Contents
Apocalypse at Harpers Lane
Chapter One; Earth,1969
Chapter Two; Humble Beginning
Chapter Three; House of a Thousand Broken Doors
Chapter Four; Apocalypse at Harpers Lane
Chapter Five; Trans- Dimensional Communications
Chapter Six; Slipstreams, Black Holes and Killer Hobos
Chapter Seven; Daddy's girl
The Seventh Floor
Chapter One; Seven Years Later
Chapter Two; The Golden Nugget
Chapter Three; Going West
Chapter Four; Mistaken Identities
Chapter Five; Floors One & Two
Chapter Six; Welcome to Dystopia
Chapter Seven; Out of Ink
Black Door
Chapter One; Jim
Chapter Two; Rock Bottom and Beyond
Chapter Three; Detachment
Chapter Four; The Grand Conjuration
Chapter Five; Poetic Justice
Chapter Six; Transcendence
Chapter One
Earth 1969
We begin by following a father and son fishing in Miramichi, the fishing capital of New Brunswick. New Brunswick is a province in Canada, Canada being a place on Earth that I'm quite fond of, partially because that is where I am from.
The older man fishing resembles my grandfather but seeing as this is a work of fiction and this more than likely did not happen, he becomes an alter ego of my grandfather, an archetype if you will. I enjoy this archetype, not only for these genes I describe run through my own veins but because this man sees the world as foolish as it is. The rules inscribed since before anyone was born still play in effect, once for means of civility, now only shackles for the majority while the few progress. In the age of boredom when all has been said and done and the only creativity lies within adaptation, one can't blame a man for keeping out of worldly business. This is such the case for this man who does his best to live off the land and relies on his wits and will to survive and for most, to self-sustain.
To his side in the canoe, a newborn Son which I could credit as being the baby of my father. However, I've never seen him as a baby so this too remains fiction.
"Well son, they don't seem to be biting today... Might just be potatoes for your poppy and mother tonight.
... I guess that doesn't matter much to you, you've got your milk now don't you? Well, I guess you can expect your milk to taste like potatoes tonight. Don't be angry though little man, that's still far more than some people in this world you know."
And so the man was very right, many people in the world knew not the pleasures of a sack of potatoes, but only in their dreams. This is the unfortunate side effect of commerce and capitalism; it creates an objective with winners and losers. We could imagine ways to feed the world, but instead those with the upper hand, usually as a birthright, these are the people who have never wanted, and certainly never needed.
"But you know what boy, that'll never happen to you. You've got something a modest upper hand, enough for our kin but still plenty for you to grow with other things to think about other than food. Hell, you might be able to help other people who do have that problem... Imagine that, eh boy? A world of minds no longer concerned with getting by, all those minds add up inventing all sorts of other ways to help. Eventually, we just have a vast expanding planet of minds whose only task was to make things better. You see son, this is what we are capable of. This is what you are capable of doing." The baby says nothing, but the old man knows he understands. Suddenly a tug on the string changes the subject; "Wow now boy I think we got a bite. Yes, yes that's a hook for sure, poor bugger. Hold up now we've almost got him, just a little more..."
One well-timed yank of his fishing rod and success; the fish lunges from the water, near hitting the baby boy until being received by the boat. The baby looks surprised but unafraid. The old man grabs the fish, pulls a long knife from his satchel by his side and begins filleting the fish. He stops after the fish dies, looks at his son and as if he had asked a question began to respond;
"Don't worry son, got a purpose and a plan for all his creatures... This death is only for the sustenance of life. It did a good thing, served a purpose and regardless of its shape or form, we will honor its life... Or at least we'll acknowledge that it had one." The man continues to cut the fish before stopping abruptly again as if his newborn son had asked a question.
"Have I never told you about God, boy? Well, you're new here so I'll give you the rundown; we’ve been put on this earth to live and be happy, but to do so a man must worship three things, that is, himself, for a man must not resent his own being if he is to accept all other beings. Secondly is love, and that is a man’s wife. This is for the two can create, which is the highest calling by our God. God, the Holy Ghost remains that third member of the trifocal for he keeps us all together. Love yourself, love your family and love your God, remember this son, and you'll do just fine."
As the father finishes with the fish he throws it in a foam cooler, the first and last catch of the day. The father row's the boat back to a cottage in the distance. He packs up his son, bids farewell to the cottage tenants and heads home. Upon getting home the two are welcomed by the mother. She greets them with all the love of years not seen, though only hours passed. Together they embraced, and she took the child to be fed. The man acknowledged his family than looked up to the sky as to say thanks. Little did he know who he was giving thanks to.
We now leave this family, off to another part of the world that I've grown interested in. Perhaps now I am to create its own identity from my perspective. In Serbia, meet Silga and her mother Annabelle. Unlike the fisherman's family, they see no cause for thanking any possible being from the sky. They have very little to be thankful for. That is, they have food, but within their culture lay unrest and violence emerging consequently. Silga's family is no different as we plainly will see, in the world lies many pages with many shades.
