Have you ever seen a blowfly?

Metallic color with thoraxes of blue or green film, often with crimson eyes, I always find blowflies in dirty places. The one thing you would always notice is the sound they make. In unison, they can bring more hell to a place where there is an outbreak of flesh-eating bacteria.

While pinned down on the ground, wondering if I'm being molested by an otherworlder, Clare was singing like a blowfly. It was hell. His body was shaking, as if convulsing, on top of mine.

He stopped moving when he stopped the singing.

He was on top of me, lying on his stomach. He was just not moving.

I let another minute pass. He was still immobile.

I raised his head and I looked at his eyes. Dilated.

His was a subtle smile.

I sought for his pulse. Why can't I find it?

I took out my phone and called for help.

"..."

No, I can't call. If I did, they would know Clare's modification. The press would have a field day.

But still, I need to know what to do with Clare. I need to know what happened.

I moved Clare aside and I tried to stand up. It was then that I saw a woman in yellow coat looking at my room through the window. She was standing near a tree across the street. She was carrying 'something' that was still glowing.

When I saw her, she pointed that 'something' towards me. Light began to gather at her hand. Just as when it's about to burst, something fast bumped into the woman and the light hit the air. She disappeared in an instant.

Clare had a mark on his back that resembled a Lichtenberg figure. The lines were glowing and growing in branches. The branches soon covered Clare's body. While it happened, parts of Clare's body and his clothes began to disintegrate and disappear into the air. I watched it happen until the end. If there's anything I can do right now, it would be to stay until everything ends.

When the last of the particles ceased to glow...

"Clare's gone."

The holidays in PsyHigh is an exciting one. In fact, 'exciting' is an understatement.

Temporarily allowing more aggressive forms of magic and research, the students would hold tournaments during the first few days of the season.

The logistics department would wrap the gymnasium with spatial-type illusion magic, enlarging it even more than the size of the physically-biggest stadium in all of Via Lactea--the Hochzizhik T'nalak Stadium in Lys, with one million seats for beings with physical bodies and twenty five thousand safe chambers for the spirits.

In our version, the logistics can sit a wide variety of sentient beings inside the stadium by constantly expanding the venue. Although the stadium in Lys can expand using illusion magic, a group of 750 000 magic practitioners is needed. Here in PsyHigh, we need only 10 because the physical venue is much smaller.

This year, a person from an obscure planet 340 light-years from the Sun won. I wonder how she got here, considering their civilization is Type 0, same as ours.

But who asks these silly questions here anyway?

Every night during Saturnalia, the school would hold a banquet for those who have won the contests and let the students sing modified Christmas Carols, taking care not to cast dark magic.

People from USE-LESS Division (United Society of the Elvenkind-Literacy Enforcement and Support Services Department; yes, magic is enforced) would always be watching, with the student discipline committee ready to cast cancelling magic in case a version of Frosty the Snowman conjures it.

The Dining Hall would serve holiday meals, each according to one's beliefs. For example, if Clare had been alive right now, he would eat nothing and instead sit with the plantfolk and bathe at the Photobar.

If only Clare was alive...

That day Clare died, I had met with the Headmaster and told him what happened. The Headmaster offered extra security but I declined. If I must protect myself, I would do it alone and--

--kill my enemies. I am the Creator of the world and its Destroyer. I came not to save the world but to bathe it with fire and brimstone. I gave life and life I will take away. I am--

"Jarvis."

I was standing in the hallway outside the Headmaster's office. @Rogue called me from afar. He asked me why I was staring at the wall and I asked--

"--did I say something just now?"

"Nope." Rogue said.

I said goodbye and retired to my room.

The last night of Saturnalia came and I sat at the Dining Hall.

@Pearline was busy tinkering with a box.

@Nova+Toaster was talking with @Randy+Bernstein about the Intramural Flying Club.

@Nobody expects the Spanish Inquisition. He's partying with a snake.

@Kayla+May was catching up with everyone.

@aurora+Danielle was with her mum near the entrance. I think they were talking about a fire?

@Young+Jim+Horner was also here; isn't he getting a bit...uhm...tinier?

