Apocalypse on Endless Earths

Apocalypse How?

Raymond Johnson

Cover Art by: Andrey Denisov

Copyright: ©2018 Raymond Johnson

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. This book contains material protected under International and Federal Copyright Laws and Treaties. Any unauthorized reprint or use of this material is prohibited. No part of this book, including the cover and photos, may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without express written permission from the author / publisher. All rights reserved.

Any resemblance to persons, places living or dead is purely coincidental.

This is a work of fiction.

I dedicate this book to the love of my life, my wife Carrie, who has always had my back even when I was fighting myself.

Prologue

The Last Day in the Life of . . .

Sarah Crowe, of the Earth known as 755RRX, lay in her bed and played Kandied Krunch on her phone. She was a pretty dark haired girl, who maybe stood five five without her “special boots”. She was one of the least important people on the planet, and she knew it. She had known it from a very early age. She had also realized early on that in the wider more cosmic sense of existence that she infinitesimally unimportant to such a degree she wondered why she had ever been given life. As a result, she had long long ago given up on doing anything of importance and indulged in a laissez-faire lifestyle that supported her way of thinking. She had no aspirations, no goals, and no ambition and she had every reason to feel that way.

She briefly considered going into work but decided against it. She already had an eviction notice and they had shut off the water. She was pretty certain that the electricity was going to go next; the only thing that she had paid was her phone bill. She hadn’t even bothered to get dressed or rather just put on some clean clothes for the last three days. She was still in her pajamas that she’d put on over the weekend, and had worn them because she didn’t see the point of having to wash more clothes when she had no water. Similarly, she hadn’t bathed in over six days. The lack of water had no bearing on that decision; she just hadn’t felt dirty enough to warrant her getting out of bed or off the couch. When she needed a shower she’d call one of her girlfriends and see if they wouldn’t let her scrub down at their place. If worse came to worse she could always ask her boss, Pat, to let her clean up over there. She’d let him peek through the keyhole, but that was all. He was a creepy bastard, but he was her creepy bastard. Either way, it beat having to pay the backlog on the water bill. She had better things to do than worry about how fresh she felt.

With Pat on her mind, she sent him a text saying that she was still sick and couldn’t make it to work. How could he refute it? She never left the apartment, and if he decided to check in on her he’d see that she hadn’t cleaned up in a while. A very long while at that, but he’d never realize the truth that she cleaned up if she absolutely had to do so. She knew the only reason he hadn’t fired her was for the fact that she’d occasionally shake her rear end at him and give him a wink. That exhausted her. Sometimes it was too much work getting out of work.

She sighed and realized that she was going to have to pack somethings for when they eventually, but probably sooner rather than later, kicked her out of her apartment. She didn’t need any more hassles with the deputy sheriffs. They never seemed to understand her side of things and always made her leave without making a scene. She could, she decided, pack somethings up tomorrow. Right now she was ready for a long nap. She shut her phone off, dropped it to the floor because the stand was too far away, and sank her head into her fluffy pillow. She would make certain that she took that pillow with her when they kicked her out; it was just too comfy to leave behind. She pulled the covers over her head because the sun was shining in her eyes, and it was too cold in the apartment for her to get up and close the blinds. Satisfied, she closed her eyes and drifted off into sleep.

Slothful Sarah had no idea that she was living out her last day on Earth. Not that it particularly mattered; even if she had known she wouldn’t have done things much differently. She hated that nickname, but she couldn’t argue with it. She had always earned a title that alluded to her lethargic nature. If she had the energy or the inclination, she could have rattled off titles such as Lazy Sarah, Sluggish Sarah, Sarah Idle, and her newest one that had been bequeathed to her at the coffee shop by her co-workers, Slothful Sarah. She was blessed to die the way that she lived, laying in her bed trying her best not to do anything. She had no idea that as she contemplated calling her boss her fate was already being sealed. If she had then she would have probably rejoiced because it is a horrible thing to recognize that nothing that you do will ever matter. Living under such an onus was unbearable.

Six thousand miles away a frail figure covered in a black hooded robe and cloak stepped from a shadow beneath a stone bridge. The bridge was ancient and still viable and it provided the easiest point for the figure’s entry into the world. The cowl was a stygian mass of murk and betrayed no features of the hood’s wearer. The thin form scanned the area making certain that it was indeed alone. Satisfied that no one was about it bent down to the earth and tore a chunk of soil from the ground. He brought the handful of soil and grass before the hood’s opening, and words like snakes slithered into the air, “They were hungry and thirsty; their soul fainted within them. Then they cried out to the LORD in their trouble.” The voice was male, with an accent that hinted that he hailed from somewhere in the lower southern states of the U.S. It was deep and sonorous and held a bit of contempt buried between the syllables.

The clump of vegetation withered and shriveled until only dust remained in the hand that had been holding the mass of dirt and green grass; dust the trickled to the ground through the figure’s fingers. The hand was emaciated, covered with a tissue-thin black skin that was so delicate that a paper cut might slash his wrist better than a razor could hope to do. As the last grain of dust fell from his palm he wiped his hand on his robe and drew back his hood.