For sake of authenticity I will not provide their dialogue in their native tongue, but just know that if anything like this ever did happen they probably wouldn’t be speaking English.
"Enough! You're scaring Silga. Can you not just explain to me, calmly, what it is you've gotten yourself into this time?"
"Now you listen here woman, the day I decide a man need tell his wife all his business is the day I take a pot of boiling water to my testicles. You just keep your god damn trap shut and be grateful you’ve got food and a home to eat it in."
"You know I'm grateful it's just, I'm worried. I'll starve; I'll live on the streets and still be happy so long as I have my family with me... I'm worried about you, I'm worried about Silga's future and if she's going to have a father or not!"
"You blabbing your mouth isn’t going to help that cause, Annabelle. Just clean and fuck like a good wifey and accept what I have given you."
On that note the man leaves, slamming the door on the way out. Annabelle consolidates her daughter who is quiet on the stairs, having listened to everything.
"What's happening, mommy... Is daddy in trouble?"
"Maybe dear, maybe..."
This was the last time they would see Silga's father. Here in Serbia, governments were as blatantly corrupt as gangsters, which meant there wasn't much that crime organizations couldn't do. None the less for many their services would be their only option, and so on thin ice sometimes would break, as was the case for this family man. It was three days since they heard from him. Police came to the door, told the mother in private how a man running the loader at the landfill seen the body, how if it weren't for one remaining fin
ger they would never have identified him. The officer almost seemed cheerful as he exclaimed the stroke of luck finding the decapitated finger not far from the body. Annabelle did not find this as amusing.
"Oh, and miss... Noel?”
"Yes?"
"Yes, um, I just felt it necessary to warn you, the people your husband dealt with, who he wronged... They're some of the more vicious kind... The kind of people who put everything on reputation, so much so that they would be expected, as they've done before, to come after the wrongdoer’s family… To set an example, do you understand?"
"Yes, you're telling me we're in danger."
"Correct, ma'am, you are in danger."
"What am I supposed to do then? Are you going to take us into protective custody?"
"What? No, no, no ma'am, the budget only allows protective custody for severe cases, such as threats to diplomats and what have you... I'm afraid the budget simply does not allow for every suspected dangerous case to qualify for these, services."
"Well, do you not think we are in sufficient danger?"
"Good lord, I'm surprised you're still here if I'm to be honest. No, you ought to leave as soon as possible, I mean right away. We can't help you because, well, you're poor."
"I see, thank you, officer. You may go now."
The officer does just that. Annabelle looks at her daughter; her scared and wondrous eyes lead Annabelle into a nervous frenzy, feeling as if all was lost. She starts to panic, rushing for her anxiety pills. These pills would not fix anything but numb her long enough to think of what to do. They were her last pills and so they must count.
Now numbed, a sense of euphoria even, Annabelle embraces her daughter, consolidating her. She then remembers an uncle in Montreal. Rushing through the house she eventually finds a book with the number scribbled on it. While calling she began to feel anxious again, thinking what if he did not answer. He does, however, and to her surprise tells her she is welcome.
Silga and her mother pack up and firstly head to a shop to sell what wares they have. They then proceed with their travels, finding trains and ferries. Finally making it penniless in the west coast, Vancouver Island, it was here that this tragic family would endure the most, being forced to beg on the streets while Annabelle's mind slowly left herself as she could not cope with her conceived failures. It was also here that they would encounter the most important person in their lives, a young Professor by the name of Charles D. Isaacs. This young, adventurous spirit always had a fascination for tragedy and the lifestyles they would then emit. He studied this among other practical sciences such as theoretical cosmology, quantum physics, and experimental psychology. He too believed that various mental abnormalities, such as dementia, were portals to alternate dimensions all of which when understood could become just as real as the reality in waking life.
The professor also was a fool for tragic eyes, and inside both Annabelle and Silga Noel Carried the most tragic he had ever seen. Inside, he could see vast universes dimming as its source faded into anti-matter. 'Sweet, sweet Anti- Matter' the Professor would ponder as he gazed upon these creatures. In his perspective; Magnificent!
"Dearest, why on earth do you lay on the streets? And what is wrong with your mother's eyes, has the life been sucked out of her?" Young Silga stared at the strange man incredulously. 'What a funny man... funny, and weird.'
"My father he... We're quite poor, sir. My mother... Mother is sad."
"Well, well, well, I don't suppose being out here on the streets is going to make matters any better. What do you say you bring your mother inside and we get her a cup of tea, what do you say to that hmm? And how about a hot chocolate for yourself, wouldn't that just be, sweet?"
"My mother needs something to eat, sir."
"And what do we have here, there's still a fire burning in you, isn't their dear? Yes, come with me and I'll make sure both you and your mother are well fed."
