Hand o’ Iron

A grey Toyota van ran through a broken road down a New York City street. Inside a rugged man with a grey trench coat and a silver gun watched the road ahead of him, while a tall Scottish man with a black jumpsuit and glasses lazily watched his rearview mirrors. They were fugitives, outcasts of the society that they had wrought with their pencils. A phone rang next to the trench coat.
“It’s Kisi, Jason. Think the po-po’s have me tapped?” Jared smiled at the phone.

“Hm,” Jason cracked his neck as he quickly turned the wheel, “tell her you’re going on a trip with an old friend of yours in Newark. Guy’s his name?”

Jared smiled grimly. “Yeah, I’ll do that.” Kisi’s voice was worried, tentative at Jared’s calm, bored voice. “Yeah, we’re just getting coffee. Yeah, thanks for those photos, Kisi, I finally get what’s wrong with this stupid glove. Never buy from Pay-less what you can get from Macy’s. Love you.” Click.

Blackmore turned his eyes towards the rear view mirror. “Macy’s has cheap stuff sometimes, too.” Jason glimpsed at the glove in a ShopRite bag.

“Not as bad as what these Russian students pretending to be Americans pull outta their a**es.”

“That may be. So you figured out how your student’s science fair project works, Jared?”

Jared slowly cracked his knuckles. “You should know yourself, you moron. Make mini bombs to mess around with electro-magnetism to make 4-D.” Jason hummed to himself.

“Using one of the fundamental forces to warp the fabric of space time. You know, that’s an interesting question that’s never been answered. And here you are escaping the CIA for supposedly killing someone!” Jared smiled as Blackmore laughed.

Huh! Using electricity to make space . . . but where else do you get the shock of genius . . . but in the mind???

“Jason, I wonder, could this little snow glove use the pulses of the brain to do the same thing?”

Blackmore lowered his eyes, concentrating on a nearby gangster. “Or maybe it can put your brain on overdrive, like that time when you and Guy shot each other with thunder bolts. Either way, you can count on the CIA to figure it out. Or maybe it’s the FBI; whichever one pays better.” Jared chuckled. “We’re almost there, Jared.”

Six hours later, Jared Santana and Jason Blackmore are leaving the John F Kennedy Airport, at around 3 in the morning. It’s August 21, 2035.
Another man, with a massive upper body but small, short legs and arms, trotted along the masses of travelers in the same airport. It was as if the bear from the Bronx Zoo had magically become a gentleman and decided to walk aloof with an ugly pair of black Gucci glasses amongst the visitors of the world. He had a tag that said “Kuma”. But really, everyone called him Yogi Bear.

“Hmm, report Hi-5, this is Kuma, reporting,” said Guy Cando, still gagging and light headed to his little PDA device.

**What have you to report, Kuma? Is EnJit captured, or not? **

“No, he’s on a flight to Boston, presumably with Whitehead on their way back to the Bat Cave.”

**Follow their paths. Do not use your H1-K taser yet, though. We are analyzing your brain wave functions, and we’ve recovered invaluable information. You know the gun’s interference would jeopardize the brain’s recollection, yes Kuma? **

“Understood. Request a passport and ticket for the next available flight to Boston, Massachusetts, as well as transportation to the Massachusetts Institute of Technology,” whispered Guy.

**Granted. H-5 Signing Out** Click! Guy watched the plane fly by, below a grey, starlit sky.

At around seven in the morning, still the same day, Jared and Blackmore stepped onto the uneven sidewalk of the airport departure area. Jared had bought two packs of Oreo cookies, and was sleepily watching Blackmore arrange his bags and type on his own PDA at the same time. Nearby, a Cuban girl with dark brown hair and strong, piercing eyes was watching the two scientists, regarding the ugly trench coat and ruffled jumpsuit with fascination, but quickly turned as she saw Jared’s eyes. Jared walked over in a singsong gait, delighted to see the girl ran to an elder Cuban, a man of rugged, coffee colored skin. He looked 45 and quite experienced.
“She’s afraid of me?” Jared asked in Spanish. He smiled at her as she turned to face him.

“I’d be afraid of you too, with that outfit. You look like a Russian in that.” The man snorted.

Jared laughed roughly, as the girl barely looked from behind her guardian’s legs. “Hi little girl, my name is Jared, I speak Spanish too! Don’t be afraid, see, your father isn’t afraid!” He offered her a hand. The Cuban looked suspiciously at Jared, but seeing his agreeable eye expression, smiled as well.
“C’mon mamita, it’s ok, this ugly man just wants to make at least one friend in his life.”

The girl laughed, and shook Jared’s sickly hand. They all laughed amiably, in the midst of great movement.

“So you guys are newcomers to America?” Jared asked.

“That’s right; we just came from La Habana, Cuba, searching for a relative here. It is Clarita’s first time, you know. That’s why she’s scared. She’s especially scared of white Americans.”

Jared twisted his face in a little confusion. “Scared? That’s rather odd in a child at her age. Did she live through some trauma from the Communists or something?”

The Cuban grunted bluntly.“No, she lived through American abuse. The family was maltreated by soldiers there quite some time ago, and ever since she’s been raised under suspicion of any white man. But hopefully the change in atmosphere will help her out. You’re pretty much her first white contact.”
Jared marveled at her angry, but calm eyes, knowing that expression of distrust in his own. As he watched her smile awkwardly, as he did once long ago, a certain man appeared in his eyes.

Don’t leave your mom and I, Jared, these people . . . they will enslave you. AH! Jared thought.

“Are you ok, sir?” the Cuban moved the girl away quickly, wondering at Jared’s fearful expression. Jared quickly recomposed himself and smiled again at the girl, who was amused at his face.

“Nah, I understand you, Clarita, I’ve had fears of Americans too! But you’ll see, they’re just like you, with favorite colors, math equations, and even ice cream! I hope you’ll enjoy your stay.” The girl laughed at Jared’s squeaky voice, and so did the Cuban, who extended a hand of gratitude.
“I wish you good luck on your trip, Mr.—,”

“Santana, Jared Santana, mathematics professor.” Jared gleamed.

“Ah, you’re not from Spain, are you?” asked the Cuban with some scrutiny.

“My parents were. I’m already more of a Yankee than they’d like,” laughed Jared. They parted.

Two hours later, Jared and Jason Blackmore drove down in a taxi through the crisp air of Cambridge, Massachusetts, while Jason quickly typed into a PDA. “Jason,” Jared quietly, with eyes gently closed, muttered, “Why the hell are we going back to MIT?” Blackmore smirked as he typed.
“You ask me now? Should always do that before going on a crash course. But then . . .”

“That’s why it’s called a crash course,” Jared answered, sitting back, pretending to sleep.

“Mhm. You remember what I said about the connections I had? I’m gonna get you connected.”

“HA! You never told me who they were, Blackmore. For all I know, you might be the KGB!”

“F**k those bastards, f**k the CIA, F**K THEM ALL! We’re scientists, and we’re not getting’ bossed around like that so easily. I told you Jared, don’t mess with big machines unless you’re one of the professionals. Idiots like you get caught by 911 thinkin’ their work is so holy that nobody watches.”

Jared opened a single eye to behold Jason’s face grow a tinge darker, as well as his eyes. “So you’re the Mafia then? Why the hell couldn’t you spare the lecture?” Blackmore laughed and dropped his PDA. The taxi driver simply smiled; mellow as the Monday morning that covered the fairy tale land.
“But, seriously Jared, I’m getting you in there. Normally we don’t allow any outsider unless they’re proven by one of our ranks, very rarely someone of your guts gets into it so fast.”

“You neva’ told me what’s the name.” As Jason picked up his device, he glared at Jared

“Jared, you just went through some mental breakdown with Guy, they probably have all your communications but mine tapped, and you’re asking me to reveal what’s the name of the Mafia?”

