attempt at humor and got right to the point.
“I’m working at the Ranch starting tomorrow.”
Pete winced and trembled with an overly-dramatic shiver before pinching his nose with a thumb and forefinger.
“Smell you later.” He laughed.
Fran blew out an exasperated breath. “You don’t get it. I’m going to find the portal.”
“Huh?” Pete dropped his hands onto his lap. “It’s just… I mean… What about what Chan wrote?”
“Chan? What are you talking about? I didn’t see anything written by Chan.” Fran shook her head, at a loss for words.
Pete turned to Fran and looked into her eyes. “You didn’t see the testimony he added to Doc’s diary?”
With his clean face and wetted, mashed-down hair, she suspected Pete thought this meeting constituted a date or something. Fran ran a self-conscious hand through her own hair as a little heat crawled into her cheeks.
Pete cleared his throat. “If you haven’t read Chan’s notes, there's some stuff you probably don’t know yet.”
“Like what?”
“Like how to get out.”
“So it wasn’t all just madness?” Fran felt a moment of relief. Then when she realized what Pete had just said, her heart raced. “Wait. He got out? Chan escaped?”
“Um, sort of?”
Fran didn’t like the look on Pete’s face, and, even more, didn’t appreciate being kept in the dark. She held a mint tight between her front teeth ready to give Pete a verbal spanking.
Then, they both felt it. The static electricity.
“I’m outa here,” Pete whispered. He hurried from the bench, swiped the code, and disappeared in less than four seconds.
Fran thought about Pete’s words for half a breath and then burst into the stream of residents. She shouldered past a group huddled around a gaming board and past a cluster of chatty femmes. As she rode the lift up to the third floor, she tapped an impatient toe, and upon reaching her residence, raced through the doorway, straight to the flip-flop.
She yanked the balled up blanket from the mattress as she searched for her reader, and located it tucked into the crevice by her pillows. What was her problem? Was there a small piece of her that didn’t want to believe? Self-chastisement continued until the reader came to life.
Fran scrolled past Doc’s signature line and through ample white space, before she saw her mentor’s handwriting. She choked back a sob like she’d been hit in the gut. She remembered how he used to tap his stylus onto his thumb when deep in thought and then tuck it behind his ear between notes. Grief tore through her as she looked upon the meticulous lettering and she ran a finger over the familiar handwriting.
My beloved brothers and sisters,
I know my decline has begun. I must pass along the word to you before I am no longer able. Dr. Benjamin Leiben is indeed a sane man. I knew him well, hired after he lost his sight at the hand of the Council—by order of Marcus—not long after voicing renewed interest in the portal.
Of course, Marcus could have simply finished him off, but as Doc already mentioned, Marcus' soul had turned wicked and his lust for power insatiable. I will not get into the gruesome details of the disfigurement, but I will say that Marcus reveled in Doc’s torment.
My children, the Epoch has surely arrived. Indeed, the earth is healed. To date, no one has uncovered the location of the portal, and so we all sit like prisoners in Marcus’s made-up world of power. Yet one discovery has led to an escape from this prison. And the decline is the answer.
You see, the Council does not wish to house our sick bodies. Not the weak ones, the sick ones, the hurting, and the lame. So, they place us at the doorway. They think it is our death sentence. Yet, we know it is the beginning of our new life. The Ranch is merely our waiting room, so lift up your eyes and believe. Take heart and rejoice. My brothers and sisters, you may find the journey to be hard, but be of good cheer because I will
“I’m working at the Ranch starting tomorrow.”
Pete winced and trembled with an overly-dramatic shiver before pinching his nose with a thumb and forefinger.
“Smell you later.” He laughed.
Fran blew out an exasperated breath. “You don’t get it. I’m going to find the portal.”
“Huh?” Pete dropped his hands onto his lap. “It’s just… I mean… What about what Chan wrote?”
“Chan? What are you talking about? I didn’t see anything written by Chan.” Fran shook her head, at a loss for words.
Pete turned to Fran and looked into her eyes. “You didn’t see the testimony he added to Doc’s diary?”
With his clean face and wetted, mashed-down hair, she suspected Pete thought this meeting constituted a date or something. Fran ran a self-conscious hand through her own hair as a little heat crawled into her cheeks.
Pete cleared his throat. “If you haven’t read Chan’s notes, there's some stuff you probably don’t know yet.”
“Like what?”
“Like how to get out.”
“So it wasn’t all just madness?” Fran felt a moment of relief. Then when she realized what Pete had just said, her heart raced. “Wait. He got out? Chan escaped?”
“Um, sort of?”
Fran didn’t like the look on Pete’s face, and, even more, didn’t appreciate being kept in the dark. She held a mint tight between her front teeth ready to give Pete a verbal spanking.
Then, they both felt it. The static electricity.
“I’m outa here,” Pete whispered. He hurried from the bench, swiped the code, and disappeared in less than four seconds.
Fran thought about Pete’s words for half a breath and then burst into the stream of residents. She shouldered past a group huddled around a gaming board and past a cluster of chatty femmes. As she rode the lift up to the third floor, she tapped an impatient toe, and upon reaching her residence, raced through the doorway, straight to the flip-flop.
She yanked the balled up blanket from the mattress as she searched for her reader, and located it tucked into the crevice by her pillows. What was her problem? Was there a small piece of her that didn’t want to believe? Self-chastisement continued until the reader came to life.
Fran scrolled past Doc’s signature line and through ample white space, before she saw her mentor’s handwriting. She choked back a sob like she’d been hit in the gut. She remembered how he used to tap his stylus onto his thumb when deep in thought and then tuck it behind his ear between notes. Grief tore through her as she looked upon the meticulous lettering and she ran a finger over the familiar handwriting.
My beloved brothers and sisters,
I know my decline has begun. I must pass along the word to you before I am no longer able. Dr. Benjamin Leiben is indeed a sane man. I knew him well, hired after he lost his sight at the hand of the Council—by order of Marcus—not long after voicing renewed interest in the portal.
Of course, Marcus could have simply finished him off, but as Doc already mentioned, Marcus' soul had turned wicked and his lust for power insatiable. I will not get into the gruesome details of the disfigurement, but I will say that Marcus reveled in Doc’s torment.
My children, the Epoch has surely arrived. Indeed, the earth is healed. To date, no one has uncovered the location of the portal, and so we all sit like prisoners in Marcus’s made-up world of power. Yet one discovery has led to an escape from this prison. And the decline is the answer.
You see, the Council does not wish to house our sick bodies. Not the weak ones, the sick ones, the hurting, and the lame. So, they place us at the doorway. They think it is our death sentence. Yet, we know it is the beginning of our new life. The Ranch is merely our waiting room, so lift up your eyes and believe. Take heart and rejoice. My brothers and sisters, you may find the journey to be hard, but be of good cheer because I will
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