Chaos Mortalitus (2 page)

"In today's world news, plans for the mission to our sister planet Mars, enter the final phase as the three astronauts make last minute launch preparations. They are still two months away from launch. Their primary function, to evaluate the state of the red planet and search for signs of present or past life on the Martian surface." The anchorman says in a monotone voice. "There has been talk of terra forming the red planet for use with future generations. Sadly most of the top NASA officials, and the United States government believe that is still in the realm of science fiction."

"In other news, China's population has soared to a record 1.9 billion, with fear of famine widespread among the masses. The governing bodies of China have asked for aid from the United States and other major allied nations. There is talk of a declared state of emergency within China's borders, but no official word. The President of the United States is all set to meet with ambassadors of China later this week to discuss further preventative action. It is estimated that in China, there are over one hundred million suffering, locked in the grip of famine." The anchorman reads from the monitor as if it's already yesterday's news. Like it's normal to read the last will and testament on this early morning for millions of people.

"Bullshit! This is ridiculous!" I say irritated by the broadcast. Extending my hand and pushing the screen in front of me to the side, I shift my focus. Pulling the second screen toward me, my eyes struggle to make out the small text in my mail. "Magnify thirty percent Omega, text only."

Smoke from my nearly finished cigarette weaves through the holographic image interfering with its display. "Wall display please Omega." I say with a polite tone as if it matters. The walls of our home have tiny silicon screens layered into them. This allows the Omega System to transfer holographic data to basically any surface in my home for a larger display. Sitting up in bed I scan through my Emails and realize it's starting to seriously get out of hand. I suppose I have an issue with letting go, my Emails topping out at 3,756 unread at this point.

Most are mindless attempts at getting me to buy something I just don't need, something to help fill the inner consumer void I share with so many. Scanning through the Emails briefly, I hear my wife singing above the running water and the stupid anchorman running off at the mouth on the holographic screen now moved to my side. "Show emails from contacts only Omega."

The Omega System is definitely a great device most of the time, bringing up only emails from my friends and family and separating them by date and alphabetically. Sifting through them I come across a message from my father. My father is a physicist and absolutely absorbed by his work, but a great parent and even better teacher. Another message from my mother, believing my father has become overly obsessed; I wonder how it's taken her so long to figure that out. My father, Daniel Ashton Mortal, has always belonged to the stars, the very depths of the universe.

He is aggressive in his beliefs, daunting in his intelligence, yet compassionate and good willed. I've always enjoyed our conversations of the physics of this universe, although I'm not so sure my mother shares our enthusiasm. She seems more preoccupied with solving the riddles of the human psyche in opposition of the universe. Reading on, there are messages from potential buyers, my partner and friends. I am a fine artist, a custom designer, the main bulk of my work is my paintings at least that's what I'm known for. Sometimes I do freelance designing when independently contracted and special order products.

Message after message is read as I finally come to the last one and just stare at the screen at an urgent message from my best friend from high school, Tyler Morgan. I realize right then it's been about five years since we've spoken. I stare at the message heading that flashes red, in all caps, "Ash you need to see this, it's urgent," I read, weary of what this might mean. "Omega, open Tyler Morgan's message, large display."

A video message begins to play on the wall in front of me. The lighting is extremely poor; the screen seems to be shifting a bit, like its tripod was secured on a boat. I can see multiple figures as one comes into the light, my friend from long ago. Behind him there seems to be a large structure, almost like a pyramid but I can't make it out for sure. Subtle ocean sounds in the background, the sound of waves breaking cast an eerie presence as Tyler begins to speak. "Ash, I know this must seem strange and pretty random but believe me, you don't know the half of it. I've been on a secret project funded by the government for the last six weeks."

From what I've heard about his work, Tyler's become a leading archeologist, specializing in ancient language and code deciphering. Primarily I thought he had been stationed in Egypt and other spots in the Middle East. "Something happened yesterday Ash, something I just can't explain and I know it has to do with you, somehow. I must be brief, I don't know how much time I have; this has become a very frightening situation. God willing, you will receive a package sometime today from me, inside I've enclosed everything you'll need to know. This is all I can say for now and know that whatever this may lead to, I got your back, I'm with you no matter what." Tyler signs off with tears in his eyes.

Reminiscing of our friendship from years ago, I recall many good times with Tyler. He was the first person other than my parents, I told about my nightmares. So many years ago he had suggested art as a way to understand what these dreams meant, trying to get me to face the nightmare head on. He always believed in some grand purpose, something magical about these nightmares that haunted me so. I would indulge Tyler's theories simply because he was my friend,
he is my friend
. Checking the details of the message I find that it was sent only a few hours ago.

"What the hell? What was that all about?" I ponder aloud.

My cigarette begins to burn the filter as I put it out in an amber colored glass ashtray. I can't help but feel lost at the moment, after not hearing from Tyler for all these years and now this. My thoughts are interrupted by the sounds from the bathroom, violent coughing, sounds of gagging as I run to investigate. The shower is still running as I find Angela huddled down in front of the toilet, naked and soaked, the water beading on her skin as steam rises off her body. "Babe, what happened?" I ask overly concerned. "Are you ok?"

"Don't worry… just not feeling well, no big deal." She replies. "Why are you taking forever? I'm almost done with my shower."

"I was just checking my Email. Hey, do you remember Tyler Morgan?"

Angela spits in the toilet and flushes it, for my wife is far from shy as she walks over to our sink naked as the day she was born to use mouthwash. A gorgeous woman, to me she is everything I could ever hope for in a person to spend my life with. "You met him just after we got together, our first summer I think. Remember, we partied with him and some other friends at the lake in early June? I think you guys hit it off great." I say as my wife rinses her mouth out.