“That’s right, son, nobody knows the name of the Mafia,” quipped the driver

“Shut the f**k up and drive! I ain’t paying you to play the driver part in the James Bond movie” Jared retorted with some irritation. The driver choked somewhat as he tried to drink some coffee, but resumed his mellow driving. Jason cursed Jared for his brutality, and flipped a dollar coin to the driver.

The name, Jared? C’mon you know better than that. Now what is that Blackmore typing into. . .

Ah! Jared shook his head as his inner voice was deeper and darker than usual. Something’s wrong with me. . . He slouched back and tried honestly to sleep. What street is this . . . just on time! Jared sat up again, not quite understanding his train of thought.

“Are you ok, Jared? You look as if you can’t sleep. Something on your mind?” Blackmore kept typing. Jared watched the device, recognizing it as an old model. He felt an innate satisfaction at the strange curiosity, but instinctively he switched his mind to the outside, watching the trees. But then a street sign came into view, 24th Main, which again gave him a crisp joy. Since when did I care about Blackberries and Directions? I gotta get more sleep, that’s all. As he dozed off, his thoughts ran again. We were right; they do have an organization. Jared snapped again, but the thought quickly left him, and he dozed off, seriously wishing he had the driver’s stupidity.

The next day, MIT Energy Initiative Labs, Cambridge, Massachusetts, a conference is being held in the department cafeteria. Seven men are sitting around a round table, each holding some miscellaneous object. One had a notebook, writing down poetry with a mellow face and a gruff beard. Another had a crowbar, spinning it like a baton, with a languid face and grey, dull eyes. A third man, tall and Southern in appearance, glimpsed at the door near him, as its long width creaked open to welcome two lanky scientists, one with a jumpsuit and one with a trench coat. The crowbar man frowned as his spinning speed worsened. The man with the notebook ended with a heart and the name of a Vietnamese girl, while the Southern guy cracked his neck and shifted his straw hat. The jumpsuit man sat down next the straw hat man, while the trench coat swooshed onto a low serving table nearby.

“Good evenin’ Blacky, how ya’ll doin? I haven’ seen you in sure while, eh?”

The Southerner smiled at Blackmore. “Guess yaw back to good ol’ M.I.T.?

What’s the report, and who’s this feller?”

Blackmore stood up, stretched his feet, and motioned to another guy, with an impeccable tuxedo, with a stern Asiatic face, probably from Communist China. He quickly bolted to a refrigerator and threw a Coke bottle to Blackmore. He sat down again, raising his legs as he spoke.

“Well Jordan, this here’s Dr. Jared Santana, NJIT prof. with some nice background in topology.” The seven men regarded Jared with some amiability, but quickly each resumed their particular habit.

“Und vat can Mister Santa-Ana help us with Enargy, Blackmoore?” murmured the crowbar man.

“Heh. There’s not enough of it for anyone, but I’m sure you could’ve figured that out.” Responded Jared, amused at the queer expression of irritation of his questioner as he missed a step with the crowbar.

“Mr. Jared, right? Well I reckon that pretty math of yours can tell us how we do our job, ain’t that right?” asked the notebook man, with gleeful eyes and a tired expression.

“Well,” began Blackmore as he opened the Coke, “now that we all know each other, it’s time for business. Jared here ya’ll know is being hunted by the bums. Seems he’s onto something pretty sweet in our little HEDA project, and he even,” Blackmore relished his bottle, “had a visit from one of the big boys.” The seven men looked up, each one expressing mutual concern and satisfaction.

“Who was the agent, Mr. Santana?” asked the notebook man with calm eyes.
“Isn’t that confidential, sir? I don’t wanna get in trouble you know. But he happened to be a friend of mine.” The Chinese man narrowed his eyes and bit his lip, but his body was still stone cold.

“A friend? This is no joke. Those agents may well be listening to us, but they will never obtain the information they desire. We are no organization, just honest individuals. What was his name?”

“Huh. Kuma, like the guy from the One Piece manga. You ever read that, Jackie Chan?” Jared smirked at the Chinese man, wondering at his stern, invincible seriousness and will. The man was no less surprised at Jared’s hidden determination and rage.

“Looks like a large, bear man?”Asked another man, with a Polo shirt and spiked yellow hair. “I’m Mike, by the way, and I’ve read the manga, it’s pretty good. What toys did Kuma show, a laser beam and air repellant paws?”

“No, but he did pull a neat trick reading my mind. You know, it’s amazing what a taser gun can do to you. I still have a headache from that episode.” Jared massaged his forehead, while it beat slowly.

“Well,” Blackmore stood as he finished his soda, “Jared needs our help. Obviously he can’t stay at NJIT. The agent, according to him, was a close associate from the engineering department at that school. I just passed through his papers; hopefully his transfer will be done in a few hours. In the meanwhile,” he stepped next to the door, “We have to figure out a few details about his little snow glove. Why don’t you show them what you got at Macy’s for less than a hundred bucks?” He left.

Each of the seven sat back down near the round table, watching Jared intently. The crowbar man smiled as he saw the glove, with crystal eyes. The Chinese man frowned at the glove, with solid arms. The notebook man widened his eyes somewhat, and jotted down a lyric. The Southern man scratched his head, while the Polo guy smirked and nodded. The other two, an Indian with a dark jacket and an old Pole with fair white hair and a cotton lab shirt, each peered without expression at the burnt glove Jared placed on the table.

“This, my dear comrades, is a piece of machinery that my Russian student concocted before he went into Paper Mario mode. As you can see, it’s rather heavy, compact, a combination of a computer and a particle accelerator, only on steroids. It was tested a few times, by the creator only, but unfortunately at the fourth test he also activated a similar device, and the reaction burned the glove as you see it now. Have fun with it, the boy used some interesting uranium studded nano network cards.”

Jared walked away and grabbed a Diet Pepsi as his head began to ache. Each of the table men bluntly watched the glove and examined the burnt interior. The Indian watched the burns while the Pole watched Jared’s exhausted face. “Are you alright? You look like you need some sleep.”

Jared smiled as he dropped the Pepsi. His eyes narrowed as his head slowly gave into drowsiness. I’ve seen you before, Stan; so you’re one of them too? Ah! Jared snapped up from the desk behind him.

“Jared, we need to run some tests on you before you sleep tonight. We’re glad you’ve come to us, since we’ve been looking for signs of the agents’ weapons and methods. They’ve probably made hell upon your life, but at least here,” he patted Jared’s shoulder, “you’re safer with our ranks.” Jared smiled.

“I hope so, old man Stan.” Stan looked puzzlingly at Jared.

“How did you know my name, Jared? I don’t think I’ve introduced myself.” Jared snapped again, realizing the name had simply appeared in his mind out of the blue.

“I’m not sure. I’m having the strangest Déjà Vu’s lately; guess its lack of sleep.”

“We’ll take a look at this thing first thing tomorrow. Abdel, why don’t you tinker with it while we get some tests on this new guy, eh?” The Polo guy jumped up as the Indian smiled and exposed his grey teeth. Jared carefully left the cafeteria, followed by six of the seven.

Two days later, in the Neurology Department, the crowbar man was glimpsing through sheets of newspapers. He was with a student, busily working on DNA sequences for his next class.

“Zo, tell me, Joseph, what do you think about mid-indigo waves upon neurosignals?”

The boy looked up, almost clueless. “Dunno, what’s the frequency difference?”

“Correct, my boy! The difference, ah the difference. Did Marco finish his paper rat tests with those waves?” The boy yawned and fiddled with his pencil, while losing his train of thought.

“Yeah, sometime next week he’s going to present. You look pretty interested, Dr. Argion.”

The crowbar man’s grey eyes shined a reddish glow from nearby lamps. “Yez, I’d figor that might hewlp with the Tylenol’s that just don’t work sometimes, you know?” The student laughed.

That same day, the Indian walked calmly towards the dome of MIT, shortly accompanying the Chinese man inside. “Chang, this is great engineering Santana brought to me.”

“Do you have a report on its functions and infrastructure?” Chang strutted perfectly in tune with everyone else, but without losing as much as a hair of steadiness in his upper body.

