sequences of thr3e

8/14/2019 Sequences of Thr3E

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Author's Note ~Every detail reveals the secret of what's inside. No page need be turned to solvethe mystery, only a perceptive eye and the limitless power of one's imagination.


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Sequences of Thr3EOverlaying theory grants humans the ability to think. Our higher process of thought

enables us to ask questions of why, and how. But what I don't understand is our contingency oftime. Time is in a basic form, just a human response to the randomness of the universe. We use itin our modus operandi to organize our thoughts and through the means of schemes wecategorize things based on sequence of time and event. But since this basic repetition of the threemeans can be separated and broken down, can humans learn to utilize certain aspects, and notothers? The means in which are refered to are thought, time and reality. These three functionsoperate in a dictorial fashion. By theory, the paradigm can be separated and split intomonogamous forms; time reality; thought time; thought reality. By losing the buffer, ormiddle man, the sum of said dichotomy and their separate variables now have a direct correlationon the another.

For fuck's sake Issac, get off the ledge!A pistol aimed right at Issac's forehead forewarned him that Conway's threat was serious

and that higher ups had given the order to expel his soul from the face of this planet.Conway pulled down the safety and steadied his aim. His line of sight became parallel to

Issac's retina. He squinted his eyes to help hold him aim. Moving his focus along the shaft of thegun compensating in his aim with the motion of his expanding lunges moving his aim just theslightest bit. This insured an efficient kill. The cold air runs down his trachea biting at his throatas it pases into his lunges. Conway stands there, wondering what Issac could be thinking thisvery moment. His persistence towards the subject of the three means and abstract thought madehim question Issac's sanity. Issac has no history of instability. What the fuck is wrong with him?Have you lost your marbles Issac? You're standing on the ledge of a 60 story building,preaching to me these precious three means of your... Before Conway could his lasting syllableIssac turn his body 180 degrees. His face now glanced towards the spatial gap between the

skyscrapers. Below people hustling at their normal day lives unaware of Issac's unscheduledlanding. He could feel the wind winding through his hair, circling around his hands which beganto stretch out over the open air. Sweeping the hairs that sprout from his arms, the breezewhispered into his ears, taunting him, swaying him to finish it. The funny thing about all of thisConway, is no one knows. Looking at the ground squinting, forcing his eyes to focus on themeandering ants below, People have no idea. They ignorantly wader about fixating themselveson the trivial terms they call an existence. Completely out of tune with reality. Life's wheel ofconsistency hangs only by a mere thread and yet their daily practices continue unhindered,unaltered. Issac turns to face his advisory. Their eyes connect, sparking an energy that curses thesurrounding air.

You don't need to run Issac.Twisting his neck, glancing towards to streets, Issac whispered, They always run, that's

something no one can ever change. The click form Conway's gun signaled the hammer was inposition to fall, ready to ignite the line of events.

Then choose you next move Issac. A smirk came across Issac's face. Giggling at theredundancy of the comment, If there is anything to learn from all this, it's the fact that there areno such things as choices. Issac's thy muscles tightened as his knees folded. His weight shiftedand soon became weightless. Before his mark left the steady concrete roof, Conway, fired onedeafening shot. His hands recoil as the shell casing shook hands with gravity. The spinning bulletzipped by Issac's head ripping the air in every direction.


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The MarkFucking hell. A man's voice whines. Oh, Saint Merry of Peter's pearly white gates my

head hurts.A masculine voice rebutted, Whats wrong suga pie? The man glanced over to the blond

haired beauty laying under the covers. A distraught look came across the mans face as he realizesthe voice belonged to a very masculine looking man. Your head hurts because you drank tomuch, silly. Take a few Advil and you'll be fine. The man leaped up from the bed and danced hisway to the bathroom.

What the hell... The stunned man through to himself, What the hell did you do lastnight Marcus? The firm man shuffled back into the bed room with two different sets of pills.

Here you go. Take these, give it 10 minutes, and you'll be dandy. Marcus looked at therationality of the situation and found himself confused. He knew he had bisexual tendencieswhen intoxicated, but never had he awoke next to such a beautiful creature and not remember hisor her name. Realizing this he opted for the medication hoping that in the retreat of mentalconsistency during his high, this situation would be put to rest.

Thanks.Here you go studly. The mans arms retraact in a flamboyant manner from handing

Marcus his escape. So, did you enjoy yourself last night?What exactly happened last night?Hah, well if I remember correctly, everything. And let me tell ya, evrathing was fan-

freaking-tastic! Marcus chuckled at this because even when hes inebriated he preforms well. Ashe focused his mind on trying to remember the past evening the nightstand next to the bed startedto vibrate. A red Razr set to the Vibrate setting shook the red oak table.

555-7865. Who is this? Marcus muttered to himself.Who's that? You're boyfriend?I don't know who it is. Ive never seen this number before. The phone continued to buzz.

