Note from the Author: Here was one of the first books that I've written, long long ago. It was an attempt at sci-fy. I hope you enjoy it as much as I enjoyed writing it. :) Note that this is a rough draft, so it'll be a little rough. Feel free to give me some feedback. Thanks in advanced - R. R. Solomon!
"So tell me where it all began..." the voice echoed.
I guess every story has a beginning and an end, but my story isn't like most. Though I just want to tell you what had occurred to me over the course of my life, I've come to realize that my story really doesn't make any more sense that most would consider. For most, it would normally be a depressing account of their past memories, and how they're having a hard time in life, etc. I've never been the kind of person to complain, but what do you expect; sometimes, the best thing to is talk about. What I've come to notice is that the most tragic events happen when the crowd is facing the other way, and although this is my situation, it gets a lot more complicated than that. I remember it like it was yesterday; the memory still haunts me till this day. The look of the eyes…oh, how I felt their sting and how I felt their gaze, but as one may begin to ask, what stare, and what gaze?
The day was January 22, 2094, the annual celebration of our newly established country known as Parthenon, as a legitimately developed government. The day was one that everyone looked forward to, which didn't really surprise me, I mean who wouldn't love to just spend one day out of the year indulging themselves in the world's finest chocolates, and sweets such as cakes, cupcakes, cookies, and other variations of highly drenched sugar treats that would put a smile on the most enraged man the world has to offer? There would be singing, dancing, performing artists from the city, food contests, and all types of food that the people from around the world would bring with them for this festive occasion. What I can tell you is this; it was a night to die for.
It was an exciting day for everyone, especially for me, young little Brandon Alexander Johnson. I was your typical boy, directly from the United States before it collapsed right after World War IV. It was rumored to be the last war throughout the world, but there was always that sense of foreboding that came with the thought of absolute peace. Though I wasn't aware of it at the time, I knew that there was a sense of right and wrong, a good and evil. As a child, I spent most of my summers in my father's study, reading the books and other various types of documents that were out in the open. Though I didn't pay much attention to it, since I was only interested in the beautiful pictures of planets and nebula that were presented in the astronomy books, I could come across a book of philosophy and others were works of a deeper subject. I learned that there was a sense of duality throughout the world; light and dark, once could not exist without the other. It only made sense. Well, I'll be honest, I wasn't your average child. I was..."gifted" with a natural curiosity for things. I'd take toys, and gadgets apart to see how they would work, and put them back together when I was done.
I'd go out exploring from time to time in the vast garden in the backyard. It was very well put, with the roses and lilies put in a fashion that would complement the house's walls that were just nearby. I would sometimes watch as the gardeners would attend to these little plants and watched carefully as they replanted and watered them. I then would spend most of my time at the fountain just in front of the house that was surrounded by the cars that my mother and father owned. The walkways were made of a light colored stone and roughly surrounded the fountain as it led its way, outlined by those square shrubs, the ones that looked like boxes and required and occasional trimming to keep the square, to the asphalt drive way. The drive way was then lined with several types of trees, mostly oak that went all the way to the large brick fence and steel gates.
I had always wondered why my mother and father had bought such a big house, not that I minded it, but sometimes it was rather lonely, not having any brothers or sisters to play with and share my experiences. I would read along the fountain and sometimes stare up to the three storied manor that I'd call home. The sight was any man's dream in America. The large house and all that other materialistic things they greedily desired. It nearly drove me sick as I thought about the religion of Greed, Individualism, that America wasn't afraid to admit to, and worship their god the Dollar. I had only been away from the United States and the more and more I hated it as I became a way of just how horrible it really was.
I didn't like my home at all, you see, mainly because my parents and all the house attendants were busy and never gave me attention. My mother would always be in her study, working on her latest novels and would attend to other various appointments that required her needs. Father was just as troublesome as well. He'd always be at work since he was the CEO of our company he named Arch-Angel Industries. It was the world's largest weapons distributor and manufacturer. It was the only company that was allowed to do top secret research of "unnatural" and "special" topics. Though I was never told what my father did, I knew that it he was making a difference in the world. It would always strike me interesting how he'd come home late and sometimes for what seemed like months. I didn't blame him though. Ever since we moved to Parthenon, things have been more and more calm that anywhere we'd ever been, so it didn't surprise me when my mother told me that my father would take vacations for long periods of times, but there was always that look on her face that told me that she was worried for him. I didn't know why at the time, but I assumed it was because she missed him and wanted to be with him.
