When I wake, there are colors. They are familiar. Have I been here before?
A face is above me. He has eyes the colors of cubes.
His mouth is moving. I see the word.
“How?”
How? How what?
I look back. I see myself rearranging the network of cubes. It suddenly detonates. The wall shatters, and I, unconscious, fall forward. My body disappears as it passes the entrance.
Where did I go? Neither natural nor extradimensional memory can recall.
“Who are you?” I ask. I let the mist trail from my mouth, disappearing into his multicolored eyes.
“I have lived here forever. I know not who I am or was.” I realize what is strange about the eyes. Not their color. It seems normal for a place like this. It is the maniacal look that describes them that frightens me. The crazed ocular countenance of one who has survived, but wishes no longer to. Of one who has experienced horrors. Of one who has died many times.
I am scared of this man.
“Do you know where you are?” His pupils dart about anxiously, as one who is being hunted. I do not answer. I do not need to.
“This place is dangerous,” he whimpers, “yes, it is unsafe here...I must return...I must go back....” He suddenly grabs my shoulders and shakes me, glaring at me with his wide, deranged eyes. “We must leave! We will die here!” White mist dances off his body. His long, gray beard swings pendulously on his chin. “Why did you take me here? You have doomed us both!” He reaches down and frees a dagger from his belt. Swinging it about blindly, the ashen fog tornadoes around him, until suddenly his eyes close and he falls numbly into unconsciousness.
Staring at his floating body, I suddenly remember. The darkness. The voice. And the invisible cubes. This is the man I saw passing through the wall. He is so much older now. How long has he been inside? How long has he been forced to wander inside that infinite darkness? And how was it that I had discovered the way out so quickly, so effortlessly? The grace he had exhibited in the entering of the dark world has truly been diminished, overpowered by the lunacy that the darkness induces.
Where am I to go? At least I am no longer alone. Perhaps I can find sanity in this person. Perhaps I can convince him to trust me. Trust. I do not trust him. Not with his senseless eyes, or with his swinging dagger. The dagger that I know will be bloodied....
Emily.
I must find her. I must rescue her. Before she becomes like him.
“I’m sorry.” No, he does not say that. Not yet.
“I was not lying.”
“Who are you?” I retrieve the memory and thrust it at him.
“Hypra.” I had known his name. I could see it when I first entered.
“There is another.” No. Again, I am skipping ahead.
“We are not alone.” This is me, I think.
“Yes.” Me again. No, it cannot be me. How can it? “A girl.”
“Is she dead?” Where are we now? Emily’s body floats inanimately in front of us. Her golden hair shines like a mirror against the spectrum of colors. It is drifts spiderily above her head.
Back. I am too eager. What is happening?
“We must find her.” Who said that? It does not matter.
“Come.” That is Hypra. I follow the madman.
Now we see her, hovering there, shaped by hues.
“Is she dead?” I once again pass the moment of fear, of hopelessness.
Then I am over her. Looking down at her smooth face, her closed eyes....
Is that blood on her cheek? No, that is far away, not yet, not now.
I see a memory drip from my eye, float above her, drift onto the spot on her cheek that is not yet wounded. That is a tear, I realize. Just a tear.
I look over my shoulder. Where is Hypra? Where has he gone? Anguish clutches me. A dead girl. A delirious man. And me. This is the tesseract. This is my doom.
My doom.
The darkness flashes before me.
Come to me. Come to me. I am lonely. So lonely....
And then Hypra is there. But something is different. His eyes. They are wet.
The darkness upon him has lifted. He cries with me.
There is mist. It comes from below me. From the body I kneel beside. Emily. I realize I am holding her hand. What does this mean? Is it a sign of despair? No. It is a sign of love.
I see the cubes in the distance. What to they hold for me? What is their intent?
“Her fate has been determined.” What? But this is ahead, far ahead, and Hypra holds the dagger then, and what is to happen will never be forgotten.
“Look at the colors,” I will say, holding her hand again. Or do I say that now? It does not matter.
The fist hitting my face lurches me back to the present.
Emily is alive.
Her eyes are wide.
Her face is scared.
“Get away from me.” That is now. That is here.
I do. I do not notice that Hypra has disappeared.
But really, it's not your fault. Not at all. I get the feeling that, deep down, this intricate sci-fi stuff isn't really my cup of tea (I'm more into beginner sci-fi... * begins to hum theme to Star Trek*). But I really and truly
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