@Silverfawn was watching over the pine tree with everyone.

Everybody, including those I forgot to mention, were having fun; at least, that's what I saw. There was a lot of running and fussing over something.

Despite all the commotion about the pine tree, I went back to the dorms. I brought with me some cookies for tea.

I tried to calm myself down with the night's cold air. There were tears but I tried my best not to cry.

While the tea was brewing, I placed the cookies on a plate and sat on the chair by the window. Clare was sitting here before he died.

I lied down on the floor. Cold. I am alone.

Clare shouldn't have died. I was the one with powers.

Useless. Why are my abilities useless? When Clare was still here, we discovered that my powers dealt mostly with swapping one object with one another at the same point in time. What if I can swap with him just right before he got shot and I died instead of him?

I closed my eyes and tried to concentrate.

The process of swapping objects has not been fully understood. To transport an object from one place to another, the caster needs to define the boundaries of the [space] to consider. The dimensions of the [origin space] and the [destination space] must be equal. The difference in the number of atoms inside each boundary must be sufficient such that there are no distortions in the object. The process would always equalize the amount of atoms on both spaces.

For example, say there are two 1 cu. meter [space] boundaries. One of the [spaces] contains a mouse and air from earth and another contains nothing but vacuum. After "casting the spatial magic" or "implementing [Swap] using Svyatoy's Theory of Permanent Systems (Psionics)", the amount left of the mouse on one [space] will be the same on the other. Both [spaces] would achieve the same characteristics and tend to stay that way until the flow of [psi] has been cut off.

How can I define the boundaries? How do I know if the amount of atoms are equal? What about before, when I swapped with Clare without much effort; is it just luck?

As I think about the things that happen before and the things I wanted to do, I opened my eyes. It's impossible. We can't switch.

But what if my powers were different to begin with? What if it's not [swap]?

Everything started with a [wish]. I wanted a brother. The world gave me one and he died. I want him back. Whether the world denies or grants my [wish], I will never know.

[Wish] is a form of incantation. A way to implement a [system]. That's it.

I focused my mind into forming a person. That person was sitting on the chair by the window, just like the day he died. He was sipping tea and eating the cookies I got from the Dining Hall, although he doesn't need it.

Tonight, he was alive. He looks at my future and I look at his past. Who was the woman in yellow? Why was it trying to kill me? He was wondering what I would do next.

Tonight, we will part. We ourselves will never meet, yet the things we leave behind would give us comfort that he was alive and I still don't forget him.

When I opened my eyes, I saw the stars in the night sky.

I sat on the chair by the window.

After sipping tea, I searched for the cookies.

"Cruel. This is just cruel."

At least, leave some for me.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Side Note:
*According to Irina Svyatoy's (b. 10 CE, d. 1030 CE) Theory of Permanent Systems (Psionics), an "act of disruption of the physical reality, either through [sensory system] or [conceptual system], will be permanent if and only sufficient amount of [psionic energy] or [psi] has been consumed". (From the History of Psionic Warfare, published secretly by the Academy of Sciences of the U**R.)
*If the amount of [psi] is insufficient for any given [system], the effect has a weaker potency and has an expiration proportional to the [psi] consumed over the [psi] required.
*Is Irina Svyatoy 1020 years old? No, she is a time traveler.
*I once greeted Irina Svyatoy a 'Happy New Year' while lining up for cronuts. She asked, 'which one?'
*All info came from the Underground Great Library of Yosemite Park. (The floor is lava.)

I'm stumped. Where do I begin the search? My only clues are the yellow coat, light shooting out of the woman's palms, and the presence of a fast creature that knocked her out. Google search didn't give any hints.

I think that if I were to know more, I have to dig deeper.

Or, perhaps it's up in the air.

Have you ever wondered why you wake up one day and you can't move a muscle? Of course, you remember that yesterday you had done some high intensity interval workout, or you just got home from work, and lying down might seem an attractive alternative to walking like a baby.

Suit yourself with that thought.

I woke up one day, cramps and all, and I found a note on my desk.

It said, "Check your e-mail. -Oldman"

Thanks, but you've just added more mystery in the book. Who is this Oldman? If you know who that is, care to introduce me?

