[center][h3]??? - ???[/h3][/center] [center]Pleasant Weather[/center] [center][IMG]http://i67.tinypic.com/28jupt2.jpg[/IMG][/center] [color=green][i]Dhinas Charrai Fir Aathhavai Rain Sabaaee Jaae…[/i][/color] Submersion; Pressure; Instability; Cold; Warmth. Multiple senses delivered urgent messages in a jumbled mess of voices, like a crowded stock exchange. It was hard to sort through each one of them. Impossible to isolate, or focus. “[color=green][i]Try one at a time...[/i][/color]” spoke a soothingly raspy, yet unfamiliar baritone. Everything was empty. No vision. Not even darkness. Simply, empty: as if vision was a completely unfamiliar concept. Sounds were muffled and scrambled, blurred and indistinct. But each wave of vibrations amplified the pressure in the skull. “[color=green][i]Where are you…?[/i][/color]” “[color=plum][i]Where are you, Isaac?[/i][/color]” Two voices in a dissonant harmony. One mysterious, one recognizable. A woman’s voice called out to an entity known as Isaac, an amalgamation of a community of subprocesses guided by an emergent, identifiable psychological subroutine known as consciousness. “[color=plum][i]Where are you, Isaac?[/i][/color]” The woman's voice asked again, this time with a fearful insistence. "[color=goldenrod]I am...[/color]" Isaac replied as the crowds of sensations unified into a singular experience. "[color=goldenrod]I am swimming,[/color]" He added, feeling the weightlessness and pressure holding his body. "[color=goldenrod]Or I am falling...[/color]" The empty void shifted to blackness. As Isaac regained control of different aspects of his body, he began to remember old sensations. Muscle memory took control of his eyes, performing a check on the lids and the various muscles behind. With each shift came a flash of light. "[color=green]Do you see this light, Isaac?[/color]" Spoke the mysterious man, whose rumbling voice soothed Isaac's otherwise frantic and panicked mind. "[color=goldenrod]I see it,[/color]" Isaac replied. "[color=goldenrod]I need to swim toward it...[/color]" Isaac thrashed about, but couldn't move his body. The pressure was too strong. His body was stiff, unresponsive. Yet the very thought of ascending, the very mental struggle, brought Isaac toward the light all the same. His heart pounded in his chest, desperate. "[color=goldenrod]I can't breathe. I can't breathe![/color]" He shouted. "[color=goldenrod]I'm not swimming fasting enough![/color]" His body shook and his chest began to burn. He could feel every muscle in his nervous system tremble. "[color=salmon]We ensure the most quality and humane care of our patients.[/color]" Spoke a new voice. Familiar. Male. Nasally. Bookish. "[color=goldenrod]Useless windbag,[/color]" Isaac recalled briefly before his focus returned to the sudden collapse of his chest cavity and lungs. "[color=goldenrod]And I'm still drowning![/color]" "[color=plum]It's alright, honey. It's alright. You're going to be fine.[/color]" "[color=goldenrod]Lu...[/color]" Isaac's heartrate suddenly slowed. He drew in a deep breath and opened his eyes. The world was a blurry landscape. With a few more tremors, Isaac spoke, "[color=goldenrod]Lu, I'm home.[/color]" "[color=plum]Of course you are, sweetie. It's your birthday. We're all here with you. Why don't you come out of the pool? Your parents are going to be here any minute.[/color]" Isaac moved his arms to climb out of the pool. But he couldn't. He still felt stiff. "[color=goldenrod]I'm drowning. I'm still drowning. Lu, where are you?[/color]" "[color=royalblue]Come out of the pool, Daddy.[/color]" Mila's voice. She was six years old. "I remember this birthday..." Isaac said, feeling himself sink again. "We went to the theater with my parents. But Mila got food poisoning. Lu...you took Mila to the hospital and I stayed with my parents. We fought that night." "[color=plum]Where are you, Isaac?![/color] Lucille's voice became more insistent. Isaac struggled again, his heart pounding once more. "[color=goldenrod]I'm here, Lu! I'm drowning, but I'm here! I will find you![/color]" "[color=salmon]We ensure the most quality and humane care of our patients.[/color]" The nasally voice spoke again. "Who the fuck cares? They're Franks." Nosering chuckled. "You can run 'em over and they won't give a shit." Nosering. Isaac's could feel pressure in the back of his skull as his brain woke further. He became suddenly aware of the pins and needles sensation that had been stabbing his fingers and toes. "Where am I?" "[color=green][i]Where are you, Isaac?[/i][/color]" "[color=plum][i]Where are you, Isaac?[/i][/color]" "[color=royalblue][i]Where are you, Daddy?[/i][/color]" "Where, the [i]fuck[/i] are you?!" Nosering shouted, just as Isaac felt a surging pain and pressure across his cheek. [color=green][i]...Aav Ghattai Nar Naa Bujhai Nith Moosaa Laaj Ttukaae[/i][/color] [center]-------------------------------[/center] [center][h3]March 11, 2018 - Harvard, Massachusetts. Bromfield School.