The Other Side of Dream

 

Harry Whittaker had hurt so much for so long, but the pain was gone now. He stood up easily. No one helped him, and he needed no crutches or walker.  He stood firmly, and strongly, on his own feet. He moved his arms carefully at first, extending them and gently rolling his shoulders, at any moment expecting his joints to painfully resist. Then he began to swing them, and still there was no pain. His shoulders rotated smoothly, with no roughness or grating. He gently lifted one leg, then the other. They came up easily. He went down into a deep side lunge, going deeper than he had since he was in his twenties. There was a little pain, but it was just the feeling of going into a deep stretch without warming up properly. His arms and legs were no longer flabby and atrophied; they were solid and well-muscled again. His gut and chest were no longer drooping and wrinkled, they were firm and taut.

He looked around himself. Harry was in a small grassy clearing of a forest. He breathed deep the damp earthy scent that had a bit of spice he could not quite place. Lances of golden sunlight pierced the tree tops arcing over him, and glittering insects flashed between them. It was so familiar, but also strange. He heard the soothing sounds of running water along with the calls of birds, frogs, crickets, and cicadas.

He walked towards the sound of water. With each step he felt the rich loamy earth and soft undergrowth beneath his toes. After a few dozen paces he came to a depression in the earth that a stream flowed through one side of, but on this bank it was a nearly still pool. He looked down into the water, and among the colorful fish flitting below the surface, he was surprised by his own reflection. It wouldn’t be right to say he looked young, but it wouldn’t be right to say he looked old either. He didn’t look middle aged. Any given age you tried to put his face would seem off, sometimes in both directions at once. The surprise wasn’t from not recognizing his face. It seemed all through his life this was the face he should have seen and the other face, ever changing as he grew up and then old, which he was used to seeing, was just showing a distortion of this true face.

“This has to be a dream,” Harry mused aloud, “Even in my dreams I’ve felt my pains and aches for so long; if it's a dream I‘m not sure I ever want to wake up again. I could be happy just staying here, I think.”

“This is a dream, yes,” a breathy woman’s voice replied behind him, “but it is not your dream, and thus you do not appear just as you see yourself, but as you truly are. The pain you carried with you into your own dreams before was a remnant of how you perceive yourself and your life. You cannot just stay here, however, as you have a journey to go on.”

“Who are you?” Harry asked, turning to see the speaker. She was a beautiful woman, about half a head shorter than himself. Her hair was midnight black and her skin was paper white. She wasn’t just pale.  Her skin was utterly white. There was no hint of blush, tan, veins, or even a freckle. Her face also defied any attempt to place an age to her. She was not young, nor was she old. She just was.

“I’m your guide. I make sure you can find your destination.”

“So I’m dreaming you?”

“No. We are both in the land of dreams, but this is not your dream. Nor is this my dream. This is not any one person’s dream. You are not dreaming me any more than I am dreaming you. Actually, unlike when you are in a dreamscape that is your own, you are not even dreaming yourself, thus why you are showing your true body instead of your interpretation of your factual body.” The woman in front of him ran her fingers through her hair to pull it out of her eyes, and then the woman was a cat cleaning her fur.

“Wait a second; you were a human just a moment ago, now you’re a cat! Or at least I thought you were, wait a minute, you still are. Why did I think I saw a cat?”

“I am neither a human nor a cat and I am both and more. I am who and what I am, just as you are who and what you are. I did not change, only the perspective of how you saw me changed. In the waking world, it is facts you see most easily, and you must look through them to find truth.  In the world of dream, truth is plain to see, and you must look through it to find fact.” As he stopped trying to decide if she was a woman or a cat and just relaxed he was not sure if he saw a woman, a cat, some hybrid cat woman, or the hints of other things he felt opening up behind the other images. It was too much to take in at once.  He held the image of her as he first saw her firmly in his mind and that was all he saw.

“You seem to learn quickly both to see what is and to control what you see,” she laughed. “It helps at first to see only part of what something or someone is. It is almost impossible to see anyone in their full truth at once, but as you grow more accustomed to seeing, it will be less disorienting to view more of the truth of what you see. As you learn, it is good to choose to see a partial image so that it is easier to process, but forgetting that what you are seeing is only part of the truth is dangerous. So, see only one or two aspects of someone or something if you must, but try to glimpse the other aspects when you can. When you first looked at the place where we are sitting, what did you first see?”