Well answer it, it could be Mr. Rigt holl'a'ing at cha. The man snickered. Marcus tookthe crimson phone and flipped it open. Placing it parallel to his ear he began to speak, Hello?Hello, Marcus. What are you up to? A voice answered.Who is this?Well I don't condemn you for forgetting the sound of your brother's voice.Holy shit my pants, Issac. How the hellare ya?You know how life is, stressful. It's almost as though there is not enough time in the

world to accomplish even the most simple of tasks.You always did love to utilize your time wisely. Mom and dad would be proud.I know they are.What?Nothing. At that moment Issac's normal uppity, go lucky, over pronunciation like voice

indicatively went sour. The mood rapidly shifts to a somber, solemn tone. Like many of the timesIssac has contacted Marcus, it was because he was in need of something.

So... What is it this time Issac?Well, I happen to be in town for work and I thought I would ring my big brother to see if

he would accompany me to lunch today? It has been over 2 year Marcus since the last time wehave spoken.

You were known to keep a tight agenda.A wispy voice interrupted their conversation, Who are you talking too? The mans


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fingers began to caress Marcus's back with a touch as light as a feather. This immediately sparksa tingling sensation inside of Marcus. Goose bumps shoot all over his back as shivers coursedown his spine.

Wow big bro. Who is that? Issac spoke mockingly. Marcus batted the man's fingersaway, regretting the decision after he stopped.

No one, Hastily spoken, Where do you want to go for lunch?You happen to be the one who lives here. You also happen to be the one who knows

where around here is good. After several moments of deliberation on Marcus's part he finallyarrived at a destination of choice.

The Acilica Restaurant. 44th and Continuum. Know how to find it?I'm sure I can ask the driver of my taxi. 12:30?12:30 is fine. Ill see you there.Goodbye, brother.That was odd. Hes never called me brother before. Marcus thought to himself.Everything okay stud?

Yea everything is fine. Marcus paused in contemplation. A second passed and his maleinstinct took control. He glance towards the blond who was now getting dressed. Oh, no youdon't. He grabbed a hold of the man and laid him on the bed. Now, where were we?

Means To An End (109)In looking further into Trichotomy, Thought Time Reality, operates in a liner but

circular pattern. Traveling in a sequence of events never out of said sequence. The wholethinking behind this paradigm is that Time is in fact a thought. It is humans innate ability toorganize the randomness of the universe. Time can even be refereed to as a sixth sense. Sense isin fact a thought, humans can learn to gain control of said thought. By surpassing Time andeliminating it from the paradigm we find that Thought directly effects Reality.If thought can

directly effect reality then humans can, in theory, control existence by abstract thought.Looking down at his watch Marcus sees the time 12:41 flash in a red dotted fashion. Overand over again unmercifully the seconds pass. With each, striping him of time with his stepbrother. Finlay, I can see the damn building. Marcus uttered to himself. About 2 blocks aheadthere was a building with the lettering D R E E M O R spread wide across its lower floor'sface. Waltzing through the twirling door, Marcus entered the skyscraper. An elevator with thesign above it spelling out ACILICA EXPRESS ELEVATOR. The fast paced elevator was adirect shot to the rooftop where an elegant restaurant stood. Life times went by, seemingly, as theelevator made its forty five second climb to the peek of the metal behemoth. The elevator dingedand the door slid open. Glass mirrors scared the walls as ivory and gold hung from the highceilings. Can I help you, sir? The host asked.

Yes, reservation for Depot. Marcus Depot.

Yes Mr. Depot, please follow me.No sign of Issac. Marcus thought. His brother was always very timely, so not seeing him

him here and well troubled him. The waiter sat him in a two person white cloth covered table thatoverlooked the bay. A beautiful sight to any person who is moved by such aesthetic beauty.Admiring the waterfront Marcus notices something in the top side of his vision. A shadow if hemay assume. The shadow, with the passing milliseconds, grew more profound until one couldclearly make out that of a person. A man began to free fall off the 60 story building, plummetingtowards the ground. He came closer to the window almost in view now. Even closer, now you


