TheNeverPages Serialisation
Series 4, Episode 12

TheNeverPages - Series 4, Episode 12

Sitting on what used to be roof of laboratory. Dome caved in. I can sit on its edge and look down into laboratory. It looks like an archaeological dig. Paisley is sitting by my side peering down into the ruins.

I was surprised and a little relieved to find that the laboratory has remained unaffected by the Stage Firings (save for the destruction). It has not folded in or out of this reality. Indeed to note, the reality of Pripyat has not overtaken the reality of my laboratory. Lab now sits in a clearing surrounding by high-rise buildings of low quality most presumably designed for the lower grade workers. The concrete paving leading up to the lab ends abruptly. I have noticed that a few compounds that encroach the edges of my building show signs of distress and disrepair at their bleeding edges. It seems as if they cannot fold into the space my laboratory occupies, but they want to, or they are trying to. Coupled with the lack of Stage Firing incurred degradation I am lead to believe that the laboratory exists in the Couldwell reality, not the Pripyat one. Or at least, it exists in its own reality altogether and the space it occupies does not affect Coulwell's landscape, but it does Pripyat’s. It seems like my building has a force that can withstand the LHC. Of course, structurally it is decimated, but it still remains and it has not morphed into some sort of twisted hybrid. It has strength to resist the pressure induced by the multi-worlds collapse. Interesting. It is an anchor - a place that spears through many realities and, as such, is unchangeable. Similar to Mother Motherland who seems to remain the one constant in all worlds.

Going into the lab to inspect the damage and investigate.

Sitting in the Dream Projector chair. Have investigated. Strange findings. Melancholic discoveries. The laboratory remains effectively untouched since I fled those days ago. Since the LHC broke through and vaporised brave Master G_. My journals and maps are now ashes and dust spread over everything. A lifetime (maybe many lifetimes) of ideas, dreams, confessions and discoveries are reduced to a fine membrane, a gentle dusting that covers everything I have known.

My instruments and apparatus are ruined beyond repair. They lie where they fell, twisted and half melted by the power of the LHC. They are hideous. Like a demon’s instruments of torture. Curiously, they are all heavier. Picked up some forceps, some scalpels and some thumb-braces and they are much heavier than muscle memory recalls. It seems that the melting has re-ordered their composition at a molecular level. There is alchemy here. Titanium alloy has now become some sort of obsidian (at least comparable in density, the colour however is more like dulled mercury).

The chair I am sitting on has changed also. It is now a foul construction melded into the floor as if it has grown from it. This new Obsidian2 does not yield clean lines, as steel does. Its natural state is undulating and there are wire-like reliefs that run over the arm rests like a network of veins. There are no rivets or bolts anymore. The Obsidian2 here has replaced them with small balls and sockets with a porous impression on the surface. Like bone. It is a ghastly aberration.

Paisley does not like the chair. Does not like the laboratory. His fur visibly rose as he entered. Part fear, part electro-magnetic echo charge. He stayed by the door. The most curious and ominous discovery here lies at the final resting place of Master G_. Instead of a pool of melted flesh there now lie two small pits of sand. Real sand unaffected by the OBs2. Unaffected by anything. Almost as if someone has come in, and shovelled two piles of sand on the floor and left.

Tasted sand. No hint of iodine. This sand does not appear to be from anywhere around here. Old fashioned sand. Fine, red and pure. I pushed my finger into the pile, attempting to take a sample – hand almost disappeared! I did not feel the touch of the laboratory floor as expected and my hand went past the knuckle, passed the wrist and half way up my arm. I felt a force pulling in retrograde upon it. I yanked my hand clear and staggered back. The surface of the sandpit did not move and did not fall into the cavern I had created, did not sink away. It remained calm as the Dead Sea.

I paced around, and then decided to makes these notations though the chair repulsed me, I felt drawn to it. To sit where my friend had sat in his final moments. I thought maybe it might reveal something. It did not.

To note – I could not find any evidence of the Dream Projector Needle that master G_ had fashioned into the fateful horseshoe. Gone.

I can feel a presence.

Not Paisley this time – another presence.

Paisley is not here. I just looked round, hoping to see my loyal friend at the doorway. Gone. Where is he? The presence is strong now. While one phonological loop is writing this, my other phonological loop is screaming at me. It is saying; “There is someone here, there is someone here. You are in danger. Get out.


Tesla Entry.

Taken prisoner. Journal taken from me. If I get the journal back, I will paste in this notation. Head throbbing. Cannot see anything. Pitch black. The walls of my prison are cold and smooth and there is a curvature to them. Twenty paces from wall to wall. Room circular. I am inside a globe. A globe with no windows. No light. Writing this on the map, though I cannot see what I write. Hope is legible.

Struck over head with rock. Assailant came out of the dark like a ghost. Couldn’t see face. Like a nightmare. Phonological loops synched up and screamed to me to leave and I turned to see the ghoul and it struck me with a rock. Darkness took me. And then I awoke.


Periscope – taken.

Journal – taken.

Paisley – not with me.

Map – here.

Pencil – here.

Shoes – wearing.

Suit – wearing.

Events of the day unfolded thusly, as I have not yet noted the moments between Angeline showering in the morning and my notations of Pripyat at night.

How it was:

New Angeline returned from shower and took me into town. I had to keep calm and cool. The town was now thriving with life. No more Sleepwalkers, no more ghosts. Convoys of supply trucks, Model-T’s, horse and carriages bustled about. The population exceeded the 278 that MGV1 thought used to dwell here. The population was in the thousands.