“The pool of course!” Harry replied, but as he turned to gesture he was not sitting on the ground by a pool with little colorful fish in a forest. He was sitting in a chair in an empty hallway of a courthouse by a shiny metal water fountain where he could see his reflection. The fish were now red, blue, yellow, and pink wads of chewing gum that had been left in the fountain. He and the woman who was his guide were wearing black business suits. Until that moment, he had not realized that neither of them had been wearing anything a moment before.

“There are many different aspects to the truth of this place as well. It can take on many appearances to you. There are some facts you will glean from observing its many truths. One is that it is not an unpleasant place. It is reasonably comfortable, relatively safe, and has what you need for now. Another is that this is a good place to gather yourself for the next step. One more fact shown by the truths of this place is that it is a good place to meet someone. Lastly, it is not far from danger, and it will likely become unpleasant if you stay too long. It is a good place to rest, meet me, ask questions, and then move on from toward your destination.”

“What is my destination and why do I have to go there?"

“You already know both of those answers.  The inability to see them just means you are not yet ready to accept them.  Luckily, since you have a guide, you do not need to know the destination or reason.  You just have to go.” She smiled her catlike grin. Looking again, she was a cat grinning in an almost human manner. Looking in the same way at his surroundings; it was a forest, a courthouse, a pool, a water fountain, and a city park at sunset. It was more places. Some were easier to see than others. Some he liked seeing less than others. Many of the ones he liked the least were the ones that showed him most clearly he would need to leave soon and the path he should follow.

“If you don’t have any more questions that cannot be asked while we travel,” she gently suggested, “it would be best if we left. You can stay a little while longer, but the more quickly we get on our way the better it will be for you.”

“Well, I suppose since it is a dream I will wake up eventually, and I guess I would like to see where I was going before that happens.” He nodded his head as he decided, “Let’s go.”

As they walked he chose to primarily keep the aspect of the truth of his surroundings that was a forest in his mind. He liked it best. He couldn’t see his path as clearly as with many of the others, and maybe that was part of its charm. All of the aspects grew darker as they went. The forest literally grew darker and there were occasional thorns on the trees he passed and on the ground he walked over. In the courthouse they had moved into the courtroom and the prosecution was presenting its case against him.  He had left the park and was now walking through a bad neighborhood in a large city.

In every facet of his journey he could see his guide helped and supported him through the challenges.  She gave him a machete and helped him hack through the jungle they were traversing, helped argue in his defense regarding every crime he was accused of, helped him search for an ostrich feather large enough it would outweigh his heart, together they poured through an ancient tome to find his name, and she used a pole to push their boat to the far side of the river.

There were times when it was hard or frightening. They were chased by a pack of dogs, delved caves into the darkest depths of the earth, scaled a mountain that stretched to the stars, climbed a tree that held the entire world in which he had lived in just one of its branches, and he wasn’t even sure whether they were climbing up or down. They flew past stars, then out of time and space.

Through it all his guide stayed with him. She encouraged him when he could do it on his own, made sure he had what help he needed when he fell a little short, and helped him back up when he fell. Whenever he doubted he could continue, she was there with a smile and he had the strength to go a bit further.  After a few hours, perhaps days, perhaps years, perhaps eons, perhaps seconds; they were finally there.

“Do you know where you are now?” She asked carefully. For some this was the hardest part of the journey and could take the longest. She had grown to know him well in their travels, and did not wish him pain.

“I think I do,” he responded softly, different truths of what he was seeing flashing through his mind's eye. He had learned much on this journey, not the least of which was how much he had yet to learn. Seeing himself in his true form that was an eagle, he preened his feathers thoughtfully before continuing, once again seeing the truth of himself as a human. “I have passed from the waking world into the land of dream. I have now passed through the land of dream and stand at the gateway to the land on the other side of dream. We began where the waking world borders on the world of dream; we are now where the world of dream borders on the world of the dead.”

She breathed a sigh of relief. She had grown to know how well he could see and how insightful he could be about the facts and the truths he saw represented, but even those with the keenest sight and minds could not see what they were not willing to believe. “I know this next question may sound silly after the answer you just gave, but I must make certain that you understand fully. Why did you have to come here?”

“I died.” 

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. I lived a good life.”

“What does that mean, to live a good life?”

“I don’t really know, but I think I did it.”  He chuckled dryly, and then looked worried, “If I go there, will I be able to come back here?  It wasn’t always pleasant, but I liked it. I liked being with you.”

