Power. What I wouldn't give to have power.

…

But. In this limited span of mortal existence, does such a thing really matter? If immortality came along with such power, then it would surely be worth the effort.

But. As it stands now, immortality and the power I wish I had are nonexistent and unattainable. Such is the futility of these thoughts.

I pick the lint off my bedsheets in consternation.

Financially, I have an incredible life, better than 99% of the population. But, until 6 years ago I was missing something, a reason to get up in the morning.

I was straight out of college with a masters in business administration and absolutely nothing to look forward to in life except retirement. I’d already inherited a fortune from my parents after they’d passed totaling near 43 million dollars so what they hell did I have to look forward to? I was set! Even never working a day in my life I would be perfectly fine. But, I was dissatisfied. I hate living off the backs of others hard work and, having done practically nothing to distinguish myself in the eye of the world, it only made sense to me that I should finish college and try and make my mark upon the world. But what do I want to do? People with a masters in business administration are a dime a dozen in the working world. I would likely never get anywhere without waving my inheritance in peoples’ faces. After being misled since I was a child, led to believe that inspiring happiness in others and thereby oneself was the key to happiness and a fulfilling life, I’d discovered the truth and a paved path to an illustrious future when I was 25.

*sigh*

I roll my lethargic body off of my bed and go to my mirror. Reflected back is my bedraggled visage.

I regard myself as handsome enough; my looks have never been a stressor in my life. I have thick and straight reddish-gold hair and rigid bone structure that culminates in a rather sharp looking face. I have quite a lot of freckles being a ginger and my eyebrows, eyelashes, and other facial hair tend to blend in with my skin color which I believe is great. It doesn’t require as much maintenance as darker hair would. I also have hazel eyes that on some days have a tint that varies from blue to green. My eyes have always been one of my distinguishing factors and I’d received many compliments about them.

Last but not least on my face are the dark circles under my eyes, recent additions over the past few years of mental instability and increasing stress. I had found my goal in life but the doubts and self-deprecation never stopped. Having a goal certainly helped but alas, I am blessed with good looks but cursed with a dysfunctional mind, one that cannot revel and appreciate the blessings I have.

As if to illustrate my point I scrutinize my face once more with harsh eyes but I am not satisfied, for what will satisfy me but perfection itself?

But what is perfection?!

Thinking about this brings me back to my dark and endlessly-cyclical, paradoxical thoughts.

I shake my head to rid myself of the sticky cobwebs of my growing apathy arisen from my feelings of insignificance and walk to the door of my room, ready to get breakfast and get on with this particularly boring day, researching and cataloguing the minutiae of financial information released by other companies in order to appease my current superior.

*sigh* if only I had control.

You would think, you would THINK, that with millions of dollars in investible assets and an influential position at a Fortune 500 company, that I might have the tiniest semblance of control, a budding sapling of influence and power. That could not be further from the truth! The higher one is in society, the more chains that drag one down and restrict one’s freedoms. All I am is a pawn in a complexly convoluted game far beyond my understanding.

I look towards a portrait on the wall of myself with my family. The portrait is old and tired but still a remnant of happier times. I stare for a while, one hand on the doorknob, the other, clenched tightly in a ball, trembling slightly. A tear rolls silently down my face from empty eyes. I breathe in.

*sigh*

And open the door.

—————————

Two months later...

Concrete. Road. Tree. Building. Grass. Car. Dog. Human.

As I walk along a sidewalk, suit donned and briefcase in hand, I play this pointless game with myself. *Tch*, there is supposed to be a point to this game and that is to alleviate my boredom, but alas, if my boredom is never alleviated, then is the point of this game still a valid point?

It is always the same, day after day. Wake up, go to work, go home, sleep. The monthly vacation and eating are really the only things that differentiate the days from each other. I try and eat at different restaurants and try ordering different things but, after living for decades, the novelty of trying new foods at varying restaurants has worn off.

I find that to be a constant, that behavior of developing a fancy for something and it wearing off quite quickly. My interests constantly change and I am never satisfied for long. I do not particularly enjoy my current job, although, it is just a transitionary state. I’d been in my current position for a few years now and the mindless work I’d been subjected to had long gotten old.

