We’re so Post-modern, we’re so Post-Everything


I become aware that I am standing in the agent quarters of the Nexus.  A hyper realistic but ultimately non-existant in five dimensional space, headquarters of the Agency.  I do not remember how I got here.

Last thing was holding Kittie to my side as the magic worked and i was able to slip out of the corrupted world.  I thought it may take us back here but the destination was vague.  There is no sign of Kittie, just George flickering in and out of vision on a bed in the corner.

Well at least he is here.  I cough rather too loudly in an attempt to wake him.

“I’m not asleep you idiot, just recharging.”

Of course he is!

I wander over to the window on the orrery of realities and watch as the different galaxies slowly move around each other, overlapping occasionally with bright, bold fireworks.

“How did I get here George?”  I hear a sigh and the creak of bed springs as he gets up.

“You landed back here and went straight to see The Artists Two.  That lassie that was with you went her own way, very attractive too I must say.  The Artists Two ripped you a new one for tampering with temporal something or other and then you walked in here.  You have been standing there for ages, just humming the theme tune to the littlest hobo over and over again.”

Great, they have mind wiped me.  I really must have broken serious Agency rules this time.  The Artists Two perfected this technique to enable them to seriously punish agents without long term damage to their personalities.  It allowed them to discipline you so badly that the memory of it burrowed deep into your conscious.  Then they mind wipe you and you have no memory of what was said or done to you.  However the fear they have installed into your soul, stops you from ever trying such a thing again.  George likened it to firing a water pistol at a cat to stop them from scratching the furniture but i paid this theory little heed.  George has always been obsessed with cats.

“I managed to stop the professor publishing by the way, no thanks to you.”  there was a glimmer of anger in his tone, I tried to ignore it.  he continues “One minute you were there explainign why he couldnt publish his book and the next you were gone off on a little jaunt.  Good thing I know my stuff.”

I felt the anger evaporate.  He had vented and that was all he needed.  Since he retired from the agency, the slightest contact with active duty always reminded him of what they did to him.  Not the Agency, not even The Artists Two.  Them.

I nodded and thanked him.  He is necessary for me to be able to stop what I saw happening on that reality, from ever getting a foothold here.  However I do not have the strength at the moment.  The null space of the Nexus would slowly feed my body and mind the energy needed but it would take time.  Here time did not pass as it did anywhere else.  Here it was controlled.  This was both a boon and a curse.

Today it felt like a curse.

I made my way over to the nearest bed and lay down.  A phrase kept repeating itself in my subconscious.

“Revolution”

I wonder what that could mean?

 

Burstfiction for the masses, written by the Lairdofdarkness with a heavy hand and a tired head.

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