As was the hand, so went the head. The man’s flesh was pulled so tautly over his skull that it looked that if he smiled he would break into a rictus grin so morbid that he would never recover from it. Wisps of hair sprouted in small spots around the top of his skull, but he had no eyebrows or facial hair of any kind. He winced as he looked into the sky and the sun’s light seared his skin like a blowtorch used on solder. His dark skin shriveled and fell from his face and hands like flaming pieces of tissue paper; leaving only a bleached white skull and boney hands as evidence of the sun’s power against his personage. The skull bore no expression, nor gave any indication that what had just happened had caused it pain in any way. Empty sockets stared at the ground and watched as the grass and all surrounding vegetation grew brown, withered, and finally crumbled into a grainy powder; everything around him that was within the floral spectrum of life shriveled and silently faded into nonexistence. It did not matter if it was a huge and vibrant tree or a small struggling to survive seed. They all wrinkled and died.

The harbinger of death turned his attention to the small river that ran beneath the bridge that had cast the shadow that he had used to enter this world. It was swollen and swift, and was actually quite clean for a Chinese river. It rolled beneath the bridge sure and strong as it had done for thousands of years. The hollow eyes of the skeleton watched impassively as the water dried up and aught but sand was left behind. He took note that there was not even moisture in the air any longer.

Although it was not obvious, the skeleton was not satisfied with his handiwork. His voice, now raspy and wisp-like, choked the air with his corruption as he spoke, "When they become waterless, they are silent, when it is hot, they vanish from their place. It is I who says to the depth of the sea, 'Be dried up!' And I will make your rivers dry. "

It hadn’t been enough to kill this world by taking away its food and water, the skull-faced fiend had to make it so that the very air leached moisture from the flesh of every living creature on the planet. The inhabitants of this world no longer had days left for them to lead their lives, but hours, at best instead.

Slothful Sarah Crowe would die peacefully in her sleep. While billions of others, those who were awake would feel the fluids being slowly pulled from their cells only for the moisture to dissipate into the air, and grow weaker and stiffer until nothing was left of them but mummified and desiccated corpses littering the streets or filling their homes. The entire process was not painful, but it was agonizingly slow and incredibly uncomfortable as those who were awake bore an unquenchable thirst that could never be satisfied. Theirs was a Tantalusian death; which was just how the robed figure preferred to mete out his apocalypses. Armageddon, he felt, should bear the taste of bitter irony. The shadowy form of the skeleton flitted from one continent to the next, making sure that not a single creature was still alive. He had been tasked with killing all life on the planet and he had done so swiftly and efficiently.

Hours later, he found himself wandering through the city of New Amsterdam, the Big Orange, as it was affectionately called. He stepped over body after body; sometimes accidentally stepping on one of them and crushing the corpse into dust. He did this without malice; he simply went where he needed to go. He paused at a tourist shop, stepped inside, and saw what he had been looking for; a small glass globe sitting on a shelf. He reached out and plucked it like it was the last flower in a field near a beautiful girl. He held it up to his face and shook it. He watched as small white plastic flakes swirled around the image of the skyline of New Amsterdam. It was perfect. He slipped it into the pocket of his robe with an inward smile.

His mission was accomplished and he was free to go, but he had decided that this was the last world he was going to destroy for his interdimensional overlord. He had had enough of the killing. The commandment Thou Shalt Not Kill rattled around in his skull more and more nowadays. He had no stomach left for it. He had long ago decided that he would go against the wishes of his master and save the worlds he was ordered to destroy. He would no longer be a monster. He would become a savior. He had decided to oppose his lord and had lost his flesh because of it. Now he was forever marked as a death bringer, for surely now he was the reaper incarnate. He was willing to pay such a price if it meant that he could regain his soul. He just wondered how many lives he would have to save in order to make up for the Quintillions that he had killed over the years. He found it ironic that the champion of light and life should be molded into the image of death and destruction. He was a Horseman of the Apocalypse. He had taken that title for himself, but he had embodied all four of the horsemen, not just death. This was his master’s idea of a joke. In order to save the lives of untold googleplexes of people, he would have to become the incarnation death. He was already a destroyer of worlds; he had been for a very long time.

The irony of it all was that in the end, Sarah Crowe of Earth 755RRX had been correct after all. Nothing that she would have done would have mattered, and there was no one in the multiverse who would ever care if she had lived or died.

Always a Minute too Late

Declan Mason was perpetually late. It was a constant and irritating issue in his life, and nothing that he did seemed to curb it. If he got himself ready an hour earlier then traffic would get him. If he stayed in a nearby hotel to make it to an important meeting, then the meeting would move, and someone would neglect to tell him. As a result, he had long ago stopped trying to get anywhere on time. He would get there when he got there. Anyone who had a problem with that would either deal with it or move on. That's all there was to it. Accept it or let him go.

The only exception that he had to this hard and fast rule was that he made sure that he always got a cup of coffee from Bucky Starrs down on Wabash and Lake. So long as he made it there before noon he was OK. BS had some great coffee, but he stopped in to see one person in particular. Her name was Sarah Crowe, and she was beautiful. At least she was to him. She was special in a myriad of ways that he couldn’t even contemplate. The way her nose crinkled when she laughed, that glitter in her eyes when she was thinking of something devious, the way she blushed, even after two years, when he told her that he loved her. He loved her harder and more deeply with every day that passed. For him, there was no other woman in the entire world. He didn’t even notice other women anymore. He hadn’t noticed that fact for some time until she had made a comment on a blonde that had walked by them in a too-revealing outfit and he realized he hadn’t seen her because he was thinking about how he couldn’t live without her. How he needed to marry this amazing woman beside him. Of course, when he realized that she had said something about her and he said he hadn’t noticed the woman she didn’t believe him. Well, maybe she did just a little.