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could make out his suit and red tie. Closer, brown hair and broad shoulders. Almost in directsymmetry, you could see his hands and a gold wedding band on his left ring finger. Time stoppedfor Marcus. Their eyes met. Face to face the two bodies remain still in time. Marcus could makeout the texture on the man's skin. His brown and hazel eyes. He could tell this man was indistress and yet he had a calm look upon his face. His mouth half smirked with a smile only abrother could love. For the first time in 2 years, Marcus saw Issac. For the first time in historyfear gripped every membrane within Marcus's warm interior. As quickly has Issac entered thepicture, he exited. Passing out of Marcus's sight, Issac hurtled towards the earth's surface, gravitywasting no effort accelerating the timely man. What the FUCK!Marcus panicked, syllablesspewed out of this mouth. His tongue lost all control, legs went weak as he stumbled to theelevator. Making it to their doors, rapidly he started pressing the button. The door opened andMarcus entered. He could feel the blood pulsing behind his eyes, every muscle spasming. Hishead begins to learn towards black as though night is about. Its 12:51, night does not appear for 7hours. With every ding showing a passing floor Marcus comes closer to the realization of hisbrother's demise. The doors open. Having regained of motor control he runs through the lobby

and slides into the turning doors.Before Marcus can exit glass prison that is the twirling door he sees the blood. The

outside world chaotic. People screaming, cars screeching. Marcus feels the heat creep down hischest. His heart beating as though trying to escape his skeleton. He approaches the lifeless body.The ground underneath cracked from the sheer impact of the body. Everything stops. No tearswould find their way out. No scream would echo through the streets. Merely silence fromMarcus and Issac. Not knowing what to do, Marcus turns around and walks away. No words, justsilence.

It's All LinearMarcus gets home, bends down and picks up the package that was left for him. The

images still fresh in his mind, haunting this thoughts. A sudden vibration startles him. His phone

located in his left pocket is ringing. Only buzzing twice, signifies a text has been received. Hepulls out his phone. (1 New Message Read) Appears on the home screen of his phone. Withlittle force he presses Read. The text reads as following.

It was nice to see you again, Brother.Love.

To: Marcus DepotFrom: 555-7865Sent: 1:21 P.M.Received: 1:22 P.M.

End Part One


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Secui DuosSubtle blips of ideas run in and out of the mindless man. His attention fixated on nothing,

and nothing it would stay. For 12 years John Smith worked for a high powered accountingagency. His life consumed by numbers. Mathematics was always a strong point for John. In highschool he received a thirty-six on his ACT and had been enduring college level math and sciencecourses since his sophomore year in attendance with Willard High. Everyday to John was thesame. The morning bus left at 7:42 and would drop John off at work promptly at 8:30 everymorning. This extra time gave John 30 minutes to par take in his favorite activity, day dreaming.He would sit in his off-white cubical staring at his computer screen. Every once in a while Johnwould glance over to his Hawaii calendar and check out the beauty that is printed onto thelavishly shiny paper. Every pixel aiding to manifest the concept of true Spartan beauty. He dazedoff looking with first intentions at his eyes only, moving towards his chest and then his netherregions wishing something would come into his life.I need to do something. I'm fucking boredwith this bullshit excuse for a life. John stood up. His head ducked above the cubical wall. He

glanced around the white office floor and a sense of hatred rushed through his veins. Everythingwas so peaceful, pleasant, and mundane. All spark and pizazz was striped from the roboticworkers ,who seemingly were unaware of their lack of excitement, went around as if life wasperky.Look at these pathetic fuck-tards. John thought to himself.I think it's time I finally didsomething about this. He glanced down towards his feet and commanded them to move. Fearstruck him. It was as though John's feet somehow rooted into the floor. He closed his eyes andconcentrated. The following deep breaths flowed in through his mouth, down his trachea, andinto his lunges. Clinching his phalanges he moved his feet. Step by step John moved out of hiscubical and down the boring hallway. He noticed a congregation of people around the windows.People pushed past him, running down the hall towards to growing group. He ignored theseignoramuses, fixating on his attention only on his destination. He could see it, the bosses door.

With every step closer to the door, the harder his heart beat against his chest wall. He could feelthe pulse in his finger tips, which now have a layer a sweat to help calm his nerves. He pushedpast the group of lowly people steadfast on his mission. He stopped. Closed his eyes once againand took in the last breath of air before he would confront the big man. His eyes open with afierce intent. They appear different now than they did before he closed them. A new set ofconfidence coursed through him. He could feel the gel in his hair start to flicker. The sweat fromhis head beaded down his neck. He wrapped his and around the door handle and began to turnhis wrist. Blackness struck his eyes. His hand loosened from handle and fell limp. The only thingJohn could hear was the sound of cracking glass and the splatter of liquid. The color of crimsonsplattered against the prosaic room bringing a new life of color to the office. John heard thescreams, but had no will to react and his body fell lifeless to the floor. The part of his head thatremain intact with his body perch against the door. The rest coats the walls of the humdrum

office. The crackling of glass, the shrills of screams, and the pain of death were the last thoughtsto echo through John Smith's mind. They were in fact, the last ideas he would have.

