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Post by blank on Jan 14, 2009 0:06:01 GMT -5
Private
Begin Transmission:
Paradigm: /ˈpærədaɪm/
[/i] | Greek:παράδειγμα (paradigma), composite from para- and the verb δείχνυμι "to show", as a whole -roughly- meaning "example" _| [/font] 3:29am Paradigm shift...it's a shift in the way one sees reality. In 1900, Lord Kelvin stated that all that needed to be known about physics was known, and that all that really needed to be done was some fine tuning. Well, in 1905, Einstein proved him wrong with his paper on the theory of relativity. Suddenly, what they knew then in the scientific world as reality was shifted to only information slower than the speed of light. Possibilities became limitless when_|"...Fuck." A twenty page paper, a limited supply of reheated Starbucks coffee laced with a 5 Hour Energy Shot, and a four hour marathon of history's greatest rock songs playing quietly in the background was all that stood in between her and a precious night's sleep. Morning's sleep. Whatever. "Possibilities became limitless...and..." She leaned back, balancing her simple chair on two legs and crossing her fingers behind her head. Black, long layered bangs fell over her eye and with a simple puff, were blown upward only to fall back over her eye in futility. "Maybe I should use the duck/rabbit illusion as a visual? Or...ugh...fuck this shit." Frustrated, she leaned herself back forward and minimized her Word Processor, then was automatically brought to a black screen. "Still here, huh," she said with a grin. "The source of my ADD and the root of all my problems..." Perfectly manicured fingers tapped away as fellow hackers chimed in on the conversation in their trademark green font, talking in a "code speak" that no one not wired enough into their secret underground society would not understand. But after only minutes of wasting her valuable dissertation writing time on idle IBM market convo, she sighed and stood, then sighed again before walking from her study in her tiny apartment to the kitchen and shoveling two spoon fulls of sugar into the bitter, black coffee. In all honesty, she hated her coffee black. Heck, she wasn't really to fond on coffee anyway. It always seemed to work, though. Her socked feet shuffled back over to the desk as she stirred her sugar with coffee in it, creating the worst static shock ever when she finally sat down and placed her stinging fingertips on the keyboard. "A girl just can't get a break..." she huffed before beginning to sip the coffee. But before she could even swallow the dark concoction, she noticed the screen which had previously housed several long conversations about Cuban socialism was now empty and blinking...as if...someone was waiting... Slowly, she sat her coffee on it's makeshift textbook coaster and ran her fingers through her short cropped hair before placing anxious hands back on the laptop's keyboard, fingers waiting on their respective homerow keys. And just as suddenly as she had noticed the blank screen, an urge, powerful as if it were divine, struck her. "...are you there?_|"
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Post by LIVEnSPIRALS on Jan 14, 2009 1:06:44 GMT -5
Dreams. They're nothing more than a sequence of sounds, images, and feelings that we experience while we sleep. At least, that's what I've read from the top of the Wikipedia article. The article then goes on to explain how dreams function and all that scientific mumbo-jumbo. However, what the article fails to explain one simple thing -- why? That's the thing that I've been trying to figure out. That's what I want to know.
It's a shame that nobody else seems to care.
_____________________________ " 'Ey, what's the matter with you? Now's not the time to be spacing out on me," a man said as he snapped his fingers and entered into the driver's seat of the car. Sliding a coffee into one of the cup holders he offered it to the man sitting in the passenger's seat.
"You ever wonder if this was all just a dream?" the black male said as he continued to look forward. His eyes shielded by rose colored glasses. "Ever think that this is all just some kind of fantasy? That none of this is real?" turning his head to face the man he took the coffee and took a sip from it, nearly burning his tongue off.
There was a long pause as the brown haired man simply looked at him, dumbfounded by the question.
"Is this really the time to be talking about this psycho shit? We're on a stake out here. Try focusing on that. We're not getting paid to comtemplate the universe," he said as he dropped into his seat and closed the car door. Picking up his coffee he took a sip before cringing a little. "Damn clerk. I told her I didn't want hazelnut..."
_____________________________ Day in and day out. It's the same old thing. Get up, go to work, and come home late. Nothing ever changes. Trudging through his barely furnished appartment the black male from before tossed his leather jacket on the couch. Sighing deeply he walked into his bedroom and dropped onto the bed. His eyes closed as he entered into a half-sleep, only to be disturbed by a light shining on his face. Groaning he lifted his head in the direction of the light, only to see that it was the laptop that he had carelessly left on before he left.
A black screen covered the entire window with raised some suspicions in of itself. He hadn't remembered going to any websites or chatrooms. Then again, he barely remembered going to any of the sites he visited in his pursuits of dream research. Pushing himself off of the bed he walked over to the desk, and leaned forward to get a better view of the screen. As he did so he felt himself compelled to type something.