While pondering upon the mysterious note, an e-mail came.

=========================
To: Jarvis <...>
From: <...>
Subject: (blank)
Message:
Thank God you're reading this.
If you're alive, then we must meet.
See me here: 45.610475, -122.680134
Don't tell anybody.
Godspeed, Comrade.
-Oldman
=========================

Comrade?

A quick Google search reveals that the location is somewhere along Interstate 5.

What's in there?

What's going on?

Who is this Oldman?

=========================
To: <...>
From: Jarvis <...>
Subject: Re: (blank)
Message:
Who are you?
Why should I listen?
Is yellow your favorite color?
==========================

==========================
To: Jarvis <...>
From: <...>
Subject: Re: Re: (blank)
Message:
We can help you. We can protect you.
Why should you listen?
Because if you don't move right now, that blaster would hit you.
===========================

What b---?

BOOM.

My PC exploded.

I distanced myself from the PC and went towards the window.

My door has a big circle of charred wood. A hand reached out and tried to open the locked doorknob.

Yeah, right. Instead of blasting his way through, he had to unlock the doorknob. It kinda tells you what kind of person that was.

The person who went in was wearing the same yellow coat--it looks like wool coat to me. Also, the intruder had a smiling white mask. That person stretched out one of its hands and light gathered on the palm.

Then he froze.

Another guy walked behind him.

"Sorry--" BANG "--for that."

As he walked in front of the guy with the yellow coat, he took out a gun and shot it point-blank on the forehead, as if giving a tetanus shot.

The head didn't explode because...

"Oh, you must be wondering why the head didn't explode, right?" While swirling the gun around and trying hard to do a Captain J*ck Sp****w, he continued. "You see, I just can't move on with just killing him. I kinda want to see what he looks like. You know... Name's Gerty, by the way."

The man named Gerty grabbed one of my hands and shook it.

"So you stopped time?"

"Yes, that I did. If not, you're a dead man, he's a dead man, we're all dead men. Hahahahaha."

Oy!

"Well?"

"Oh, let's see." He grabbed the intruder's mask and saw a face made of metal. "So they've succeeded, huh? Jarvis, I think we should get out of here."

Walking outside and after reaching a certain distance, we heard a gunshot.

He turned to me and dragged me into the woods.

"Where are we going?"

"Oldman, of course."

"How did you know me?"

"Oldman, of course."

The guy led me to a pickup truck parked on the side of the highway.

"I'm curious. Why are you all wearing coats? Is this a mafia movie?"

"Nah. I just came from Sicily, 1950s. Work-related hazard, I know."

"So you can also travel back and forth time?"

"Everyone around Oldman can. Shall we go to the resto?"

"Sure."

Will I be led around this time? Let's see what this Oldman can offer.

Have you ever wondered why you wake up one day and you can't move a muscle? Of course, you remember that yesterday you had done some high intensity interval workout, or you just got home from work, and lying down might seem an attractive alternative to walking like a baby.

Suit yourself with that thought.

I woke up one day, cramps and all, and I found a note on my desk.

The note has the words "Check your e-mail. -Oldman" crossed out and under it...

The note has the words "Gerty will kill you. Don't go out but let him kill the intruder." crossed out and yet another message was under it...

"Follow Gerty. -Oldman"

Thanks, but you've just added more mystery in the book. Who is this Oldman? Who is Gerty? If you know who that is, care to introduce me?

While pondering upon the mysterious note...

BOOM.

My PC exploded.

I distanced myself from the PC and went towards the window.

My door has a big circle of charred wood. A hand reached out and tried to open the locked doorknob.

Yeah, right. Instead of blasting his way through, he had to unlock the doorknob. It kinda tells you what kind of person that was.

The person who went in was wearing the same yellow coat--it looks like wool coat to me. Also, the intruder had a smiling white mask. That person stretched out one of its hands and light gathered on the palm.

Then he froze.

Another guy walked behind him.

"Sorry--" BANG "--for that."

As he walked in front of the guy with the yellow coat, he took out a gun and shot it point-blank on the forehead, as if giving a tetanus shot.

