."
"One window Omega, no video please."
A small holographic screen appears in front of the large executive chair as Jonathan's gaze remains on the fire. "No video today Jonathan?" The President asks. "I thought this was more than just a business relationship."
"Not feeling great today Mr. President, if you don't mind Sir."
There is a brief silence between the two men. "Don't worry about it Jonathan. Any word on the Payload?"
"No Sir, not yet. We should be through the encryption sometime this evening Sir. Teams are on standby and ready to retrieve the Payload at a moments notice. Upon retrieval, the Payload will be taken to the Nevada base for further analysis. I'll update you periodically myself Mr. President."
"I need you to understand something. No mistakes can be made on this one Jonathan. We can't let evidence like this fall into any hands other than the United States of America. You have a green light to use all means necessary to recover your directive. Be ready for anything."
"I assure you Mr. President, all resources are being used to recover the Payload Sir."
"I know you'll make us proud old friend. We must know everything we can about this situation. I pray this pyramid isn't a Trojan horse."
"What do we do if it is Mr. President?" Jonathan asks.
"God help us… God help us all."
Opening the door to the rooftop of the gallery, I make my way to the ledge facing the Pacific. From this vantage point my vision stretches miles out to sea as the sun begins a slow descent into the blue abyss. The colors in the sky smear together, reflecting the heavy tint of the indigo ocean glimmer. Pulling a smoke from my pocket, every moment is now a struggle to embrace the visions from earlier today. The clock ticks against me as I stare out toward this horizon once more today, feeling quite small as I scan the world's edge. My eyes skip past a flicker once more, much more distinct to me now then earlier as I pause, my vision locked.
The smoke flows through my nostrils gently tickling my nose as I squint to make out the distant image. Tones of orange and yellow seep into rich purple highlights from the heavens, like a burning sky. The sun hav
ing shifted into a flawless glowing ball, edges visible perfectly. Eyes trained to the glow from the Pacific Ocean as something feels terribly wrong and it seems there's nowhere left to run. "Am I losing my mind all together?"
Again, like a thief in the night my vision goes blank and the dark figure returns once more. This time the figure flies through some sort of giant gateway, composed of pure energy. We seem to be instantly surrounded by streams of lightning, stretching out all around us. The colors shift substantially, enhancing their vibrancy against a dark cloudy background. As the colors begin to fade a wind can be felt flowing through my hair, heavier and harder as we accelerate faster and faster. Lifting my head, I realize we are flying toward a giant spacecraft as we continue to push forward.
Speeds I could never define, straight at the massive alien craft as a sense of terror surrounds me, yet I'm paralyzed to do anything but ride this hallucination out. Energy builds from within the cloaked figure and I can feel its power as it channels massive amounts of power. Extending its arms, I see its form warping space as we fly toward this destination still, stead fast. Finally I can make out its arms a bit, seeing what I can only explain as a sort of organic lining to its body. Similar to armor plating yet no visible seams or welds, this is definitely something I've never seen.
Chaos Mortalitus Page 4
