“Alex,” a distant voice murmured. “I think he’s finally waking up.”
Alex slowly began to open his eyes. At first he thought he was lying in a field, looking up at a mountain with the sun shining brightly down upon his eyes. Gradually, the face of a beautiful young woman came into focus. With her vibrant green eyes, long, brown hair, fair skin and angelic appearance, she smiled affectionately at him. “Alex?” she asked. “How are you feeling?”
To say he felt well would be a total lie. In fact, Alex felt as if he had the worse hangover in his life. His lips were parched, his head throbbed, and his muscles ached. The stale lights of the room made his brain feel as if it were about to explode.
“Turn off the light,” he began to mumble. Even the sound of his own voice made the pounding in his head worse.
The ambient light in the room began to dim, and the room’s large bay windows provided ample daylight to keep the area well lit.
“How are you feeling?” she asked again in a soft, comforting tone.
Alex instinctively pulled the sheets over his head, almost like a child would do when asked to arise for school in the morning. Though wanting immediate answers, he needed a few moments to himself before becoming fully awake.
The young woman smiled as she pulled down the sheets.
Alex blinked his eyes a few times until the entire room fully came into focus. There were no mountains or trees. To his surprise, Alex found himself lying in bed in his own bedroom. Looking down upon him was his fiancée, Marissa Ambrosia. Her face and smile brought him immediate relief.
He could not help at this moment but to remember how they first met three years ago. She had looked so beautiful then, as she did now. With her form fitting brown dress and svelte figure, she had instantly attracted his attention. Then, after working closely to find and distribute a cure for The Disease, they became inseparable. Within six months they were engaged.
“You gave me some scare back at the office,” Samantha chimed in. “You look a lot better than you did yesterday,” she added, noticing that he had regained some of his color.
“What happened?” Alex asked. “And how long was I out?”
“Almost a day,” Marissa answered.
“A day!” Alex quickly responded. “How could I have been out for a day?” his strength slowly began to return as the shock of the situation made the adrenaline in his body flow. “And how did I get here? The last thing I remember was putting on a crown sent to me by Albert Rosenberg.”
Alex quickly sat up in his bed. The covers fell to his waist, revealing that he was wearing nothing but black boxers. “Then I was in a field on a horse and looking up at a magnificent mountain.”
“Alex,” Samantha answered sympathetically, “you were neither on a horse or climbing a mountain. After you passed out and were medically stabilized, you were taken here directly from your office.”
“The thing is,” Alex insisted, “I felt as if I were on a horse next to a mountain. The scene was just as real and vivid as this is now. I’ve had dreams before, but this experience was absolutely nothing like I’ve ever experienced. I swear it felt as if I were transported to another place, if not time.”
“If you’re trying to tell me you want to go horseback riding,” Samantha jested, hoping to make her old friend feel better, “we’ll all go this weekend.”
“That’s odd,” Marissa interjected.
“What?” Alex asked, ignoring Samantha’s comment.
Marissa placed a silver disc called a virtual cerebral imager or VCI for short on his forehead. A transparent hologram of Alex’s brain appeared between the three of them. Rapidly changing colors, the image began to rotate.
“You see this one bright red spot here?” Marissa said, pointing to a C-shaped portion of the holographic image directly in the middle of the brain. “This area is called the posterior cingulate cortex.”
Both with a neuroscience background, Alex and Samantha recognized the anatomy but failed to realize its significance.
“The PCC as it’s called for short,” Marissa went on to explain, “is the most metabolically active portion of the entire brain, and on average has a 40 percent higher blood flow than any other area of the organ. However, as you both can observe by the bright red color of this area on the VCI holograph, Alex’s PCC is garnering well over 500 percent more blood flow than the rest of the brain.”
“Is that why I passed out?” Alex asked.
“There’s more to it than that,” Samantha answered, realizing where Marissa was headed. She then stood up from the bed and grabbed the golden crown sitting on an adjacent end table.
Marissa took the artifact and pointed to two, small, gold-colored circuit boards attached to opposite sides of it where it rests on the head.
“I didn’t see these,” Alex said aloud, immediately realizing their significance.
He then took the crown and began to inspect it for other surreptitious items.
“We already did that,” Samantha said. “There’s nothing else on it. The only thing we found were those two electronic doo-hickies there and a few strands of hair. At first I thought they were yours because they looked the same, but under closer inspection they appeared much older and brittle. I sent them to the labs for some genetic testing. Maybe it will provide a few extra clues.”
“They’re certainly not doo-hickies,” Alex said, quickly putting together everything that transpired and why they occurred. “These are PCC accelerators directly attuned to a person’s unique subatomic quantum vibration frequency.”
“In English,” Samantha answered.
“The New Reality uses something similar,” Alex quickly responded, “when priming someone’s brain to enter their virtual reality world. That’s why when you placed the crown on your head nothing happened.”
“Because the PCC accelerator was attuned only to Alex’s quantum frequency,” Marissa added, “it could only effect his brain and not yours.”
“But why?” Samantha asked, “And who placed them there?”