Everything about her appealed to him from her appearance to her demeanor; she was all that he could ever ask for in a woman, and today he was going to ask her to marry him. He decided that they had dated long enough and that even though many people in his generation felt that marriage was an outdated ideal that he needed to proclaim that he was hers, and that she was his. Yes, he knew he was whipped. He was hopelessly and happily whipped.

He had been going to that particular coffee shoppe every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday between eight am and twelve noon for the last three years; because that was when she worked. They had met there, he had asked out there, and now he was going to propose there. It seemed cheesy, but this was the three year anniversary of the day they had met. While he never made it there when he said he would, she didn’t mind. She was more concerned with his presence, not his timeliness, and he cherished her for that. They often chatted while she took his order, and would make plans for that night. She was not a woman that you spent time with at home. She was one that you took out and marveled at as streetlights shone in her eyes, or gape in wonder as she managed to make restaurant music seem like the soundtrack to her life. She was someone that made the stars dim when compared to her.

She was short, just about five five, but she was thin, save for her c-cup bosom. She wore her hair in a simple bob style cut and wore no make-up. Her skin was pale, a creamy white, and her eyes were a brilliant and sparkling green. She was a dreamer, whose starry eyes had sucked him in like a black hole the day that he'd first seen her. He had so wanted to ask her out right then but didn’t because he was running late for a doctor's appointment. After that, it took him a few weeks to find the proper moment to ask her out. The timing always seemed off to him. He wanted everything to be perfect when he made his move. He had done the same thing in regards to his proposal, he kept looking for the right moment, the perfect situation, but nothing ever seemed right. Today was different for some reason. Now, he had a sense of urgency about him. He felt that if he didn’t ask her right now he would never have the chance.

Today he had awakened and felt like it needed to be a day of change. Something big was going to happen to him. He didn't know what, but he just felt like Tony in West Side Story. Something was coming. Something big, something better, and it was meant for him. He left his habitat pod, told it to lock behind him, and climbed into his car. It was a retro-design hover vehicle that had been shaped to emulate the American Chevy from 1957. His was molded in the Bel Air model style, toned with the classic cherry red paint with white trim. Since his car was operated by a sentient A.I. he had seen fit to provide it with an appropriate voice and name.

"Good morning, Declan," it said in a soothing feminine voice. He had programmed her to sound like Lauren Bacall, the actress from the nineteen forties who had dated Humphrey Boggart. He had always found her voice fascinating and leaped at the chance to have his car speak to him with her dulcet tones when the dealership asked which voice he wanted for his car’s AI. He had then named her after an old horror book that he had read as a kid. It was about a murderous Model-A car named Kristine and had been penned by that century’s leading horror novelist, Samuel Baron. It was the first time someone had written about a sentient vehicle, and he appreciated the irony that he would be trusting his life to an automobile named after a killer car.

"Where shall I take you today?" Her voice was soft and sonorous, and just slightly seductive. He made a mental note that he was going to have to change it to something a little less appealing once he was engaged to Sarah. Declan shook his head at the thought and gave the car a broad grin. "Kristine," he said with no small amount of joy in his voice, "I would like you to please get me to Bucky Starr's Coffee Shop as soon as possible."

"The one on Wabash and Lake, I presume?" She said it questioningly as if there might be some doubt as to his destination. He appreciated her playful attitude. He was definitely going to have to readjust her whole personality soon, he couldn’t get caught flirting with his car. The car rose gently from the ground and accelerated in the direction of the I-50 Skylane.

Declan nodded, his dark brunette hair flopping over his left eye as he did so, "Please. You know where I’m going. I’ve done the same routine week after week for months, now." He saw no reason not to be polite to the car. Hell, it held better conversations with him than most people he knew.

"Ah, then we must be going to see Miss Crowe today. It is a Wednesday. Another triple shot expresso?"

Declan chuckled, "No, Kristine, today is the day I am going to ask her to marry me. I'm tired of....," he paused. He wasn't sure of what he wanted to say. He didn't know how to put his feelings into words.

Kristine, had no problem substituting, however, "Pussyfooting around? About damned time if you ask me, Dec. Pulling out now, please buckle up; your safety is important to me." He wondered why Kristine always said that. His belts secured him in his seat automatically. He always assumed it was a little joke that Kristine found funny; however, it could have just been the standard safety protocols kicking in but he couldn’t be sure since she always managed to say it with some snark at the end.

“Kristine, what is our ETA?” The car did not hesitate, “Twenty three minutes and forty-four seconds,” she said casually. Suddenly, his guts twisted, that seemed like it was too long to wait. “Please see what you can do to cut that time down, will you?” He swore he heard the car snort when he asked that question, “Declan, I am already exceeding legal speeds by seven miles since I could sense your urgency when you entered. Your heart rate is all over the place. You really need to calm down. I will see what I can do.”