ExodusComingup in later news, news anchor Madlin Bradshaw said, A stray bullet fired by a

police officer in mid pursuit flew between the gap of two downtown buildings yesterday andkilled a civilian worker. A look inside this raveling story, and more, next on News 3 at 7. Thenews channel cut to commercials. The musty room echoes with the resonance of the channels


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overture. Marcus is sitting at a kitchen table staring off into space, his mind wanders aimlessly.Flashes of the previous day zoom through his head as though reliving the experience every 5minutes. Nothing can wash his blood coated hands, they are dyed in his guilt and self pity. It wasa hot summers day and Marcus to shocked to move his muscles. He had been sitting at his dankkitchen table since 2 pm the previous day. The boxy television set flickering all throughout thenight. It was now 7:09 and the morning news cast had cut to its first commercial. Now, cold foodrest on the table, the smell of 8 hour old microwaved pizza still scents the air. Marcus's mind isblank, still, and forgotten. His heart racing as with every passing minute his brother's mutilatedbody crashes down upon his mind. As though stuck in Satin's mouth being masticated upon forthe rest of eternity. Every sense cut off besides that of pure unadulterated agony. Someoneknocks at the front door as though trying to wake the dead. Marcus's eyes shift towards theruckus, squinting as though trying to see through the door. Marcus Depot, open up, this is thepolice. A girl proclaims. Mustering every bit of energy he could he found the will and courageto reply.

Doors open. The door slowly openes making a screeching noise on its turn inwards,

and stopping after hitting the wall. The gate to the outside world revealed two police officers.One female, height around 5'7, lip stick poorly applied and pants so tight her badunk badunk wasnearly hanging out. The other officer was a male, around 6'5 and packing a keg.

May'a, we come in sir? The girl said. Marcus brings his arm out and extends his handin such a gesture that the police enter the sulky apartment.

What can I help you with officers?Sir'a, we need to inform you of some bad news. Your'a, brother committed suicide

yesterday and'a... Well, we just wanted to stop by and give our condolences.We are very sorry for your loss Mr. Depot. But we do have some questions for you, if

you don't mind.I guess now is as good of a time as any. Can I offer you gentleme...Can I offer you two

some pizza? Both of the officers look at the pizza box laying on the floor by Marcus's feet andsee how the grease has solidified into the cardboard box. They both returned with a kind nod asan insinuation for They were good, but thank you anyways.

Mr. Depot, we'a, need to know where you were yesterday at around... oh lets say 12:30-1:00ish?

On my way to the Dreemor tower to see my brother. He had just called me that morningand said he was in town and wanted to have some lunch. I'm from around here so I picked theAcelica Tower.

What'a time did you two agree on meeting there?12:30What time did you arrive at the tower?Around 12:50

Did you see your brother fall? Marcus turns his head looking directly into the eyes atthe man who asked the question. The officer stands there completely still and forth going. Heseems to act as though there is nothing strange or demented with the query in question.

When he past the 56th floor window I looked right into his eyes. This seemed to troublethe female cop who now figits, looking around the gloomy apartment as though in search ofsomething.

What is this all about officers? The female cop went calm and looking Marcus directlyin the eye said, We have suspicion to believe your brother was forced off he ledge. A bullet fired


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at him, missed and hit a civilian across the street. The bullet blew his face partially off.Wait why would the man fire a shot at a person who is on a ledge? More importantly

why did he miss?The male cop pauses before he answers, Who said he missed?

Shaded RedMarcus looked dumbfounded at the two police officers who stood inside his apartment.

Contemplating the notion that the man who forced his brother off a ledge fired one bullettowards his brother, whom which was already jumping off said ledge, to actually hit a person inthe parallel building for whatever means. The air in the apartment suddenly went still. Marcuscould smell the must from the women's worn out uniform and the grease in the man's hair. Theofficers stood there looking at Marcus for some kind of hint, or clue as to what really happened.Nothing sparked his mind. Marcus could feel the impatience growing within the room. Theofficers blood vesicles started to pulse with a greater force.

As soon as Marcus was about to say something to break the awkward silence a man waltz

into the room, pointed a silenced hand gun at the Male officer's head and pulled the trigger.Without hesitation the man fell to the floor. The thud could be heard for what seemed to be miles.The female cop reached for her fire arm, but found herself face-to-face with a bullet. Enteringthrough her left cornea and exiting her left temple. Following her partner she collapsed to thefloor, falling as though a rag-doll would. Her arms and legs spread out as a geisha's fan. Theirbodies lay still. For several moments the man didn't move, until the gun that just finished judgingthe two officers found its eye towards Marcus. Get up, and don't talk. Uttered the gunman. Heshifted his eyes towards the dead bodies to account to the fact they were really dead. You mustbe Marcus. Well Marcus, nice to finally meet you. I am an old friend of your brother's. The manextends his hand out to notion a hand shake. The name is Conway Grillot.