The head didn't explode because...

"Oh, you must be wondering why the head didn't explode, right?" While swirling the gun around and trying hard to do a Captain J*ck Sp****w, he continued. "You see, I just can't move on with just killing him. I kinda want to see what he looks like. You know... Name's Gerty, by the way."

The man named Gerty grabbed one of my hands and shook it.

"Who are you? Are you trying to kill me too?"

"Oh, no~ I'm here to save~ you."

"Who is Oldman?"

"He's my boss. You see, we find people with incredible powers. Everybody in PsyHigh have the abilities to topple this world's governments but you... You can manipulate space. If you're lucky, you might get to manipulate time itself."

Gerty examined the body lying on the floor.

"Oh, let's see." He grabbed the intruder's mask and saw a face made of metal. "So they've succeeded, huh? Jarvis, I think we should get out of here."

Walking outside and after reaching a certain distance, we heard a gunshot.

"What did you do?"

"Oh, that... well, I manipulated time around his head such that the bullet tears his head apart after we've left the dorm."

He turned to me and dragged me into the woods.

"Where are we going?"

"Oldman, of course."

"How did you know me?"

"Oldman, of course."

The guy led me to a pickup truck parked on the side of the highway.

"I'm curious. Why are you all wearing coats? Is this a mafia movie?"

"Nah. I just came from Sicily, 1950s. Work-related hazard, I know."

"So you can also travel back and forth time?"

"Everyone around Oldman can. Shall we go to a resto?"

"Sure."

Will I be led around this time? Let's see what this Oldman can offer.

Gerty drove the vehicle past the bridge, leading to a small island that separates Portland and Vancouver, I think.

As he was driving, I took a nap.

When I woke up, I was underwater and had ropes tying me to the driver's seat. My hands were also tied up.

As I drew my last breath...

...I immediately choked. I coughed up the water that had entered my body.

I found myself inside a small room. There are no windows. Light comes from a small incandescent lamp hanging from the roof supports. The roof itself is made of galvanized iron sheets. What ceiling? Is that tasty? The concrete walls were bare, with no paint nor wallpaper.

The bed I am sitting on is made of plywood and had no linens.

Suddenly, there was an old man squatting in front of me, acting like a spectator in a zoo.

"When did you come in?" I said.

The old man didn't immediately reply but when he spoke, he looked angry.

"You... are a troublesome lad. Always dying. I should have carried you away when we had the chance or did we? Yes, we had. That's why you're here."

"Are you Oldman?"

"Yes, I am. I am the old man in the mountain, away from the people. With a good reason, of course. People called me 'Oldman' because even I don't remember my real name."

Oldman stood up. When I was about to look up, he disappeared.

Someone spoke from outside. "Come here and get some breakfast."

I summoned my strength and walked towards the plain-looking wooden door. Opening it, I saw the sunrise.

I went out of the room and into a barren wasteland.

When I went out, my eyes were blinded by the sparkling sand, some of it riding the arid air. A harsh ball of light in the sky did little to make my face sweat bit it did made me close my eyes. When my sight adapted to the scenery ahead, the clear blue sky calmed me down.

I was in a desert. I tried looking for Oldman but I can't find him.

"Young man, over here."

A few meters to my right, an obnoxious light blue marquee protected another old man from the sun. The old man was sitting in front of a large rectangular wooden table that almost covered the entire length of the marquee. I walked towards him and saw that he was sipping tea from cups that looked similar to the ones styled Alhambra. I know this because my mom had kept a set before the toddler me broke them.

"Quite a strange place you got here. Hasn't it made you puke?"

The old man took his time, sipping his tea. Now that I remember, he was wearing something different now. He was wearing a bowler hat, a nice tailored suit, and--I can't really see his shoes. Not that I'm particularly interested in what everybody wears; it's just that his calm attitude towards me is different from the man who met me in the room before.

"Looking for something, young chap?"

"Actually, there was a room--" I looked behind me. Nothing. "--a room, over there, just a while ago."

"Hmm... most curious. Who are you, young man? Please sit down."

