Aberrant: Quantum Identity - Stavros Istanskya

[Darklighter]

Early Early Morning:

Stavros stirs from his desk, having fallen asleep on a stack of books once again. He was a late night thinker, and he'd recently received some interesting new material from the Society Libraries - translated classics directly from ancient Greek. It was interesting to note the variations compared to the Roman derivatives, and were he not so focused on the pursuit of maths he'd love to learn more languages ... ahh but the math is the universal language and truth is there. Besides, with a powerful enough computer statistical translation will be on every desk soon enough. Sometimes he stayed up for days, as had just transpired - and of late he had been having such terrible headaches.

It much too early still to go grab a coffee and start the day - nothing open right now would serve a decent light roast anyway. He knew a few more hours of sleep would be necessary at this point. He always knew when sleep was required, becuase that was one of the few things that could pull him away when he started to see the truth ... the subtle truth that was being outlined in physics, chemistry, computing, biology, and a thousand other applied subjects everyday ... the truth behind reality itself - a numerical framework for higher maths that had been tantalizing scholars for the better part of seventy years. Sometimes he would dream of ancient philosophers, magicians able to weave shadow and light to demonstrate the principles. How right those ancients were when they marveled at the fundamental nature of optics - how close physicists have come with their theories of a holographic universe.

But it was enough for him now to make a quick visit to the WC, avoid waking his borther who had crashed on the folding army cot after clubbing so hard he couldn't get to his own place ... and move to his futon - of course, with only a tiny bachelor pad to work with that would also involve moving the old chalk boards into the corner and clearing away some of the books too ... but a few minutes later, on top of a relatively comfortable layer of soft-covers, sleep came.

Early Morning - Just after Dawn:

Wake. His Bro was still asleep - he knew how to let himself out, nothing in here would interest a thief anyhow, but his Bro had been better about locking up. Throw on outfit number four - black undershirt, money belt, good red T-shirt, black cargo pants, sturdy old black army boots, red ball cap, and loose dark-gray trench rain-shell. Load false wallet with enough money for coffee, transit, a potential mugging (he'd lived in NYC long enough to know just to give over the cheap wallet with some cash in it). On his way out he picked up his notebooks and he was off to the coffee shop.

Coffee was good, coffee was life. It didn't do much to quell his headache - so it wasn't caffeine withdrawal THIS time. Normally, he's stay to chat but today it was a few hellos, nods, smiles, ANOTHER peck on the cheek from Jasmine (Wow, I guess she liked the movies on Saturday more than I'd thought. She is pretty cute too ...) and a risky but successful follow up from him (lighly now, just a light one on the lips ... YES! She didn't even hesitate!) and then she had to get to class just like he did.

Fifteen Minutes Early for Class:

The subway had been uneventful, and provided another little nap. Still the damn pain in his head wasn't going away. It was like fire behind his eyes. Good thing this was his hour with Prof. James Thomason. Pfffttt ... this guy was lucky he could add two and two. He hadn't presented a complete proof in class for years, and everyone in the Faculty knew he just wasn't on top of his career in electroweak physics anymore so they moved him to teaching Heisenberg! Did anyone understand this this course was critical to understanding high order differential waveform analysis?!

Stavros settled in for yet another hour of working on his latest thesis proof. He looked up every five minutes on cue to survey the 'solution sets' on the board and jot down the errors in case he was asked. Thomason rarely asked him anymore, after Stavros had made an ass of him. Thats when the old fart had realized he'd best not rumble with someone who knew math, and that marking him down out of petty jealously could be proved as academic misconduct becuase it was MATH! Of course, how could one expect anything more from a stupid ass drunk who should be forced out of tenure? Should have - could have - had the a-hole fired for that, but Stavros just didn't have the heart to wreck the old fellas career so close to retirement.

Stavros waited it out. This was the only class he had problems with, and only becuase the prof. was plain jealous. Man-o-man his head was hurting ... and why was his nose running? Stavros absentmindedly wiped wiped his nose and his whole hand came away bloodied and red. OH SHIT!

[lead]

The pain was worse then anything he'd ever experienced in his life. The melange of sharp, prodding sensations in the front of his skull felt like a cross between Egyptian brain removal and the sounds of band of Scottish bag pipers' strangling each other with their instruments.

His attempts to stop the bleeding have no effect and just coat his hands in the warms, tanging red.