And so, the Professor did just that. Little did he know; this single act of great kindness would lead forth towards a cycle of constant mishap and that his being would be the ultimate ruler of such a domain. But for now, onwards they went over the years; the professor adopted this family as his own. The professor did this with some ease for his research and further precedent unto the theory of multi-verse, dark flow and reincarnation. He was yet to be successful in any real tangible discovery however he had the world on its toes anxious to see if he would deliver on his life's goal to materialize Dark- Matter. All his promises, the pressure began to seize his time. He knew that if he didn't come up with something that his funding would be canceled and then how would he support his family? His love was pure, but his mission will always be imminent. This is where any man finds himself once turned to desperation; An Obscured morality.
The budget was tight, but this new pressure in some ways began to release Isaacs. No longer did he worry about the experiment now it was all about the results. Isaacs now was moving unto human experiments. He had it all planned out, having thought about it in those days of overwhelming frustration. The homeless. Yes, it makes perfect sense. Who will miss them? Capture them, drug them, and send them off to space! Isaacs will get his results!
Annabelle's mother despite her progressive worsening began to have the occasional conscious days. The day Professor Charles Isaacs walked into the house bloodied and distraught; she grabbed her daughter and took the first train to Montreal. She arrived at her elderly Uncle who brought them back to his home. It was simple, it was generic, and it was safe.
Finally, at a lost from his new and only family, Professor Isaacs loses it on his experiments, slaughtering every one of them. He packs his things and leaves for Montreal where he knows Annabelle's Uncle resides. Arriving at the growing city, Isaacs was finally calmed by his only friend and former college peer; Doctor Frederic Ulrich Nelson. The professor confided to the Doctor why he was there and why they left. The Doctor had become much more interested in why they left. Nelson then told Isaacs what they could do, to re-amp his operations there in Montreal. He told him how there were plenty of homeless to be taken, that it be a service to the city. He told Isaacs about the abandoned school that he bought the deed to, made of brick and with caged windows. Finally, he told him that he would help him with his experiments so that he may constitute success and ultimately win his family back.
This, of course, was all a lie. They did all as was agreed upon, except when one of the homeless turned out to of had a home. The family called the authorities who tracked the man’s beeper which he had stashed inside his rectum before stripped of all his belongings. This was a clever man, only he too was a poor man which is why he found himself where he was. It was as easy as that, just like the Doctor said. People without money will do anything for money. And so, this clever man with his clever beeper stuffed inside his rectum, he was found, and his capturers caught, but not before they performed their most important experiment; Project Compound Paradox.
This project was quite simple, the Doctor and Professor had consistently dabbled with variations of psychoactive compounds, attempting to create the most potent one while extracting hyperactive brain matter from the patient’s pineal gland. This was so they could administer a significant dose along with a second dose of neuro-phasers (a highly potent compound that induces sleep) that would combine to create the most stimulated pineal gland ever to be recorded and scientifically observed. Finally, when they got the hallucinogen just right, Isaacs went under. While under such a stimulated sleep the Doctor than produced a large syringe which he broke through the skull in into the fleshy gland. As the Professor twitched and kicked about, Doctor Nelson Extracted the Compound Paradox, as he did so he witnessed in amazement the glowing liquid that now resided within the syringe.
The police raided the school as the sun rose. Isaacs too began to wake and as he watched and witnessed the first known side effect of the experiment is that, once active the participant reacts most violently t
o the sun, driving them mad with energy while seemingly constantly tortured. Now with all their dreams and infinite potential condensed into one recipient, and then ripped from fiction into reality, the homeless became nothing more than what they are when seen, no longer a book but just the cover.
This, of course, would quickly become widespread news. Silga and her mother discovered it by people recognizing her. Annabelle had just begun to get better when the famed crazed- Professor made it on the television, confessing his everlasting mission to find his wife Annabelle and their daughter Silga. Harassing began as they became the notorious psycho's family. Scrutiny for sake of opportunity, this was how the public got off when things were getting dull. This, of course, would soon take Annabelle’s life, found dead in the bathtub, foaming out the mouth. Her wrists, also cut, this sight would stay with Silga far beyond the karma of her next life.
This would then become the end of the families’ time in Montreal. It would be within days to her mothers’ wake that she would run away, East for they had come from West. West was a direction, he was in that direction and so the opposite she would call home. Matters became worse when the Professor got out. No one had died and technically all the patients signed up for the procedures. However, this was not deemed appropriate practice and so the Professor was fined and revoked from the title. He now too was, as were his victims, a hobo. However, something had changed from deep within Isaacs. For example, he knew to go East if he was to find his daughter. He could not specify where, but he did not argue, a new sense arose from deep within his mind. He was crazy, this much was true, but for some reason, all his allusions and insanities would take form for his pineal gland was even crazier than he was, confusing which realm held the fiction, and which was his reality.
Speaking of allusions, we go now to North Korea where a young soldier trains to fight and kill what he believes is a world of enemies. These are a funny people for they are against every single community in the world, even themselves from the south. Regardless of their politics, we follow one young man as his life takes an unexpected turn.
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