“Albert Rosenberg,” Alex answered. “I don’t know for what reason he had this crown sent to me three years after he died or why he had these accelerators place on them. But I do know this: it was certainly no accident.”
“How can you just assume it was from Albert?” Marissa asked. “Just because the card had his name on it, that doesn’t mean he sent it.”
“I would normally agree with you,” Alex said. “Except that there was one thing on the note that mentioned breaking the pound. During one of the last times I spoke with him before he passed away, he said the exact same thing. I didn’t know what he meant, and I assumed his dying mind was simply wandering. He said it then, and now I see it once again. This is no coincidence. Nothing’s ever a coincidence with Albert Rosenberg.”
The PCC area of the holograph suddenly began to turn a thicker shade of red. Then, certain areas of the surrounding brain began to change into a darker orange color.
Alex clutched his head, dropping the crown to his lap. Beads of sweat began to trickle down from his brow and all other color in his face vanished for a brief second.
Slowly, the PCC and all the other areas on the brain began to turn back to their original colors as Alex moaned in agony.
Marissa grabbed a puck-shaped device from the black medical bag hanging around her shoulder and placed it against Alex’s chest. A holographic image of his body then appeared next to the bed with each organ system highlighted a different color and digital readout quickly changing adjacent to them.
“What’s going on?” Samantha asked.
“I don’t know,” Marissa responded. “It seems as if the effects of the accelerators on the crown have not yet resolved. In fact Alex’s PCC suddenly became even more hyperactive.”
“The mountain,” Alex said as the pain subsided. “It was more than just in my head,” Turning to his fiancée, he said while catching his breath, “Marissa, as an esteemed physician and former member of the National Institutes of Health medical team, correct me if I’m wrong.”
Marissa nodded her head.
“The PCC is the anatomic portion of the brain that generates human consciousness,” Alex continued. “And because human consciousness lies on a subatomic level, it would make it the brain’s greatest quantum field generator.”
“So what you are trying to suggest is,” Marissa surmised, in disbelief at his presumed conclusion, “that somehow you connected to someone else’s quantum field and were experiencing what he was experiencing?”
“More than that,” Alex said. “Because time exists on a quantum level and isn’t linear, maybe I was experiencing something that has not happened to me as of yet.”
“Or maybe happened in another lifetime?” Samantha added whimsically.
Though stated facetiously, Alex agreed. “You’re right,” he said bright eyed. “It almost seemed as if I were not only a different person but also in a different time.”
Alex grabbed the puck-shaped device off his chest, terminating the holographic image of his body. Then he took off the disc on his forehead and handed it back to Marissa. Feeling a little stronger now, he moved over to the edge of the bed, despite his fiancée’s disapproving eyes.
“So what’re you trying to say?” Samantha asked skeptically. “That you are reincarnated?”
“I’m just saying that I can’t rule out any possibilities.” Alex became a little lightheaded and placed his hands on the bed to stabilize himself.
“And before I forget,” Marissa announced, changing the subject, “your aero-bike tournament is completely out of the question. As both your doctor and fiancée, I am confining you to light activity for the next few days.”
Though Alex had certainly looked forward to the race, he could not argue with Marissa. He still felt much too dizzy to walk, let alone fly. Plus, Marissa was an internationally respected physician. Besides helping to find the cure for The Disease, she had distinguished herself many times for her outstanding fieldwork in the most poor and medically underserved areas of the world.
Before he finally attempted to stand, Alex noted his best friend William Fowler sprawled out on a recliner fast asleep. Two pizza boxes, bags of empty snacks, and a few containers of soda littered the area around him. Apparently intoxicated by the massive amount of food he had eaten, William remained in a deep slumber despite their conversation.
“How long’s William been here?” Alex asked.
“All night,” Marissa responded. “Once I told him about your medical mishap, he insisted on coming right over to see you.”
Alex smirked as he pointed to all the trash on the floor. “I assume he brought his appetite with him.”
“He said he wouldn’t leave until you woke up. Then, after about 15 minutes of waiting, he got a little hungry and ordered some food.”
“That’s an understatement.”
“You know what’s an understatement?” Samantha said, looking at both of them. “That this is the most time any of us here in this room have spent with you in almost two years. You’ve been cooped away in your office like some hermit, working on God-knows-what all the time.”
She pointed to Marissa and William, “And for God’s sake not only have you neglected your business but you’ve been neglecting your fiancée and best friend. What’s so damn important that you’d forsake everything you care about?”
Freedom, Alex thought.
He wished he could tell his three closest companions the truth, but he knew that to do so would jeopardize their lives and his plans. With the ongoing demise of all personal freedoms and the rise of the New World Order, he knew that somebody needed to act to save humanity from a future of serfdom.
William finally awoke. “What’s going on?” he muttered, slowly regaining his wits. “How’s Alex?”
He sat up on the recliner. Napkins and a few bags of chips fell to the floor in the process. Wearing a dirty, red hat with only the letters G and R visible above the brim, a wrinkled striped polo shirt and equally wrinkled tan shorts, he looked as if he had been sleeping in his clothes for months.