"...Hello?"
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Post by blank on Jan 14, 2009 3:47:12 GMT -5
"I'm such a loser,"
She said, shaking her head and putting her face in her hands. What kind of life was she living? She was in college for something she didn't even want to do, about to graduate with a degree she felt she could do nothing with, she was working two part time jobs just to pay rent, she'd misplaced her social security card only days before, she was in a relationship that was going nowhere while it seemed everyone else her age was settling down, and to top it all off, she was becoming a bitchy insomniac zombie to the few friends she did have. It was dumb to think that there was anyone out there who would understand her.
Then...[madd_hatter] ...You're late. _ She looked up at the words on the screen, baffled, but intrigued. Her fist instinct was to ask, "who is this" but she knew that was a futile question in such a private place. Besides, that would get her nowhere. [white_hare] for?
[madd_hatter] a very important date
[white_hare] ...
[madd_hatter] no time to say hello goodbye_ "Why does this sound so familar?" the girl said, picking up her reading glasses and sliding them on her face, pushing them up on her nose and leaning forward. "I'm late, I'm late, for a very important date. No time to say hello, goodbye..." she mumbled. With her limited knowledge of Alice in Wonderland, she knew that this wasn't something the Mad Hatter would have said.
"...the March Hare," she concluded aloud, singing the rhyme in her head. Perhaps she should type the next line? It was worth a shot.[white_hare] I'm late, I'm late, I'm late? Is that what you want to hear?_ Two minutes of silence pass. Nothing. Maybe she was wrong. Maybe the March Hare's rhyme meant nothing. Maybe...[madd_hatter] You're overdue. You're really in a stew.
[white_rabbit] Wait, who is this? What am I late for?
[madd_hatter] No time to say goodbye, hello...
[white_rabbit] I'm in a stew? Overdue?
[madd_hatter] You're almost through the looking glass. Now you have to make a choice.
[white_rabbit] What kind of choice?
[madd_hatter] Go downstairs. The Doormouse will be waiting for you._
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Post by Matachi on Jan 14, 2009 4:33:08 GMT -5
"Aw, gee whiz...are you really going to the sock hop with Betsy Batson from up the street? She's such a looker!"
"My name is Robert Barkley, my friends call me Bobby."
A boy sat kneeling in a treehouse, gazing out into the suburban infinity before him. His elbow rested on the window cutout, his palm to his chin. His cheek was pushed up, shutting his right eye, causing him to have double-vision of the sky which was a harmony of warm colors as the sun dropped down into the horizon. A bandage was stretched out across his nose, and his eye had a purple ring around it. His light blue eyes switched from the sky that hung above, falling upon the two kids who were talking upward at him about a supposed date he had.
"This is Timmy and Tommy Thompson...they're my best friends in the whole entire world..."
The rotting wood stunk of mildew and mold, splayed inside of the treehouse were comic books and baseball cards along with a few pornographic magazines, all dated in the late 1950's and early 1960's. There was a bat in the corner of the treehouse, latched onto the end of the bat was a nice leather baseball glove, worn in just right, the leather was flexible enough to move yet it wasn't too floppy where it felt like it was going to bust in two.
"Yeah, she's the swellest gal in our whole school...you think you'll lose that shiner before the dance?" Asked one of the two boys below, Bob really couldn't tell, he wasn't really paying attention, he didn't feel right. Nothing felt right. He stood, making his way across fresh issues of Amazing Fantasy and Superman, Man of Steel and down the porthole, grappling onto the rope which he slid down, he wore his baseball jersey open, it was old, his father had gotten it for him before his latest business venture into the city.
"I'll ask ma for a coupla' bucks and I'll get a steak from Guapo's." He punched his hat, fitting it on his head until it was nice and snug, pinching the visor and shifting it back and forth.
"My best friends don't know that I don't feel like I belong. Me. Resident baseball star and sometimes heartthrob feels alienated from society." He smirked, the two boys turned, one nudged the other, "That I feel the very fabric of reality is becoming undone at the seams. Like I've reached the end of this dream and I know I'm about to wake up...I know it and I'm not sure I want to see what's on the other side of my eyelids when they open."
Like some sort of Shakespearean romance that wasn't meant to be, he caste pebbles at the second story window, beckoning a teenage bombshell to slide it open and poke her head, looking down at Bobby who stood upon her lawn. He gave a small wave, the brunette smiled impishly, and there was a long awkward silence between them, nothing but the sound of grasshoppers chirping and the sound of Ray Charles coming from the Hamilton's house next door.
