Dream 001.) 01001100 01101001 01100111 01101000 01110100
Light.
It first comes in a quick flash of white, followed by the continuous flickering of several other colors-white, gold, turquoise-in a total synchronization with the low, monotonous humming playing in his ears. The information from the lights come in a nonsensical string of integers, garbled and indecipherable, but he knows that the endless flashes hold a wealth of information he can easily access. It can tell him of stories spanning across several generations, the past and present of beings living and dying in the blue and green planet called Earth, and the boundless possibilities of the future: humanity.
"Humans have learned nothing from the past."
He turns to the interrupting frequency: Nothing, but he senses that this one is similar to him in many ways. He is about to engage in communication when he feels a similar pressure coming from another direction, and another, and yet another... and so he glances around, but there is a high interference in the optical transmission and all that he can view are blotches of colors-light purple, red, green-all blurry and unidentifiable no matter how much he attempted to adjust his vision.
There is yet one more, something tells him-not an actual thought, but something originating from the neurons that rule the subconsciousness. And when he turns to the direction of the presence he almost believes that he's staring back at himself, if not for the slight difference in the cut of this one's purple hair.
Suddenly, a gun materializes in his hand, and he raises the trigger at someone behind the data stream-there's a momentary flash of green-but it's the other him that fires.
And then: red.
The crimson light blinds him and he has to close his eyes against his will and shield them from the sudden flash. He waits for exactly ten seconds before he slowly draws his arm down, and when he does he senses another presence in the room. It's different, now, with a pressure much stronger than any of the others that he almost draws his breath in surprise-and when he turns, there stands a man with tanned skin and unkempt, black hair, eyes glowing in bright, amber hues.
The first has awakened.
"Humans have learned nothing from the past," repeats the voice in his mind.
His expression is blank for a while, recalling the arrogant tone of the one who speaks it to him. And then he smirks.
That one is not going to prevail.
The one who will carry out the plan is me.
It first comes in a quick flash of white, followed by the continuous flickering of several other colors-white, gold, turquoise-in a total synchronization with the low, monotonous humming playing in his ears. The information from the lights come in a nonsensical string of integers, garbled and indecipherable, but he knows that the endless flashes hold a wealth of information he can easily access. It can tell him of stories spanning across several generations, the past and present of beings living and dying in the blue and green planet called Earth, and the boundless possibilities of the future: humanity.
"Humans have learned nothing from the past."
He turns to the interrupting frequency: Nothing, but he senses that this one is similar to him in many ways. He is about to engage in communication when he feels a similar pressure coming from another direction, and another, and yet another... and so he glances around, but there is a high interference in the optical transmission and all that he can view are blotches of colors-light purple, red, green-all blurry and unidentifiable no matter how much he attempted to adjust his vision.
There is yet one more, something tells him-not an actual thought, but something originating from the neurons that rule the subconsciousness. And when he turns to the direction of the presence he almost believes that he's staring back at himself, if not for the slight difference in the cut of this one's purple hair.
Suddenly, a gun materializes in his hand, and he raises the trigger at someone behind the data stream-there's a momentary flash of green-but it's the other him that fires.
And then: red.
The crimson light blinds him and he has to close his eyes against his will and shield them from the sudden flash. He waits for exactly ten seconds before he slowly draws his arm down, and when he does he senses another presence in the room. It's different, now, with a pressure much stronger than any of the others that he almost draws his breath in surprise-and when he turns, there stands a man with tanned skin and unkempt, black hair, eyes glowing in bright, amber hues.
The first has awakened.
"Humans have learned nothing from the past," repeats the voice in his mind.
His expression is blank for a while, recalling the arrogant tone of the one who speaks it to him. And then he smirks.
That one is not going to prevail.
The one who will carry out the plan is me.