This was mainly the reason why I was looking forward to the festival this year. Father had been gone for about six months, which was the longest that he's ever been away from home. I wanted to spend time with my family, and just take my own worries off from the constant struggle of being at home and those private schools that I'd always have to go to every autumn, winter and spring. This year was going to be different. I knew it, but being the age of seven, you really didn't have much of a say in the household.
I was in the kitchen the day that everything changed. It was a simple day, nothing new was occurring so it was strange to me when Mother came into the kitchen and asked if I was ok. I was actually really blissful at the time, and spoke to Mother in that manner. "Yes, mom, why do you ask?" I was about to tell her that I was excited for the Festival tomorrow, but there was something about what my mother said in her next statement that got me concerned.
"Oh, nothing, nothing, I was just making sure that you were ok, darling, since we don't talk much these days." Her long flowing blond hair ran down over her right shoulder. I noticed that her eyes were weak, watery, and reddening. "You know what, Brady, why don't we go out to the back yard and play a little bit, spend some time together. I'm on break anyway."
Normally, this kind of behavior would've struck me as a bit odd, however, if I had not been so demanding for my parent's attention, I might've questioned this. "Yes," I shouted, throwing my arms around my mother's neck. "Thanks, mom, I didn't expect this!" I knew that I had surprised Mother. I just wanted her to know that I cared for her. She was a beautiful woman, and her emerald eyes, which she passed down to me, were soft and gentle when she looked at me. It was clear that something was wrong, but I was too caught up in the moment to have noticed anything.
I later pulled my mother by her hand and led her to the backyard. It was empty as the time had always reached sunset, around 7 o' clock P.M. to be exact, and all the workers had gone home to their families to attend to their attention. I ran along the sidewalks that were outlined by simple grass. I could feel my mother trying to keep up with me as I led her to my little play area. I could hear her chuckle as I exclaimed. "Come on, mom, this way, this way. I like to play near the fountain and rose bushes; you could see the sun set perfectly from there."
It was about a few more seconds that Mother and I were seated on the fountain and playing with my toys that they had bought me for Christmas that year. I wasn't quite found of all of them, like the toy guns that brought me no joy, but I kept them anyway since my father was the one who gave them to me. There were times that I just wanted to ask for something simple, like a simple action figure from that movie that was coming out, I forgot what it was called Gaps or something, but I liked to let my mother and father decide what I got, because I enjoyed surprises.
Anyway, as my mother and I were now enjoying ourselves, I heard a gate open up from the other side of the house. It immediately struck me that it could be my father. I got up and ran to through the side path of the house that lead to the front, but that's when I realized that something was terribly wrong. I didn't understand why my mother just decided to play with me now, and it had just occurred to me that my father wasn't home. I could feel the thoughts run through my mind, as I ran alongside the walls of the house, my black hair gliding in the wind. I could start feeling my surroundings fade from my awareness. I didn't understand why I started to feel what seemed to be a sense of dread. Everything around me dimmed, and that's when I realized that I had just burst from the gate and was standing in front of the house, confused, scared, and sweating.
"Brandon, Brandon, where are you?" I could hear my mother shout from behind me, but that didn't matter to me; what had my attention was what was in front of me.
I saw a black car; its windows were very tinted. It had government plates on the front of the bumper. I didn't understand why this car was here. It didn't belong to my father, or to Mother, so it boggled my mind. I felt my mother's hand touch my shoulder. "Brandon, why did you run off just like that?"
"Who is that?" I glanced at my mother, after I saw two men in black suits with sun glasses come out of the black car. I had always seen those men in movies, but never have I actually seen them in real life, and it made me wonder: "What's going on?"
"I don't know, sweetie," My mother told me as she picked me up and held me up to her, stroking my black hair as she did. It was strange about my hair. Sometimes, father would make a joke to me whether I was his or not, because I had black hair and striking emerald eyes, unlike him and my mother who had blond hair and blue eyes.