Cheddar MixMarcus was poised with a question. A man claiming to be named Conway has justentered his home, murdered two cops without any signs of mercy, and is now waiting for a handshake from Marcus. Realizing this man still holds a gun tightly gripped within his finger, he dartshis hand towards Conway's, hoping his slight hesitation won't cause the him to fret. Their handsmeet with a firm squeeze, following with a gentle shake. So you knew my brother?

Yea, we go way back. We both worked for the same office firm for the past two years.What office firm would that be?Telecom Integrated Metric Enterprises.My brother never really told me anything about his personal life. Where he worked, his

marital status. Hell I could be an uncle and not even know it.Relax, you're no uncle. But I'm here more on business Marcus. You see, your brother

had a document. One very important to him and me.What sort of document?A journal. The brown leather bound type. No lines on the pages. We both always had

these crazy ideas, almost as though we would write down out childhood dreams as adults.Marcus chuckled at this. Thinking of his brother using his imagination, let alone dream to beanything other than a mangy old office worker who sits inside a 3 wall cube all day, seemedunnatural to him.

I'm afraid I don't have... Before Marcus could finish his sentence he remembered the


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Schmidt 9

package. He has been so focused on the death of his brother and the sight of his splattered bodysprawled across ground, he neglected to comprehend the fact the mail came. Marcus stood upand walked over to the table that stand next to the wooden door frame. The sun illuminating thefarthest wall where the door stood still. The brown package had no mailing address, no returnaddress or anything to signify where it was going. Conway looked questionably at Marcus as hestarted to open the package. Scraps fell to the floor as the brown covering became lessconcealing with every passing tear.

The book was brown leather, with a flap and a tie to wrap around. The trim of the book isa shimmering gold that flickers in the radiance of the sun. Conway's eyes shifted at the sight ofthe book. Is this the document you were telling me about?

Yes. Marcus's fingers fiddle with the pages as he begins to open the document.Conway's eyes widen at the sight of this. The mood of the room suddenly shifts as Marcusnotices Conway's hand start to tighten. His fingers slowly curl around the black handle of thegun. The TV, still shuttering in the background, becomes more noticeable as the overture fromNews 3 signals their return from commercial break.

A man yesterday, the News Anchor said, a little after 3 o'clock was killed in hisdowntown office. A police officer perusing an armed criminal fired a shot on top of a downtownbuilding. Missing the man, the bullet flew from building to building. Penetrating the glasswindow of the 58th floor and stricking the office worker in the head. The man died instantly.

The police officer goes by the name of Conway Grillot and has fled the area for thecurrent moment. He is charged with misuse of his firearm and murd... The TV cut out as thebang ricocheted off the walls. Marcus's whole body tensed at the sound of the gun fire. Afterturning around only does Marcus's arm is in an offensive position, the gun's barrel aimed directlyfor the television. With little resistance Conway moved his aim from the, now destroyed, TVtowards Marcus's torso.

Give me the book, please. Confidence took a hold of Conway. His voice moving to a

much lower, serious tone.Ok. Marcus replied. The book landed at Conway's feet. The thud of the landingbounced around the room like a child. Marcus, without looking away, squats down and retrievesthe book.

Thank you. Now, I must be going. Conway slides towards the door, reaches behindhimself and turns the rusty knob. his sight never leaves that of Marcus. Slowly moving aroundthe door, now through it, Marcus face leaves Conway's sight. The door closes and shakes theroom's walls. Marcus hears the footsteps of Conway descending the stairs of the building at analarming rate.He's running. Marcus thinks to himself. Why... Its almost as if he is running aftersomething. Going against his better judgment, Marcus leaps over to the door and enters a pursuitwith Conway.

Two steps at a time, Marcus tries not to lose focus. His feet moving faster than his eyes

was able to see. As though going into another dimension, Marcus exits his apartment buildingand into the busy streets of the hustling city. Heads bob all up and down the street. Marcussearches for Conway's brown, long hair. He spots him. About two blocks down Marcus can seehim running. Conway takes an abrupt left down some back ally. Marcus following him, trying tocatch up with the runner. Thoughts run through his mind of what is really inside the leather book.Could it really be just their thoughts and dreams? Or could it be something Issac wrote to him inan attempt to warm him of his death, or maybe of who he thinks his killer could be? He doesn'tknow. All Marcus can really focus on is trying to remember which ally he saw Conway take.


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Sweat began to bead down his spine, the droplets cooling the portion of epidermis they comeinto contact with.It has got to be this one. Marcus stand in front of an ally with a very narrowpathway. Only feet separate the two buildings from merging. The path winds, twists and turnsseveral time until Marcus came to a turn. As he rounded the corner his vision caught the sight ofa familiar face. At the end of this alleyway stand a man around 5'11, brown, short hair. Marcusstared at the man in bewilderment. Hello, Brother, The man said.

