The World You Know

A High Schooler discovers unique powers that change not only his life, but the world in which he lives it.

                        Four years ago he was a normal high school student. He had loving parents, and good friends. He excelled in school, and was the top of his class. He attended the only school in his small hometown, where he was adored by everyone. He was the perfect teenager.

How can we call ourselves humans? How can I call myself human? Is there humanity at all? Questions I grapple with every day. These questions torture me. Destroy me from the inside out. Make my blood run cold and my heart skip beats. And as this quaking fear grips my body, ruins my insides and my outsides, devours my very heart and soul, I weep… for those dead… but more importantly, for those who are still alive.

            He raced down the hallway, his feet running faster than his mind. Approaching his target he began to feel paranoid. He looked over his shoulder.

            He saw nothing.

***

            Two years ago he saw a shadow.

            Darkness was everywhere. He took off around a corner to avoid the relentless shadow, praying to whatever would hear him that he would make it out alive. He turned corner after corner after corner. Brick wall. “End of the line.” He could almost hear the cliché in his head. No one said it. No one was there. Just the shadows, the darkness, the fear. As it grew closer he felt cold bricks against his hands. He closed his eyes and watched as everything he knew drifted away. Time stood still for a moment, and the short end that should have come long ago ceased to be. Cautiously, he opened a single eye, the other still hidden by his trembling hand. There was no darkness. He was in the air. Flying. Wind rushed past his ears and through his hair. He looked down and watched the darkness below slither away. He felt alive. Better than ever, prepared to take on the world. Nothing could stop him. Not even…

            He woke up, and ran to school.

            Over the next few weeks he had the dream several more times. He didn’t sleep well, and started having difficulty concentrating. His parents thought he was going crazy, and he began seeing a psychologist several times a month. Even that didn’t stop the dream.

            One night he was forced awake at 2 am, covered in sweat and shaking all over. He grabbed his jacket and left his house. Once outside he began sprinting through his neighborhood. He ran around the block several times before stopping, panting in frustration and exhaustion.

            Suddenly he noticed the car behind him.

            “If there was a prize for suspicion, that car gets it,” he thought jokingly.

            It was a sleek black car keeping the same distance behind him at all times. He tried to stay calm.

            “Maybe they’re just lost,” he told himself, nervously now.

            The car picked up speed. He walked faster. The engine revved. His heart raced. The lights grew brighter. His eyes grew wide. He took off around the corner to avoid the relentless vehicle, but it chased him down, obviously trying to kill him. He turned corner after corner after corner. Dead end. The car turned down the alley to follow him, the lights hitting him like a brick. He closed his eyes. Then… a familiar feeling: Time stood still for a moment, and the short end that should have come long ago ceased to be. Cautiously, he opened a single eye, the other still hidden by his trembling hand. He was in the air. But not flying. He looked down at the street below. He was standing on top of a house, wind rushing through his hair and past his ears. He looked down and watched the black car back out of the alley and drive away. He felt alive. Better than ever, prepared to take on the world. Nothing could stop him.

            So why do we continue to try? What is the point? If we can’t be humans how can we be anything else? You speak of betterment. Where is the betterment? Where is the good in the world I’ve heard so much about, that claims praise from across the globe and back again? Show it to me. I’ll ask again and again. Show it to me.  As I suspected, we have nothing but empty compassion and hollow promises.

                He stood at the threshold, the metallic door taunting him, begging him to enter. He stood in front of his goal.

***

            One year ago he stood in front of his creation: a dark portal.

            It had started a few weeks ago with a glass of water passing through a table. Since then strange things happened all the time. But this was his first chance to see the cause of it all.

            It was circular, thick gasses flowing in a perfect spiral toward the center. He cautiously stuck a hand through, feeling his own touch on the back of his head and nearly fainting. He spun around to see a similar portal. His mind blanked in fear, he pulled his hand out, and the portals closed. He concentrated hard, and created two more portals. Without a second thought he jumped through. He landed hard on the ground, completely lost as to where “up” was. Once he found his bearings he looked above him just in time to see a portal in the ceiling close. He smiled.

            Over the next year he dropped off the map. His friends never saw him. He was never home. He skipped weeks of school at a time. He dropped to the bottom of his class. All in pursuit of exploring his new talents.

            He learned to open them any time with barely a thought. He discovered the infinite physics applications. He could launch himself to incredible heights and land safely on the ground. He could make things fall until they were moving too fast to see. He could throw nearly anything with a well placed portal underneath it. Space meant nothing to him anymore.

            Nor did the rest of his life.

He didn’t notice until it was almost too late.

His friends shut him out. His parents no longer trusted him. He had nowhere to turn. He couldn’t believe how low he had fallen.