I watched as the men got closer to us and reached into their coats and pulled out some sort of badge. "Good evening, Ma'am. I'm agent Anderson, and this is my partner agent Smith." The man who spoke had a rough voice, one that was pained from the smoke of years of constant cigarette use. This agent Anderson was taller than my mom and had light skin. He wore his brown hair combed back, and was cleanly shaved. Agent Anderson had a rough looking face, as if he'd do anything to get what he desired. His partner, Agent Smith, who had his hair down, and light brown, had slight stubble on his chin, but this wasn't his most exposing, almost terrifying feature. He had a scar that reached on from the bottom of his eye, across his cheek, and to the bottom of his chin on the left side of his face. "We're here concerning Alexander Johnson."
"He isn't home; he went on a business trip to the United States and was expected back today, but hasn't shown up or called in," my mother responded to the men. "But who are you people, some sort of secret service?" She looked down, and as I followed her gaze, I noticed that they were carrying a black suitcase with some sort of touch combination lock. It read "Arch-Angel Industries" on the side and had the angelic logo embroiled into the fine black leather. It was a golden angel that had a lightning bolt, surrounded by a circle.
I watched carefully as Agent Smith sighed reluctantly and replied. "Ma'am, please step inside, we have a lot to discuss." His voice was very smooth and straight forth, unlike Agent Anderson, who spoke in a rough tone that made him sound like he was planning something sinister.
It was only a few minutes later that my mother and I, along with the federal agents, were sitting in the living room. "So what is this all about? Is my husband OK?" My mother asked after there was an uncomfortable silence for a few minutes after Diana, the maid, served us some tea. I had always liked Diana, she was pretty, and always had a soft tone in her voice. She liked to play with me when she had time, or wasn't cleaning or attending to my father or mother's needs.
"Your husband is indeed OK, but it's not his wellbeing that should be under concern," Agent Smith replied, after taking a sip from the sweetened black tea.
"Why? Did something happen?" My mother's tone was changing to concerned.
"Ma'am, what I am about to share to you is classified information that was obtained over the last 48 hours, and it involves your husband." He watched as I started to move on my mother's lap. "This was a message entitled to your son from Dr. Scott DaVinci, should anything go wrong with the experiment." He reached into his brief case and pulled out a thick silver looking rectangle that I know recognize as a see-through tablet. It was from my father's company no doubt. Agent Smith typed in the code and immediately the room went dark and a baby blue hologram appeared right in front of us. The beams shot out in such perfect geometry, making the designs of the divine, and allowed itself to flow out and engulf all of us. The man was not so tall, and fragile looking in the body.
The hologram was an older man, who wore a lab coat and was balding from the middle of his long hair. He kind of reminded me of this man I read about one time in one of my father's books. His name was Albert Einstein, and was a very smart man. I assumed at the time that this man was him for some reason. "Hello, chaps," he old man said. "If you're viewing this, then my greatest experiment has failed, and I am no longer living." He looked saddened by that statement. His voice reminded me of a man from the United Kingdom who was hosting one of the science channel's documentaries.
"What I am about to reveal to you shouldn't reach public affairs, due to the sensitivity of the situation." He walked around the room, as if he were here, looking at the book shelves that surrounded the group I was in.
"As of Tuesday, October 19, 2093 at 12:54 P.M., my research team, led by Dr. Alexander Johnson, here at Arch-Angel Industries, has breached what has appeared to be into another dimension of space time. This was a revolutionary achievement." Dr. Scott turned towards us. "But the story doesn't end there." The camera turned and glanced at this huge stone wall and had these strange symbols on it. In the center of the mass was a huge metal ring that was engraved with the very same symbols. In the center of the metal circle was this silvery liquid metal looking substance that was spinning around and the way that it bended then waves around it made the spinning mass appear to be glowing and pulsing off some sort of radiation.