Bobby gripped at the back of his neck, he motioned his hand, staring up at the young lady who so furiously gazed down upon him. He cleared his throat, speaking up and breaking the awkward silence by talking, "Ah, well, you know I have a game tomo--"
"Yeah! I'm comin' to see you play!" She responded before he even finished, cutting him off, causing the boy's heart to skip a beat. His lips curled into a geeky smile, his cheeks lighting up a bright red.
"Ah, that's...that's swell..." He chuckled, the girl was a bit embarrassed herself for having so eagerly responded. She slid her hand from her cheek and over her mouth, giggling lightly and cursing her apparent feverish spirit. She tucked a lock of hair behind her ear, pointing down at him.
"The swelling on your eye's going down." She noted, causing Bobby to reach up, feeling the tender spot around his eye.
"Yeah." It was such an awkward conversation filled with sudden gaps, but they knew how they made each other feel, how he made his heart just want to jump straight from his chest and do a dance. He took a few steps back, glancing up the block before looking at her with a smirk, "I should run, I kinda'..."
"Go, go!" She understood that he had sneaked over, she shooed him with her hands before pressing her fingertips to her lips, blowing a kiss at him just as he turned to take off down the block, and just as suddenly as he came, he was gone. Around the corner, over the hedge, through the fence and into his window where he fell into his floor with a nasty clump.
It was barely thirty seconds later there was a bang at his door, the doorknob jingling. "Bobby? Bobby? Are you okay, honey? Did you fall out of bed?" His mother called from the other side of the door, he grunted, wrestling with his denim sneakers, pulling them off one after the other and chucking them in his closet's general direction.
"No--! I'm okay, ma!" He yelled back, tossing off his hat and fixing his hair, combing it back like his mother liked.
"Well, since you're up, I'll bring you some cookies and milk." She sighed, and he knew that was coming, he could read his mother like a book. He could step wrong in his room and cause a creak in the house and his mother would come banging on his door. The old bat was lonely with his pops away, he could see it on her face every time he ran off to school in the morning.
His bedroom was mostly dim, unlit, save for a screen that looked like a vanity mirror set upon his desk. A mess of Erector set pieces and hot glue stood beside it, under the screen which illuminated the room was typewriter-type keyboard. This is what Bobby's dad was on the road selling most of the year, this is what they called a 'Personal Computer.' No one was interested, it was way too ahead of it's time. No one had interest in machines, not now, at least.
The chair swiveled, and he plopped down on it, flexing his fingers and cracking his neck. There was something that caught Bobby's attention, something that startled him, the prompt began writing without him even touching the keys--
yankee_fan: Do not tread further.
yankee_fan: Peril ahead._ "Wha'...?" He whispered, stroking his chin, his eyes narrowing upon the screen. He tapped at the keys, unsure of what to type, unsure if this machine was having some sort of malfunction or if this was some sort of error message.
homerun_hitter: Is someone there?
yankee_fan: Nothing is here but the truth.
homerun_hitter: ...
homerun_hitter: Who are you?
yankee_fan: I'll see you at the game. I'm a big fan.
yankee_fan: Watch out for those men in black.
USER: yankee_fan has logged out_ "These cookies are going to get stale on the table if you don't huuurryyy~" His mother called from up the hallway, Bobby stared at the blinking cursor on his screen, standing suddenly, leaving the chair spinning as he stepped out into the hallway.
Outside of the home suburban home, a black luxury sedan pulled up, the lights cutting off as it parked across the street.
The sound of the crowd cheering as he stepped up to bat, he smacked the bottom of his cleats, beating the dirt between the spikes. Betsy stood in the stands, holding up a sign that read "Go, Bobby, go!!" She spared the extra money to get glitter to make her sign that much more snazzy.
He zoned out, it's the only time he remotely felt real, sitting alone in whiteness. Him, the pitcher, his bat and that ball that came whizzing at him at roughly 80 MPH every game. He lifted the heavy wood up, his eyes narrowing, he gripped down so hard it's as if he heard a high pitch squeal come from the bat, as if he felt numbers, coding upon his fingers that became broken as he gripped it--
It was so disorienting, it broke the whiteness--
The sound of the ball coming into contact with the buff catcher's mitt, the umpire--his science teacher, Mr. Braxton called out for the strike. The crowd jeered before cheering again, "Get your head in the game, Bobby!!" He heard, causing him to look up at the crowd, Betsy seated next to his mother. The sweetness in his life. She blew a kiss at the boy. Gripping the bandage on his nose, he re-adjusted it, taking a deep breath.