Tertius OculusMarcus's eyes widen as he glances towards the man. Standing across from him he could

see a slender man, normal in height. His build was nothing extraordinary but he statureconfident; looks as though he carries a heavy pedigree. The man's eyes shutter towards Marcus,a smirk comes across both their faces. The pounding music in the background rattles theeardrums, the sound of the bellowing crowd beats Marcus to his very core. Goose bumps run upand down his spine. The depressants coursing through his veins, hormones captivating his

attention, and seductive thoughts fill his mind. There is was again, the look from the man, thistime less subtle, more confident, as though he's picks his mark. Their eyes connect and an energyignites a spark nearly over exposing the room. The blinding light rattles and fades by the soundfrom the DJ's synergistic music. Marcus starts to become apprehensive as the man paces towardshis direction. Abby, telling him about this wonderful new Thai restaurant she found, bounced tothe aft of his mind, her voicing growing quiet. As her voice fades colorful lights wrap around theroom streaming down from the ceiling mounted fixtures. Every footstep booming as Marcus'sheart begins to pound as the man approaches. Marcus brings his left hand up to his face andbreathes a huff of warm air into it.. Scents of Vodka, Tipplesec, and Redbull fill his nose. Whilehis right hand holding the glass filled with the libation. His body begins to perspire, only an armslength away stands his looker. Leaning against the bar, the signals bartender asking, Scotch on

the rocks, please. The bartender nods in affirmation to the man's request. Marcus has his backleaning against the wooden bar, he twists around and replicates the position the man has taken.Stomach pressing against the bar, arms bent and leaning over, followed by a very debonair look.A smile reaches across both their faces. You ever been to The Complex before? Marcus asksthe man. He chuckles and replies, Once or twice. The way he spoke it made Marcus think hewas lying and the even larger grin that took place upon the mans face after stating his commentconfirmed it. What about you? The man asked. Marcus couldn't help but reply with, Once ortwice, maybe. The bartender returns and places the scotch down next to the man. Charlie putthat on my tab. Marcus notions the bartender. The man smiled and nodded in appreciation.Marcus placed his hand out and said, Marcus Grillot. The man followed with the samemotions, John Smith.

Neurotic Mishaps

Marcus's eye widen as he looks at his brother dead in the eye. There is no mistaking it,this was undoubtedly his brother. The click of shoes begin to clap against the pavement as Issacslowly steps towards his brother. It's been too long big brother. How have you been?

Wha... What are you doing here Issac? Marcus tries with all his will to keep his cool. Inthe last day and a half he has been his brother fall to his death and a gun man shoot two officerspoint blank in the head, but none of that compare to see the, seemingly real, ghost of his latebrother.

I'm here because I want to be here. I'm here because I want to get you out of this.


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Schmidt 11

Out of... Marcus's breath begins to get heavy. The feeling of weights pushing downupon his chest holding him from getting proper intake of air. The feeling grows, pressurestrengthening. With every bit of energy Marcus could muster he gasped, What?

You need to get a hold of yourself Marcus. You're having a panic attack and you need tobreath. Marcus collapsed to his knees. Issac ran over to him and knelt. Placing his hand on hisback Issac said, Normal but deep breaths.

What is going on Issac?In due time I will try t explain everything. But right now we need to get out of the open

and into some shelter.Where can we go? My... My apartment has two dead cops and blood is everywhere.Did you let Conway take the leather bound book?Still grasping for air, I just didn't let him take it. He had a gun. Care to explain to me

whats going on?Lets get out of the open and somewhere safe. I'm worried Conway will show his face

soon.

You don't have to worry about me bro.No offense Marcus, but I'm more worried about me.

They begin walking towards the south side of town where Issac had a car. A red HondaCivic with a parking ticket lay parked out in from of the Civil tower. Marcus approaches thiswith extreme cation. Thats me.

This red civic?Yep. Issac pushes the unlock button on his remote key chain and the car doors unlock.

The car chirps and the headlights flash. Upon entering the vehicle Marcus notices that new carsmell. The doors shut and the engine sparks to life at the turn of the ignition. The car moves outfrom its parallel spot and starts speeding down the road. The feeling of protection overcomes

Marcus's body and for some reason, he feels safe while he's with his brother. I saw you fall froma building.Yes, I know. I saw your body spread across the concrete like butter on bread.That couldn't have been pleasant.Not really!I can't tell you what you saw wasn't real. But I can tell you, Im not dead. Otherwise, who

would be driving this car? That comment made Marcus chuckle. Good, a smile. Its abouttime.

So tell me brother, did I really witness you fall of the roof?Yes and no. Hard to say. Did you see me fall, yes. Did you see me fall, no.Right... A look of confusion comes across Marcus's face.

