Before our story...
01 - The Invitation
I slowly open the door to my bedroom and shut it behind me with my back against it. High school has proven to be more straining on my emotions after I have been accurately diagnosed and medicated. With a clear mind, I can look at my past self with a sparse clarity and it leaves little to be proud of. It was if I spoke whatever thought entered my mind without any filter or fear of what harm the words would cause. A friend of mine noticed the change in my personality after the meds kicked in. “You used to not care what everyone thought of you.”
Now I cared, because I could see the way they looked at me and I didn’t like it. I was a grenade without the safety pin, hurting feelings and laughing about it. The only ones that I can say are my current friends, enjoy laughing at others with me.
I walk over to my nightstand, take my journal out of the drawer, and hop on the bed to flip through the pages. I remember writing in it while I was manic, but I don’t recall what I wrote. I can only decipher some of the pages as most of them are illegible sketches and bizarre theories. Since I was young, I thought it was fascinating that, with all of our science and technology, no one can prove what happens to a conscience after its body dies. Science and our known existence is so complicated, with the possibility of infinite dimensions, that I always refused to believe death was as simple as you spend eternity in a void, a dreamless sleep. I believe whatever decided to allow our bodies to draw breath is more creative than that.
I turn to a blank page and begin to write… hopefully something a little bit more legible.
I finish three paragraphs and move my pen to the top of the page to name my new theory.
“Our purpose on Earth, and where we go from here”
My desk lamp flickers from a sudden surge of electricity. Five seconds pass and it happens again. “A change in the Matrix.” I whisper to myself with a smirk. I then glance out the window to see the darkness from late evening replaced with an eerie white, a blank canvas with no source of light. I close my journal and slide off my bed to the door and open it. More white enveloping the landscape where the hallway used to be.
“Hello, Kate,” a deep voice to my right echoes throughout the white abyss. I turn my head to see a man in a suit behind a desk with a chair in front which he motions to. “Please have a seat and welcome to the Enlightened.”