Patting her lips with a small towel she recalls that summer long ago. "Yeah I remember him I think, your buddy from high school. He loved your art, rambling on for hours about that oil painting of yours, The Artifact."

"Yep that's the one, I thought of that too, he was always so interested in all that stuff. Anyway, he sent me a Email early this morning, check it out when you get a sec, I'm gonna jump in the shower."

Angela just stands there naked, staring as I undress. She touches the light switch in the bathroom, dimming the lighting a bit. Walking closer to me, Angela kisses me deeply and all the chaos of this early morning quickly fades away. We slide into the shower, our bodies mingling with the steamy water. "I love you sweetheart." She whispers in my ear as I kiss her neck.

My heart belongs to Angela as I fall in love with her again and again, finding myself eternally lost in her eyes. Life feels complete in every way as I make love to my wife like it was the first time, passionately we connect and through all things I find sanctuary in her touch. She's my best friend, my harshest critic and the center of my universe and truly I know I'm a lucky man. We sit together in the shower with faint lights weaving in and out of the tiny droplets as they splash against our heads. Facing each other cradling our legs, something begs for this moment to never end.

A constrictive feeling comes over me, terror gripping my heart as I lift my hand and touch her knee. I struggle to keep my eyes open as the water droplets are relentless and I can feel the clock ticking away, robbing me of these precious moments. "Didn't you have something to take care of this morning babe?" I ask my voice muffled by the water. "I remember you saying something last night before we passed out."

"I have a doctor's appointment at 10:30 A.M. It shouldn't take too long though."

"Doctor's? What that about? I don't remember you saying anything about a doctor's appointment." Bewildered, I quickly jump to conclusions.

Angela takes a hold of my hand sensing my nervousness. "Don't worry, it's just last minute. I've been feeling a little off so I'm just going in for a check up." She says reassuring me.

Exiting the shower we begin to dry off as I walk to the sink and grab my toothbrush. I begin brushing my teeth as Angela wraps her hair in a towel and puts it up. I stare into the reflection in the mirror as a reminder from Omega pops up. "Your electricity bill is due Mr. Mortal, I can pay this now if you'd like Sir."

"Sounds good, go ahead and take care of that Omega." I respond as I rinse my mouth with water.

"Electricity bill has been paid. It's currently a balmy seventy three degrees outside, please enjoy your day Mr. Mortal."

"Thank you Omega."

Applying eye shadow in the mirror Angela has a look of irritation. I push my leg through my favorite pair of faded black jeans now a dusted charcoal color and slip on a pair of white sneakers, with a plain black t-shirt. As I pull down my shirt I feel my wife's hands slide in between my arms and lock tightly. Truly a moment where nothing needs to be said, just silence as we embrace. "So you wanna' take two cars?" Angela asks as she continues holding her arms around me. "I thought maybe we could have lunch later."

"Sounds good babe, we should have enough time before the interview. Consider it a date beautiful!"

She walks over to the dresser and begins rummaging through her purse. After a moment she picks up the handbag and walks over just staring at me. "I love you baby, I'll see you soon." She says as she kisses me.

"Love you too babe."

Angela turns and walks out the double doors to our bedroom and begins to head downstairs. I once again sit down on our bed hoping to halt the seconds of the clock. No sound or motion, just silence and a subtle ring in my ear. Something is very different about today, I can feel it in my bones as I decide I need some fresh air. Walking out the door and down the stairs to my living room, I pass works of art from my personal collection, some of my earliest work. At the base of the stairs I come to Tyler's favorite painting of mine, its title, The Artifact. I stare at the piece as gallery lighting shines down on it.

In that instant I feel myself begin to have a sort of weird flash, with my vision suddenly fading and returning as I feel myself being stretched forward, more a thought now than a man. Struggling to maintain focus, I stare hard at the painting through this episode. The painting itself is a realism piece with one object, very similar to a Tibetan Phurba, a ritual dagger. This is no ritual dagger though, with a look that's very alien. There is a stone on the end of its handle, an uncanny vision not like any precious stone I've ever come across.

A weathered antique, cast iron plated as its metals seem to have a hardened liquid form. Layers of paint helped me to capture the texture of it exactly the way I had pictured it in my dreams. There are twelve exotic symbols that run along the blade's edge, also very foreign to me. Tiny etched vein cuts spider web through the dagger with a dull glow. Seemingly in the painting the dagger is in the process of changing into something else. Shaking off this weird panic attack, I head for the front door paying no attention to anything else in my home.

Walking down the curving path through my driveway I begin to head down the road a ways, deciding to go to the beach. San Diego, California and what a beautiful day it is in my hometown as I pull a pack of smokes from my pocket, pausing under the shade of a tree to light my cigarette. Emerging from under the tree, I shield my eyes from the intense sunlight. My sunglasses sit atop my head at all times for days like this and in Southern California we sure get a lot of them. I push them down to offer relief to my strained eyes as I begin to walk toward the beach. Pulling a small earpiece from my pocket, I insert it into my left ear as I cross the parking lot near the shoreline.

There are people everywhere enjoying the beautiful morning, living the beach life. As I step onto the sand, my foot sinks drastically with each stride. Usually I'd be upset wearing my favorite shoes and all and white is definitely not the best choice for the beach, but today is different for trivial matters are not a priority. I have a lot on my mind, a feeling that can't be explained as I walk for several minutes or so and come to a secluded tide pool area. Beginning to climb the rocks, water splashes through openings carved out by waves. Droplets collect on the lenses of my sunglasses as I stare out onto the horizon and watch the clouds scurry about side by side.

Reaching for my cell phone I thumb through my contacts on the touch screen device, to Grace Julia Mortal, my mother. "Call Grace Mortal, holographic display."