I wouldn't worry about it anyways. As you can clearly see I'm fine. And with thatstatement a bullet enters and exits that car. Entering through the front windshield and exitingdriver side window only missing Issac's face by mere inches. The windshield started to crack,spidering out as though sinking in the ocean as the pressure continuously built with thedarkening depths. Marcus and Issac looked around frantically in the direction the shot camefrom. Only to notice a white Nissan Altma with its window rolled down and a pistol aiming forthe them. Issac accelerates the car, pushing on the gas peddle until his foot met the floor. Therevving of the car ricocheting off the surrounding buildings as the white car began its pursuit.


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The streets were busy with the hustling of everyday life in the city. Issac weaving the carin and out of traffic, drifting around corners, anything to make sure they were not caught. Withevery turn and move the white car continued its relentless pursuit. A ramp to the freeway leadingout to the suburbs of the city lay only yards away. Take I44! Screamed Marcus. A screech ofthe tires and a round of the wheel put them on the speeding freeway. The cars now picking upspeed as the traffic decreases. Marcus whips his head around to look out the rear window, thewhite car still hot on their trail. They're still there!

I know, I know. Issac, now maneuvering in and out of lanes avoiding car at all costs.We need to lose these guys.

Who are they Issac?People who think we still have the book most likely.The leather brown one? The one that Conway took?Yep, thats the one.Why is this damn book so important?Look, it's hard to explain at the mom...

I'm getting really tired of this waiting game! Do you best, now!Fucking A. Okay, okay. But if we die its your fault.Issac!Fine. The book hold the secret to many things. One, the one they are after, is an

explanation of how humans trained themselves to achieve Brahman.Brahman as in Hinduism supreme deity, Brahman?Yes but not really. See we use Brahman as a term more or less. Displacement of thought

into the pattern of time functions only as a role to humans to organize the randomness of theuniverse. With this organization do we, humans, discover what we know as time. Time, inessence, is a way for the animal mind to linearly construct a method for storing our livesinformation. Example: You remembering my death. You know for fact that you saw me fall from

that building, but yet, here I am. Driving this ca.. Holy shit! The car swerved around a Jeep andonto the grassy medium. Bouncing and rumbling, the car speeds through the grass as thoughcement, until Issac corrects this and reenters the highway. Jesus... What you saw waspotential. Marcus's eyes met Issac's and in the most dumbfounded tone imaginable Marcusasked, What?

Like a ball on a table it has potential. Potential to suddenly roll or fall if the table decidesto shift or move in any way. If the table were to stop existing then the ball would fall.

Stop existing? You mean as though it were to just... Not be there any more?Yes. If the table were to stop being there then the ball would fall.How would the ball be in the air in the first place?Not the point. What you saw was a potential me. I could have jumped off that roof, but I

didn't.

FlashrightSo, if you didn't jump who did I see? Issac sighed while twisting the wheel to avoid

more cars. By this time the white car was only feet away from Issac's red Civic. Trying toidentify the person who was in the drivers seat was a difficult task because the windows weretinted. Issac sighed and went on to explain, You did see me and it was real but it just wasn't inour reality. You had, what people call, a flashright.

What? Spoke Marcus in the exact tone used earlier to clarify his confusion.A flash-forward is when you see the future. A flashback is when you see the past. A


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flashright is looking to the right, or left for that matter, of the space-time continuum. Issacglanced towards Marcus only to see a half dumb, half scared look upon his brothers face.Meaning that what you saw was one of many form of my life that could have been. Everydecision people make holds potential for people, and that potential is what you saw.

So what I saw was something like a premonition?To some extent yes.So I didn't see you fall... Marcus uttered to himself, Did I see those two cops die?Yea, they're dead. Marcus spun his head around to check on the white car, and sure

enough there it was, right on their tail.How are we going to lose them?Like this. The highway was separates itself from the outer road by 20 feet of grass that

continues off the highway and into a ditch like separator. Issac sees the opportunity where theditch raises up and becomes a hill like mound. This poses a perfect time to cross over onto theouter road. Marcus sees what his brother is attempting to do and gives a nod, then clinches hisfingers around the oh-shit handles and braces himself. Issac takes the wheel of the car, slams on

the breaks for a brief moment. This makes the perusing car slam on its breaks and swerve awayfrom the side of the highway. Issac turns the wheel 48 degrees off the freeway and enters thegrassy median. Half was through the car hits a small bumps throwing the steering wheel off andIssac loses control. The red Civic continues on a path of 720 degrees circling out of control onthe grass. The car comes to a stop. After giving the experience some time to sink in, the brotherslook at one another and Marcus yells, GO! Issac forces of the gas peddle to the floor and thecar speeds off.

Did we lose the white car Marcus? Issac asked. Marcus looked out the rear viewwindow, nothing.