“You bet I do. I think his student came up with the solution we’ve been looking for.”

At night, in the Mathematics department board room, the Polish man reads over scans with Blackmore. “Blackmore, your friend has gone through serious traumas. How did he survive, I wonder?”

“What do you mean, Ulanov?”asked Blackmore, studying the rapid patterns of brain waves.

“We have to be careful with him. His memory section reacts violently whenever we mention any important details about us to him. It’s as if there’s something inside of him reacting to the mention of our organization.” Blackmore studied the scans again, noting erratic movements in intervals.
“So you think someone’s brain washed him?”

“Or at least left him scarred with a built in fear of us. But I have to check him; maybe there’s a repressed fear of authority somewhere in him. Or perhaps,” Stan paused. “His unconscious was opened.” Blackmore dropped the scans and began to smoke a cigar, without changing his expression.

“Whatever. Either way I’m glad he’s sane. Maybe we can get some sense out of what he’s done and finally put an end to this stupid HEDA project. I want to go home, Stan.” Stan also dropped the photos.

“I do too, Jason. But retiring isn’t real; it’s an illusion that they teach you when someone’s disillusioned with his life. But I can’t retire. Not with,” he watched a nearby picture of the President, “those agents trying to save the world by using our brains to do it.”

Blackmore threw out his cigar before savoring the smoke. “I can feel Jared on that one too.”

The next week, the mellow notebook man steadily took notes on the structure of Jared’s silver gun. As he pinpointed certain features of its internal structure, Jared opened the door behind him.

“Not bad for a 90 millimeter, eh?” He slowly approached the man’s table, full of notes.

“It’s a wonder you can actually work this thing. It’s so small. Jared, how long did it take you figure out it would work?” Jared gently caressed the titanium barrel of the long, textbook sized weapon.

“It worked because I know the right results from the right people. It uses the forces we all know of and abuse every day, man. You only need a small space and enough unstable stuff to warp electricity or whatever force you don’t want into a new piece of livin’ space.”

The notebook man smiled. “You know, I would rather remove gravity so I can fly and experience some ecstasy with the sky. 4 dimensions in the sky, isn’t that romantic?” Jared guffawed.

“HA! I guess that would, though my girlfriend would probably think I was crazy.”

“You’re in love, are you? I can tell from your careworn expressions, Dr. Santana. Are you two expecting a child, I might ask?” The guy’s eyes were smooth, joyful, and passionate, but dull and sleepy.

“Nah, not even close yet. We were going to marry and then . . . well, and then this happened.”

The man watched Jared’s hardened eye expression. “You hurt her, didn’t you? How does she take your reckless work and lack of sensitivity? Isn’t it painful to make a sacrifice?” Jared’s head began to groan.

“Hugh. I don’t know what to do anymore, just finish what I started. That’s something my father taught me, and probably what keeps her faith in me. Oh, my dear friend, I wish I could go back, embrace Kisi, ah, I’m so alone. Who are you men, anyway? You call yourselves a professional friendship, but you look more like the Mafia. Blackmore won’t tell me what it’s called, will you?”
The notebook man laughed as he finished jotting notes from the radius of the barrel. “No my friend, God wanted to remain nameless, I shall not endeavor to name what our sentiments cannot admit a name. As for your lover, give her space and time. Once this is over, you might be lucky and go back to her. But you can’t assert yourself like this again. It’s her turn. Become submissive, it’s good for a passionate man, once in a while.” Jared sighed and watched his gun again, while the notebook guy’s notes came into view.

Could their kind possibly have made the gun work with the mind? Jared suddenly jumped, anxious as if his liver had reacted badly to some sardines he previously ate. The notebook man noticed.

“You certainly have had some surprising fits with that head of yours. Tell me, what exactly do you hear when that happens?” He closed his notepad and came closer to Jared with his dark, dreamy eyes. Jared backed away, almost tripping on the desk behind him.

“Ugh. Strange thought emerge in my mind. Questions about things I honestly don’t care about. But they persist. It’s as if I were a crazy student yearning to learn the secrets of the world.”

The notebook man smiled and took Jared’s hand. “My name is William Artemis. I’m glad you’re with us, Jared Santana, and any question you have, please confide in us. We want to get out of this trouble as fast as you do. I’ll personally make sure your lover will find you sooner than you think.”

That night, Jared experienced body temperature hikes and drops that caused him to convulse tremendously, as if he were under the influence of a strong drug. As his mind raced in his dreams and visions, a tall, large man outside coordinated a large box to emit frequencies like radio waves. Jared suddenly bolted from his bed and leapt upon the flower on his arms, still half asleep. He picked up his trench coat and calmly stepped out of his dormitory, in the nearby MIT extension hospices for faculty. He faced the large man, whose glasses betrayed nothing from within. Jared placed his old, Indiana Jones hat upon his brow and ran away from the man, towards the MIT EI building. He crept slowly inside, bypassing the security even better than he could have in his consciousness. Inside a small room, he gaze upon a great pile of notes, mostly filled with question marks, linear algebra, and love notes. Nearby a computer, however, lay a strange silver gun. Jared thrust the weapon into his coat and leapt through the window nearby and darted off into the twilight sky, with his eyes barely awake and his mind racing to the tune of a System of a Down song. They’re trying to build a prison! They’re tryin’ to build a prison! Another prison system, another PRISON SYSTEM!!! RAAHHHH!!!!
About two blocks away, Kuma scrutinized the surroundings, fairly quietly, while his glasses’ glowed ugly red dots as if the glasses were a computer. EnJit is leaving the vicinity, copy that Hi-5. He murmured in his mind.
*** Roger, Kuma. The H1-K tech is working brilliantly. We can copy your thoughts clearly. How is EnJit moving about? Is he stable? Copy, Kuma. *** Click! Kuma’s glasses shut off their lights.

He’s in a trance, recalling his childhood memories. In due time his desires and goals will probably cause him to react violently to nearby pedestrians. Possible injury. Shall I proceed? Copy, Hi-5.

*** Follow him at a distance, Kuma. I’m sending you the revised copy of the Rosetta stone software. Implement the frequencies as the Stone recommends, and if EnJit reacts favorably, proceed with full execution. The circle of 8 will be the first targets. Understood, Kuma? Copy. *** Click!
Kuma watched the sky as the stars glittered intermittently, then his glasses flashed rapidly with letters and numbers. Understood. I shall proceed now. Kuma, signing off with Hi-5. He dashed into the trees nearby.

It is around two in the morning of a Saturday, in Boston, Massachusetts. Near Center Road is a bar, the Kinsale Irish pub. Various men of different heights and beard lengths caroused their Friday night with their spare dollars. There was card playing, none of it actually legal, and there was great nostalgia exuding from the midsummer air. Two wretchedly dressed elders, each around 40 but looking much older, carefully placed their cards upon a round drinking table. Each had bet a decent amount of dollar bills. Two other shady men watched nearby, drinking a glass of Heineken. Suddenly, behind the card dealer a trench coat, black with dust and crusted tar, materialized into a stinky form. The other player, a Polish man whom everyone called Freckles, realized instantly the coat’s appearance and dropped his cards. The card dealer, wary, jumped backwards as he turned, and the coat glided over a spare seat. Heavy arms cracked the beer stained table, as both players looked on with some puzzlement as if the man in the coat were a glowing madman.
“Deal me in, boys.” He raised his eyes, heavy with sleep but perfectly concentrated on the dealer, who was shocked at his condition: the man’s coat was dirty, the arms hung far too low for comfort, and the neck stretched in anticipation of the deal while the head hung sleepily.

“You got anythin to bet on, son? We alredy gotta pool ya know.”The other player was suspicious of the trench coat man’s face, which, seeing the cards, animated in swirling brown eyes.

