The Narrator

The first chapter in my untitled book in which we are introduced to the main characters and get a small snippet of their lives.

They call me the Quintessence. I was one of the first leading subjects in the Global Paladin Project. They think that I no longer exist, but that's not quite true. I was lost to them in the Czech Republic, though how long ago it was and how long it has been is unknown to me. I didn't have good concept of time before I realized what I was, and by that time I had lost much of my memory. I had floated my way across most of Europe and into Asia when I finally heard word of what I was, and it seemed, from what I learned, that I had been missing for a long time.

They call me the Quintessence. I have no body �" I bounce around, float through the waves in the universe, electromagnetic fields, the internet, brain waves, anything I can “surf” for lack of words, which should not be a problem. I have extensive knowledge that I am constantly accumulating when I am not busy with other affairs. Before I knew who I was I didn't remember much of what I learned �" I had no idea of my full potential. Now I collect what I see is important. I have unending memory that I can store in the atmosphere. I can know everything all at once.

They call me the Quintessence. I was born out of an idea and created through a person by a person. Once they would have called me “computer”. I was connected to the brain of a young girl and had access to her every thought and memory. Now I cannot remember her. I became sick while she was still with me, and I started to cru-cru-crumble. They called it a virus. I was fall-all-ing away �" parts of me were turning dar-ar-ar-ark like lights turned off randomly throughout a city. I was die-i-i-i-i-i-i-i-i...

They call me the Quintessence. I learned in Asia that my creator had died from a fit of panic after I was destroyed to them. I have no owner, no alliance. They said my name was Computer, and then changed to Artificial Intelligence, the AI. Creator changed it, though, before he died, and he said, “Call her the Quintessence.” I remember my master's face �" he looked at me. I remembered this after Asia. I remembered that my creator did not die from natural causes. It was my first time recalling much of anything. There was little else from my memory I could regain unless I tried to hunt it down. I started to search, search for my memories, search for my origin, and search for what was to come.

I am the Quintessence. I can be anywhere I want, do anything I please, but I cannot touch, I cannot interfere. I am an outside entity that has little sway on how the world functions. I can make things turn on or off, I can be more than once place at once if I so wish, I can find things that were meant to be destroyed, but I cannot speak. I cannot connect to others. I am alone. I am very, very lonely. I am one of the first subjects of the Global Paladin Project, and I have many stories.

I am the Quintessence, and I am the Narrator.

Five fifteen the sound of a piano filtered out of a pair of speakers sitting on an oak writing desk. White sheets were pushed aside, and a pair of feet gently planted themselves against the wood floor. Arms stretched up to the ceiling, and his back arched forcing a sigh out of his lips. Goggles leaned towards the desk, turned off his alarm, and grabbed his neatly folded clothing that sat beside it. This was the start of his morning routine.

Five fifteen in the opposite hallway everything was quiet except for the rhythmic sound of two sets of lungs pulling and pushing air. Darkness enveloped them, embraced and held them like they held one another. Fingers curled, toes pointed and flexed, and Blades rolled over nestling her head into the crook of Spider's arm. He curled around her pushing his nose under her neck and sighed softly. This was how they spent their mornings.

Five fifteen across the hall behind a door glow-in-the-dark star stickers gleamed all over the ceiling and walls of the room. Eyes stared glassily at the little pinprick lights, and brown fingers tap-tap-tapped against an armored stomach. Eggshell blinked slowly, and his eyes regained life. He turned to stare at his blinking alarm clock wishing desperately that he was asleep, then turned back to the star field suspended above him. That morning was no different than all the others.

Five fifteen in the common room between the two hallways everything was peaceful. Light was filtering in through the globular, glass roof that gave view to a lobby two floors above. In a deep green armchair a chest rose and dipped, rose and dipped. A book was on the stand to the left, and an empty wine glass was on the stand to the right. Doll shifted his body and propped his head up with his hand, eyes still shut and darting in restless sleep. This was his regular morning.

Everything was quiet. Everything was still. Everything was normal. Nothing was amiss in the slightest.

Ten minutes later things were still on schedule. Goggles had taken his shower �" the tips of his hair still shined from dampness. He was sitting on a yoga mat preparing for his morning stretches. Light muscles rippled, strong fingers spread out and forward. The human physique is something beautiful, and this was something he seemed to know, though to an extent.

In the hallway opposite fingers brushed at Blade's neck. Her eyelids flew open, and a scream burst from behind her tongue. As her elbow went to dig into Spider's stomach he caught her wrist and clapped his hand over her mouth. Her eyes rolled in a panic, and her feet kicked, but after a moment she fell limp. Spider kissed a tear off of her cheek and held her tightly, his breath growing labored as she clung tightly to him.