“Not everyone who goes through ever comes back here, but many do. I don’t know if those who don’t can’t or have reasons for not coming. Just as seeing dream for what it is has allowed you to open your eyes and grow if you let yourself, seeing death for what it is may allow you to open your eyes even further and grow even more if you allow it. Those who come back can only tell us about what they saw as much as you could tell someone in the waking world about what you have seen here. You could get across basic ideas, but it would be incomplete and surreal. The world of dreams; however, links all existences I know of. Perhaps there are worlds on the other side of death. Perhaps there are worlds on the other side of any of the other worlds dream runs to. I don’t know.”

Then Harry asked hesitantly, “Will I be able to see you again?”

Unexpected Salvation: Age of Ishtar part 7

As Skye was spiraling deeper into realization of his inevitable doom, someone approached from behind. Semias walked past him to his sister Evangeline and bowed his silver mane before her. "Lady Evangeline Dumas, Milady Estelle Montoya of the Grigori stable has sent a message with me," He began, "First; she would like to congratulate you on your brother. She has found him rather impressive. Second, she and others have talked with the Matron of the Games who has decided that the degree of interest he's attracted justifies giving him a private auction tonight while interest is still fresh. The Matron of the Games thinks it'll better serve your interests in allowing the buyers to bid while still excited, and better serve the other sellers by not putting them in as much direct competition with your brother at the public auction tomorrow night (there's a fear that he may lower the rest of the market).  Also, many of the buyers have let her know they're rather impatient to get at him.  Anyways, the Matron said she herself would be willing to act as auctioneer if you're agreeable to proceeding."

Everyone looked to Evangeline while she considered. "I do not see any good reason why we should not proceed with the auction immediately if it is in such high demand," She responded after a short deliberation, "If I might ask though, why were you sent instead of a representative of the Matron of the Games?"

"Well, Milady and some of her investors were of the more vocal in asking for the earlier time, and they didn't want to wait for the Matron to send for her own messenger or summon you herself when I was already there."

"As well they should Semias," one of the investors who had been listening to Evangeline interjected, "Estelle is right to speak so highly of your utility. There may not be anything a man can do that the right woman could not do better if she put her mind to it, but it is just so much more convenient at times to just let the man. Plus, they are just so adorable when they find themselves to be useful."

"Thank you kindly," Semias bowed with a faint smile, "I'm sure Milady appreciates your support as always. If we're going to get this started, then could you ladies and Skye please follow me?"

Semias gave a hand signal to someone on the far side of the hall and an obviously aged woman began walking up the platform where the band was playing. As they walked down the stairs the band stopped playing and she introduced herself as the Matron of the Games that had been played yesterday. She announced that it had been decided that the auction for Skye Dumas would be held presently. She then requested the clearing of the front of the dance floor except of those who had an intention of bidding on the young man to be sold and their attached parties. It's a toss up which is harder to move through: a crowd that is relatively static and thus has few paths through it, or one that has had a shift in its attention and thus took on the appearance of a kicked ants nest in slow motion.
Slowly they made it to the stage, and Semias patted Skye on the back as he went to find where Estelle would be situating herself for the bidding. Skye and Evangeline climbed the stage and Skye did his best to quiet his racing mind and present himself as best he could. He shut out the entire world except for his breathing and the path he was walking. Not every eye in the hall was on him. There were no eyes, and there was no hall. There was only the air and the stage he was walking on. Everything else was unimportant. What if Kukri was watching him? No, no distracting thoughts. He was a young and beautiful god of war with the deadly grace of a slithering viper, but the calm inevitability of glacial ice. Nothing could be allowed to break that, not even the screaming of his heart.

He did not search for her face as he posed while his sister listed and described his achievements and marketable qualities. He surveyed the crowd coolly and calmly.  He wasn't looking at any of them; his eyes were kept dreamily unfocused. He can't let her in his mind like this, it was just one dance, and it was just one kiss. This was the most important night yet of his nineteen years. This was the night where it would be decided who would be the woman to own him. This was the night where he would finally find out how much he was worth according to the most honest and heartless appraiser of all: the open market. Tonight would set the path for the rest of his life.  Tonight, if he sold well, he could do one last thing as his mothers ward. He could bring in a good return on her investment. Evangeline rose to a crescendo in her description of how wonderful, life changing, and multifunctional of a product he was.  She brought it to a climax of, "He can be yours and yours alone; forever or until you sell him for a profit. Ladies start your biding!"