"It was about around 2:05 P.M., when we began to pick up these strange phenomena." Dr. Scott continued, as we all watched him curiously. "The waves and atoms surrounding the area once were starting to become very unstable. Occasionally, it would pulse these discharges of what we simply have named Horizitrons." A display of purple colored particles appeared in the air as Dr. DaVinci waved his hand. "These types of particles are new to modern physics and has begun to boggle the most intelligent minds that the world has to offer. The Horizitrons don't act as Protons, Neutrons and Electrons would.
"Though we know that if we observe the three basic particles of our dimension, they seem to appear and disappear at the same time, and as a conscious observer comes to view these randomly generating particles, they begin to display patterns of different varieties, whereas if you look the other way, they begin to generate back into the field's original frequency, producing what would appear to be a spectrum. Horizitrons however, don't do such a task. They seem to be the opposite, and the same thing at the same time, by what the math tells us, but things don't stop there."
Dr. DaVinci then adjusted his coat and sat down on a chair. "When we collected them and shot them at regular particles, they warped into the particle, in this case electrons, and merely destroyed it, then recreated it as one of its own, but still gave off the characteristics of an electron. But now since the experiment, has gone wrong, I need you to know that Dr. Johnson loves both of you very much. Though he cannot speak here at this moment, due to some restrictions, he has asked me to deliver the message." He reached into his coat and pulled out a pendant with what looked like a rumbas shaped crystal at the end of the metal wound necklace. "I have something that Dr. Alexander wanted to give to Brandon when he got back, but this isn't the case for now.
Dr. DaVinci walked over to us and looked at my mother and I. "Lily, I need you to listen to me clearly and understand what this means. Brandon is very special." The signal started to glitch. There was a loud scream, a screeching devastating yell that pierced our ears. Dr. DaVinci got up and ran towards the desk, as it would appear by his motions. "Lily, I need you to get Brandon t-, t-" the hologram went blank, and we were just there sitting a blue abyss of particles.
"End of transmission." A woman's voice spoke from the tablet.
"What does this mean?" My mother spoke up, her voice cracking softly. "Where's my husband?"
"Your husband is under custody by the US government, protecting him you might say." Agent Anderson spoke.
"What do you mean protecting him?" My mother this time.
"Ma'am, to be perfectly honest with you, we don't know. What we do know is that when the United States gets involved there's no telling what could happen. We came here because we were instructed to and assumed that you might have the answers to the question 'why', and to inform you that you and your son will be relocated for the time being." Agent Anderson continued.
"When do we leave?" Mother's voice was beginning to crack more and more. "Where are we to go?"
"Your family will be under the custody of Daystar, and we will head out tomorrow, to give you time to pack up what you can carry." His voice was firm and very hard.
I didn't really know what to say under all of this. I felt a sense of confusion and horror. It was like my mother wasn't really going to say anything on the matter. I knew I had to stand up for her so they could leave us alone.
"Ok," my mother told me them. "We'll be ready by tomorrow morning."
"Good, Mrs. Johnson. We will pick you up tomorrow when you're ready, just give us a call." Agent Anderson handed Mother what appeared to be a Contact Card.
The Contact Card was a simple device, developed by Arch-Angel Industries, that has the identity of a person, who has allowed access to his or her information. All you have to do is merely place your finger on the picture of the person indicated on the card, then you can speak to them via holo-calling, or holographic calling. I had always thought that this was an impressive piece of technology, mainly because my father had made it, and I wanted to grow up to make great things as well, just like my father. However, something struck me as off. I couldn't put my finger on it, but I felt like something was going to happen.
Later that night, as I sat there in the living room watching TV, Mother was vaguely pacing the kitchen. I could tell that what she was told, when I was instructed to go over to the kitchen, was severely bothering her. Of course, I didn't quite understand what was going on, but I was certainly not going to ask my mother anything at the moment. I knew that if she knew I was curious, she would most definitely be extremely worried, and have even more stress on her hands.