“Hee-Hee-Hee-Heee. Sure boys, I have some sake to bet on, but let’s make this interestin’. My name’s Jared, by the way.” He winked, and thus their game commenced. Jared’s eyes never let their swirling fire escape them, nor did his smile let go of its grip. The two players, feeling confident in Jared’s stupidity, played for higher stacks of dollars. Jared soundly defeated them both. Nearby, a television set from the eighties sounded news about the Iraq War.

“Damn this country; someone should give a good beatin to that f**kin Obama so he stops playin around that desert hole.” The Polish card player ranted, with irritation as he lost his money.

“Tell me, Mr. Polo,” asked Jared to the Polish player, “why the hell does your kind always think it’s so sentimental and faithful? Don’t you guys get tired of being beaten all the time?” The card player growled and the dealer was incredulous that Jared should suddenly twist into a sinister character.

“Hey, leave off meh, our kind ain’t nuttin to do with you, I’m a solo person and I don’t go with the whole ‘your people thing’. I’m a hard worker is all, but I don’t like bastards like you messin with us.”

Jared’s face twisted into more wrinkles of glee. “Bastard? Who’s the one wastin his money on booze and blaming all our troubles on the government, eh Polo?”

The card player cracked his glass and stood. The dealer tried to console him, but to no avail, as Jared received a fist full of gin on his smile.
“Maybe that’d teach ya to respect yer elders, you son of a bi**h!” The dealer quickly grabbed the Polo by the left arm and sat him down and reminded him of the ongoing game. Jared, however, stood up, with trench coat half way down.

“I’m just makin a comment, sir, and I wasn’t done. You see,” he sat down and played his hand, “I for one complain about the government too; but I do something about it, whereas you,” he picked up the stack of dollars, “have no idea that the leaders you love so much have you in the bag.” He finished with a low voice and a Russian accent, and every nearby card player stopped their merriment to listen to him. The so-called Polo sat dumbstruck at the force of Jared’s opinion.

“Who are you, some student at MIT or something? I know your kind,” he stood up, “and I know what ya think of us workers. Life isn’t all numbers and results; it’s about faith too, and livin up to what you believe in. That means fightin, and that’s somethin you guys ain’t never man enough to do.” The Polo was red but breathing steadily. The dealer and two other players nearby watched with reverence.

“Heh, just like the Church, eh? Trust in my self-righteous suicide! That’s right, faith! Kill everyone, faith! We are right, you are wrong, no proof, just believe or die! I have willed enough to do it!” Jared danced and jumped quickly, while the dealer widened his eyes in horror. Tap! The Polo’s glass fell soundly on the table, as a knife protruded from his jacket into Jared’s heart. The nearby card players gasped in contempt, while the bartender watched warily. But nobody reacted, for Jared still laughed.

“HA! Fool! You sow what you reap! Let’s see how your religion will save you!” The glow around Jared grew stronger, as he stepped aside from the blade, cutting through his coat as it would air. The Polo stepped back and chucked the knife in incredulity at Jared’s annoying smile, but this also missed, striking a slovenly prostitute squarely on the back of her head.

“I’d say try again, but I already ripped enough money from you’re a**, so I might as well end the night,” Jared slowly pulled his silver gun from the coat pocket, revealing its illuminated barrel.

Lower the gun, Jared. Jared’s head split in pain at the heavy voice in his mind. He lowered the gun with difficulty, while his eyes flashed red and brown like a revolving bottle of sprinkles.

“What’s a matter with this bloke, John?”Asked one player to another. They murmured as his face clearly spoke of agony as if he were constipated.

Say, “I am sorry, Bob.”

“I’m sorry, Bobby-poo!” Jared blurted histerically. The Polo was touched at Jared’s obvious struggle with himself and sat down, realizing he wasn’t leaving any day soon.

Now ask where the bathroom is.

“Yo, tender guy, where be the john?” Jared could barely keep his head up, as his sleep finally began take control.

“Umm,” began the bartender. Jump, Jared. Jared skipped, and fell back, letting the stack of dollars fall underneath the dead prostitute’s table.

Let’s try. . . Jared, I’m tired, let me go to sleep, won’t you? The voice became light, like a Chinese girl’s voice. Jared’s face softened, as he slowly rose and walked out of the bar, still glowing a strange white. Outside, on the rooftop, Kuma sat patiently watching with mechanical eyeglasses and a PDA.

As Jared neared his faculty dormitory, Kuma’s PDA flashed again. Jared bolted straight up.

Jared, honey, sit down, and let me put you to sleep. We haven’t slept together in such a long time. Remember when we were in high school . . . Jared’s eyes grew blood shot as his head palpated in pain, as the girl’s voice grewer calmer and sweeter at every word, until finally he collapsed.
“Thank you, Jared. Now for business.” Kuma switched his PDA off as he took out a headset and sealed it onto his helmet, shaped like a dunce cap. He connected his PDA into the set and the two devices turned on, each looking as heavy as lead, and as ugly as forest moss.

“Activate Rosetta Stone” Kuma’s glasses blipped and the headset began to hum.

Jared stood up, eyes blank. Find the rooms of the 7 men Blackmore showed me a few days ago. Jared’s mind suddenly had a flashback as the words entered his mind. Abel, Chang, Will Artemis, Stan, Dr. Argion, Mike, Jordan. Yes, I remember them. I’ll get them.

Jared leapt back into the MIT EI building. In another room, next to Blackmore’s study, Jared found the strange, burnt gun, covered with Will Artemis’ love notes. I am Iron Man. He wore the glove and tested its energetic capabilities. NO Jared! Let me change the settings. Alex didn’t leave it on just one energy source, you know. Jared stopped his hand quickly, though he was shaking. He searched and uncovered a hidden keypad, and punched a code that he would never have guessed in his normal state. The glove extended two small levers and attached them into Jared’s skin, causing electrical shocks up to his brain. AHH! Calm down, Jared, it’s only the testing. Follow your mind. Jared again had a flow of visions of his new friends. Quietly Jared skulked around the campus, using his glove to turn invisible. But his head ached in a splitting pain that disoriented him. Come, Jared, dear, I’m here. The girls’ soothing voice kept Jared focused, and he leapt forward into the campus woods.

One by one, Jared shot each of the seven men he saw, and, using the burnt glove, moved them in four-dimensional space into the cafeteria where they first met. Though it was a short distance because of the spatial distortion, Jared’s mental strain grew worse and worse, though the voice that seemed like Kisi’s kept him moving. At last, all seven men were assembled in the lounge, each asleep and in their own bubble of hyper space. Jared came into the room himself, glowing but steaming from exhaustion, bringing in Chang, the last man to bring in. Outside, Kuma sat on the roof of the same building, using his PDA to lock the magnetic doors leading into the building.
“Jared,” Kuma spoke through his lead headset, “where is Blackmore? I think he should hear this conference too, don’t you think?” Inside, Jared began to exit the large oak doors, when a voice struck his ear with a piercing pitch.
“Yo, Jared, what is this, man?”Asked Mike, the Polo shirt man with a cool Mohawk-styled blond hair.

He tried to escape his bubble, but to his surprise, he only seemed to reenter it. “What is this?”

Jared fell down, his head splitting in pain, but Kuma insisted in his bold, seductive girl voice. The other six, suddenly awakened by Mike’s yelps, also struck out at the bubbles enveloping their transparent bodies, but to no avail, for their bodies just seemed to reenter through the bubble backside.
“Jared! Watcha up to kid! Who did this!” yelled Jordan, dropping his straw hat.

“Mr. Santa-Ana, vie are you doing theis to us?” asked Dr. Argion.
Jared convulsed at their voices, while his memory began to react violently. Two voices began to sound in his mind. Come, Jared, dear, find Blackmore so we can quiet down these rude boys. . . . Jared! Why are you leaving your mother and I?

Kuma stood up. “Hm. Why the hell does that memory persist?” His PDA suddenly flashed a darker red. AHHH! Jared fell back, gasping for breath. The seven watched him, noticing his bulging veins and steaming head. Suddenly he stood and sat near the table.