"C'mon, Bobby! It's all on you!!" His best friends in the bullpen on his back, cheering him on, he looked at the bat, shaking off whatever had happened and lifting it once more. He gripped the bat hard again in hopes that he would feel what he felt before, but there was nothing. He took a weak swing again before cocking back, getting in the zone again, everyone's voice was drowned out and he was focused once more--
The solid crack of wood to ball, splinters flying from how hard the connection was--
"BACK--!! BACK--!! THIS COULD BE IT, LADIES AND GENTLEMEN!!" The announcer, Brian Barber cried into the microphone, standing. The outfield scrambled, trying to get under the ball, all the while, Bobby began triumphantly running toward first base--
But he froze halfway--
Something he saw--
In the distance, near the school, there were men descending down the slope, men dressed nicely. Too nicely. Men in black.
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Post by LIVEnSPIRALS on Jan 14, 2009 14:20:17 GMT -5
There was a long pause after he had entered in what he had typed. The seconds that passed by seemed to last an eternity as he waited. But what was he looking to find? Just what did he expect was going to happen? These thoughts questioned in his mind as he continued to stare at the blank screen. Letting out a deep sigh he slowly pulled away from the laptop screen. This wouldn't have been the first time his laptop randomly seemed to light up. He'd just chalk it all up to some vibration he might have made when he dropped down on his bed.
"Maybe Woodson was right...," he said to himself as he ran his hand over his close cut black hair. Wiping his hand down his face he stood up erect, and glanced at his bed. "Maybe I do need more sleep," he said as he turned back to face his computer, ready to give it a long deserved rest as well.
MR_SANDMAN > Do you really want to know? The man's dark brown eyes narrowed on the screen as the green text slid across the screen. Tilting his head slightly he rolled his chair back and sat down in it.INSOMNIAC > Do I want to know what?
MR_SANDMAN > Why dreams exist.
INSOMNIAC > You have the answer?
MR_SANDMAN > I know the truth. Everything seemed to come to a halt around him as he continued to stare at the screen. Just who was this person that he was talking to? Claiming that they knew the truth. Probably just some nutcase trying to spread some conspiracy garbage.INSOMNIAC: Enlighten me.
MR_SANDMAN > Some other time. But know this...
MR_SANDMAN > Dangerous thoughts have consequences.
## USER LOG OFF MR_SANDMAN ## Dropping his fist down onto the arm of the chair he cursed to himself. Who the hell was that? They made no sense. They claimed to know the truth, yet they left him more confused than he was before. Though, before he could continue questioning what had just taken place he felt a vibration coming from his hip. Reaching down he unclipped his phone and flipped it open.
"Yeah?"
A pause.
"I'll be right there."[/blockquote][/blockquote][/size]
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Post by Matachi on Jan 14, 2009 16:46:45 GMT -5
His heart sunk into the pit of his stomach. All he could think of was that green text, the last thing his computer said to him, or whoever was inside of it. The crowd cried to him to round first, wondering why he'd stopped, but they weren't seeing what he saw. They didn't know that the men who were coming from the outfield were somehow linked to this reality that he knew was fake.
Clenching his teeth, he turned, running back toward the batting cage. The Agents would dash across the field when they saw that their target was running, he knew too much, he'd been in contact with those who managed to move beyond the Matrix. It didn't take long for people to notice what was happening, whoever these men in black were, they were chasing star baseball player Bobby Barkley.
"Hey--what'd he do!?"
"What's going on?!"
"Why're they chasing Bobby?!"
Of course, the skeptical crowd figured that these men who were dressed so nicely. Their first thought were these guys were mobsters, so it didn't take long for the men in the crowd to take the field, heading the two agents off in attempt to stall and figure out the situation.
"Out of the way--!" One of the agents grunted as they both tried to work their way through the crowd, being shoved and grabbed at by a slew of men, out of the corner of their eye, reflected upon their shades, they saw a girl take off after Bobby--
Meanwhile, Bobby was already halfway up the block in full sprint, the clacking of his cleats on the hot cement, the uproar of the crowd on the field when they noticed that those who they sought to stop were no longer amongst their numbers.
"Bobby! Bobby!!" A voice came behind the sprinting boy, he took a glance back, tripping on his cleats and down he went--
Tumbling across the sidewalk, skinning his arm, tearing his uniform--
"Oh my god! Bobby!" Betsy hurried to his side, out of breath from trying to keep up with the boy in her long skirt. He gasped for breath, sitting up, trying to put it all together. Why were they chasing him? Why did they want him? He frantically tried to get to his feet, watching her transform as she approached, a static screech, and before he knew it she was gone, one of those terrifying men in black.
"Sorry, Robert...but you're going to have to come with us..." The agent spoke, it was all something out of one of those horror comics he read, like something straight out of the Twilight Zone. His eyes watered, the second agent popped up directly behind him, casting a shadow on him.
"Who are you...? What do you want...?! Leave me alone--!" He threw up his hand as the Agent reached down, grabbing his wrist and pulling him eye-level. A car came screeching up, all black, a third agent inside opened the door for the two on the sidewalk.