Struggling to his feet, the world tilts and spins alarmingly underneath him.

Fuck he couldn't be having a stroke, could he? Could he?

The class watched in stunned inaction as he bobbed and swayed, just trying to stand up.

He took a steep forward and his vision seemed to jump ahead into a new direction, one of shadows, cool comforting shadows. Streams of black silky smoke. So soothing...

And like pendulum, his foot touches down and his senses come rushing back, and swing even further past, and now everything in his vision seemed to glow with energy. It bombarded him, assaulted him, and found its way into his mouth and ears, forcing and pushing, inelegant and raw.

[Darklighter]

"Whaaa ... hht? ... It is so .... magnificent!" Stavros managed to sputter out, managing to slump back into his chair without falling onto anyone else as he was enraptured. He was filled by it, felt it inside. His body and mind were changing in the way the world was changing around him. Like the bloom of a new blossom only infinitely more profound. He was still frightened as all get out, but his innate curiosity overtook the jumble of his other emotions becuase there was a truth he simply felt in this ineffable experience. The sensation of truth, of revelation, was rising ascendant over fear.

Just as he began to see the fine details - the strange intricate interplay of shadow and light around him - he saw that the tips of his fingers were almost shadow themselves ... elongated into long points. No, wait, only the nails had changed and they weren't long so much as pointed a somehow wicked looking. Actually they were shadow, he saw that now too - fluid, they had many qualities. They were part of the shadows flowing around him like an aura of power.

He still looked quite the gorey sight, but blood drenched hands and clothes were forgotten. He marveled at the new talons and when he looked close he could see the waves and wisps of shadow, like ripples of reality around them. It was as if the shadow were able to 'cut' or perhaps 'rend' into the fabric of what is ... he ignored all the people offering him aid, asking him if he was OK, he just sat.

...

Minutes later he was still transfixed, and the flow of blood had slowed to a drip. Even his eyes had bled, and there was a pool of gore under him as if the shadow had forced it out. The pain was still there, but it was an electric, singing sensation now. It was all part of whatever this marvelous moment in time was - thats what the last few minutes had been - a mere moment. He had grown tired of telling people around him to let him be, to give him some room ... damn, why wouldn't they just listen! No matter - they were insignificant to him just this moment.

Still tracing patterns in the air in front of him ... leaving a web of shadows, a tracery of patterns that had a life of their own ... like math. Patterns are math, pure and simple. He was seeing the truth he felt. Wrapping the shadows around himself was easy, it was natural, comfortable ... and with them he could form more and more patterns ... so he sat cloaked in his shadow aura, safe and warm, oblivious to his surroundings until his concentration was broken. Then he would look at them, and they would see his eyes - the black, empty voids that had once been his eyes.

[lead]

He wasn't sure when the police arrived, or the host of doctors that began taking pictures and furiously jotting down notes and observations. The crowd was greatly annoying to the blossoming man. But he was only peripherally aware of them. The truths he found and sought in that instant were greater and more profound than all previous knowledge, but he was grateful for it all the same. Without it he would have been lost with no basis for understanding his newly manifested abilities and perceptions.

A official looking man in a three thousand dollar suit, calmly presented himself to the police who had previously sustained multiple beads on the man entrenched in shadows. They let him through and walked closer to him then anyone else had, and "Excuses me Stavros Istanskya, but I'm hear to make sure that the government doesn't consider you a threat. We're going to talk now. Is there any place you wish to go to talk?" he pronounced the name perfectly, like a native, and his smile was perfect, symmetric and asymmetric in all the right ways but his eyes were open, practical eyes.

[Darklighter]

"Certainly, I was almost expecting someone such as yourself to arrive. A pleasure to meet you. What little I understand I will freely share with you ... Recent events are, unexpected, to say the least. I believe I am well, medically, and able to travel. We can go where you like. I would only ask three things out of courtesy: One, if you would please let them all know I am no threat. Two, Please tell me your name and outline your position in or perhaps with the government. Three, would it be possible for me to wash up, perhaps a nice suit could be provided?" Stavros said truthfully and with great sincerity, though it was difficult to say whether he was looking at the man or still studying the patterns of shadow around him - what with his shadowy voids making 'eye contact' something else altogether.

Stavros will accompany the man, suggesting that a nice restaurant with private booths might be ideal. Stavros, on the way, adds that he would enjoy eating fish today - but any high protein meal would be appreciated at the moment.