Jul 3, 2020
The apocalypse will happen sooner than we think
If we don’t read the journals our station has prepared for you all
We call ourselves “The Night Owls.” We’ve roamed the earth for years and kept your world afloat
We’ve made it so you stay comfortable in your precious homes
While you sleep, we discuss. Discuss our future… your future
Our journals give detailed instructions on the machines and weapons we must build
These are weapons that none of you would even begin to think could harm the outside world…
Everything you know is false… your first instinct is now your last
Like I’ve said before… we have been discussing and planning this for decades. (Trust is essential)
We don’t have time to explain everything, but just know that everything will soon change
Trust us and we will all be safe. We are the new government
It was late. Malcolm was in his room, sitting at his laptop, transferring notes from the day’s research. He was becoming frustrated; the more he worked, the less it all made sense. It was as if everything in his life was backwards and upside-down. As if everything he had been taught was a lie.
Without warning, there was a loud pop, and the crackle of electricity. Startled, Malcolm turned to investigate. What he saw was something he would never forget.
In front of him stood a ghostly, ethereal figure, dressed in a full-body suit and helmet. Shocked, Malcolm asked, “Who are you?”
“You can call me The Wraith,” she replied. “But perhaps this will help.”
She removed her helmet. Malcolm recoiled, stunned, “My R-Raven… but, you’re dead!”
“Yeah, thanks for that,” she said, flipping her auburn hair over her shoulder. “Not exactly, though. That wasn’t the ‘me’ that you know of. That was a clone and a science project.”
“What are you doing here?” Malcolm wondered, “What’s going on?”
“I work with a group known as The Night Owls. You can think of them as the your world’s new government - in just a few short months, that is.”
“I am here because you and I are the product of a lifelong experiment in genetic engineering. The group you work with, The Machine, is responsible for the kidnapping, experimentation, and subsequent torture of thousands of children - just like us. They have hidden this research from the public for millennia. I’m here to kill every last one of those responsible.”
“I don’t understand,” Malcolm responded.
“Malcolm, the multiverse theory - the idea that there are more than one realities - it’s true. Your world - the Black reality - is but one half of a duality. Think yin and yang. There is another reality - a White one - where everything is different. I couldn’t even begin to explain.”
“You, Malcolm, come from this White reality. You are a White soul, living in a Black reality. And I am a Black soul, raised in the White reality. It was never meant to be like this; we were stolen as children, and placed in a world where we do not belong.”
“But just as our realities are a duality, our very souls are also a duality. In the White reality, there is another version of myself - a White version. And she is incredibly dangerous.”
“In kind, in your Black reality, there is a Black version of yourself. Somewhere, there is another version of you running around.”
Malcolm reflected upon his doppelgänger. “This is breaking my brain,” he responded.
“Listen to me!” she responded, “We don’t have much time.”
“There are two realities: Black and White. In each reality, there are two versions of us - a Black version, and a White version. We were kidnapped as children, and placed into the wrong realities - which has made both of us miserable!”
“Why are you telling me this?” Malcolm asked.
“Because The Fold is an inter-dimensional supercomputer in-control of both realities. The Fold is what did this to us. The Machine has turned the White version of me into an artificial intelligence named ‘SarahAI’, installed her into The Fold, and uses her to control both realities. This cannot be. While this works in the White reality, it has caused nothing but pain and suffering in your reality. You must replace SarahAI with something that works in your reality. You need a Black soul to govern the Black reality.”
“I do not agree,” Malcolm replied. “If we replace SarahAI with a Black soul, then our problem simply reverses; we will have a Black ruler governing your White reality.”
“No, we need Grey,” he continued. “We need someone that understands both perspectives. We need someone that can govern both realities with equal fairness.”
“I know just the person.”
“The Architect is our clone. He was a Black soul that was taught to love by SarahAI. We have performed the calculations; he is the optimal leader.”
“So be it,” the Wraith replied. “This theory makes sense. Just know that if this doesn’t work, it’s going to cause a full-reset. The Singularity is coming fast.”
“So we’ve been told,” Malcolm responded.
The Wraith began to flicker.
“Alright, it’s time to go,” she said. “Malcolm, please know that I care about you. I care about your reality. There is a world in which we are together. But now is not the time. We have bigger problems to focus on.”
“Agreed,” Malcolm responded. “Let’s get the motherfuckers responsible for doing this to us.”
With that, a pop and a crackle of electricity, she was gone.
Only ashes remained.
data.stats.symptoms = [ - determination - somberness ]
Heading further in the bush, it came across a weather-beaten sign
“Annual meeting of the owls - the smartest creatures in the region!"
It was something of a barbeque…they were feasting there, on whiskey and sardines
When a crackle under clumsy paw caused them all to stop and turn around…
“We’ve never seen a thing like you! And we’ve seen every creature known to owl!"
Gazing through their monocles, with their heads all a-swivelly (as owls do)
Then, an information overdose, consulting every book that they could find
Everything from “Count the Frogs!”, to “Pigs and Hogs”, to “Spot the Cephalopod!"
The parliament was at a loss, hooting puzzled, till one came forth and said
“Oh! We haven’t got a clue! But we know who do…"