“See for yourself,” Samantha answered.
“Alex!” William said enthusiastically. “It’s great to see you alive again buddy.” Before he got out of the chair to greet his friend, he looked down into one of the pizza boxes. To his delight a single slice remained. While snatching it in one hand, he stood up and began to eat it as he approached the bed.
Alex could not help but smile. William had been his college roommate, and they became instant lifelong friends. While Alex went for his PhD, William pursued his medical interests and became a virologist. Although appearing as if he could cultivate many new strains of viruses or bacteria from the samples that thrived on his unkempt attire, he was an extremely successful scientist and had also provided invaluable help in finding a cure for The Disease.
“I never thought you were going to wake up,” William said with a mouth full of pizza. His cherub-like smile and boyish face certainly contrasted to his husky physique. Albeit not all muscle, he was built like a linebacker.
“Thanks for your concern,” Alex responded as he pushed himself to his feet and began to stretch. Wearing nothing but boxers, he slowly walked over to a wooden dresser next to the wall. Placing his hand on it, he bent over and looked at his reflection on the mirror above it.
Alex could not believe how sickly he appeared. Though he still had his athletic physique, his color was off, his hair was disheveled, and there were bags under his eyes. Within a second the mirror turned light gray and nothing but his reflection remained. Then in rapid succession, his reflection turned different colors as the mirror scanned his body in various wavelengths and quantum parameters.
Different numbers and characters appeared around his reflection. The scan ended after a brief moment and a tall glass filled with a red liquid rose up from the corner of his dresser. As he slowly grabbed it with one hand, the mirror returned to normal, reflecting the ambient light.
Alex turned and gulped the drink until it was done.
“Does that thing make soda also?” William asked. “I’m parched from all the salt in the pizza.”
“No,” Alex responded, placing the cup back on the dresser. “I invented this device years ago. It scans my body and creates a specific drink each day that supplements all the proteins, minerals and nutrients that my body lacks.” He smiled at his friend. “Though a birch beer dispenser would be a nice addition.”
“A man can hope.”
“So what’d I miss while I was out?” Alex went on to ask.
“Well,” William responded, “there was this fantastic chase that kept broadcasting over and over again. Some top executive guy at The New Reality named Jules Windsor was caught stealing from the company. And when they went to arrest him, he put up one hell of a chase. It preempted many of the programs running at the time. You’ve got to see it! It was awesome.”
Alex really had no interest in watching a manhunt. He doubted the authenticity of the charges against this Jules Windsor and knew the chase was aired more for propaganda purposes than to provide information.
Before he completely disregarded the statement, Alex abruptly stopped moving and looked back at the mirror as if he’d had an epiphany. “Show the Jules Windsor chase,” he said aloud.
“I knew you would be interested!” William said, thrilled to see it again.
The mirror began to display the chase. Although highly edited and devoid of any scenes depicting harm to the WOGs, the capture of Jules Windsor kept on repeating.
“Really?” Marissa asked inquisitively, after viewing it three times. “I’m kind of surprised you’d want to watch it.”
“Maybe his PCC is acting up again,” Samantha said.
Now it makes sense, Alex thought, ignoring both Samantha and Marissa.
The key to changing The New Reality is to break the pound.
He finally understood the meaning of Albert Rosenberg’s riddle.
Alex walked over to the other side of the room. Though still lightheaded and weak, he pressed on. He then placed his two hands on opposite sides of an abstract painting hanging on the wall.
With a sizzling sound, the painting dematerialized and a bright light within it began to illuminate the room.
“Is that a refrigerator?” William asked enthusiastically. “If so, how about that soda?”
“I’ll give you something,” Alex responded, already calculating his next ten moves in rapid succession. Time was limited, especially after learning from the broadcast that Jules Windsor was transferred to the Camp Williams NewREMA facility just 25 miles south of Salt Lake City, Utah. Known as the Auschwitz of the NewREMA camps, survival would be unlikely.
Alex grabbed a half-dollar sized sphere, twisted it once and pulled it apart into two halves. Taking them, he walked over to his friend.
“You got my soda?” William heartily asked.
Before his friend knew what was happening, Alex placed the two half spheres on each of his triceps. William gasped in horror as he watched each of them dissolve into his skin.
“What—” William tried to ask but was too bewildered to continue. Although built like a tank, he was scared of his own proverbial shadow. “What’d you just do?”
Samantha and Marissa were also in disbelief. Known for excellent judgment and foresight, Alex’s action seemed not only rash but also incoherent.
“Why don’t you just sit down?” Samantha said, taking Alex by the shoulder and trying to speak with him like an older sister. “You’ve been through a lot this past day, and I know you’re probably not thinking right at the moment.”
“My arms!” William frantically ranted.
Alex looked at both Samantha and Marissa as William continued to gasp in terror. “Have either of you known me ever to be irrational?”
He gave them both a grin. “You’ve got to trust me now more than ever. I know exactly what I’m doing.”
He then grabbed his robe hanging on a hook next to him. “If you all could please excuse me, I have an aero-bike race today.”