“Gentlemen, I’m glad you’re all fine. As you’ve all seen, the glove has regained its capabilities of spatial distortion, as you can well see and feel,” he motioned to the individual bubles.

“Jared,” began Artemis, “is this four dimensional space?”

“You sure better believe it, Will, the same space that I’ve lived in for quite a while. This, my friends, is the result of your endless work on HEDA!” He stood, solemn, but meaningfully.

Chang narrowed his eyes. “And why would you bring us here to demonstrate this?”

“Chang,” began Jared, with dull brown eyes, “I’ve discovered the secret of the glove that my student made. Its capabilities exceed far more what I originally imagined!”

“I know that, Jared,” began Abdel, “I saw a few features you didn’t mention in my questionnaire. But I’ve had it in my lab all this time while you were recovering from mental shock, how did you suddenly realize the glove’s capacity?”

“Maybe, Jerry here received a prophetic dream from his superior being,” muttered Stan.

Jared glared at Stan with a smile. “What makes you say that, Stan Ulanov? I just happened to realize the answer to the calculations I made back at NJIT! I needed only inspiration, and well, rest.”

“Jared,” Stan began, with suspicion evident in his tone, “who the hell told you my last name was Ulanov? My last name in the archives is Yershina, not Ulanov.”

“Why do you ask me this again? I heard it from one of your associates here.” Jared smiled back.

“Jared,” Stan began again, this time with more agitation as everyone paid close attention, “that’s impossible considering the only persons who knew me by that name are either dead or are not here at all to begin with! So in summary,” this time he raised his eyes towards Jared’s dull pair, “who told you my name, if it wasn’t a superior being?” The men sat silently, as lightening struck them.

“Well, if you’d like to call it that, I’m fine, Stan,” laughed Jared. “But as I was saying, this glove can manipulate, because of the topological ‘elasticity’ of 4-space, spatial distance, thus seeming to ‘warp’ shall I say, the person affected by it, and thus appear to teleport from one place to another.”
“That’s exactly what I figured as well, Mr. Jared,” snapped Abdel, and continued with some worry, “but I also found out more of its . . . how shall I say . . . energy input ability, yes?”

“What I’ve been telling Blackmore all this time! THE MIND!” Jared removed his trench coat, revealing his glove and silver gun at hand, along with grey pajamas. “Alex was able to tap into the electromagnetic pulses of the mind, which are the only ones that exist with the needed frequencies! Imagine! Using your thoughts, each with a different wave length, to bend and ultimately distort reality into something looser! Imagine that we can possibly use our minds to warp time and space! The theorem is proven! Time-space is relative, the fundamental forces, given by their individual string super algebra, do form a mathematical category! It is united! We have unity in our universe!”
As Jared conversed with a soft but firm voice, the others sat deathly still, each with cautious and worrying eyes. A minute seemed to pass as Jared finished, as each pondered his sudden burst of genius.

“So that’s what Kuma was after, Jared?” asked Artemis, smoothing his curly black hair.

“Indeed, William, the CIA would die for this technology, needed to control the world. We have it, we all have it at our tips. I have finished the puzzle, with the help of my foolish student. Oh Kisi, if on only you could see me, I’ve done it . . .” Jared began to fall into his seat, almost collapsing from exhaustion, his mind viewing sequences of memories and equations.
Not so fast Jared, we’re still not done; time to propose. Kuma pressed a button on his headset. Jared stood up straight again, his eyes heavier than before. Chang suddenly realized Jared’s predicament. “Dr. Argion, what was the overall result of this man’s mental activity?”

Dr. Argion stared at Chang’s stern look and nodded. “He’s suffered from an electromagnetic spike in his neuron activity, what I call an overload. In his state, there’s no way he should even be awake, let alone babbling about discoveries in physics.” The others watched Jared warily, as he yawned.
“Nonsense, I’ve never been under better stress or management. But you’re right; I’ve taken up too much of your time. Now it’s time for business. Blackmore brought me here to escape from Kuma and his taser gun, and I’ve certainly gotten my rest and reward. But now I must take my leave. “
“What do you mean, Santana?”The bold voice of Mike reverberated through the hall. Jared smiled again.

“Blackmore brought me here to save me from the CIA. But I only came because I did not know what I was up against. Now that I know, however,” he put on his trench coat in a brisk, professional manner, “I have to take my leave. It’s simply ridiculous to think that the nine of us can assemble here together and not expect Kuma or his other agents to snoop around us and steal our secrets. No, I—“

“Nobody’s ever gotten into this place, ever you damn fool,” began Jordan, with gruff blue eyes, “didn’t Blacky tell you about our special network? Hell, not even the KGB can crack it.”

Jared arranged his silver gun in its original pocket. “That may be, but eventually they would infiltrate the premises. It’s simply not safe. That’s why I must leave, as principal genius behind this mad contraption. However,” he stood and faced them, especially Chang, “I must take all of the records about the HEDA project, including the records on the glove that my student wrote here, and burn them.”

Together they spelled their sentiment: “WHAT?” Abdel was on the verge of tears.

“Santa, what the hell are you playing at? Those records are our property, and as part of The Legion, we are totally prudent and faithful to their integrity! They can’t go!”

Jared smiled, with sleepy eyes. “The Legion’s the name? That’s original; I wonder why Blackmore never told me, I think it’s cute and poetic. Ha-ha.” Chang widened his eyes for the first time.

“Idiot,” he began, in a calm but dangerous voice, “you shouldn’t have told him our identity. Now they know who we are.” He smiled at Jared, as if he could see through the sleepy eyes.

“What are you spelling, Chang? Don’t tell me you’re into conspiracy theory, are you? This isn’t Communist China, you know, Jackie Chan.” Jared strolled around the refrigerator.

“No, but at least my land was honest about who was who and what each party could and couldn’t do. We don’t pretend; but you Americans do; are you listening to me, Agent Kuma?” He looked up; as everyone followed his gaze, so did Jared. As he removed his gaze from the ceiling, a faint BZZZ sound penetrated the room, and behold, Chang lunged at Jared, knocking him into the sink near him.

“Don’t think we’re not prepared, you f**king imperialists!” He quickly unveiled his small, taser gun like device, and the bubbles that surrounded each scientist disappeared.

“Good job with the EMP, Chang, good thing you learned some tricks at Tokyo, eh? What do we do with Jared?”Asked Stan, motioning towards his unconscious form in the sink.

“He looks pretty beat, never mind him now. What we should worry about is the CIA. If Jared’s an agent, there’s surely files that are missing or taps in our system. Abdel, Stan, and Jordan, check all of our main labs, we need a verification.” Barked Mike, approaching Chang and Jared.

“Hmm, Chang, I’m not sure if this man is exactly our typical government agent.” approached Dr. Argion. Chang watched him in expectation, as the other three left the room.

“What did you find in his neuron scans, Argion?” asked Artemis.

“His activity led me to suspect that there was a, how shall I say, an alter ego in his subconscious? Basically, whenever his conscious person would feel weak, a certain second Jared would appear to take form.” The others thought deeply. Chang stood still while Artemis watched the floor.

“So you’re saying we’ve got a schizophrenic freak on our hands? A double agent?” asked Mike.

“More than that, Mike. From what I gathered from Jared’s confessions, and Blackmore’s historical account of him, this seems to be induced by an ‘outside’ electromagnetic force that activates this behavior in him. In this state he is unstable, as you can tell. We should study him further to understand this strange case of . . . shall I call it mental espionage?” The others regarded him seriously.

“Your theory seems as farfetched as Jared’s, but we’ll see after he’s confined and relaxed,” said Chang, who approached Jared’s sleeping body. As he picked him up to remove the glove, it began to glow.

Jared, dear, wake up! This man’s trying to take me away! Please help me!

Kuma remained seated as he watched the other scientists broke through the doors and bolted onto the campus, as the sun was rising.