Gladys Minuet, the Matron of the Games, started the biding low. She started out at half of his most recent appraised price. Bids flew from the right and left. They climbed higher and higher. In just the first little bit they rose past his appraised price with seven bidders staying active. Skye tried not to look at who was bidding. He tried to just keep moving from pose to pose. He couldn't stop himself from looking for Estelle Montoya and her daughters once the bidding began to slow around twice his appraised price. She was still bidding; Kris was standing right beside her with a small huddle of investors around them. Kukri sulked at the edge of the group while her father seemed to be trying unsuccessfully to cheer her up. There were three other bidders still active at that point. The two mega stable representatives seemed uncertain whether they were trying to get Skye for themselves or just keep the other from getting him, and one of the women he barely remembered from the group around Evangeline seemed less and less certain how much she wanted him. Skye turned his back to the audience, flexed everything he could, and the woman whose name he could not remember shot her hand up to bid again.

Around two and a half times the price on his last appraisal both of the mega stable representatives dropped out. It had gotten too rich for either of their tastes, but once the Horde representative dropped out the woman from Legion seemed to decide she had no good reason to continue. It was down to the last two bidders; Estelle Montoya and the woman who Skye could not for the life of him remember the name of. By this time Skye was definitely getting into his little display he was doing on the stage to entice the bidding higher. His body was glistening from the poses and gyrations he was moving through to show all the assets he could in the best possible light. Skye was mentally cursing Kayvan for putting the restriction on what postures he could display by injuring his arm. Then again, Kayvan and the four others Kayvan had fought were dead and he just had a hurt arm. Skye had gotten by far the better end of that deal.

After the price passed the point of three times his appraised value, the woman whose name he did not know went to raise her hand again. One of her friends had walked forward from the crowd and whispered something in her ear, however. She gave him one more wistful glance and stepped back into the crowd. The Grigori investors were ecstatic. They were jumping up and down, hugging one another, and cheering.  Kris and Estelle looked overjoyed, and Kukri looked as if she was going to be sick.

Skye was completely uncertain what he was getting into, but he was certain he had sold for more than double the price he had hoped he might go for. He didn't know why his mother didn't want him any more, or why she had wanted him in the first place. This would make her proud, though. It was the last thing he would do as her ward, but he had done well. Of course, he couldn't take all the credit. Evangeline had been amazing. She had taken him from being an unknown rookie, almost undifferentiable from any other gladiator in the games who was up for sale, and had raised him to the level of buyers clamoring for a private auction on the spot. She was a lecherous drunk, but she was an amazing lecherous drunk. He had gone for over three times his appraisal price. That only tended to happen when there were several large factors the appraiser had overlooked or the bidders were somehow whipped into a mad frenzy for the man on the block. Skye didn't know of any large factors that would have kept his appraisal artificially low, so mass hysteria was the only good explanation.

Evangeline was hugging him, she was actually crying. She was saying how proud of him she was, how well he had done, and how she hoped she would be able to see him often. "Clarence and you do play together so well," she repeated with a light tinge of red to the whites of her eyes, "I love you baby brother, we all do. You know that don't you? I know some of our sisters may show it in ways that are hard to see, and mother may have kept you at arms reach recently, but we all love you and hope to see you whenever possible. Even if we don't see one another often, make sure to write, and we'll do our best to write as well. Especially remember Cleo, she may not remember to keep up contact very well, but she has always been so fond of you and it means so much to her whenever she hears from you."

Skye hugged his sister back with his good arm, tears welling up in his eyes. His voice trembled, "I will, I love you all too. I have the best family in all the worlds. Thank you. Thank you for being here for me. It's meant so much to have you here.  Thank you."

After a few moments they released their embrace. Estelle was up on the stage. She began working out with Evangeline how his belongings would be picked up and signing transfer of guardianship papers. Semias was soon by his side welcoming him to the stable. Evidently, they had acquired a series of barracks trailer modules when they moved their formal residence to this region. When they traveled, instead of packing up on a passenger craft, they would just be hauled to their destination by a bulk cargo ship, train, tractor craft, or even any interplanetary standard intermodal transport (ISIT) without ever having to leave their new home. "They still need a lot of work done," Semias warned, "But, when they are finished, they will be quite the cozy little mobile home."

Kris ran up smiling, "I couldn't have hoped for a better reaction between you and my sister. That was amazing the way you were on the dance floor with her. I am so glad we got you."

