หน้าหลัก / Sci-Fi / Harper's Vector / บทที่ 11 - บทที่ 18

บททั้งหมดของ Harper's Vector: บทที่ 11 - บทที่ 18

Chapter 11: A Bad Thing

Rick I did a bad thing. Breaking training is just not me. If you knew me and everything it has taken me to get to this point, you would know I do not break protocol. I was raised in a strict household—eldest of five brothers. Always the one in trouble. I always had the toughest of rules, and I grew used to it all, which was why military life and later the black build of the government field worked for me. Rules. Do as you're told. Hurry up, and then wait. Face forward and do not look around, up or down. Never ask questions. The senior leadership is always right. So why did I do this evil thing? Moreover, why did I continue?! I couldn't tell you. Intuition. Something beyond me guiding me to do so if you believe in that sort of crap. Inmate 2541, I just had to keep looking at her profile sheets for daily information. I don't even know how she looks, not that it matters; I mean, pictures are not provided in our schedule information sheets. My page is brief. It's a

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Chapter 12: Mr. Slender

Harper There is a knock at the door, and a slender man in a black suit enters. My body tenses, and I grip the sink hard rectangular top. Why does my body's memory do this? Do I know this man? I stare at him through the mirror. I do not turn around; I cannot. My grip is firm upon the sink. My eyes focus hard upon him, trying to figure out how I know him. Somewhere deep down, in the pits of my soul, I know him! My brain's electrical circuits are firing at rapid rates. He looks at something and then speaks, and I space out for what feels like hours. All of a sudden, the room goes black, and all I see around me is darkness. I try to focus on something, anything. But there is nothing. I know I am still in the black room because I feel my grip on the sink counter. Focus Harper, I tell myself. I internalize that I have my eyes closed, that there is no noise, that I am weightless, that I am for a moment, safe. Then I see it. Soft gray matter begins to materialize

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Chapter 13: Recipe of Life

Cecilia Harper and I met when I was just twelve years old. I had lost my parents to the disease, and I had run away from an orphanage and lived on the streets. Not to drag out a sad story, but she became a mother to me, and later, as I grew older and wiser, I became a teacher to others, so I became her friend, her most trusted. She taught me many things in life, and one of the most important lessons she ever taught me was the "Recipe of Life," and it is this: - 1/2 cup of warmth and kind words - 1/2 cup of joy and good memories - 1 spoon of empathy - 1 pinch of humor Then you stir everything together softly, enjoy, and you'll feel how positive energies are renewed. There has always been something special about Harper that has brought us all together and kept us together as a family. With her gone, more fights have begun about the proper use of the Vortex and the ethics behind it.

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Chapter 14: A Freckled Universe of You

Rowan As I lay in a cot in the safe house, all I can do is think of Harper. Headphones on my head, music playing on loud. I have a small journal in my backpack; I never go anywhere without it. It's none of Harper's journals. I re-read one of my favorite poems she wrote. It will always be my favorite one. It is titled: "A Freckled Universe of You": I use to feel purposeless without direction. I found myself days and days of just being in bed, not eating, not showering, just laying - just avoiding the world. I mean, what's the point of being in a world and living in it when the way others live it doesn't make sense to you. So you feel wrong, broken, and lost. What's the p

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Chapter 15: A Dead Man Named Nicolas Sarkozy

Agent Coulter I am a simple man. I used to want nothing more to life than a wife, family, and a lovely cottage near a lake. But once you find out there is more to life than trivial things, it is hard to go back to wanting peasantry. In another life, my name was Nicolas Sarkozy, and I was born in the heart of New York City, but that is the past, and that man is long dead. She killed him long ago, Amelia Harper Edison. I will admit I loved her once when I was a young man filled with life, eagerness, hope, and more. But that man is dead; she made sure he would cease to exist that day she said "no" to him. When I think back on it all now, a much older and prayer man, a wiser man, I believe how cruel of a woman deep down she truly is to have given out the universe and then taken it away so quickly. When I met Amelia, who now calls herself Harper, she was elegant, beautiful, pristine, everything you imagine a woman should be, the pict

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Chapter 16: Flashbacks

Harper I am doing much better now. I think I am starting to remember more, to retain more. I am having flashbacks as I sit here on the edge of this bed. My situation no longer feels somber, bleak. There is hope in knowing I at least know who I am. I play with my hair and twist it in circles around my fingers. I've got to look busy for the big screen. I know they are watching. The problem: I have no idea how to control this "thing" inside me—this feeling of force. Something is there, something deep down, a muscle that has been used so many times that yearns to be used again. Yet, I do not remember how. I keep having these flashes where my head rings. I close my eyes for a moment, and I have to put my hands to my head, and I yell out in pain for a moment, and I see all-white for a few moments, but in those minutes, a memory will come through. I've learned a lot already, but none are a completed trail—just bread crumbs. If I can get out of here, I can use those crumbs to find t

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Chapter 17: Two Sides Collide

Rick I met someone. It is still early, but she is beautiful, and her name is Leah. I met her at a grocery store, and we met talking about meat of all things. Funny how the world delivers precisely what you need at the moment you most need it. I've only known Leah two days, but in those couple of days, I feel like she has come to know me better than anyone else, even my family. I feel connected to her like I can tell her anything. She doesn't make me feel any pressure, just comfort. I have never been the kind of man to open up to people, but with her, it is as if the words fall off my tongue. I could tell her anything. So far, we have held hands and a few kisses here and there, but I am a patient man, and this is all enough for now. She says she likes to take things slow. She doesn't want to talk about her past, says it is too hard to talk about and that someday when she is ready, she will reach that point. Last night we went out for dinner; I took her to a roma

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Chapter 18: Vibrations

Harper If I can't figure out how to use this "thing" inside of me, and figure it out quickly. I will be stuck here forever. I know I don't have long. That much is a sure thing. That creepy man who calls himself Mr. Coulter, actually Nicolas, is just a tall, slender creep. I'm not too fond of the way he looks at me. He has the look of a desperate man, and that makes me think he is growing impatient. He wants something from me, and I can't provide it. Because I honestly cannot, but even if I could, I am sure I wouldn't give him a god damn thing. So what now? Even if I try and practice, if I try to meditate, to focus my mind, they will just stop me. I have this fear of closing my eyes of trying to focus. It is instinct now, muscle memory. My body is restraining itself from concentrating, so I know they have been stopping me. I just don't know-how. There is nothing in this room to help me. Although I feel hopeful to remember more, that hope is quickly falling away as I sea

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