BLAM BLAM!
The sound of gunfire from a revolver, the Agent holding Bobby up toppled over into a parked car, releasing the boy, looking down at his chest and feeling on the bullet hole. The agent slumped, Bobby scampered away from the second Agent that laid dead behind him, flickering and revealing old man Marko, the resident ice cream shop owner.
"Bob...by..." A gurgle, the horrid sound of Betsy choking on her own blood, the brimming tears poured from his eyes, burning his cheeks, his body jolted as more gunfire was exchanged between the agent in the cruiser and a mysterious man who had suddenly come from a home nearby clad with old fashioned guns and a brown leather jacket with a nice white fur collar.
"Betsy...!! BETSY!!" He tried to hurry over to her, reaching out, the bullets that whizzed back and forth came to an abrupt end, and before he could cradle his dying girlfriend he could feel the earth underneath him be pulled away as he was lifted.
"Listen! We don't have much time--" The man was rather old, he had that Clint Eastwood flare about him, the crow's feet at the edge of his eye wrinkled, pulling Bobby face to face. "You make a decision right now, I show you the harsh truth to your reality if you pick red or you can pick blue and live in ignorance." He lifted a hand up to the boy's face, between his index, middle and ring finger were two pills, one red, the other blue.
"Betsy..." The boy wept, he'd taken such a blow--
"I'm sorry about your gal-pal--but you have to choose--" The man's voice was like two sheets of sandpaper scraping against one another, so demanding and rasp. Why was he yelling at him? Why was Betsy dead? What was going on? Why was this happening? The old man looked past Bobby, two agents were already coming up the block, pulling guns from their holsters--
"NOW!!"
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Post by blank on Jan 14, 2009 17:30:03 GMT -5
3:58am
Downstairs, she saw him.
He was short, and had a rather rondenty look about him. People would have brushed this guy off as a street thug or some gangster's errandboy, his skully pulled down firmly on his head over his brow and a cigarette hanging from his thin, chapped lips. Was he the Doormouse?
"Y'comin', or what?" the little guy said with a scruffy, scratchy voice dripping heavily with a south Jersey accent.
"Doormouse?"
"Y'lookin' at 'im."
"Where are were supposed to be going."
"Down d'rabbit hole, of course." He chuckled and flicked the remainder of the cigarette away into the street, then began walking.
She reluctantly followed.
4:12am
"Your next stop is here." The Doormouse squeaked.
She scratched her arm and scrunched her nose, then looked around. They were in what seemed like a decrepit alleyway with an annoyingly defective streetlight blinking on and off over and over. "Wait, you lead me out here? This is the rabbit hole? Why am I even following you?"
Great question. One she probably should have asked before she left. But something was tugging gently at her curiosity. As if, what was happening now was more real that what logic would denote.
"You're following me because you want to know, don't you?" The Doormouse answered.
"Know what?"
"That's your question to answer. Now, there's the door. You're late."
On the front of the rusty old door in across from them was a sign that said, "Looking Glass". Was this what the Mad Hatter was referring to? She turned to inquire of the Doormouse. "Hey, what is this pla--"
But before she could finish, he was gone. She looked up the street, then down the street, the crackling orange streetlight, still dully blinking.
"Welcome." A voice called out from the door. There was a woman clad in black, hair as red as a flame, with eyes that were crystal blue like the Caribbean waters. "I am the Mad Hatter. Care to join the tea party?"
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Post by Matachi on Jan 14, 2009 18:06:04 GMT -5
The door-to-door salesman that was his father, sitting in the living room like a king upon his throne, watching the TV with a half-empty bottle of Scotch in his grip. The stubble on his face was so thick, it reminded him of when he was a child, being hugged close by his father while his face pricked him. He'd removed his coat, yet was still wearing his fedora.
"Heeeeeeeeeeeereeee's Johnny!" Ed McMahon announced, Johnny Carson hurrying out onto the stage, waving to the crowd with his dashing smile. Bobby, only ten years old at the time, inched his way around the couch, looking to his father who finally noticed the boy was standing there, startled--
"Ho--whooboy...! What're you doin' up so late, kiddo?" The man asked, Bobby's eyes were wide, discontent with the broken man before him. His breath that lingered upon the air stunk of alcohol and his visage wasn't what it was.
It was this memory that he held onto as he swallowed the red pill while tucked away behind a car, taking cover from the oncoming fire of the agents. His eyes widened, he gasped for air, his fingers curled--
He looked over, the old man next to him with the brown leather coat was on some sort of device he didn't recognize. Was that a phone of some sort? He could only wonder, his body trembled, his teeth rattled, and it all started going white. That old man's voice was all he could hear, he was yelling at someone about a location of some sort, but he couldn't make out anything.