“UGH” Chang fell back, as the iron glove smashed his face across, thrusting Artemis onto the table. Jared quickly jumped, quickly rearranging his hair and jacket. Michael quickly twisted his body into a solid kick, but Jared’s eyes followed as his body bended into an arc, missing the fleeting foot.
“Mike, vetch for theh gun!”Yelled Argion, as Jared pulled his silver weapon and discharged its energy onto Mike. Mike’s body became transparent, as a ghost. But Jared stopped, as his head burst into more agony. He bellowed a lament of death, which startled each of the remaining scientists. Argion swiftly left the serving table where they were located and moved behind the chairs, next to Chang and Artemis. “Chang,” he whispered with haste, “I’ll distract him, ju must get Blackmore to come. If I am right, he may have the right tool to stop theh brain-washing. Ok?” Chang, recomposed, agreed, as did Artemis, whose face suddenly changed into a violent but firm semblance. Argion stood.

“Jared, my friend, my newest comrade, please listen to me,” began Argion, stepping slowly towards the table Jared was leaning on in agony. “I know you under the influence of a second mind set, telling you what to do. Please, try and find your oldest memory. Tell me, who was your father?”

Adrian! AHH! Jared stomped his head onto the display glass, cracking it in three parts. Jared, honey, forget the past, save ourselves! We can go off alone after this! Jared shook violently, as Argion approached, reminding him of his past. “Remember you father, he wanted your safety, your best in life. C’mon, don’t believe this dream; remember all good things have a deeper nature. Think beyond what you feel, think, you are a free man. A little more, Jared, easy,” Argion softly coaxed Jared, as he slowed down the head thrashings. Dr. Argion’s footsteps sped slowly but surely, until he was within a foot of the nearby silver gun. Chang, right behind a chair, watched the deranged trench coat swung slowly but steadily. Artemis lifted a small taser gun and left the barrel just beyond the chair arm.

“It’s ok, Jared, I know you’re exhausted, we can go home, just go to sleep, don’t think now.” He finally took the silver gun, watched Jared’s bowed head, and quickly turned to throw it.

“No! Duck Argion!” It was not Chang, but Artemis, who caught the shift in Jared’s arm movement. The iron glove suddenly grabbed Argion’s collar and released a violent burst that blinded the others and defeated Argion’s flight. But the silver gun, as the light faded, was still in the air, and fell neatly in Chang’s hand. Artemis lunged forward onto the table and shot the taser gun directly at Jared’s head, but the iron glove blocked the shots. Artemis cursed but quickly sped around the room, shooting at different angles, but to no avail, as Jared’s bloodshot eyes had a dirty look that enjoyed the game. Chang quickly examined the silver gun, managed to realize which button possessed the desired operation, and, as Jared turned half way to face Artemis, Chang shot a luminous burst of light directly at Jared’s chest.

“FAIL!” Jared laughed as Artemis’ taser lost its final shot, precisely as Chang shot his own. As the light opened its arms to cover its master, the iron glove retaliated with its own burst of light. The chairs in the center of the room all disappeared, leaving Chang in the open. As he realized there was no cover, he quickly met with Artemis, who recharged his weapon. As the light faded, they stared blankly as Jared lay prostrate on the ground, with two wires protruding from his skull. His hair exuded a great amount of steam. To both scientists’ surprise, the black jumpsuit of Jason Blackmore appeared behind the steam, with his hand holding a taser gun with a rubber glove. Blackmore drew closer by hard footsteps, with a stern face at Jared’s slumped form. He drew the glove, charcoaled by the taser’s electrical charge, and let Jared’s body onto the serving table, his trench coat coarse with dirt and alcohol.
“Glad I got here on time. Abdel told me what happened, and I just had a taser gun on my hand. Are you both alright? The others are checking the labs, so far nothing seems to be misplaced besides those two weapons,” he bent down to clear the floor.

“We’re fine,” curtly responded Chang,”but Mike isn’t. He’s trapped in 4-space. Do you know how this glove operates?” Blackmore carefully placed the glove upon his arm and pressed the green button, but to no avail, as the charred texture merely smoked.

“No, frankly I don’t. Only Jared knows.” Artemis and Chang beamed at Blackmore’s deep thought. But Blackmore turned suddenly, as Jared convulsed violently, shivering his legs and arms. Chang quickly skipped next to Blackmore, but Artemis, carefully watching Jared’s face, calmed his own.
“Maybe Argion was right, Chang, what if this fool has been brain washed?” Blackmore, puzzled, simply waited. “Listen, how did Jared react before you arrived here?”

“He’s been having strange headaches and dreams, but much of it was exhaustion.” Chang stood still.

“Hm, that’s what Argion thought as well; but he also realized that his brain wasn’t functioning right, as a normal person. He seemed to be, schizophrenic, in a way. But if this man did not act that way in his normal life, but only after his confrontation with Kuma . . . “Blackmore smiled.

“Then maybe Kuma really did mess with his head: all the more reason to save this bastard.”

“Blackmore!” Chang pulled him behind the refrigerator, “if this theory is correct, Kuma . . .”

“I know, but Jared must be listening still, so keep it off.” Blackmore’s stare reassured Chang.

“Help me with him, Chang,” Artemis began to lift Jared’s dirty coat, when he suddenly grabbed his arm. Jared’s face, still shaking, focused onto Artemis’ smooth, curly hair.

“P-pp-pleaa-se, Arty, lee-t go, I ca-an’t be hel-ll-ped,” he shivered violently as he spoke. Chang glumly overlooked Jared’s rocking eyes and evil smile. Blackmore grunted with contempt.

“Jaay, I-I-I haa-ve a score wi- Guy,” he narrowed his eyes, and his body slowly hardened.

“What guy is his talking about, Blackmore?” asked Artemis, tired at long last after the previous events. Chang sat down also, covering his face with a sleepy hand.

“Kuma,” Blackmore simply replied. “Maybe Argion is right, hmm.” He sat quietly on the serving table, next to Jared’s head. “Either way,” he pointed at Argion’s transparent form, “we can’t do anything for now.” With a resign face he opened his PDA and typed vigorously.

“What’s the report now?” asked Artemis, smiling again.

“Making sure Abdel closes off this facility. We’re not leaving for a good while until we get clearance.” He tapped the device off, stretched his legs, and laid back, in a similar posture to Jared.

In another world, quite bright, but quite lost to the average person.
Jared stared ahead, holding a cigarette, smoking, but without the tar or chemicals, just smoke. His eyes were level with the horizon. He thought aloud, Hm, so there is my world, eh? This isn’t fun.

Suddenly, the ground on which Jared stood broke, as he fell underneath into a dark chute, like a vortex. Where are you, my dear? I thought we were gonna leave now! The bad men are gone, come to me! Jared stopped in mid-air, closed his eyes, and pretended to sit. As he opened his eyes, a large complex of stairs and dirty metallic doors surrounded him. Kisi! He yelled, but nobody answered. Yet Jared smiled with desire, and, smelling a smooth draft exiting a door two sideway’s stairs away, he bolted towards the source. Inside, there was a beach, wide and clean with crystalline sand. Standing at its end, near a rock point, was Kisi, dressed in a silk bathing suit, tan and smooth to Jared’s eyes.

“Kisi,” Jared whispered to her sun burnt ears, “it’s all finished. I figured out the problem, and we’re home free!”

“Jared,” she turned, worried but radiant in her eyes, “where are we? What happened?”

“It’s ok, we’re home again, and this time I promise not to meddle with stupid physics projects,” he laughed aloud, grabbing his waist, firm but rounded. Kisi shivered. “Are you ok?” Jared smiled more.

“Wait a second, this isn’t right, I feel as if I were supposed to be somewhere else, I” she shook away and shivered more as the winds picked up speed.

“But Kisi, my love, look, your hand, it’s back, isn’t it?” He motioned towards her left hand, unscathed and nicely textured. She gasped and fell onto the crystal sand.

“No! Jared, I don’t remember anything! Please, what did you do?” Jared approached, caressing her hair and kissing her forehead. “NO! Stop! This doesn’t feel right at ALL!! Get away from me! I so don’t love you! JARED!” Jared crushed her head onto his chest, as he felt her body with a silky hand and a satisfied smile. But he was silent, and calm, and Kisi, after a failed escape, finally punched Jared with an unusually large fist.