While Kristine drove him to the coffee shop Declan opened up his heads up display. The HUD was a red screen that opened in front of him. He marveled at the relative ease he had when using it compared to his parents using theirs. They literally had to plug in to access the headnet because the tech was still in its infancy when they were born. They had to have hardware physically installed in their craniums in order to access the World Wide Head Web. His mother and father had opted not to update their hardware, choosing to jack in when they needed to do so. His father used to laugh and tell Declan that when he was a kid his father not only had to plug in, but also required dial-up via telephone lines and that he knew whenever his dad was getting on the web by the squealing noises that emanated from his head. By the time Declan, and those of his generation was born they had developed tech to the point that they just injected some nanites into his infant brain and they grew the necessary neural pathways that allowed one to connect directly to the new Headnet wirelessly. It was a lot like those people with belly buttons, you could tell those who were homegrown and those who came from a lab. Vatties had no umbilicus on their navel, rather it was at the base of their cranium. He was a vattie. Engineered to be the exact model human that his parents had desired.

Headnet was a great invention. It acted like the old style internet, email, television, and video games all rolled into one. If it existed electronically then you could access it. Headnet made teachers obsolete because children could download information and skills directly into their heads. You could connect to anyone at anytime anywhere in the world. It really broke down the concept of countries, once Headnet created a new human language that everyone under the age of thirty spoke fluently. Everyone over the age got reprogrammed when they jacked in. After everyone spoke the same words in the same way a lot of issues began to vanish. There had been some holdouts, but no one could stay off the HNET for long. He had heard of living off the grid, but never understood the concept. Headnet was everywhere.

One of the biggest boons of Headnet came from the psychological and medical benefits that it provided. Hnet acted like a counselor, a psychiatrist, and a therapeutic pharmacist so that there was no mental illness anymore. No one suffered from anxiety, grief, loneliness, or psychoses anymore. Hnet diagnosed, provided and applied subliminal therapeutic counseling techniques as people slept, and made sure that no one missed or skipped medication. Internal nanites provided everything necessary to stabilize mental health and keep the citizens happy and productive. If you were lonely then Headnet would seek out a partner that would be one hundred percent compatible with you if you so desired. Most people didn’t even look for mates on their own anymore. They simply allowed Hnet to guide them to a compatible choice and were content to leave it at that. If you didn’t use Hnet to find a partner then it could be used to vet how the relationship would work in the long run. Declan had been lucky; he’d found his Sarah on his own, and they had fit together so perfectly that he’d never even considered needing to run his relationship under the HNet’s microscope. Headnet was not omniscient, nor was it omnipotent. It could only access thoughts when it was given permission to do so, and it could not reveal any private information that you did not want to disclose to someone.

Medically, Hnet constantly scanned your body via billions of nanites and took care or any physical ailments that might appear. Disease was nonexistent, although it was well known of and would never be forgotten. Wounds were knitted back together via the nanites as well.

It was not a cure all, nor was it perfect. As for its matchmaking capabilities, well, people were people and sometimes people changed. When two partnered people’s goals began to shift they were notified that the relationship was facing stress and could fracture. Sometimes they would realign their priorities and others they would allow the Headnet to find them someone more suitable to their current needs. It was all quite civilized and amicable. Headnet had become such a boon that it was used in virtually every aspect of their lives.

Headnet also allowed people to keep track of themselves. Everyone had a character or information sheet that displayed skills, attributes, abilities, wealth, etc. You could literally assign points to areas that you lacked and improve yourself. Not all skills were available to everyone either. There had to be a reason for you to know how to sharpshoot, or even load a gun for that matter, but if you wanted to go swimming then you could just contact Headnet and within moments you would have the knowledge, skill, and muscle memory of the best swimmer that had been recorded into HNET. No one was paid with cash anymore, it was a cryptocurrency known as Expy. Expy was used to purchase items, pay for services, and self-improvement. The trick was balancing those things out.

The HUD shone red in his eyes as he looked at his character sheet. He looked at the section that said Relationship. He could have cared less about anything else on there. The words DATING stared back at him. It should have said engaged a long time ago, even married by this point.

Declan smiled inwardly at the thought of marrying Sarah, although it felt more like a grimace to him. He decided not to wait any longer. Something was telling him that he was going to be too late to do what he wanted. He had to ask her right now or she was going to slip through his hands forever. He touched his right temple, and said, "HNET, contact Sarah Crowe, the barista employed at Bucky Starr's on Wabash and Lake." He didn't need to talk, just tapping his temple and thinking it would have worked just as easily, but he enjoyed talking. He knew numerous people his age that never uttered a word aloud anymore. They just communicated via HNET. So boring. So silent.

In a moment Sarah appeared on his screen. She was in full living color but framed with the red tone of his HUD. She looked a little shocked to see him but still managed a smile. "Hello, Declan. Are you running behind? Do you want to order your drink now, so that it is ready when you get here?" Her forehead crinkled when she asked that. She was clearly surprised about him calling her directly. She was taken aback because he never called her when he was on his way to see her. He always made it a point to speak to her directly and in person. It was important to him to make actual personal contact rather than connecting via a social network. He hated talking via Headnet.

"Actually, Sarah, I'm calling because,” he felt this throat constrict as he tried to say the words, “I feel that if I don’t do something right this moment then I am going to lose my opportunity forever. I don’t know why, but I do.” He stared into her verdant eyes, eyes that stole his breath whenever he looked into them, “You know how I feel about talking to you in person, and that the HNET is more harmful than it is helpful when it comes to interpersonal relationships.” His voice was coming out in desperate tones, and he had no idea why. He wasn’t afraid to ask her to marry him, but there was an underlying urgency at this moment that he could not shake.