Of course, as it turns out things weren't as simple as they seemed. As Mother paced the edges of the kitchen, I found myself then venturing off into the next few rooms where the lights had been off. I knew that I wasn't supposed to go off by myself, however, something was edging me forward, and I needed to get this itch out from the back of my mind. I walked off into the darkness filled home, up through the corridors and various other landings, but then from there...I can't remember what else happened that evening…
"What do you suspect happened next?" Dr. Oswald asked me from across the well-furnished psychologist's room. He sat there in his dark brown suit and tie with his glasses reflecting the light at me. It wasn't rather comfortable, but I didn't want to mention anything to him. He was a middle aged man, stress making him appear much older, as you'd expect someone with 20 years of experience in his field. Dr. Oswald wasn't the most supportive type, but he did give some straight-forth advice, which he would throw at you after many months of constant therapy.
"Honestly, I don't really know." I replied to him from the couch that I was seated. I had told him the story many times over, and yet, he hadn't really come to a conclusion, or as for me, an epiphany, as to what might have happened next. It was a strange memory that was lost inside the depths of my mind, and I just had to know what happened.
"Well, Brandon, as I've told you before, I'll tell you again, I can't really help you anymore." Dr. Oswald's voice was firm, firmer than usual. "I can't make a prediction of what could have happened in your memories."
"Isn't there any other way to help me," I sat there disappointed. I watched as Dr. Oswald got up and paced the room, glancing towards his books shelves every-so-often then back to me.
"I'm afraid not," he finally said. "We've tried any known way to man so far. Hypnotherapy didn't work, Cognitive Deconstruction couldn't penetrate your mind, Conscious Defragmenting couldn't even come close, not even with our most advanced technology here at Daystar could have penetrated your mind."
"Well, what do you want me to do then?" I asked in disappointment. I knew that my search would soon come to an end, and I'd had to try and live with these lost memories. It was like a splinter deep within my mind. I knew it was there, but I wasn't sure what it was. It bothered me like a quiet desperation that slowly eats at the mind of a schizophrenic.
"Well, I want you to stay here in the facility for a few days, and if you'd like, we could run some more tests on you if you'd like." Dr. Oswald's voice was sincere enough, but I wondered if I should take this offer.
"Alright," I agreed. "I'll be back in a few days as usual."
Things weren't really going as I had planned, and I assumed for good reason. This was something that I had been pondering about for quite some time now, as I've mentioned before, and from what I've concluded is that I don't think I'm destined to find out what really happened after I entered into that library so long ago. Well, I assume, I should stop complaining and get on task as to what really is at hand. What you are about to hear is my story. It's a rather intriguing tale if you'd ask me, then again that be biased towards my part. Ha.
Where are my manners? My name is Brandon Alexander Johnson. I'm what you'd call mentally-disturbed in these times, since retarded had lost its impact about a hundred years ago, and mentally-disabled didn't really seem appropriate either, so they changed the phrase as mentally-disturbed. Well, don't get me wrong, I'm not what you'd call insane, because remember, insanity only measured by those who claim to be sane, and it's a known fact. You see, dear reader, my childhood wasn't really what I'd expect it to be. I grew up, as you've read, in a very luscious home, but since my parents weren't there, it was quite hard to keep myself in shape. I didn't really understand why this had happened to me, but it did and I was quite content with that, however, what I wasn't content with, as I've mentioned before, is that I can't seem to remember what lies beyond that dark veil in my memory, but enough of that, let's continue.
As I strolled along the outside walls of Kardon Incorporated's, the company that my family first started working for about vast establishment, I felt watched as I normally did. The city camera system was the world's most advanced network ever designed that could pick up the slightest movements that were spotted even on the molecular level ever since the Chemical War of 2034. It was designed to detect some of the most toxic chemicals floating around the airs, and after many years of research and video analysis, the artificial intelligence written in the code allows the camera to predict terroristic threats merely by watching the way they move, pick up the slightest of gestures, etc. It was one of Kardon Incorporated's first achievements. One of my family's greatest achievements.
I began walking to the apartment complex that I had been given to stay at while I was at school at a local university. I didn't understand why I had to stay out here and not at my old home. Ever since that day, I know that my mother doesn't stay with me anymore, and my father wasn't heard from since, so we all assumed the worst and moved on. It was the most we could do. The men in the black suits didn't really inform of what happened other than the fact that he was lost in combat during an outbreak, which was contained soon after, but ever since that there was a large-scale construction of these giant walls that surrounded the city. They were so huge that they scaled our largest building by a mere ratio of 2:1. Now, if you're not good with numbers, they were basically twice as big. They were a remarkable sight to behold, but we weren't sure why they were build. All that the government had told us was that it was to keep evil people from destroying our beautiful city, which of course, I didn't buy, but I didn't really let it get to me that much.