“Kisi, don’t you love me?” Jared’s face was pushed in, but his eyes were full of concern for her.

Kisi, her eyes connected with his, were a bright red, and, as if Jared had insulted her, Kisi scratched her face violently, revealing a dull, tarred skin underneath. “What’s the matter, Guy?” Jared’s eyes flared with delight, as Kisi’s faced melted into Guy’s, fuming with rage and deformed with confusion.

“RAARGGHH!!” Kisi’s chest, arms, and legs shattered, revealing the massive bear form of Kuma, but with Guy’s face. “Nice try, Jared, tricking me into your own dreams. No, Kisi’s not going anywhere today, and neither are you.” He threw a massive fist, crushing Jared into the sand. But behind Guy reformed a sandy version of Jared still smoking but with long, shiny black hair.

“No, Guy, let’s talk first. Why are you hunting me down?” Guy quickly retracted the fist, as a rubber band, and lanced it through Jared’s face, only to reform behind his own head. “Come now, this is my world, you’re so not in your element!” He spoke with a girlish voice, laughing in his ears, causing Guy’s face to burn, melting his features somewhat.

“SHUT THE F**K UP JARED! You can’t escape me; I’ve been trained for this too long now.” His body melted, drifting in a cloud out the door of the windy world and shutting Jared in. He shrugged.

“Hi-5, where the hell am I?” Guy spoke to himself, only to find the awesome maze of twisted stairs and dirty doors. “Hi-5, am I still connected?”

“That’s the name of the game, isn’t it, Guy? Or is Houston not a good name for the CIA anymore?” Jared was standing directly above him, on a staircase that was upside down. Guy frowned.

“Jared, my good friend, how did you enjoy your ride? Bet you haven’t run like that in a heck of a while. Hell, you even figured out the secrets of our universe! And it’s all because of me!”

He jumped up to Jared, directly facing him. “So, how’d you manage to bounce back?” He shoved him into another door, leading into cold tundra. Jared, dented in his stomach, wriggled onto his feet with a larger smile.

“Jared, you don’t realize why I’m here, do you?” Jared laughed, falling on his butt.

“WELL, I’ve only asked like a billion times! HA! Ok, I’m all ears,” and thus he sat down, smiling.

“Hehehe,” Guy shook his head, slowly showing a temper, “well, the CIA is certainly interested in you, Jared.” His face cooled, retaining its original, suave look. He sat down with Jared, and happened to pull a mug of coffee from his sports jacket. “Listen, I’m in a big jam like you, Santa, and I’ve been tryin’ real hard to talk to you.” Jared watched with deep, furtive eyes at Guy whose movements were brisk.

“REALLY? Wow, and here I thought you were gonna kill me! Amazing, Guy, you are amazing!”

“All part of the job, Jared. When I first joined Fedex, they completely wiped the floor with me; screw the training, the guys, the smart guys, mind you, were horrible to me. I never received as much abuse and trauma as when they took into the special missions, man. The harder the job, the more they treat you like a zombie.” Jared frowned and shivered, as he drew his legs to his chest.
“But why the hell did you go in the feds’, Guy? Couldn’t live with just being a lousy engineering teacher? I mean, even before I started meddlin’ with this stupid dimensional math, I was alright being a second rate topologist, long as nobody messed with me. Man, look at me, I’ve lost Kisi, and all I have to pay for is a stupid glove that sends you to kingdom come!” He sighed and bit his lip as the tundra chilled.

“Nah, Jared, I had dreams, man, I had it all figured out. I wanted to be a soldier, fight in Iraq, but that never worked out. You remember the bombing in 2011 near Pakistan?” Jared nodded, remembering. “Well, I was there. Lost my arms and a leg, you know. Been tough after that.”

“What? No way! I was wondering what happened to you after you left ROTC at Rutgers, man, I never heard from you until like seven years after. 2020, wasn’t it?” He began to count with his toes.

“Yeah, but I didn’t let nobody know, not even my mom; that’s why you couldn’t know.”

“But, then, how’d you’re . . .” Jared watched the perfectly functioning limbs.

“Implants, my dude. The good thing about the feds’ is that they sure do grant some amazing help to those that have nothing to live for, like me. After a few experiments, it turned out fine and I was better than ever. But I needed some meds from them for awhile, so I missed out on school. “

“Huh,” Jared nodded playfully but sadly, as if he had misjudged Guy. “So how’d you get all of a sudden into NJIT? I thought you had your Ph.D. and stuff.”

“Again, Fedex is really generous when you’re in a tight jam like me. I had the education, not as ‘normal’ as you’d expect, but it was sweet, almost as sweet as M.I.T. physics you always babble about.”

“But of course, they wanted more from one of their most successful subjects?”Jared looked admiringly at Guy’s calm but sad face.

“Yeah, that’s life; you gotta pay for what you get. Before they wanted some normal paper work and stuff, and then some military stuff, classified but nothing you wouldn’t know about.”

“When did they introduce you to experimental physics?”Asked Jared, this time with a sincere voice.

“Since the beginning. I was taught by a few professors that were crazy but really nice. I always thought I was lucky to get great teachers, but then I realized it was only meant to inspire me more to follow the science you guys do. And then, well,” he lowered his eyes.

“You were so trapped you couldn’t get out of it. Why did I always say not to get involved in crazy physics, my friend?” Jared shook his head with pity.
“It’s not that easy; when I told you I had a dream, I meant it. I knew from what I learned that what men like you do, that’d be what we’d need to survive.”

“But Guy, don’t tell me you buy into that terrorist crap, do you?” Jared watched uneasily.

“I buy what I need to live, like bread and butter, Jared, but in wartime, I learned what people really believe in, and I can tell you that everyone thinks just like we do.” Guy began to fidget.

“They put your family into it, Guy?” Jared was coldly serious.

“Didn’t you listen to me just—” Guy began calmly.

“They put you in a million dollar job, Guy?” Jared’s voice was contemptuous.

“That doesn’t—” Guy began to explain

“Did they offer positions of power for your ‘dreams’, Guy?” Jared watched him, with a violent look in his eyes.

“Why are you moc—” Guy began to draw back.

“What did they offer you?” Jared stared with red eyes at Guy.

Guy paused, angry but affected. “Well, Jared, you’re smart, what do you think they offered me for your head?” This time it was Guy whose smile grew malevolently.

“The same thing those idiots Blackmore showed me would’ve offered.” Jared crossed his arms.

“Well said. You know, I’m not surprised you’ve brought me down; we have SO much in common.” He looked down, chuckling while he drew circles in the snow.

“I guess you’re right, Guy,” Jared closed his eyes, “they didn’t offer you anything. You offered it yourself.”

“PRECISELY!” Guy jumped up, brandishing his fists, “I have the freedom, Jared, I have the power, Jared, and I have my dream! They fight their plans and objectives, but I have the faith! Jared!” Guy flew, higher, his body growing, a true bear was his face, his smile larger than his face, and his eyes were green, little bulbs, and his chest grew a few sizes. Jared watched with sorrow, hit with a painful arrow.

“Guy, please, don’t do this to yourself, don’t sacrifice what your parents gave you . . . Ahh!” he bowed, agonizing in his heart, as it burned his trench coat. Guy continued to grow.

“WHAT PARENTS! THEY COULD NEVER UNDERSTAND WHAT I SAW! JARED” Guy’s mouth was a loudspeaker, revolting to any sane person.

“Nooo RAHH!! Why would you leave us?” Jared’s face twisted into Adrian’s face, then resumed.

Guy sat down, still grotesque but calmer. “My mother,” he began, “wanted me to fulfill what I thought was righteous. Why shouldn’t I take advantage of what is left for me? YOU!” He resumed his normal height but brandished his fists onto Jared’s collar. “You of all people have that ability! You could control this world! But you don’t do anything; you have no dream, no vision, and no hope for our race!”

