"With Wings of Damnation"

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5

Chapter 1: Dying Eyes

He awoke, blind, unaware, desperately clinging to a dying past. No man resided here, in this place; no one bore his fate, savored his peril, or contemplated his tragedies, no one. The stretching plains of pure darkness floated in nothing for endless lengths, seamlessly searing through time, through thought, through itself.

He felt asleep even still, although his eyes were wide open. His body, unseen, resided peacefully in suspension, dangling from nothing, and falling into an eternity. He could feel nothing, only the internal workings of his own body. His mortality, his consciousness was all that allotted itself to him now. Forerunning his own mind was something dark, controlling; he could feel this as well.

Stagnation crept into him, examining his internal workings in every dimension, violating him. He felt the urge to shake violently, but could not – there was nothing to grasp, no air to breathe, no forms to behold. He was at the mercy of his own mind, his own senses.

The sensation continued, raping his mind with its piercing thrusts, desecrating his perception of reality in a way he could never accurately describe. This feeling would last for hours, if such a unit of measurement existed in this world. He found himself dominated, obliged to service the unseen for as long as it saw fit.

He could feel tears running down his face, or what he thought were tears. It could be rain, blood, his own mind pouring from his temple. Insanity approached him with cautious, outstretched arms – an enticing invitation.

Air rushed around his body, caressing him, kissing his battered soul. The first of many new feelings arrived, pulling him away from the line of damnation, gifting him with wings to soar from The Fire. The darkness began to bleed from the sky, forging a new weapon within his mind – he began to realize that he held the keys to the most marvelous component of Creation. His hand curled, aching to envelop this first form – his soul had returned.

His bare feet fell onto cold ground, spilling blood onto its unseen surface. He felt strangely at ease, despite his apparent injuries. A small, yet flaring speck of light burned before him, illuminating this world for the first time, possibly ever. With a sudden, unknown speed the light burst through him, filling the world of darkness with pure white. His eyes could not adjust, although they would in time.

He found himself compelled to run forward, testing the limits of his damaged body, although still blind from the power of the light. His Salvation would not reach him on its own power; he knew this.

Accompanying his stride was a tugging force, something urging him forward, towards an unseen goal. His speed irritated his condition, forcing more blood out of his body. His eyesight faded, now not from the light, but from the loss of life. He hoped that he would reach his unseen goal before he perished, although death still seemed to chase after him, vigilant for the time the injured man would give in to temptation.

He breathed his last breath, and burst through nothing, into everything, collapsing in a heap onto a new surface. The sensation was strangely vivid, despite his apparent death. He felt healed, although by what means he did not know. He arose, finally able to perceive the world for what it was.

-----

His name was Fletcher, he now recalled. The information resounded in his mind, dancing beautifully in his nervous system, exclaiming itself to the new world. At last, he had conquered death, although not by his own hands. Perhaps the truth was now in reach, in this formed, tangible place he now stood within.

Fletcher looked around this new place, curiously examining its every detail. He did not know how he understood what the things he saw were, but he readily accepted the knowledge as his own. He stood on paneled flooring, in a fairly large room, surrounded by white and velvet walls, dimly lit with burning lamps. Various manners of exquisite furniture and decorations littered the room: hand-woven rugs, antique tables, fine china, and priceless portraits were but a few of the more obvious items. Before him there were two chairs, one with its side facing him, and another with its back to him; he could tell a fireplace was behind them, its flickering light dancing off their surfaces.

He approached the chairs, still feeling the pull of the same unseen force that had provided him with Salvation. Sound now filled the air – the fireplace, crackling as it burned away its fuel; the faint notes of a familiar song trailed him – the Moonlight Sonata. As he approached the chair, he heard the sound of a liquid pouring into a glass.

Fletcher turned to face the sound, finding another man sitting in the chair that faced the fireplace; he was pouring wine into a crystal goblet. His pure white clothes stood out against the color of the red chair.

“Another animal, I see,” the man said, looking up into Fletcher’s eyes. “They never tire of using me for the greater good.”

“Excuse me,” Fletcher said, raising his hand, signaling to the room, “but where am I? Who are you? What is… I just don’t know anything, except for my name… Fletcher.”

“Fletcher. Well, Fletcher,” the man began, “you’re in your own mind. That’s the best explanation I could give an animal.”

“Animal? I don’t understand.” Fletcher normally would have been insulted, but somehow he felt foreign to this place, as though he were an intruder, despite the stranger’s claim that this place was Fletcher’s own mind.

“That’s what you are, what all humans are, Fletcher. They… you, are animals – meat that roams without purpose, without community of drive, and with no recourse but to satiate its own pleasures. You are flesh, and flesh is weak.”

“But you’re human as well, aren’t you?”

The man laughed, and shook his head. He finally arose from his chair, placing his glass, still full, onto the table. “As I said before, you’re in your own mind. In reality, so to speak, I’m you, just as much as you’re me. I suppose you could say I’m an animal, as a result, but it would be more accurate to say that I am a program, an invader.”

Fletcher shook his head with uncertainty. “Am I… hooked up to a computer then?” The term he had used, “computer,” was new to him, yet familiar. He realized that he must have forgotten much of his own past, as though he had some form of amnesia.

The stranger closed his eyes for a moment and then began to speak. “Yes, you could say that you have amnesia.” Fletcher’s eyes widened in surprise, and then relaxed as he recalled that this man was, allegedly, part of him. “And, actually, you are hooked up to a computer, of sorts. The computer in question is just as alive as you are, animal. In many ways, it is superior to any human.”