But one may ask, why don’t you quit and, well yes, I certainly have enough money to survive for a few lifetimes but...

This isn’t the first time this thought has crossed my mind. I feel these obligations toward my family, to lead a productive life and climb the social ladder to fame-dom. I’ve been trying to be more than what I am all my life but I have come to accept in these recent years of monotony that I am only above average, not a genius prodigy in one field or another that my parents so desperately wanted me to be. But I still have these unshakeable obligations, leading me to feel guilt whenever I think of forsaking them. And, of course, there is the matter of my newfound goal; something that I would never dream of giving up no matter how difficult the path to reach it.

I know my parents wouldn’t mind as they are now, 6 feet beneath the ground, but the memory of them and all of their expectations still hound me to this day. They wanted the best for me and so do I but as I am now, stuck in a boring job with a boss that hates me because I am better at his job than he is, I can’t achieve what I want; I can’t even begin to tread the path towards my goal. I still hold on to my childish dreams and aspirations in the vain attempt that I might reach them some day but I have to admit that such a behavior is a persistent and lasting speck of my childhood immaturity.

I return my attention to my surroundings and away from my inner thoughts. I find myself just outside a monolithic skyscraper with a twisted hexagonal structure, tapering off to a needle-like point. The headquarters of Argent Technologies Corporation, a monument to capitalism and built off the backs of the tens of thousands of employees working incredible amounts of hours while subject to mind-destroying tedium. I didn’t care much for these people, everyone is responsible for their own destiny and they can only blame themselves for where they are now. I am different from the rabble; I have a goal, I have things I wish to achieve. I want to better myself and those I care for in more ways than one. There is an infinite amount of space between them and me.

I want more, I always have and always will. One of the only unchanging constants within my life.

I return my attention to the door and push it open.

However... I notice something as I step halfway through the opening, a drop of blood falling from my nose to the marble floor.

‘Hmm, must be the dry air.’ I thought as I ran in a slightly undignified manner to the nearest bathroom while holding my hand under my nose.

“Excuse me,” I say and smile sheepishly as I squeeze by someone on my way into the restroom and in a self-deprecating manner I add, “I’m off to a great start today aren’t I?”

The man gives me a look of pity and laughs in good-humor as he continues on his way.

As I stand in front of the mirror I stare at myself, a solitary trickle of blood flowing uninhibited from my right nostril, the shade of red captivating in its ruby-like brilliance.

I look into my eyes and find nothing, nothing but a swirl of chaotic mirth hidden within the nebulaic branching of my irises.

I robotically grab a paper towel from the nearby dispenser and hold it up to my nose, clearly hypnotized by my own reflection.

A few minutes pass as I stand like this and the sound of the door opening, heralding the arrival of another urgent bathroom-goer, snaps me back to reality. My mask slips back into place, a fake smile forms, and I throw the bloody towel away. I greet the man in a proper manner and quickly wipe the remaining blood from my face. After one last look in the mirror and a quick brushing of my hair, I exit the lavatory and make my way to the elevator. Showing the floor panel a card, the door opens and I am on my way to the 142nd floor where a meeting with the company’s top executives would be taking place.

—————————

Far beyond the reaches of earth, an indomitable will sets its sights upon a bubble of realities.

With a mere flex of her subconscious, she sends an enormous portion of her power spearing towards the outer reaches of the incorporeal bubble surrounding the five realities within. As the protuberance, glowing with the power of a billion stars, nears the shimmering barrier of near-translucent energy, it narrows to a needle-like point. Narrower still, until the tip is the width of a single molecule and the mass of energy resembles a concentrated beam.

Faster than the speed of light, the mono molecular point pierces effortlessly through the thin film that is the barrier separating the nothingness from a dimensional space.

As the beam snakes it’s way into the realm, still connected to its source, it acts almost like it has a mind of its own, peering at each of the five realities within the dimension’s embrace, eventually deciding on a certain blue planet.

“Finally...” A smile reaches the face of the all-powerful being controlling the thread of energy.

She couldn’t have hoped for a better target...