He awoke in a vat of pink, pushing through what seemed to be skin that wrapped around the gooey pink liquid. A placenta of sorts, struggling to get out, to breathe, to live. He gripped a long metal tube that raped his throat, pulling at it, gagging and heaving, hanging over the side of the vat, vomiting the liquid he managed to swallow. There was a whirring, a cable becoming unscrewed from the base of his neck. He reached, feeling his head, noticing his hair was gone, he came to, it was like he was seeing for the first time...and what he was seeing wasn't pleasant.
Thousands, no, millions of people in vats of liquid, a machine descending from above, watching him closely, a tendril reaching out to wrap around his neck--
One thing was for sure, this wasn't Kansas, anymore.
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Post by blank on Jan 14, 2009 18:07:04 GMT -5
This was a dream.
That was it. She was dreaming. She'd fallen asleep on her desk. Of course. But if it was a dream, how did she know it was one? It certainly felt like one. This had to be a result of her term paper. Maybe next time she did a study on Alice Lidell, she would stay off the Redbull.
It was a dream. What could it hurt.
"Sure," she said without protesting. "I'm kinda hungry anyway.
She walked up to the door and pressed her way in, but to her surprise, the room was pitch black. There felt as if there were neither a floor nor a ceiling. All she could see was the woman walking in front of her, walking on nothing, leading her to...something.
As she looked behind her, she saw the door strangely staying close behind her. But, they were walking...away?
"Why--"
"--is the door still so close behind?" The Mad Hatter interrupted, knowing her concerns. "Because. You always have the choice of leaving the rabbit hole."
4:29am?
After what felt like minutes, she looked down at her cellphone that had been resting in her pocket. The time was blinking.
4:29
3:54
2:43
6:01
9:28
"Dreaming. I'm dreaming. Only explanation."
Suddenly, they stopped. "That's one way of putting it." The Madd Hatter said, running her long fingers through her mess of red waves. "Lights."
Just then, florescent bulbs flickered on, and the door that had been behind her was now closed, but still in it's place. "Now, do you wish to wake up from this dream and go back to your comfortable world with your black coffee and midterm papers, or would you like to have the veil lifted from your eyes so that you can see the harsh, true reality that has been hidden from your mind for so long?"
The girl, still in awe, looked back at the door behind her. Neither sounded too promising. "Explain again?"
The Hatter held out both of her fists, palms downward, then flipped them over. In her left hand was what looked like a blue gel pill, and in the other was a red one.
"It simple. A superior of mine once put it, '"You take the blue pill, the story ends, you wake up in your bed, and believe whatever you want to believe. You take the red pill, you stay in Wonderland, and I show you just how deep the rabbit hole goes.' Get it?"
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Post by LIVEnSPIRALS on Jan 14, 2009 18:21:50 GMT -5
Orange lights danced overhead as the small silver car drove through the tunnel. There was no music playing, just the soft sound of the engine humming to entertain the ears of the two men. Just like before the black male sat in the passenger's seat, his dark brown eyes lost in a sea of thought. In the driver's seat was the same brown haired man from before, and during the ride he would occasionally glance over at the man sitting to his right.
"Y'know...you're really starting to piss me off with this silent treatment. We've been partners for three years, Luke. Three years," the man said to finally break the silence. "You're like a brother to me. So if something's bothering you, then just tell me."
"Do you ever dream, Woodson?"
"Do I--what? Not this again. Yes, I dream. I dream of the day you'll get that dream-psycho-babble out of your head," he said as he tightened his grip on the wheel. Ever since their last assignment, Luke over there had been acting strange. Talking about dreams and the like. "Look, man. What good is a dream if it doesn't involve hot chicks and a hot tub? Nothing. Why're you so obsessed with this stuff anyway?"
"Just forget it. Where're we goin' anyway?"
"Remember that hacker case that Remy and McLain have been working on? Well, seems they've pinpointed him or whatever. It just so happens that we're the closest ones to him, so we get to go in first," he said as he chuckled to himself. "Calls himself the Sandman, or whatever."
"Sandman, huh?"
"Yeah. If we catch him maybe you can ask him all about dreams."
"Maybe I will..."
_____________________
Pulling up to a seemingly abandoned house the two looked it over for a moment. After verifying that it was the place they were supposed to be they stepped out of the car. Wasting no time Luke pulled out his handgun, and started to move in on the gated out -- leaving Woodson to call in to alert the others.
Crawling over the gate Luke cautiously moved towards the house, his gun at the ready. From the looks of things, there didn't seem to be anybody in the house. But looks can be deceiving. Making his way to the door he attempted to simply open the door, and much to his surprise it worked. Not liking the looks of things he motioned for Woodson to hurry over.