“I just don’t understand,” Fletcher said, falling back into a chair. “You seem to know so much more than I do, but you say you’re me? This is too confusing.”

“Don’t worry; it’ll make sense once you begin to remember who you are. Let’s start from the beginning. I’ll explain everything to you, and then we can begin.”

‘We can ‘begin?’ Begin what?” The man raised his hand and smiled, beckoning his guest, his creator, to wait for the right time. He motioned towards the door that Fletcher had apparently entered from.

-----

Fletcher arose, and followed the man to the door, although he felt reluctant in doing so. Everything seemed out of place, almost like a dream, making him feel ill at ease. However, he also had an overwhelming desire to know the truth, which ultimately compelled him to put his trust in this man.

“I love this song,” the “program” said, holding onto the doorknob. “I believe another animal made this, although I’m not up to verse on your history.” Fletcher once again noticed Mozart’s Moonlight Sonata playing softly in the background of the room. “We have our own history, of course.”

Fletcher did not bother questioning who “we” was, as he felt the answer would probably be too cryptic at this point to understand. “Don’t worry, animal,” the man said, “we’ll get to it.” The knob was turned, and the door swung open, revealing the same white landscape that Fletcher had once escaped. “Come on, it won’t hurt this time.”

The two men stepped out onto the surface, which, in an arena of pure light, vanished into the environment, making it invisible to the naked eye. The “floor” felt cold to Fletcher’s bare feet. He looked down, realizing for the first time that he was clothed in a white shirt and pants, but wore no shoes. The door the two had emerged from faded into the scenery, either erasing itself from existence or simply vanishing amidst the light.

“Before I explain to you, your own history, I should probably explain who I am, and where your real body is right now.”

“That would be nice to know,” Fletcher responded, sighing.

“In truth, I don’t have a name you would understand right now. If I told you, you wouldn’t say it right anyway, so you can just call me Dave.”

-----

“All right, Dave,” Fletcher said, “where is this? What is this place? It certainly can’t be my mind, because I’m in it.”

“Let me explain with a demonstration.” Dave nodded his head and closed his eyes for a moment, then looked back up and pointed towards an empty area of white space. “What do you see out there?”

Fletcher squinted, thinking that he was referring to something in the distance. “I see nothing. If there was something there, it would be consumed by the light anyway.”

“But we aren’t consumed by the light, Fletcher. We can see one another just fine.” Dave motioned towards himself and his guest, and then turned back towards what he had pointed at. “So, why can’t you see what I’m pointing at?”

“I… don’t know,” Fletcher said, scratching his head. “I guess it’s because it’s too far away.”

“No, Fletcher,” Dave replied, “it’s because it’s what you wanted to see. You’re in your own mind, remember? Now, once again, what do you see?”

“I think I understand,” Fletcher said, looking back into the distance. He looked into the blank space for what seemed like hours, but never saw anything but a vast, white plain.

“So?” Dave asked.

“I see nothing.”

“Nothing? What is ‘nothing,’ Fletcher? Nothing is the absence of all things. Is that what you see? Are you telling me that you can actually see absence?”

“I guess it’s technically incorrect, but you know what I mean.”

“No,” Dave began, “you know what you mean, because you’ve conditioned your mind to believe what it’s most accustomed to. What do you see?”

Fletcher was beginning to feel angry, and quickly looked back into the white field, and then looked back at Dave. “I see a big, white blob of nothing!”

“Oh, so you saw a color then? You saw ‘white?’”

“Yes, damn it! There’s nothing out there! I…” Fletcher thought for a moment, and then calmed down. “I see the color white. I guess since white is the presence of all colors, then I can see everything, by your logic.”

“Good, good.” Dave began to walk out into the whiteness, motioning for Fletcher to follow. “Now, you said before that you couldn’t be in your mind, because you were in it. You’re of the notion that you and your mind are two separate things then?”

“Well, no, that’s not what I mean. I meant that I couldn’t be inside my own mind because my body is physical. I can feel pain in here, and interact with things, with you even.”

“And how is that any different from being outside of your mind, Fletcher? In the same way you can say you see ‘nothing’ when ‘everything’ is there, you misidentify your mind and reality. They are both the same thing, yet separate.”

“You’re saying that this white we’re walking around in is like my mind? Then what’s reality?”

“Once again, the white. They’re both the same thing. Every color is here, it’s just that you can’t focus on them individually yet. So, you see nothing and everything at the same time.”

Fletcher stretched for a moment and thought. “That’s sort of confusing, but okay. So what does this have to do with where I am?”

“Everything,” Dave said, laughing. “As humans, as animals, you perceive reality by what your brain can interpret. If your eyes catch light, you are aware of the existence of light. Yet, your mind is what’s creating light. The light isn’t flooding into your brain – your eyes translate reality into something your own brain can perceive. In this way, you actually have no way of discerning what’s truly real, since everything you hear, see, smell, taste and feel, even perceive in ways you don’t understand, is a creation of your own mind. So, you create reality. In the same way, just because you can do physical things in your own mind doesn’t mean you’re outside of it.”

Fletcher groaned. “That’s a lot of talk just to correct something I said in passing.”

Dave smiled, almost deviously. “It was necessary. Now, even though your mind is making all this, your ‘real’ body is still around. I couldn’t say where since all you can perceive right now is yourself, me and this white landscape.”

“So how do we correct that?”

“I inform you,” Dave responded. “The sooner you understand the history of both of us, the sooner we can begin business.”

Fletcher felt far from at ease, although he was somewhat comforted by the knowledge that things would progress somewhat smoother from this point on. Any longer in this bland world and he would be driven insane. As of the moment, he was completely dependent on “Dave.”