“I’m so tired of not doing what I should have done so long ago. Three years ago I took a chance on getting to know this incredible woman that I had met. I admit that I have been struck by your beauty since the first time ever I saw your face, but it is so much more than that. You are the kindest, sweetest person I have ever known. You are so smart, and you care about people and things that so few do nowadays.” He paused and took a breath. Then he took another and another. It didn’t help. He had to do this now. “I want to spend the rest of our lives seeing what the world brings to us, what it throws at us, and how we deal with it together. You are the best part of my day; You make me laugh when I should cry, and you have been there for me at every hurdle and at every loss.” He thought of his parents and how she had never left his side once she learned that they had been killed. How she stood by him through his hardest moments. “What I’m saying is that there is nobody that I want to grow old with, nobody I would want with me from now until the end of the world. Sarah Crowe, will you please consent to be the one love of my life from now until the end of the world? Will you marry . .”

He stopped as the HUD cut out. Kristine began to shudder, and shimmy on the road. Declan’s first thoughts would have been that they were hydroplaning, but she was a hovercraft. Kristine only touched the ground when she was parked or letting him out. A violent thrust rocked the auto and Declan almost flew out of his seat when his vehicle all but rolled over; somehow Kristine managed to right and realign herself as she continued to vibrate like she was in an earthquake.

"Sorry," the car said, "The road isn't as smooth as it should be. They must have done some work last night, but I can't find anything in the DOT's work logs to indicate that.” Road work, he thought, road work wouldn’t cause that! She began again, “My sensors are either malfunctioning or the road has vanished. Something is wrong." Her speed suddenly began to increase, and the ride felt as though they were driving over a pothole disguised as a road. Potholes the size of kiddie pools.

"Kristine, please give me road view."

He trusted Kristine's driving, but the vehicle showed no sign of slowing down, and he was literally bouncing out of his seat. If he hadn't been strapped in as well as he was he would have been thrown into the view screen. He didn't have it on transparent mode, since he had planned on talking to Sarah, and then looking his character sheet over until he got to work. Now he was worried that something was really wrong. He wanted to see what was out there. “Kristine,” his voice was oddly calm, he had expected something to go wrong and now that it had he became cradled in an aura of serenity and acceptance, “Can you please stop? Can you show me the road? Can you tell me anything?”

No answer came. He looked at the dashboard, and Kristine's screens began flashing on and off. Declan called up his HUD again since it had dropped right when he was going to ask Sarah to marry him. The HUD went wibbly wobbly and started squirming and blurring in front of his eyes. Something was seriously wrong. He put a finger to his temple, "HNET, rider needs assistance." He waited for a response, but nothing happened. HNET was, for all intents and purposes, practically instantaneous. His alert would have had them location spot him, ascertain what was going on, and moved to assist him before he heard their reply. The response team’s silence sent a chill down his spine and destroyed the air of calm that had swathed him moments ago.

"Kristine? Are you viable?" Again, no answer came. His blood ran cold. He was in serious danger if Kristine couldn't respond. "Kristine?" His voice broke as he spoke, his nerves suddenly struck him so hard he began to shake violently. "Krrrriiiiiissssstine!!"

He barked out the name over and over as panic drove him to completely lose his composure. Outside he could hear small pings and dings as what Declan assumed to be pebbles from the road began pelting the sides of the car. He futilely struggled to get himself free from his safety restraints, as the bouncing and rattling continued to grow worse. The restraints, however, did what they were supposed to do and held him in place. He felt the emergency gyroscope kick on and while he still vibrated and shook so hard that his teeth rattled he knew that even if Kristine rolled tailpipe over tea kettle he would remain upright and relatively safe.

Then he calmed himself. Panic accomplished nothing. Kristine might not be responsive, and there might not be anything he could do about it, so he figured he might as well calm down. He began to take deep breaths and center himself. He checked over Kristine's readouts and saw that everything was still inoperable. His Headnet was still down; he had no traffic on it at all. There were no incoming or outgoing messages, and no matter what he did he could not pull up his character screen.

All that he was able to get was a red screen that was filled with static and snow. It sputtered and blinked and then went completely blank. He stared at it and, surprisingly, it helped to calm him down. He left it up and focused on it as the vehicle rumbled and bounced. Alarmingly, he noticed that the pebbles that were assaulting the car were growing in size from what he could hear. He had no doubt that the rocks were now the size of his fist. He gagged instinctively as the air around him was filled with the scent of burning asphalt, sulfur, and oil. He swore that he could hear rumbling like thunder as well; a deep and hungry thunder that rolled and roiled like a rockslide in an earthquake.

Then, his crimson HUD screen was filled with a picture. His heads up display was stable and show no signs of the glitch behavior it had moments before. A smiley face stared back at him, and the words Keep Calm glowed beneath it. As soon as it filled his screen the car began to ease up and the rollicking rolled back to a slight bounce. Then the ride completely smoothed out, and everything was calm again. Kristine had still not rebooted, and he knew that because the test pattern signal that was still on his HUD. He felt the car steering itself, however, even if Kristine wasn't back in control cognitively she was there instinctually. Core programming like hers was hard to dismiss. She banked left and climbed upward, and then he felt the car drop suddenly as if it were being lowered to the ground. His restraints released him, and his passenger door opened.

He looked out and had no idea of where the hell he was.