Anyway, as I walked on to the gravity lift that leads me to the top floor of the apartment complex, where my apartment resides, I pressed the button that marked my apartment number, number 2120. The clouds over head were turning dark gray, and as I scaled the 55 story building, I could smell the ozone that came from the top of the atmosphere. I knew it was going to rain, as I rode up the lightly tinted blue tube that held the gravity lift.
I turned and looked at the city below. It was strange watching the glamorous city from way up here in the clouds. Most people would have considered me lucky that I was granted such a privilege, but what most people don't realize is that just because I inherited my father's company, and his wealth, and had my mother leave me, due to her inability to handle the traumatic situation that we were in at the time, is that I will never obtain the things that I've always wanted, because the things that I've wanted have to do with something far more complex that the thought of money…love.
I found it almost shameful as I would stroll into the campus watch the other students glance towards my way and make comments on my wealth. I would catch some of them whispering about how lucky I was and that I didn't deserve what I was given. I'd stop in my tracks and turn around and merely say. "I didn't ask for this, better yet, if it were up to my choosing, I'd have my mother out of the mental institution, and my father resurrected from the dead, but we can't always have what we desire now can we?" They watch me dumbstruck, as I merely just walked away with my bag at hand and my books in the other.
Today, as you could probably tell, wasn't really my day. I had been hoping for months that I'd finally find the key to my past, but as yet again, as intense as my thought patterns were, I never had the answer. I felt depressed, mainly due to the reason that I'd may never see my mother again, or find out what really happened to my father, because you see I didn't buy the official story, as most of the other "official accounts" of the disappearances if all my father's, now mine, head research team. It was too simple; they went on an expedition and then all of a sudden, boom, they were gone. It was too simple if you'd ask me; to be honest with you, the world's most qualified team doesn't just disappear from the most technologically advanced city on the face of the planet just over night.
As I walked into my lavishing apartment in the clouds, glancing at the statues that great artists have sculpted over the years, and calling out to my cat, Orion, a simple white cat whose breed (if that's the proper term) always seems to escape me, I heard the thunder grumbling over heard and rain begin to pound on the roof. I walked through the main hallway that would split off the apartment into four parts, each divided up into its proper placement. Section one is known as the living room, which in turn, has the essentials of entertainment for the most lavishing experience, in which these include, an open view on to the city skyline, a large holographic screen projector, couches, etc. Section 2 was merely not as impressive, which was just my bedroom, where I only spend the night in, so rarely am I ever there. Section 3 was my office (yes, I have an office, I need a place to work); this part of the home, contained my essentials for my latest research, which I will discuss with you shortly in a while. Section 4 was one of my favorites when I invite people over, which to be honest hardly ever happens. Section 4 was basically my kitchen, dining area, and a part that I didn't really ask for, a bar.
I found myself placed in front of the holographic projector watching the news and other simple things that someone of my age wouldn't really concerned himself with. Now, I know what you're thinking. "What the hell is wrong with you?!" And to be perfectly honest with you, I don't know. Most people would assume that a kid like me would be indulging himself with the world's most expensive things that money could by just to satisfy his materialistic needs, but the things about it is, I don't. I'd rather just read a book or just do some research and allow myself to find more and more knowledge. Like my father before me, I was what you'd call an information junkie. I'm obsessed with information, and that's kind of the weakness I've had for quite some time now actually, which finally leads us to my research.
I got up, and view the city below and pondered about my research. It wasn't something that one simple goes on about on his day to day ventures, and my research really wasn't something typical that the one of the country's most intelligent mind's son would research. What I was researching was something more humbling then physics and all that other technically perceptions of life, even though they were all interesting to me and I liked to dabble in it every so often. My research was merely solving the conspiracy of my father's disappearance.