His talent was forced out of the picture. Once more his focus was returned to his social life. His attempts to get his priorities straight were slow, but, fortunately, mildly successful. He had friends again, and managed to regain the trust of his parents. Life returned to that of a normal high school student, and his senior year was the best time of his life.

I appreciate your poetic concerns, but I must remind you, you are not being paid for poetry. Your task has been carefully detailed for you by the AHB, and I must insist you follow it to the last comma, or consequences will be dire. You of all people should know this. And more importantly, you should know that I am the last person who wants these consequences to befall you. Your recent behavior and this most recent message have led me to believe you are becoming an unreliable resource. I hope this is not the case, but to ensure you understand, I will include another copy of the AHB’s orders in this message. For the good of all of us, look them over again.

He swiped the card through the scanner. The black screen attached to it asked for a password. He stood quietly for a few minutes.

He frowned.

***

One week ago he smiled.

It was the last day of his senior year, and he was graduating top of his class. He was waiting in the empty hallway outside a classroom for his best friend to finish his goodbyes.

“You’ve come a long way.”

He immediately looked up to see a janitor sweeping the hallway.

“Um, yeah, it’s been a long four years,” he said somewhat shocked. He had never met this man in his life.

The janitor gave a short laugh and then looked him in the eye.

“I’m not just talking about high school. I’ve known you as long as you’ve known this world.”

He was confused. “I’m sorry, who are you again?”

The man sighed.

“It doesn’t matter. Just listen well for a moment. Don’t look at me there are cameras everywhere. Just listen.”

Skeptically he did what the man said. He stared at his feet and listened.

“The world you know is a lie.”

He almost laughed at this, but the man continued anyway.

“The people, the places, it’s all made up.”

“Why would anyone want to make up a life for me?”

The man seemed frustrated. “Would you quit asking questions and just listen, I’m trying to help you.” He cleared his throat, glanced nervously around the hallway, and then continued: “They want your powers.”

“How did you-?”

 “They need to know what makes you tick. This whole,” he waved his hand around, “charade is just some twisted testing environment.”

He stood silently for a moment, unsure of how to respond. After a moment he asked, “Why are you telling me this?”

“What they’re doing isn’t right. You deserve a real life.”

More silence.

“Look, I appreciate your… um… concern, but I think I’ll be going now.”

“NO!” the man shouted.

He stopped, frozen in fear. Was he just crazy?

“Just… just try one thing for me today. Try to leave the city.”

“What? Why?”

“Just try it. What you find will prove all of this, and once it does, promise you’ll escape this prison.”

“Alright,” he sighed.

“Promise me.”

“I promise.”

“Good. Take this,” the man held out a dagger. “I know it’s not much, but it’s the best I could do. You’ll need something when you try to escape. Provided you keep your promise. There are several ways out, but the easiest for you will be the exit here in the school.”

He hesitantly took the knife from the Janitor’s hand. Keeping his eyes down, he stuffed it into his backpack. With one last glance at the man’s face, he took off down the hallway. He left his friend behind and ran outside.

“What just happened?” he asked himself.

The rest of the night he thought about the Janitor’s plea. He hadn’t planned on keeping his promise, but the more he thought about it, the more he needed to know.

“What happens if I leave the city?”

On the way to his car he grabbed a map and studied it. There were seven or eight roads that led out of the city. He circled the nearest one with a pencil before turning the key and pulling out of his driveway.

Hours later he found himself frustrated. Three of the roads were under construction, two were bridges that were out, and a few others didn’t seem to exist at all. His mind was swirling. He needed to know what was outside the city. It was imperative.

“Yet no matter how hard I try,” he whispered angrily to himself.

Then it hit him.

“Try to leave the city.”

He wasn’t told to leave the city. He was told to try to leave.

“Some twisted testing environment.”

The Janitor’s warnings suddenly made sense.

“It’s all made up.”

He wasn’t told to leave the city.

“The world you know is a lie.”

Because he couldn’t.

Reviews

[Wolfbaby]

This has an excellent story line. You show good potential as a writer. Your punctuation and grammar were good. Although the story did tend to jump around a lot. You kept going back and forth between times in his life and it was a little confusing. Over all I'd have to say it was pretty well done. Good job! :D

~Wolfbaby

[Micco Gibson]

Cool, great story line! I've actually thought about this power when I was bored, how cool it would be to have. Now you have me interested in what happens! Although the title is temporary, you should be careful not to get it too similair to the game "Portal". I don't know if that is where you got it from, but you should just be careful of that, but the fact that they are "black portals with thick round gasses" and that it's a power, not a gun, sets it apart. Can't wait for the next chapter, I think this book will turn out well!