"You check the inside, I'll go 'round the back," Luke would say as he pushed away from his partner. Nodding Woodson slowly opened the door and moved in. Sticking close to the edge of the house he cautiously made his way around the back. However, just as he was about to reach out for the door it busted open, almost causing him to topple over. A dark figure jumped out of the building and began making a break for the dark alleyways behind the house.
"Freeze!" Luke called out, causing the figure to stop in their tracks. Looking back to see who it was the male figure frowned a little.
"Do you want to know the truth or not?" the man barked before taking off down the street. Quickly shaking off the confusion Luke darted after him, not bothering to alert his partner or anything. Hopping over fences, cutting around corners, it took Luke his all just to keep sight of this guy.
Panting heavily he watched as the man walked into an abandoned storehouse, and quickly ran in after him. Keeping his gun before him he slowly walked behind some of the crates that had been lined up. "Where are you?"
"Are you certain that you want to know the truth?" the man spoke as he continued to hide in the shadows. The sounds of his shuffling could be heard, which Luke attempted to follow. "Can you handle it?" the man would say as the lights suddenly turned on, and he stepped infront of Luke. The man was no taller than five-seven, sporting a black leather jacket, and his skin darker than coal.
"Who are you?" Luke said as he quickly pointed the gun at his head the man didn't flinch. Rather, he merely looked Luke right in the eyes and extracted something from his pocket. Just then he could hear a commotion coming from outside of the storehouse.
"They're coming...," he said as he extended his hand towards Luke. Opening his palm there were two pills, one red on and one blue one. "If you really want to know the truth then you'll pick the red one," he said as the storehouse door busted open and several men wearing black suits began to enter in. With his free hand the dark man pulled out a gun of his own, and aimed it at the agents.
"Good job, Detective Barnes. We can cover it from here," one of the agents said as they slowly drew closer, gun aimed at the hacker.
"And what if I chose the blue?" Luke asked as his eyes shifted from the approaching agents to the man before him.
"Then you'll just keep on dreaming...," he answered as his finger began to tighten on the trigger. "Now hurry up and pick one."
"Dammit," Luke cursed as he reached forward and grabbed one of the pills and popped it in his mouth. At this point he didn't care what happened next. He wasn't even sure what pill he took. All he knew was that something was about to happen in the next couple of seconds...
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Post by blank on Jan 14, 2009 18:34:46 GMT -5
"No. But..."
Suddenly, there was the sound of what seemed like motorcycles revving up for a street race a couple of blocks down. But in her head, they seemed to be in the room with her.
"...what's--"
"Quickly. You much choose." The red headed woman blurted, her demeanor less whimsical, but not shaken. "Blue or red."
The sounds got closer, and from a dark corner in the room stepped the Doormouse. "Agents. Three...no...five. We're outnumbered."
"Fuck." She said, looking around. "Get to the phone. We need an exit ready."
The little mousey man pulled out a black cell phone with one hand, then a large gun from under his trench coat with the other. It looked like it would knock him over, but he held it with ease.
"What's going on? Ohshit. Are these drugs? Are those the police??? Like, agents? FBI?" The young woman exclaimed, her heart beating triple time. "This better be a fucking dream, because I can't go to prison!"
"Sure. Whatever you want to think. The pills are your only way out. Wake up in your bed, or wake up in reality, your choice.
She hesitated, looking back and forth at the pills. The motorcycles were right outside the door. "UM, UH, okay!" Quickly, she snatched the red pill and tossed it back, without a moment to spare. The 'agents' were trying to break the door in.
"Here we go! DM, do it!"
That's when it happened, she felt her body being ripped in two, as if her brain was being ripped from her skull. Her reality was peeling away in a sea of metal. All she could do was see black suits bursting in and flurries of gunshots piercing the air, all becoming muffled by the buzzing rattle of metal being ripped from her skull.
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Post by LIVEnSPIRALS on Jan 14, 2009 19:24:15 GMT -5
Feeling one of the pills leave his hand the Sandman quickly pushed Luke down to the ground. Firing off two shots he nailed two of the agents in the head before dropping down behind some crates. Dragging Luke with him to a safer location Sandman fired off a couple of more shots at the incoming agents. "Just hold on, we'll be there to pick you up soon," he would say.
His words would be for naught though. No sooner had he been pushed to the floor did Luke's body begin to feel as though it was tensing up. A cold sensation rushed over the entirety of his body as his eyes shot wide open. "Wh-what did you do to me?" he questioned, but if there was an answer he could not hear it. The gunfire, the breaking crates, all of it seemed to be drowned out by an aggrivating buzz. "Arrggghh!!" he cried out as breathing became all but impossible for him. Clutching his throat as if he could pull away what ever it was that was choking him. Frantically looking around he tried to find Sandman, but he was nowhere to be seen. And then, just like that...