[/h3][/center] [center]41 Degrees. Partly Cloudy[/center] [center][IMG]http://i68.tinypic.com/2u6fgw1.jpg[/IMG][/center] Nearly twenty years ago, Isaac shared a physics class with a student named James Cole, who was between majors. As Isaac sat watch over the truck's supplies with his hunting rifle resting up against his shoulder, he began to reminisce about his former classmate. James was an idealist in the literal sense of the word, to the point of holding a firm position on relativistic solipsism. As Isaac recalled, James went on to provide a thesis for his Master's degree on how time is not subjective, but truly relativistic to consciousness. As Isaac studied cloud formations, James managed to obtain a Masters in Philosophy with a focus on Cosmology and Consciousness for providing compelling evidence of the ratio of the passage of time in regard to a person's particular enjoyment. Isaac needed no thesis to prove this concept. He could have sworn that hours had passed since their arrival, but the sun had barely risen. Thirty, maybe forty minutes, tops. It didn't help that Sticks was audibly shivering and Nosering was constantly cracking his jaw, adding two more factors that greatly contributed to Isaac's Psychotemporal Ratio. [right][i][color=green]This is irrelevant. How did you get here, Isaac?[/color][/i][/right] [right][i][color=plum]I need you to focus, Isaac. Pay attention.[/color][/i][/right] With a heavy and muffled sigh, Isaac shifted his gaze several meters south of the truck, where Morgan, Shades, and Gaston were huddled with what appeared to be soldiers and men in lab coats. Beyond them sat a modest-sized building - a school, apparently - with a pleasantly warm red-orange hue to its brick construction and high rooftops. It felt Church-like, if not for the boarded windows, wooden barricades, and chicken-wire surrounding the building. The dead grass and mutilated wildlife that lay strewn about, waiting to be cleaned up didn't help matters, either. Isaac watched Morgan carefully. He was a big man, for sure, standing at nearly 6'4". While food deprivation might have shed him fifteen or twenty pounds since the Terminus release, Morgan's years of benchpressing and protein shakes was still quite apparent. To match his intimidating size, Morgan's deep brown eyes, shaved head, and melanin rich skin commanded respect. He spoke little, but when he did, it was short and to the point, leaving no room for questioning. Isaac's first impression of the man was simply: efficient. In a world where every resource counted, Morgan knew how to get as much out of his team as possible, with the smallest effort. [right][i][color=plum]Morgan is what a good man should be.[/color][/i][/right] [right][i][color=royalblue]Morgan is scary.[/color][/i][/right] "What do you think they're talking about?" Came the weak and gingivitis-ridden voice of Sticks, who was literally looking over Isaac's shoulder. Isaac glared impatiently at the emaciated young man. Fortunately, before he could say anything, Nosering pulled him back. "Watch your step, idiot. You almost shoved your foot right into the cargo." "Sorry..." Sticks said. "[color=goldenrod]Keep your eye on the body...[/color]" Isaac muttered. Sticks looked at Isaac with a glance that questioned the new guy's authority. But after a brief moment, realized it was a good idea. He turned gaze a few meters to the back of the truck, where the bloody and somewhat dismembered mess of what was once a human body flailed about like a ragdoll, voicelessly. Just then, Isaac felt a tap on his shoulder. Nosering gestured over to the group. Shades had turned around and was walking back toward the truck. "Looks like they're finally ready to get this shit moving." Isaac started preparing the boxes to be removed. But Shades had other plans. He slapped his palm onto the wood to get Isaac's attention. "Leave them," Shades commanded sternly. "Get out of the truck. We're going for a walk." "A walk?" Nosering asked. "The fuck are they going to do, give us the five dollar tour?" "Just shut up and get out of the car, Stan." Shades knocked on the wood again, moving around the truck. Isaac watched him carefully. He was holding fairly tightly to his gun. This wasn't a request. It was a demand. Something was happening. Maybe the deal went bad. Maybe Morgan was in trouble. Isaac's masked face studied Shades' carefully. Watched his lips form a tight line across his pale, Val Kilmer face. The man was expressionless. Very solder-like, if not for his obvious love of the eighties with the Top Gun shades and Mad Max leather jacket. [right][i][color=green]You don't trust Tim?[/color][/i][/right] [right][i][color=plum]He wants to kill you.[/color][/i][/right] Sticks stepped out first, followed by Nosering, who gave Shades a playful shove. Isaac followed, glancing at his surroundings for any sign of a potential ambush. "[color=goldenrod]Is Morgan in trouble?[/color]" "Just get moving." Shades said sternly. "[color=goldenrod]Suit yourself, Iceman...[/color]" Isaac muttered as he followed Nosering.