Inducted into Service

Declan stepped out of his vehicle after turning off his Heads Up Screen. He found himself standing in a room that was smothered in darkness, and yet filled with light. The area that the car had landed was clearly some sort of construction, but he had no idea of what he was in. The walls of the facility he now found himself to be in appeared to be constructed of shining stainless steel. His eyes followed the path of the walls as they went shooting skyward but never seemed to end. They were swallowed by a nebulous ebon shadow that gave no hint to their height. Declan’s best guess estimated the walls, or rather wall as the room itself was circular, was at least half a mile high. The floor was made out of the same material as the walls. He bent down and touched it. It was smooth and warm to the touch and he could feel a slight pulsing beneath his fingers. The ambient light that filled the room seemed to emanate from the air itself because he saw no lamps, lanterns, torches, or other devices anywhere around him. The eeriest part as far as he was concerned, the thing that unsettled him the most, was the complete and utter silence that enveloped him. He couldn’t even hear his own breathing. He became paranoid and thought that the metal was absorbing the sound around him. The room and he hesitated to call it that, was simply massive in its scope. He estimated that it could have easily held about fifty football fields. His best reckoning told him that he was smack dab in the center of the place.

Normally, he would have just used his HUD to get a reading and know the exact dimensions of the space around him, but Headnet still wasn't functioning, and he felt like one of his limbs had been amputated because of it. As much as he disparaged over how impersonal the Hnet could be he'd never been without the HN before and it was disconcerting. It was like a tight rope walker losing his safety net for the first time while he was walking over a lava pit on a windy day. He genuinely felt lost. Worse yet, he was alone. Sarah was gone, Kristine was gone, and the Headnet was down. He was utterly and completely cut off from everything that he knew. No one knew where he was. Hell, he didn’t know where he was. He knew only one thing for certain, no one was coming to help him. He was on his own.

"Hello," he said, fully expecting his voice to echo but it almost vanished as soon as he had spoken. The room had devoured the sound like a great white shark striking an unsuspecting seal. He shut the car door behind him, and it too was muted. The door closed with a slight wumph, not the slam he'd been hoping for when he'd shut it. He was hesitant to step away from the remains of the car as it was really his only refuge that he had if something went wrong, but then he considered that the car would not start or drive on its own at the moment. He could not drive the car, because Headnet was down. Without Hnet he had no idea of how to manually start the car. Driving it wasn’t even worthy of consideration.

Then it hit him. The realization caused his guts to roil and twist. Kristine was beaten to pieces. Every square inch of her was dented, bent, scraped, mangled, and broken. Declan had seen cars in junkyards from historic vids, and they had looked better than his beloved vehicle currently did. As far as he knew she was damaged beyond repair, and there would be no coming back.

He gently ran a hand across her roof, “Oh, Kristine,” he moaned. He knew it was stupid, but he had always considered her to be a companion. A confidant. He could talk to her, unlike his personal habitat. Watson, his house, was amiable but he showed no desire to get to know the man who dwelled within him. He was great for helping with appointments, shopping, and the like, but he shunned idle chat unless he was forced to participate. Kristine, on the other hand, would fight with him over what radio station they were going to listen to as they drove. She had no shame; she had a penchant for Hair Bands and Boy Bands. He would have given anything to hear her singing along with the New Town Boys to Men and their hit, I love Everybody That Way. Now he looked at his battered and broken automobile and wondered how she had kept herself together and prevented him from getting even a scratch. He didn’t know how, but he silently swore that he would restore her someday. He laid his head on her roof and gently rubbed her top with his left hand.

It took Declan sometime before he could step away from his battered friend. A glance at his HUD and he knew that she was still offline, and from what he could see of her she wasn’t going to be coming back any time soon. It dawned on him that he needed to figure out where he was, and hopefully find some help. He hesitated, not sure of where he should start.

Then he decided to just go for it and started walking towards the area of the wall directly across from his passenger door. His first steps were hesitant, but within moments he was confidently striding towards a wall that held no window or doors. He had no idea of why he was walking to the wall other than because it was away from his beloved Kristine. He knew two things with absolute certainty. First, he couldn’t stay with the car, no matter how badly he wanted to, and second, he couldn’t just stand around idly by and wait for something to happen. Waiting would make things worse. He knew that his mind would begin to play tricks on him, and without HN to support him psychologically with its subliminal counseling he would panic. Of that, he had no doubt. So, it was stay by Kristine and drive himself crazy, or walk until something happened or he found a doorway. He opted for the latter. Standing around accomplished nothing.

He had walked about five minutes before he stopped. The floor beneath him had begun vibrating, and a low hum could be heard in his ears. Declan looked down to his feet and noticed that his pale hands were vibrating in rhythm with the floor. He could even feel it in his guts. Then, the floor beneath him began to rise, or rather a circular disc about ten feet in diameter lifted from the ground and floated over his car and continued upward in a slow and steady progression. Without his HUD it was hard to tell, but he'd guess that he was climbing at a rate of about five feet a second.

As he rose he bent his knees and spread out his arms to keep from falling if the disc he was on decided to tilt. He wasn't keen on staying where he was, but he had no intention of going anywhere near the edge of his levitating shield. His trip upwards continued for what he assumed was ten minutes before it came to a stop. He inhaled sharply when the disc began to slowly rotate. He was afraid it was going to work itself into a rapid spin and throw him to the very distant floor below.