Everything went black...
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Post by blank on Jan 15, 2009 1:45:16 GMT -5
Three very different lives now converge to one very important task...
__________________________________________________
The Zion Ship Database | Crew Profile
The Exodus
Captain: Mose First Mate: Aron Operator: Sapphire
Crewmen: Hatter DM (Doormouse) Lilac Foxx Mars Retro _
__________________________________________________
"Foxx..."
"Mm..."
"...Fooooxx wake up..."
"Huh, whuh? I'm up."
"Laaaaate."
Foxx stretched out on her thin mattressed top bunk and rubbed her eyes before rolling over to see who was summoning her. "Oi. Lilac. Where's everybody?"
The little fifteen year old girl smiled and started climbing the skinny ladder attached to the metal bed railing, then pushed herself over on top of Foxx, rolling over and laying next to her with her nose to Foxx's nose. "Foooooxxy. You're laaaaate!"
"Late?" she said again with a groggy rattle, pushing Lilac off of her and toward the wall. "What did I tell you about bothering me and shit while I'm napping. I have a...ohsnap!" The raven haired femme rolled herself off the top bunk and landed on her bare feet. She slid on her heavy leather boots, and without even lacing them, stomped her way to the main deck where she knew she should have been ten to fifteen minutes earlier. Everyone was already in their chairs, ready to be plugged in. She looked over at Hatter and DM, who were already assimilated into the program.
"So, you finally join us, 'ey Foxx?" The captain said, hopping down from his chair and clomping his big boots. She rubbed her sleep crusted eye and smiled sheepishly before cracking out a "Hey, sorry Mose..."
"Sorry isn't gonna cut it, Foxx. Hatter and DM have been in there for an hour now, prepping this kid for his deactivation while you're in your cabin cat napping? What if they needed immediate reinforcements?"
"And hour?! Well, Retro is right there--"
"Retro and Mars are YOUR backup, Foxx."
She fell silent. Arguing with Mose was like arguing with your father. It would get you nowhere and it wasn't wise to do unless you were prepared for severe punishment. Over at the operating switchboard, Sapphire typed furiously, examining the green 01 nomenclatures on the screen, otherwise unreadable to the untrained eye, like she was a Russian spy. "So far so good. I've locked in on the kid's signal, and I'm sending them the coordinates now."
"Good. Now Foxx, get ready. You're going in."
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Post by Matachi on Jan 15, 2009 2:09:31 GMT -5
Mars. Also known as Ares, god of war. He was named this as a joke by his first mentor, Connor, over losing his bird and running in guns blazing on his first mission. This wasn't the same Bobby that was pulled from the Matrix five years ago, no, this man wasn't as smooth or naive. This man was jagged like a shard of broken glass, he moved with a certain grace, yet he was so messy. His face was covered in stubble, his short blond hair was a mess, as if he hadn't groomed himself in years, not like you could care much for your appearances while living underground.
The tight black turtleneck he wore and ripped slacks he wore were pretty messy, the pants hanging from his ass and his turtleneck was bunched up. He scratched through the thick sweater at his stomach, dropping through the porthole, reaching up and scratching at his stubbly face. "Yo, wassup?"
Much like Foxx, he spent his time sleeping, and was late often. Some would say it was irresponsible, but he called it managing his time more efficiently. Skim some of someone else's time and add more to yours, right? The difference between him and Foxx was that no one could really guilt him about being late, he just didn't care enough. Reckless is what it was, but when the job needed to get done, Mars made sure it was done, he may not have been as handy as someone should have been, but he was efficient with what he did. He was taught well.
"Gimme somethin' to shoot, Mosey."
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Post by LIVEnSPIRALS on Jan 15, 2009 2:21:10 GMT -5
Standing near Sapphire was a tall black male. His chair was cut short with a little goatee growing around his mouth. The former detective known as Luke Barnes was gone, like a wavering dream. The man watching the monitors was Retro, clad in a simple navy blue t-shirt that seemed to fit him just right, black jeans and some combat boots. An unlit cigarette bounced up and down on his lips as he folded his arms over his chest.
Glancing back as Foxx entered into the main deck he smiled a little. "Good to see that Lilac could wake you up," he said as he offered her a simple wave in greetings. His dark brown eyes then moved to Mars as he managed to make his way to the deck as well. Shaking his head he turned back to look at the green screen. It was because of that bozo that Retro had gotten the reputation of being such an insomniac. Then again, even while he was still plugged into the Matrix he was ridiculed for his tendency to skip sleep.
Guess some things never change.
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