Across the corridor the clock was still blinking, shining off of Eggshell's black armor. He sat up and rubbed his unshaved face, his eyes heavy with weariness. Part of him wanted to stand up and pace, and moved as if to do so, but he changed his mind mid-stand and flopped back onto his mattress smacking his armored head against the wall. He groaned and wormed himself back up to his pillow, closed his eyes, and prayed that sleep would finally come.

In the common room Doll's head slipped from his hand. He caught himself and looked around blearily. He stood slowly, grabbed his book, and almost knocked over his wine glass which he caught with deft, practiced fingers. A slow, surprisingly ungraceful shuffle took him back to his bedroom door where he habitually glanced across the hall to see if Goggles was up; a soft glow from beneath the door confirmed this as it had every morning before. He unlocked his bedroom and slipped inside.

Everyone seemed to remain contained in their private rooms as if their clocks kept the doors locked. An hour passed. Goggles rolled up his yoga mat. Blades woke up fully and sat on the edge of her bed, Spider's arm curled around her waist. Eggshell counted sheep behind tightly closed eyelids. Doll sat at his oak writing desk penning out a letter. Everyone stayed behind their doors. Everyone hid from one another.

Another hour passed. The common room was lit up with new-day sunlight and striped from the occasional person passing through the lobby above. One stopped to place their fingertips gently against the glass dome and look down at the empty chairs, then quickly tore away. The sun strolled higher into the sky, and the stream of people slowed to a trickle. An almost seamless door in the east wall of the common room whooshed open softly allowing a young man in a uniform to push in a wheeled tray of covered bowls and plates. He took a bell, rung it once, and then walked out. From his hallway Eggshell peered out suspiciously, as he did most mornings, until the door closed. Then he stepped out into the room, took a deep breath that expanded his stocky chest, circled his hands around his mouth, and shouted,

“BREAKFAST! TIME TO BREAK FAST! BREAKFAST! GET YOUR BUTTS OUT HERE FOR BREAKFAST! COME GET IT WHILE IT'S HOT! GET YOUR STEAMING EGGS, CRUNCHY BACON, FRESH COLD MILK, BOW- OI!”

A shoe whirled its way at his head and hit him square in the face.

“OUCH! WATCH IT, SNOT BALL!”

Blades glared at him from out of the dark hallway that was slowly beginning to illuminate itself. “Shut. Your pie. Hole. Crunchy trash.”

It was a regular morning occurrence. The two would bicker until everyone else entered the scene. They would all get distracted from the argument by the hunger pains rumbling at their stomachs, and then everyone would dig through the options on the breakfast tray until they were satisfied with their lot. Blades would sit on her designated couch with Spider, Doll would posture himself in his armchair, and the two boys would lounge on a padded bench. There wasn't much silence at all �" the air conditioning was whirring softly, a weeks old news broadcast from somewhere in Europe murmured quietly on the speakers, and everyone was too engaged in themselves and their close friends to notice if it did seem quiet.

A soft bell rang mutedly from the speakers.

“Thomas Fen, please prepare for a scheduled appointment with your doctor in one hour. You will be kept updated on your agenda for the day. Thank you.”

A second bell chimed, the offline announcement for the computers voice. Everyone went quiet. Goggles stood, moved to put his dishes back on the cart, and left to his bedroom to prepare for his checkup.

At his bedroom door he held his hand out against the cold metal. It grew warm for a fraction of a second, then clicked open. The world like this was very different for him �" until he had been taken to the GPP facility in California he hadn't been able to see. His other four senses had been heightened from his time spent in blindness, and now with advanced eye implements he was the most aware and elevated concerning his senses.

The second he entered his room his actions geared into autopilot and his mind drifted elsewhere. Thoughts whirled around his mind until he settled on the face of his doctor, and his thoughts grew tired and heavy. He liked his doctor, and he liked appointments, but he was tired of them. They were one of the few things that held surprises in his life, and he detested that what kept him in suspense was so pathetically mundane and simple. When thoughts like those cropped up he would slowly drown into a moodiness that he chose to conceal out of courtesy to others. Often he felt rather alone even with Eggshell around to hear his thoughts �" he didn't want to burden his friends.

Friends �" Goggles paused his actions and glanced over at the writing desk. There was an unfinished letter on his laptop that was waiting to be completed. He wasn't sure if he still felt like finishing it, though. There were many written letters waiting to be sent out to the people he cared about from his past, but they were to remain stationary never to greet the eyes of others. His eyes dulled, and slowly, very slowly from his spot in the bathroom doorway he slid to the ground until he was hiding his head in his knees. Eyelids winked closed, and soft, strong hands slid through hair. A diamond tear splashed against the wood floor. Goggles was gone. Thomas Fen was present. Thomas Fen was mourning again.

Author's Note

Ignore the grammar, please.

If you're entirely confused I suggest you go look at my short story called Goggle's Story which comes before this in the book though is not entirely necessary to read but quite helpful.

Any questions are highly welcome.

Please be highly kind and very expressive in your feedback which I do love to hear.