Jared fell, beaten by Guy’s punches, but he did not reform nor dodge any blow. His face, covered in blood from both his nose and Guy’s fists, agonized but absorbed the anger and punishment.

“Huff, Huff, Ahhh. Jared, that’s why we need you. We must have your knowledge; how else can policy be made but from the foundations you place? That’s why I need you; you’re my partner, whether you like it, or not.” Jared, battered and facing down, laughed a piercing snicker. “What’s the matter?”
“HUHA-HAHA-HUHUHAHA. . . . FOOL! Of course! That’s what I missed, didn’t I? We had to work together! All this time I was afraid of you, father, but now I start to see. Oh Guy,” Jared stood, barely standing, “you’re gravely lost. You have no dream, only a desperate desire to erase what you can’t accept. Your mother wanted you to live for yourself first, not others, and definitely not FedEx.”

Guy smiled, “Jared,” he pulled a sword from a glacier nearby, “I know what she wanted, but you fail to understand your own discipline. There are many equations leading to the same desired structure, but are they all the same? No, right? Well,” Guy’s right arm stretched and trapped Jared into a tight spear, “Neither is life. Ultimately what is accomplished is what I desire it to be.”
“And what is it that you desire?” Jared’s choked voice made no resistance. Guy, not understanding Jared’s question, thrust his sword into Jared’s torso, causing him to collapse, bleeding profusely and agonizing even more.

“UGGGHH!” Guy titillated with passion, and hacked at his body.

“Jared,” Guy released his weapon, as it melted away into the snow, “I have won over you, in body and soul. We have the power, we must bring it forward. Is there no other way? Even if there was, I have the responsibility to find it, with or without your help. Goodbye.” He carefully collected himself as Kuma, and began to depart the icy wasteland. Jared’s blood froze, but his body rose, also frozen, and burst into an ugly mass of fat. You don’t know what you’re doing, boy. Come back here! Kuma turned, and behold, Adrian Santana, vengeful and cold, lunged at Kuma’s massive body. Kuma quickly dodged and twisted Adrian’s body in a professional style. Adrian shrieked in pain, falling, but kept repeating the same venom that he had brought up his son. Kuma remained silent, vigilant, but slowly began to realize the blows inflicted only intensified the passion of his enemy. “Jared,” he looked quickly around, “where the hell are you? Is this your memory? This must be his unconscious fighting to retain homeostasis. Well, if it’s your past that keeps you alive, then it will be your past that will defeat you.” He morphed into a darker shape, a swordsman, like Jared’s shady swordsman with the giant black cross-shaped sword. Adrian, grumbling and absorbing the cold of the snow, exuded sludge like spirits onto Kuma the swordsman. The swordsman, drawing anger from Adrian, sliced through the barrage of attacks, each time growing darker and duller in eyesight. “This is the anger you possess, Jared? Why? What is it that bothers you so? Couldn’t you just take the choice I did and rid yourself of this beast?!” He hacked at Adrian’s neck, but Adrian broke into two smaller versions of himself, each louder than the original.

They will take you, they will eat you, they want you, they will enslave you, they will take your dreams, they will take your faith, they will take your love, and they will take your soul.

The chant persisted, louder, and with more violence. Kuma did not comprehend the useless banter, but hacked each villain into two, only to spawn a great amount of Adrians. But his anger grew, as the chanting grew, and his shadow began to absorb the shadow that the incessant banter gave off.
“ARRGG I’m getting annoyed at this sh**!” Kuma’s eyes began to melt, exposing the bloodshot eyes of Guy, with the chopping blade crystalline in his eye.
Outside the vault, Jared stood, in shorts like a boy and with his mother and Guy’s mother at his side, as they shut the door and left the maze.

“Look! He’s awake!” Blackmore suddenly jumped, wielding a piece of a granola bar that he had chewed on for a few hours. He glimpsed to his left, and beheld Jared, sitting, shivering, and without his trench coat. Artemis held Jared’s arms, while Chang checked his pressure.

“Jared! Are you ok, son?” asked Blackmore, who noticed the calm expression of Jared’s eyes.

“He awoke about a minute before you did.” Chang commented as he checked the muscles.

“Yeah, Jared, you were shaking incredibly for at least two hours, until for the past half hour you stopped and settled down into a deep and calm sleep. How are you feeling?”

Jared dazed but recollecting his strength stepped onto the floor and took two steps. “Blackmore,” he weakly began, holding his head while the other two held his body, “it’s over. Guy is finished.” Blackmore widened his eyes, amazed at Jared’s remaining strength to speak.

“Jared, did you see him again in your mind?” Jared, almost keeling over to his side, nodded slowly. Blackmore beamed at Chang, who in turn beamed at Artemis, who in turn smiled radiantly.

Two weeks later, M.I.T. Energy Initiative lab, Stan’s laboratory, Blackmore closely collected a few reports that were scattered over the table where he sat. Stan, typing mathematical equations onto an old computer, watched with some sort of nostalgia. “You know Jason,” Stan began as he carefully checked his work, “you were right about Jared. The boy’s got spirit and sincerity, you know. I had a good feelin’ about him since I saw him. But I gotta ask ya,” he stopped and approached Jason’s earshot, “why did he try so hard to beat you to the HEDA project?” Blackmore laughed.

“Because he’s a kid who has a conscious too big for himself, like,” he sighed, “his friend, Guy. It’s strange these people have so much zeal and potential, and yet they are the drivers for the things we regret nowadays.” Stan smiled empathetically.

“Son, that’s the bane of every scientist and worker who values their job. We have to make a stand; we have to put our faith on something. They say good intentions pave the way to hell?” He stood up and shut off the computer. “Well, whether you believe it or not, it’s true: you pave the path to hell and heaven, if you believe it, or not.” Blackmore smiled, and filed the papers away.

Boston, at an airport, Jared walks, with a trench coat in his left arm, and a polo shirt with a picture of Bartholomew Kuma, the manga character, etched into it. He quickly dialed his cell phone.
“Hello? Kisi? Hey! I’m fine, at the airport. . . . yes, I’m sorry I didn’t . . . I know . . . No, I’m fine, Guy’s fine too . . . yeah luckily I met him here . . . no, no he was just fine, no harm done, and the police have him under care, he’s had some mental trauma messing his electrical toys, but it’s all fine. . . . mhm . . . yeah the Macy’s gifts are with Blackmore, I had to give him something for helping me out. . . . yeah . . hey, would you mind picking me up at Newark International? Really? Thanks, and . . .” Jared paused. “Kisi, I’m glad you’ve been there for me. Really, I’m glad I lived. After these past few weeks,” a tear fell onto his coat, “I finally realize where my faith lies. I’m going home.”
He turned, smiled in the direction of the impressive university dome, and quickly made for a nearby bookstore. Inside, a poor Indian lady was arguing with a red faced business man.

“Why don’t you guys have this darn book? I’m telling you, this place sucks, if you don’t keep up with what the public wants, you’ll never survive in life.” Jared stopped, deathly cold, and approached the man. “Can I help you, dude?” The man was wary of Jared.

“Take this.” He handed to him The Physicist.

“What the hell do I need this for? I don’t read any cheap drama!” The man began to storm off, dropping the book, but Jared quickly pulled out a strange silver gun and poked the man near his spine. He fell.

“Hey there, be careful, you never know when the public might just blow you away. And by the way,” he picked up the thin text and placed it in the man’s suitcase. “Read it, I think you’ll enjoy it. A compliment from an M.I.T. mathematician.” Jared winked at both the man and lady, and ran off, with his trench coat as dirty and crusted as ever, and the silver gun gleaming in the poor airport light. The man sighed and left, while the lady smiled softly and rearranged her books. From a nearby distance, the jumpsuit of Jason Blackmore shimmered in the light, as the man in the suit followed both Jared and the business man. He quickly dialed onto his PDA, and made for the buses, with an iron glove on his left hand.