Seriously? You were shouting at me just a while ago like you've known me well enough to actually rescue me as I breathe my last. Calm down, Jarvis. You need this man to go home.

I sat down on the chair at the other end of the table. In an instant, the long table became small and round. He passed a cup and poured me some tea. Or is it just hot water?

"Jarvis...sir."

"Jarvis jarvis jarvis...ah, that Jarvis. What day is it? Come on, tell me."

"12th of January 2016, sir."

"Really, now? A lot of things happened and now, I'm just sipping tea or what was left of it."

"But this is just water."

"You may say that, yet I refuse to accept it. This pot I'm holding right now contains the last serving of tea this world can offer. Come on, drink. Once you do, you can faintly taste and smell that pleasant smell of dried herbs."

I did as he asked. It's just water. It's also lukewarm. "I insist. It's just water."

"What a preposterous idea you were saying! To say that this tea has nothing... You know nothing. You don't know what it feels like to stay in the middle of this wasteland, being the...last...hu-"

Then he stopped. "It's coming... the memories... you."

The old man's calm expression suddenly changed. His eyes grew wide and a smile formed.

"Me?"

"You brought it. Hahah! I remember. Brilliant! You brought it."

"Brought what? You're scaring me."

"Hope, silly. You brought me hope. Everything you saw today, don't forget it. This tent, these cups, this table...everything!"

The old man stood up and grabbed my face. His wrinkled face formed a frown. Tears formed from his face as he looked at me. "Listen very carefully. What ever you do from now on, be careful. I...I remember this place. I remember you. I remember that vigor, that life. Save me, save everyone, I beg you."

"Sir, you're really scaring me."

"Sir? You idiot. I am YOU."

"Jarvis!"

"Yes, what?"

In an instant, Oldman appeared. He was shaking me. It looks like I'm in the middle of a small suburbia on a house near a lake. Supposedly, I should be on the threshold of the house but my consciousness wandered off elsewhere.

"Jarvis, what did you see?"

I told him everything that happened in the desert. He listened attentively. But when I told him about me being that old man in the future...

"Oh, God...no..."

He released his grip. "I'm so stupid. I'm sorry, Jarvis. I can only imagine how it must have felt. If what you were saying is true, then that means we've failed..."

He moved away and headed towards a car. The car didn't look like anything I knew. Was it even a car? The thing didn't have wheels but it floats and I can faintly guess how it works. Before all these timey-wimey, I was planning to study engineering, after all.

"Or we're about to fail. But as long as we strive hard enough, we will endure. Come on, we have a lot of things to do."

"Yes, sir."

Oldman turned on an engine that sounded like a white noise. The noise then died out as we ascended into the sky.

We reached the space just before low Earth orbit, taking care not to bump into floating space junk.

"Where are we going?" I asked.

"Where everything started."

"Where exactly?"

"The beginning of time, of course."

Oldman turned the vehicle towards Earth and flew towards it in a way that it broke through the event horizon.

I had a dream. Or something similar. I don't know.

[...]

When I opened my eyes, I was underwater. Submerged in green liquid inside a glass box, I tried to reach towards the top of the glass container with my small body. My small wands waddled through the liquid; however, the density of the liquid was less.

With no buoyancy to escape the glass box, I made a fist with my tiny hands and hit the walls, a woman with streaks of white on her long black hair and wears a lab coat approached me. The woman's eyes showed signs of panic as she looked at me.

The woman gestured towards her aide. The aide, also wearing a similar coat, approached one of the corners of the box and manipulated some controls to drain the green liquid. When the top of the liquid reached my nose, air came into my lungs. I coughed up drops of water after another until I felt dizzy...

[...]

I looked at my hands and they were bigger. My limbs are longer and my body, heavier. I was lying down on thick snow. My overcoat has long soaked some melted ice. A woman in a blue frilly dress, complete with a fancy headdress, who looked like she's in her 20s offered her hand.

"George, are you alright?"

I took the lady's offer and stood up. However, as I stood up, the shoes I'm wearing slid ahead and I am once again sitting on the ground. This time, I stood up by myself.