"If you don't mind the observation," Skye responded confusedly, "She ran away from me and looks less than pleased that your mother won the auction."

"Oh, she's just worried because there is no way Cathy will approve of you."  Kris brushed his concerns aside.

"Who's Cathy?"

"Cathy," Semias answered with a grimace, "Is Kukri's fiancé."

Three Weeks After One Week to Live (fiction)

Three weeks ago, I was told I had one week to live. I had dropped fifty pounds in under a month, and I was having trouble sleeping, so I had gone to have my doctor check it out. He performed one test, then another, then another. There appeared to be tumors all over my body. With how widespread the tumors were, and how many different systems they were sitting in, I was told that there was no viable course of treatment, and that I needed to start saying my goodbyes.

The first week came and went. I spent some time with family, I spent some time with friends. I still couldn’t sleep, so I stopped trying. I still haven’t slept since I was told my prognosis, and I’m not in the least bit tired. I lost another thirty pounds over that week, and I was looking pretty good for a dying man. I was looking better than I could remember ever having looked. For the first time in my life, I had a six pack of abs. I began wondering if maybe I should ask if the mortician could put me in my casket in my swim trunks instead of a suit.

My digestion was getting a bit weird, but I chalked that up as my body shutting down. Thirty three years was a good deal less time than I had hoped for, but I supposed that, through most of human history, that was about the average people had been able to expect. I was angry for a large part of that first week, but I also was grudgingly that I wasn’t feeling physical pain. In fact, I was feeling great.

I had never really been one for exercise, but in the middle of the night, while everyone else was sleeping, I started going running. I was so frustrated, and so full of energy, and I guess some part of me felt that if I ran hard and fast enough that I could get away from this doom that was chasing me. Running was exhilarating. I’d been staying at my parent’s place, to be close to family as I was supposed to be fading away; there was a park three miles away, and I was able to make it there in eighteen minutes with energy to spare.

My glasses started making my vision all fuzzy, and it actually reached a point where I could see better with them off than I could see with them on. It wasn’t worth going to have my prescription changed though; I wouldn’t be wearing the new glasses long enough to offset the cost.

I went in to see some specialists at the end of that week, and they wanted to run more tests. It wasn’t that they thought they would suddenly discover a way to help me, it was so they could try to find out how my case had happened, so that they could prevent or treat it in others, later. They were especially interested in taking more living tissue samples from the tumors, because they didn’t fit the mold of any similar cases. They were careful not to say anything to get my hopes up when they asked me to come back in, but they did tell me that my case might be something other than cancer.

My vitals were taken, I was weighed, measured, questioned, x-rayed, scanned, poked, prodded, poked again, and then asked more questions. Every time I talked to the doctors, they seemed more befuddled and flustered. The apparent tumors had not grown or increased in number, so that was good. In every other way though, I appeared to be incredibly healthy. I told them about my late night runs, my lack of sleep, and energy level. It was decided that I needed to take some physical fitness and stress tests to get a baseline for where my abilities were currently, so that any additional short term increases, and then the decline of these abilities, could be tracked. For good measure, if they were gathering metrics on every other area of my condition’s progression, it was also decided that my memory and cognitive functions should be assessed as well.

My blood-work came back with anomalies in more areas than I knew blood tests could measure. This, plus all of the other unusual aspects of my condition, led to the specialists on my case (who were growing in number and areas of expertise) deciding that I needed to be kept in the hospital for the rest of the course of my illness, to both increase the amount of research that could be performed, and to control any possible spread if it were found that any aspect of my disease were contagious.

Over the second week, I started gaining weight back, but all of the weight gain was muscle and bone density. I stopped having bowel movements entirely, but there was no buildup of fecal matter in my large intestine. Instead, my digestive system was breaking down and absorbing one-hundred-percent of what I ate, and any waste was being excreted entirely through my urine. My physical fitness kept increasing in every way simultaneously, and my memory and cognitive functions were also increasing.

I think I should have been terrified by what was happening to me, but after mostly accepting that I was going to die, I was mostly just curious about what was going to happen next to me. I still assumed that I was going to die, but at least the process was being painless and interesting. I was spending what time I was not having some test or another performed in a hospital room with not much to do, so I spent my time going to the internet and learning more about how all of the processes that were being upended in my body were supposed to work. I had not really been that much into biology before, and it may just be the very emotive personal interest that I now had in this information, but almost everything I was reading about was fascinating and made sense with little effort on my part.