As New Angeline pulled me through the town, talking incessantly and loudly, she waved at the citizens who waved back and tipped their hats to me. As all this went on, I felt cold and ill because I knew, and I still know, that these people are the same people I saw during my Stage Four Firing recall. The same population I witnessed being destroyed. We walked giddily down Torpor Avenue and I saw wives, sisters and girlfriends all walking arm in arm with husbands, brothers and boyfriends.

I saw a young boy, maybe seven, playing by the fountain. He was trying to catch a little ball on a string attached to a cup. I recognized his face. He was the boy who was trampled under the panic. I reached out to him, he thought I was waving and he waved back. I almost cried.

There are all dead, and yet alive! They have all died horribly in another time and now they are here again, to go through it once more and they are unaware! They have been recalled into existence. They have been folded into reality and time is melding together. I have a thought: what if, during the Stage Four Firing, I did not witness the past destruction of Pripyat but a future destruction? Before, I concluded that I was in one reality, and everything was catching up to me.

I think now that maybe I am the one catching up to the reality. The wound on my head throbs. I have difficulty ordering thoughts.

These things are clear.

  1. The LHC is folding reality – bringing in past, future and alternate events and melding them into one.
  2. I am aware of all around me.
  3. It is of no use trying to figure out how bad the storm is when you are in its eye; it is only of use to survive it.
  4. The LHC, when it reaches its Final Stage Firing will clearly be cataclysmic. I have witnessed as a hologram one version that has/could happen. MGV1 and 2 have also.
  5. I must try and prevent it.
  6. If I cannot prevent it, I must survive it.
  7. I must save as many as I can.

I would assume that I am close. The man in the crooked top hat, lying on that desk in the middle of that meltdown knew I was there and so must know that I am here. He must know that I can prevent it. That man is the architect of all of this. Obviously, he is Brekker but what has he to do with me? Apart from my intellect, why Nikola Tesla?

In life, I had never met Master G_, Lucy or Brekker. I remember only this place, my laboratory, my failed work, my distress and my Evelyn. I remember living next to the LHC that never fired and just lay dormant. I remember Mother Motherland abandoned, sad, and lonely.

And then that dream concerning the one who would illuminate the sky - Master G_, that most unassuming of men. Where I held genius in my hands, he had nothing but questions and a goal. I sought him out for my own answers and I became drawn into his world and onto his path. My questions were answered in him. I am not here for any other reason than to exist in his realm. I was folded into his reality the moment I had that dream.

And then the Stage Firings started and Mother Motherland became glorious, noble and powerful once more. Everything was pulled apart and reformed and we bounced and hurtled through dreamscapes, realities, time and space aware but out of control. We were fearless and reckless and, in all truth, we have been truly alive in TheNeverRealm.

But now that he has gone, the possibility of the end of all things still remains. His dream is over and all the actors in that great play are left behind in the theatre.

The end of all things is coming so now it is me who is aware of it all and who must prevent catastrophe. I must escape this oubliette and prevent the apocalypse. If only for saving that boy by the fountain.

Tesla Entry.

I am in the air! Suspended in a glass globe! After writing the above entry, I sat upon the cold floor to gather my thoughts. Thoughts of escape, thoughts of rescuing the town and of ascending. Then, as I felt a great lethargy begin to rise inside of me, the walls of my black prison began to grow less opaque. My vision began to penetrate slowly though the walls and the murky shapes behind them soon formed a horizon. I could see the ridge of the LHC in the distance. I could see the compound below me. I was looking out to the west. Soon in the distance, the Tsar cyclones became visible, moving along their horizon like clockwork.

My black globe-prison became a glass bubble. I looked out and around and as I turned to look behind me, I saw her and I knew exactly where I was.

I am standing in the palm of Mother Motherland’s outstretched left hand. When I was hiding from Paisley, atop of the building, I glimpsed an odd shape in her hand - a shimmering trick of the light. It was this glass ball I was looking at. And now I am inside it.

Mother Motherland’s fierce, glorious face is gigantic. It looms over me, calling beyond me, calling to the Tsars on the horizon. The beacon on the tip of her sword flashes brightly and the sky so clear and the celestial blanket so vibrant that I can almost reach out and touch it.

How I got here, I do not know. How I will leave? I cannot begin to calculate. Although, the most probable theory is that this glass ball is intrinsic to the next Stage Firing. I have survived all of them so far (even from within the LHC itself) and so I can survive this. I have to, for Paisley, for that boy by the fountain. For Master G_ and Lucy, for the Evelyn I loved, her soul stolen from me, and the imposter Angeline poured into the shell of her body.

I must survive. Running out of space on the map to note these things down. Glory of Mother Motherland overwhelms me.

I can see people on the ridge. The townsfolk have all come out. They are standing on the crater’s rim, covering its entire circumference. What will happen? I cannot tell if they are looking at me, or looking out at something else.

Above me, the celestial blanket is merging. A wash of green, azure and purple merge. The most beautiful light-shower is unfolding about me.

It is the Aurora Borealis! I know this. I can almost taste it. The magnesium in the atmosphere is thinning. There is a solar wind coming. The colours are waves, the symphony! The opera of light! I am lying on my back in my perfect observatory and my hairs are standing on end. I feel a charge. I feel electricity flowing through me as this orchestra of light builds its crescendo all around me.

I am one in light, one in stillness, one in peace.

Three in one, one in three.

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