I looked around and saw a scene that I only saw in the movies. There were carriages driven by horses...no, all of them were carriages driven by horses. There were no cars, and people were either walking while talking or walking fast. None of those junkies walking with their smartphones. A boy was walking around, lighting up the lamp posts.

"I'm fine. By the way, where are we going?" I didn't ask her name as not to arouse suspicion. The owner of this body I'm using and the woman who was holding his arm seemed close. No, they are close. Close enough to go on a secluded place along the Thames to hold their tryst.

[...]

No, no, no... why did it have to end? The woman in blue was about to... you know...

Anyway, right now I was standing in front of an old woman, crying while lying on a table. My hands were raised, holding a knife with both hands. When I regained consciousness, the knife already plunged deep into the old woman's chest.

Crimson dyed her clothes.

No... no... I didn't mean to...

The woman's eyes stopped moving. She was staring at me until the end. Two men took away the corpse, wiped away the blood, and put another person on the table.

I dropped the knife and tried to escape. Men wearing the same metallic garments I'm wearing grabbed me and dragged me back to the table. "Do your duty," they said.

"No, this is not right."

"Are you saying that Osiris should not have servants in the afterlife? Such heresy!"

The men took out their daggers and they...

[...]

I was slapped.

Oldman was standing outside the vehicle. A monkey slapped me so hard that it woke me up.

The scenery outside was festive. Anthropomorphic beings had stalls around a fountain. This must be some kind of plaza.

"Welcome to the beginning. This is it."

"I was expecting something that has a 'bang' on it."

"Pffft. That's nonsense. Big Bang? More like E- Construction Firm. This is not even the Earth. If you look closely into the sky, you can see the ongoing construction. So, where are we?"

"No way."

"Yes, way."

Oldman went to a stall to buy some barbecue-like stuff.

"Barbecue. This is made from pig, imported from a farm in 1987."

"..."

"Eat faster. Once you're done, we'll start our work."

"What work?"

"We'll create humans."

I'm free.

After escaping the Mort Irago Prison aboard the Builder ship, Miskata, I'm still on the run.

I have nowhere to go. I'm in another time.

If you can detect this signal, know that I have long been dead in your time. No, I won't be discussing any technicalities.

I will come back, though not this time. I'm still helping a poor chap rescue an innocent civilian that got sent to another world.

In case you're wondering how the hell I got hold of a console to write this, I'm also not telling. There are things you're better off not knowing. It's for your own good.

I'm free.

After escaping the Mort Irago Prison aboard the Builder ship, Miskata, I'm still on the run.

I have nowhere to go. I'm in another time.

If you can detect this signal, know that I have long been dead in your time. No, I won't be discussing any technicalities.

I will come back, though not this time. I'm still helping a poor chap rescue an innocent civilian that got sent to another world.

In case you're wondering how the hell I got hold of a console to write this, I'm also not telling. There are things you're better off not knowing. It's for your own good.

While lying down on red grass, I remembered my younger brother Marley. I was nine when mother gave birth to Marley. We were on a dimly-lit hospital room together with some other patients. Mother was giving birth next to an accident victim. The poor guy had contraptions lifting up parts of his body. Everybody was very careful not to bother the bandages while my mother pushes Marley out. Now that I think about it, I can't understand why some people say that birthing is a magical thing. There's nothing magical about it, if not grotesque.

When Marley came out, the doctors were sweating really hard. Marley's body came out first, which means Marley was premature. It was difficult for them to get the head out. I heard one of the medical staff telling the senior citizens, who were at that time playing poker on a corner, that my brother wouldn't survive.

Then it happened. When the doctor got Marley out, Marley was silent. They tried tapping him on the back but he still didn't cry.

Anyway, that's a story from the past. Or perhaps in the distant future? I'm sorry but I really don't know. I've been drifting from place to place, from a point in time to another. I needed something to pin me to whoever I am. Does time define who I am? I am everywhere, yet nowhere. Always in motion, yet perfectly still.

Me typing in my console helps me retain some of my sanity. Soon, there wouldn't be enough space in the console for these memories. I hope Oldman finds me before that happens.

For now, I will go to the town square and buy myself a meal at the inn. At least before I disappear ag...