Now, you may be wondering, what ever happened to Arch-Angel Industries? Well, the answer is simple. Since I was too young at the time to inherit the throne of power, my father had assigned someone else to runt his multi-trillion-dollar corporation. Arch-Angel Industries was still the world's leading manufacturer, but production had slowed since the passing of my father and his team. You see the official story that they gave us didn't really add up from the eye-witnesses that had were monitoring the footage. Some people claimed that it involved other worldly dimensions and other claimed that it would involve extraterrestrial beings, but those I dismissed, until tonight.
I had walked over to my desk during these thoughts, and sat there typing away on my computer, getting pictures and other information that I might find useful towards my search and that was when\ I came across a website called: "Welcome to the Matrix". It had all sorts of information that involved conspiracy, spirituality, and other sorts of simple knowledge that would have been mistaken ask insanity by the ones who don't know as to what he claimed "the truth". It had stories and documents about the 9-11 conspiracy back when the New World Order was in place, and other stories and videos talking about pyramids of Giza, and Area 51. I knew that these were all the basic conspiracies, because this is what everyone starts off with, and then that's when I found out a little more.
He went by the name of Xion. He was an easy going man with one intention: Find the truth. You see what really caught my attention was his latest post called: "Arch-Angel Industries: The Story of a Lifetime". It discussed my past in perfect detail, and how it talked about the Chemical War of 2034 and how it was connected to rising of Parthenon and my family.
What I found strange was that he talked about my family, the Johnsons, or the Chambers, are part of the 13 Elite families that run the world. That I was apparently connected to my father's disappearance several years ago. I didn't really buy that last part, because how could a five-year-old be responsible for a grown man's disappearance. I had to find out what was really going on with this guy.
According to his bio, he was man around the age of twenty-six who worked by himself as a freelance author, and blogger. I didn't understand how someone could make money off of blogging, but I guess it was mainly done through advertising. Xion's actual name was Thomas A. Finnegan according to his Wikipedia page, but for some reason I didn't trust it. I mean, how a conspiracy theorist could go on and give away his real name, and not be scared? I read stories about a group that would track down these "truth-seekers" and murder them for giving away too much information to the public. According to his blog, they were known as the Illuminati, but he debunked it, claiming that it was merely all nonsense by the real group called the Elite, the group my family was apparently part of.
This was when I sent this Xion character an email concerning my well-being and my thoughts and opinions on his latest post. I discussed how I didn't really agree that I was behind my father's disappearance. I told him that I felt offended that someone would make such a claim about my family. He was immediately to respond, in about a few minutes to be exact. He told me. "Well, isn't this a treat? I wouldn't have ever expected the great Brandon Johnson Chambers to be emailing me in the middle of the night. I thought you would be wasting your father's inheritance and partying away."
I responded in a simple fashion. "No, I have more pressing matters at hands than to be wasting my father's money for selfish deeds. So what is it that you'd do exactly?"
"I am what you want me to be." He replied a few minutes later again. "I normally work as an informant, you could say."
"What kind of informant?" I asked, desperately wanting to know. I figured that if this guy new about my past more than I did, then I could probably find a way to piece together the puzzle of what is really going on with my mind.
"Fine, I'll tell you, but not here. Meet me at the Black Heir Club downtown, this is the address (he sent me a link to the address of the club), around 8 o' clock sharp. Ask the man at the door for the Writer, and they'll know what you're talking about, if they don't let you in, then just bribe them; you have the funding to do so."
I replied simply. "OK…" I didn't know what to expect or even that I should go to the place where this Xion character asked me to.
To be perfectly honest with you, as I laid there in bed about a few hours later, after I had done a little more research on my family, I didn't know what to expect from this situation. I did find it quite suspicious how fast that Xion character agreed to meet with me, but then again, judging by how many posts he had on his blog about my family (23 to be exact) and other various documentations of conspiracy, I assumed he was dedicated to doing his "job" rather well. I guess, I'll make an arrangement with my schedule, not that I really had one, except other than me having to attend my psychologist's meetings every day at Kardon Incorporated.
So with that in mind, I slowly let my thoughts drift me to sleep. As cliche as this sounds, little did I know that I was about to embark on something that would literary tear my life apart, and reconstruct it into something unexpected.