No, sign of them. Wait... God dammit! Here they come. In the rear view mirror Issaccould see the white car gallivanting down the road at an alarming rate, running at the red car like

a bull to a matador's cape.Hold on Marcus. A head was an intersection where the lights were red. Issac acceleratestowards it in an attempt to run the light. The white car shows no sign of hesitation and continuesto follow, even when having knowledge of their plans. They both charge for the intersection,peddle to the mettle. Fear consumes Marcus and Issac but its to late. The Civic entered theintersection at 90 miles per hour. Issac could see a yellow truck in the left side of his visioncrossing the line into the intersection. We're not going to make it. Marcus thinks to himself. Withevery passing second the cars comes closure to one another. The red civic now in the middle ofthe crossing and yellow truck outside Marcus's window. They pass the yellow truck and justbarley make it. The yellow truck taking off their rear bumper. Marcus turns his head to the rear tolook for the white car. He sees the yellow truck, all the sudden, burst like a water balloon. Glassspews everywhere like liquid and the yellow truck pushes down the road attached to the white

car.Whom ever they were, they're dead now. Issac said in relief.How can you be sure?At 90 miles per hour, that kind of hit will kill anyone. Even if they are wearing a seat

belt.So, we're safe?Not really. Not until Conway gives us that book back.So we're going after Conway? How will we find him?


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I know where he is. Marcus glances back towards the intersection and watches theyellow truck drive off past the intersection.

The red Civic stopped in front of the DREEMOR Tower. Upon entering the buildingMarcus felt strange. A sense of deja' vu came over him, itching at his spine. They entered theelevator and continued up to the top floor. Looking at this brother Marcus sees the sameconfidence he saw before, no questioning, sturdy and valiant. The golden doors open and the twostep out. Stairs, Marcus. Said Issac pointing towards the sign hanging from the ceiling. Theyentered the stairwell and continue up. All the doors they pass through are unlocked, some arealready open. They get to the final door and stop. The brother look at one another, no words needbe said, and open it. The daylight from the outside blinds both of them. The smell of tar and heatenters their nasal cavities. Their eyes adjust to the sun and reveal Conway, dead. A man standover him, gun in hand. He turns around only to be John Smith.

You? Marcus questionably said.Smith. Issac added. You were working for Conway I take it?Yea. I was hired by Conway to find this book, but I had no idea it contained the future.

But you're dead. I saw it on the T.V. This morning... How could you still be alive?What you saw was a flashright Marcus. Issac said.So he's already beginning to understand his side-sight? I read about it in this little book

of yours. Smith asked.What? Marcus adds.Look Marcus what ever he tells you its not true. He doesn't know the truth. Isaac said

whispering.I know every possible outcome, every potential happening.Marcus's eyes focus, suddenly becoming more determined. What's in the book?Conway smirked and said, Your true futr... Before Conway could finish his comment

Issac quickly reaches around his back with his left hand and pulls out, from under his shirt, a

pistol. Smith reacts raising his gun and pulling the trigger. At the same time Issac fires one shot.Marcus feels a sudden rush of pain, followed by a warming sensation. Blackness overcame hiseyes, swallowing his mind, then, nothing.

Means to an End (42)The distance between the mind and reality stretches based on how humans interact with

the world around them. In order to create just a way as to understand the world and its apparentrandomness our minds create time. A liner method of storing information based on sequence ofevents. Some call it chronological stimulation, most call it, Time. The differentiation of time andreality, however, can be misconstrued and, even more so, bent. Marcus's side-sight allows him tosee current lives of people based on their interaction with the world and the decisions. But themost important thing to remember, these happenings are not real. Confusing can set in and one

can lose one's self in the mix of realities. It becomes nearly impossible to distinguish reality fromside-sight.

Fucking hell. Marcus quietly cries. He opens his eyes and notices the mundane lookingroom.

Good morning, Mr. Grillot. How are you feeling? A women dressed in all white asked.Her name tag said she was Anne and that Marcus was in Saint Luke's Hospital. Before Marcuscould answer the nurse's question a police officer came into the room.

Morning Mr. Grillot. I'm afraid we need to ask something of you quickly. We found your


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stabber we just need you to identify him. Marcus nods to the officers request. Follow meplease. Standing has never felt so painful before but Marcus manages to walk over to awheelchair and sit. 6 floors down and 12 doors later, they reach to morgue. The room was dulland gloomy, smelling only of sanitizer and death. Marcus enters the room, the nurse rolling himup next to a body that is covered by a black tarp. Marcus stands to get the best view of the, now,deceased.

Upon entering the room the cop hands a brown leather book to Marcus saying, He wasfound holding this, it has your name in it. Marcus looks down at the book in utter confusion.The police officer walks over to the cadaver and asks, Is this the assailant? The police officerfolds down the tarp. Marcus's chest fills with a warming sensation, the body of the deceased isbroody mutilated. Face smashed in and body broken; it looks as though the man fell from askyscraper. Passing the desire to hurl Marcus manages to mutter, Issac?

End

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