Mental pursuits had rarely held much difficulty for me, but the rate that I was beginning to absorb and connect various areas of knowledge was truly invigorating. Each new facet of knowledge led into a dozen other areas to explore, and while my research still orbited around the details of my condition, the orbit did continue to widen into a growing sphere of subjects. The metrics the people researching my were using began to show a leveling off on my increase in memory and cognitive functions, but they admitted that this may very well be because I had risen above the point where the tests they had available were truly accurate.

 At the end of the second week, I also began to be more and more certain that I could feel the wireless signals put off by certain devices in and around the hospital. Of course, both I and my physicians assumed that this was just me finally showing signs of mental decline. The tumors were starting to grow slightly, as well as becoming much denser. My blood stream was becoming more and more contaminated by unusual proteins, and a few of these proteins looked like they might be some kind of, previously unknown, incredibly complex, virus.

The possibility that some kind of virus was changing my genetic structure began being seriously considered. Needles had began bending when used to inject or draw blood from me more frequently than could be dismissed. My muscle cells, taken as tissue samples and viewed under a microscope, had begun restructuring to have a multi-filament structure that was not just an aberration from a normal human muscle cell, but was unlike any studied animal muscle cell. This seemed to account for the fact that, while my muscle mass had been increasing at an uncanny rate, that my increase in functional strength notably exceeded what would be expected for the level of mass gain I was presenting.

Full quarantine began to be put in place around me, as the risk of whatever was happening to me being contagious became much more real. The feeling that I could feel the wireless signals around me also was strengthening, to the point that there was some amount of pain from it. Then, wireless devices started malfunctioning in my presence. The more upset I became, the more marked the effect was. Once it was positively determined that I was actually sending out some form of electromagnetic signal from my body, my situation changed drastically.

An attempt was made to tranquilize me for transport, and, while I complied, my body did not. Each time they tried to tranquilize me, I metabolized the drugs in only a few minutes. I don't know where they brought me, but I believe I am a notable distance underground. The room I'm in seems to block wireless signals, which is a relief, as they were not being at all comfortable by the time I arrived here.

I have began to see colors I have no name for, that I believe to be quite a ways into the infrared and ultraviolet ends of the light spectrum. I can smell with a precision and breadth of scope that I can only assume means that either my nose is now tuned to detect elements and compounds far beyond the senses I was born with, or that I am now experiencing hallucinatory delusions. I suppose those options are not mutually exclusive. Several of the machines in the room I am held in have components that smell delicious, and I am developing cravings to taste them. The fact that cravings usually result from some nutrient that one has a deficiency of is not lost on me. Neither is the knowledge that eating electronic components would be undeniably toxic to a human being. Which then brings me back to the question: am I a human being any longer?

My access to the limitless knowledge of the internet has been cut off, I am mostly left alone with my thoughts and perceptions now. I sit, and run through various thoughts, scenarios, theories, postulates, and questions. With my universe, that consists of this one room, containing myself and a few boring objects, combined with the fact that sleep is no longer a part of my condition, my attention towards self-evaluation has been nearly undivided. I have developed other skills that I will not record here, and you will certainly see some of them practiced soon, when I take my leave of this place.

I will be leaving soon, because I know that soon you all will realize that you cannot contain me any longer. I appreciate the curiosity that you all have exhibited towards my condition, partially because I share in the desire to know, but even more because it has resulted in you keeping me alive far longer than was safe. I leave this record of my perception of the changes I have undergone up until this point. It will be valuable if I choose to not allow myself to ever be found again, and perhaps be even more valuable if, once my development has gone even further, I return to benevolently guide you lesser beings into a new golden era.

I would recommend not trying to stop me leaving, but, not only would you not listen, but by the time you read this, I will already be gone. Instead, I will recommend that you not come after me once I have left. The things I will have done as I escape will provide a sampling of what would face those who would try to contain me again. I will not have to use all of the tools at my disposal to leave here,
and there is every reason to expect that my abilities will continue to develop as time passes. Time is on my side, not yours.

There will be a concern, I understand, that my condition may be passed on to others. However, I really must pose a question to any who might raise such a concern: Would it be such a terrible plague for all of mankind to ascend to a higher state?

- Note found in room of terminal brain tumor patient shortly after he tore off the monitors and IVs, stood up, ran out of his room to the stairwell, and dove headfirst down the stairs to his death. DO NOT DISCARD.