His jaw fell open in disbelief as the disc turned him to face a....face. The “face” was at least four stories tall and was glowering at him. The face, and that was all he could call in spite of the fact that it was partially obscured, turned its eyes to look upon the tiny man on the disc before it. It gave him a quizzical look and sighed. The face’s mouth was obscured by a metallic mouth guard that rose from the giant’s sternum to a point just below his nose so that all you could see was the area of the giant’s head from its eyes up. Yellow and green smoke rose from the guard but did not flow in front of his orbs. His eyes were human in appearance, but the irises were golden in color and tone. His pupils were a whirling mass of shapes, one second they were formed like a skull, the next an hourglass, and in the next instant, they were goat-like. They never stopped changing and morphing while he watched. The massive being had no eyebrows, eyelashes or any other hair on his head that Declan could see. His skin was a pale and jaundiced yellow and had deep worry lines etched into it. The titan bore a disinterested if not slightly disappointed look as it stared at him. Declan stared back, too afraid to move or look away.

"You are the one they call Devastation?" The goliath’s voice boomed with a hollow metallic reverberation and Declan knew without a doubt that it had been the merest of a whisper. The thing spoke with the voice of God himself, and Declan realized just how insignificant he truly was in that moment. For just the faintest of moments, he could hear Eric Idle singing Always Look on the Bright Side of Life. The great hulk’s words bounced around Declan’s head, but he could not make any sense of them. The words had been so much more than he was. They were more than anything he’d ever known or understood. He could not comprehend their meaning. If Headnet had been operational it would have decoded the words in an instant, but at the moment his universal translation device was on the fritz.

"Uh, my name is Declan Mason," he said helpfully. He had found that it never hurt to introduce oneself. It was the proper thing to do. "Dec-lan Ma-son," he repeated loudly and slowly like they used to do in the old movies when a foreign person had a hard time understanding the speaker.

"You are De-cim-a-tion?" The hulking form cocked its head slightly as it whispered even more gently the second time around. This time, Declan began to see what the giant was getting at, it had been trying to confirm his name.

Declan shrugged and decided to go with it. "Yeah, that's me. Decimation. What can I do for you?" He was a little worried about that last part, he was certain that whatever the big guy wanted it wasn't going to be good. He was genuinely surprised at how well he was taking in his current situation. He had completely forgotten that he was standing on a metallic disc that had no visible means of support and was hanging in the air hundreds of feet off the ground.

"I have brought you here to work for me," he began. "My role in the multiverse is too vast to contain me to just one path, I must be ever vigilant. My vigilance is all consuming. You will do a portion of my work. In recompense, I shall grant you certain latitudes. I shall upgrade you so that you can do the work required, and shall provide you with some assistance so that you are not alone in your task." The giant was stories tall, and Declan had no way of even guessing his size. He was dressed in what looked to be black plate armor that was covered in glowing silver lines. The lines leaned towards a Celtic design, but not deliberately so. Aside from the top of his head, the alien was completely covered from head to toe in his armor.

Declan tried to suppress a shudder but failed miserably; as he all but spasmed in front of the massive figure. "Uh, what do you want me to do?"

The face’s eyes scrunched like it was making a frown. "I was getting to that. You need to learn patience, flea. All will be revealed in due time." He cocked his head upward in contemplation, "I shall amend that. What I want you to know shall be revealed at my leisure." His voice boomed for the first time, as irritation crept into his voice. "I am going to send you from world to world, and once there you will do what I would have done."

Declan watched the giant head and when it paused to take a breath, he could tell by the way that the strange gasses pulled back into the face shield area, he interjected. "Am I to herald your arrival? Announce that you are there to eat the world or something? Because that's copyrighted you know. Your name wouldn't happen to be Galactica or something like that, would it? Maybe you call yourself the Observer? Are you going to turn me into the Red Rollerskater, the Steel Skateboarder, or the Purple Parasailor? If so I would say that you aren't being very original."

The face leaned in until it was just feet away from him. "YOU WILL BE SILENT," he said. "You may call me the Invigilator for that is what I do. I invigilate. You will become my Revelator. I have grown weary of that role, and I grant you the title. You may call yourself whatever you like, as I do not care, but you are from this point forward a Revelator.” He paused, straightened himself and continued, “In the past, I have allowed my agents to choose their own titles. No more. I realize now that I granted them too much freedom, which in turn, made them believe that they had options.” His voice was so deep and resonant that Declan’s ears rang. “Will not,” he said as he shook his head, “Repeat that mistake ever again. Your old life is over, from this point forth you are mine to do with as I see fit. If you disobey me I shall obliterate every trace of your existence from the cosmos. Nothing will be able to hold an impression of your passing, and no one will remember you.”

He brought one large hand up and pointed at the mortal before him. “You will travel to worlds that I assign to you and you will act in one of three ways. You will either destroy all sentient life on the planet, you will kill all the life on the planet, or you will completely destroy the planet. I will provide what you call Expy for efficiency and creativity. In this way you will grow in power. You will be able to increase your mental and physical prowess, gain new skills or abilities, and earn special items or allowances from me. Any failure on your part to be expeditious, to show alacrity, or lacking in creativity while following my orders will result in penalties. Failure to complete a task in its entirety will result in death or replacement. Replacement will result in my creating a pocket universe that will house you long after eternity has fallen. Death is a slow arduous process that will eons of time, during which you will suffer the vilest tortures ever conceived of in all of the vast multiverse."

Then, what looked to be his right hand crested the edge of the disc that Declan stood upon. It held the battered and beaten frame of Kristine. His fingers flexed, and then closed over Declan's beloved car and crushed it with a cacophony of metal on metal crunches. He rolled his fingers as if he were squeezing a rubber ball, and as he did so the metallic crunching sounds continued. The giant brute stared at his hand impassively as he did so; he showed no sign that he cared what Declan thought of the action that he was performing. When the Invigilator opened his palm there appeared to be a small object floating at its center. It was difficult to estimate size due to the enormity of the hand, its distance away, and his lack of his HUD but if he had a gun to his head he would have said that it was shaped like and was roughly the same size as a football. As he watched the metallic object floated upward and zipped towards him.

Declan had been correct, it was about twice the size of a football, it was yellow, and had what appeared to be two windshields on the front end of the prolate spheroid. The odd football hovered near him and seemed to be looking him over. It made no sound as it floated, and he couldn't help but think that it was circling him in the same way that a shark would. He noticed that the metallic skin that enveloped the spheroid wriggled as if it were still undergoing some sort of changes. The yellow/gold tint was taking on a reddish tinge with white streaks.

Then, Kristine's voice came from the odd device, and as she spoke her windshields lit up. "I am glad to see that you are unharmed, Declan. I was very worried near the end. Needless to say, I was very surprised to find myself functional after everything that happened." He drew in his breath, holy hell, it was Kristine! She was “alive”.

Declan was taken about, "What do you mean," he asked. "What happened?"

The floating football, whose shape was slowly shifting from haploid to returning to the vehicle’s original shape, spun around and faced the Invigilator as if waiting for permission to speak. The Invigilator said, "As I said. You shall have help doing your tasks. This device of yours has been modified and upgraded so that it is more mobile, and can access areas that it could not have done in its original form." Kristine had returned to her own distinctive form but was about a ninth of her original size. Her overall body length was shorter than his arm now.

"I have also reconstructed the concept known to you as Headnet. It retains all the knowledge of your world, and when you get to other worlds of equal or higher tech levels you will be able to access their knowledge base as if it were your own database. I have also made it sentient so that it will be easier to interact with. Your Headnet will become an invaluable asset. I have reset your device's software to its default setting, and your nanites have also been upgraded to be more . . . efficient." He gazed into Declan's eyes, "Please me, and I shall truly empower you beyond your wildest imaginings; though you shall ever and always be naught but a germ when compared to me."

He then pointed upwards, towards that unseen ceiling, and when Declan followed his finger he saw a world, not unlike his home world; it was a vibrant blue with verdant continents and spiraling white clouds. It looked pristine and pure. It was untouched by any kind of technology or humanity since the day of its creation; which was, unbeknownst to him, only yesterday.

"I am also going to give you this planet as your residence. The whole of it is yours to do with as you please. You may remake it into a technological world or keep it pristine and pure. That is your choice, I care not how you live. As of now, it has no life forms save for some plant life and harmless necessary insects. I will allow you to populate it with whatever creatures you desire. You may even bring back trophies from the worlds that you destroy. You might call them mementos or knick-knacks." He looked contemplative for a moment, "I know one of your predecessors used to bring back something called snow globes from where ever he visited. I will assume you will do the same."

Declan did his best to look impressed. "Hey, that's great and all, but I can just live on my world in-between apocalyptic gigs can't I? No need to give me a whole planet just for myself. that would be a little lonely."

The big head nodded. "That is exactly what the man with the snow globes said. That is why I have redesigned your vehicle. It is sentient, if not sapient, and it will serve you very well in the role of a companion, but even I know that it will not be enough for you to have a mechanized companion. You may bring certain individuals back with you. Save whom you can, but not all will be permitted to return with you." He saw that Declan was about to ask him a question and cut him off, “I will not tell you what my criteria are, or the reasons for them. Know only that some may be brought back to your world and some may not. Perhaps in time, you shall determine the whys of my reasoning, but I care not one way or the other.”

Declan shook his head, "Yeah that's great, but, like I said I don't need a mechanical companion or a whole planet to myself. I can just hang out on my world and flounce out when I need to if you insist on using me to do this."

Kristine, spun around swiftly, "Declan, you can't use our planet."

The man looked at his former car and then turned back to the giant, "Why not? What is Kristine talking about?"

The floating bot's "eyes" glowed, as if it were about to speak, but then the giant known only as the Invigilator spoke, "Hmmmmm. I had thought you realized what had happened. Do you know? No. You don't. I can see that now." Then he said nonchalantly, and in a manner that implied that he had no concern for how Declan felt, "I destroyed your planet when I picked you up and brought you here. You can't go back. Everything and everyone that you knew is gone."

Declan fell to his knees. His stomach felt like it had been hit by a cannonball. His body felt hot and stifling, and he suddenly broke out in a profuse and cold sweat. His whole life was gone. His home, his friends, his co-workers, even his beloved Sarah was gone. She had been taken before he could even finish asking him to marry her. Dear lord, you couldn't get anymore late than that! He was too late. Just like every other time in his life he was too late. Everyone and everything was gone. He looked up at the face of the man who had just destroyed his life. It looked back at him with alien eyes that were apathetic to what he was going through. Declan managed to think that the being was so far above him that it could not conceive of the emotional turmoil that afflicted him. His head wasn’t swimming, it was drowning. He managed to sputter out the word, "W-wh-why?" Then, quite mercifully, he blacked out.