Chapter song: Nothing's Gonna Hurt You Baby - Cigarettes After Sex
No one knows what the afterlife is like, nor what it will be like. It's not usually the kind of thing people think about, especially in his line of work, which was ironic considering how they faced death damn near every day.
He once had a bunkmate who liked to read. He didn't read just any kind of book, but the philosophical ones. The kind that talked about morals and ethics, the meaning of life and shit.
He remembered reading one phrase from the book out loud. "No one has experienced death, yet everyone assumes it is the greatest evil."
He then went on to read a few more: "When we exist, death is not; and when death exists, we are not."
But the one that resignated the most with Kenneth was from a French philosopher named, "Death is a meaningless end."
He'd felt like it was an accurate statement. The one that made the most sense out of the three. At least at the time. As things stood now, Kenneth had no idea what awaited him when he opened his eyes again. But it certainly wasn't this.
When he opened his eyes, the first thing he saw was a blur. They say when you die, the first thing you usually see is either a white light or darkness. He saw neither. His eyes didn't have time to adjust as he felt a searing sensation at the back of his head. His brows furrowed.
The young man tried to lift himself, and as he did so, he noticed something was wrong with his body. It felt as if he'd been beaten up, but he also felt lighter, like there'd been a significant weight lifted off him. His eyes finally adjusted, and he could finally see where he was.
An alley.
"An alley?" He choked out, voice rough.
He squeezed his eyes shut, then opened them a second later, only to find his surroundings unchanged.
He blinked, confusion coursing through his face.
What was this place? Was this hell? It wasn't anything like the picture he had in mind. Where was all the fire, the sulfur, and the brimstone? Why wasn't he hearing a chorus of ear-piercing, blood-curdling screams?
Also, where was the head honcho of this place?
A groan escaped his lips as he tried to get himself off what looked to be asphalt. Last he remembered, he was bleeding to death on the sandy grounds of Hagar, praying to a God that didn't even bother answering him back.
So where was he? Cause from the looks of things, he wasn't burning in the underworld.
His eyes scanned the alleyway, but there wasn't a single soul in sight. He was about to let out a breath when he heard rustling coming deep within the alley. His body tensed, on full alert.
Ignoring the throbbing at the back of his head, he hoisted himself off the ground as quietly as he could. Kenneth immediately sensed that something was wrong, not just with the unknown presence in front of him, but with the way his body moved.
Something didn't feel right. It was like he wasn't in control, or more like he wasn't in his own body. His movements were stiff and sluggish, and his coordination was off. But before he could investigate this strange feeling, he saw movement. His senses having kicked in, the silhouette of a tall man appeared in the corner of his eye. He focused on the slender, roughly 6-foot figure crouched down, rummaging through something.
It only took him a matter of seconds to realise that the man was his assailant and he'd been attacked; his guess was a robbery.
Looking around, Kenneth tried to find an easily fashioned weapon in case the man decided he wanted to come back for seconds. He found a wooden ledge split in two and grabbed it as inconspicuously as possible to avoid alerting the man.
Kenneth could tell that this man was far from his match. Confident he could knock him out without breaking a sweat, he wondered how he'd found himself vulnerable enough for him to get the drop on him.
As I thought, something's not right with this situation.
Just by looking at his feeble legs, he could tell that this body didn't belong to him.
Kenneth didn't have the time to think about what was going on, though: he needed to take the fucker who thought he could mess with him.
And quickly.
He soundlessly approached the man, simultaneously ignoring the pain at the back of his head and now his thigh for some reason. Using his good leg, he crawled towards the man, inching closer and closer towards him. Gripping the wooden weapon tightly in his hands, he raised it above his head like a baseball bat and swung, hitting the man at the back of his head.
He made sure not to put his entire strength into the hit as he didn't want to kill the man. The last thing he needed was another body in his hands.
The unsuspecting man hit the floor with a loud thud. Kenneth stood there for a second, making sure he wouldn't suddenly reanimate and go crazy. Once he was sure the man was out, he bent forward, peering at his face.
His brows knit into a frown, nose wrinkling with disdain. He used the bottom of his "bat" to poke the man's face.
"Attacking a defenceless person like this, don't piss me off," Kenneth spat as he looked down at the unconscious assailant. He let out a huff, running his hand on his face. "What a fucking man, seriously."
He then dragged his unconscious body with great difficulty to a corner and proceeded to search his belongings.
He pulled out what looked to be an identification card, which read:
Name: CHARLES BENETTE
Race: HUMAN
Sex: MALE
Type: N/A
Registration status: UNREGISTERED
Ignoring his name, Kenneth frowned at the second and penultimate titles. Why was he put under human? Wasn't it obvious he was a human? Wouldn't they put white or caucasian under the category race instead?
When looking at the man, Kenneth could tell he was a man in his mid-thirties, approximately 6 feet tall, as established, and a little gaunt-looking, as if he hadn't had a proper meal in days.
He frowned. Everything about this situation was strange. It was clear, judging from the ID card and the blade that'd been used to harm him, that this wasn't Hagar, nor was he in the Americas. He'd died on that battlefield, so how the hell was he standing here, perfectly fine?
Where in the world was this place?
He looked down at the man before glancing back at the card. "...I guess there's no use trying to understand what's happening right now. I should get the hell out of here first before this guy wakes up."
His eyes then swept across the alley, finally taking it in. It looked like any other alley he'd seen before, except the ground was surprisingly clean and wasn't harbouring fugitives as well as starving kids waiting to get picked up by government drones. His eyes then fell on the bag the man had been so keen on taking from "him". He tossed his makeshift weapon and sauntered towards it.
Lucky for him, the bag contained a basic first-aid kit. He dressed his wounds before remembering the weapon the man still had on him.
The gash he had on his leg couldn't have come from a blunt object. Most likely a blade, though judging from the cut and the amount of blood he had dripping down his leg earlier, it was dulled from time. Looking around, the glare of an object against the faint light coming from the alley caught his eye.
Venturing further down, he saw what looked to be a dagger that had been tossed during the altercation.
The dagger in question was old but well-crafted, embellished with intricate designs around its handle. Without a second thought, he took the blade, tossing it in the bag. He did one last sweep, making sure he hadn't left anything that could lead back to him, before booking it out of the alleyway.
His eyes were immediately blinded as he stepped into the light. It took him a few blinks to adjust, but even then, he didn't stop running until he was fully out. He knew he needed to separate himself from whatever the hell had happened in there as fast as possible.
The scene that awaited Kenneth made him stop in his tracks. His pupils retracted, and his lips parted as he turned left and right, taking the sight in. He was standing in the middle of a metropolis, towering buildings made of pure glass, shining like diamonds all around him. The streets were smooth, with dark cement lined with pristine white lines, and not a single fleck of dirt, dried-up mud, or trash littered the ground. His head lifted as he saw animated billboards hanging high above the sky advertising the latest movies and clothes for the season.
But what surprised him most of all were the people. They were all dressed similarly, muted colours hanging from their backs. Black, white, grey, beige, and brown. It created a jarring image, making his bright hair stand out even more, though no one seemed to notice him.
It was very clear he wasn't in Hagar anymore. There was something freeing in the way they walked, the way they talked. They were in no particular hurry. There was no urgency in their steps, nor fear in their eyes. It was as if they simply existed. Free of any hardships, free of the constant ring of danger that never seemed to escape them.
Kenneth's heart thundered in his chest as he wondered what kind of parallel or alternate universe he'd stumbled into. No one seemed to pay any mind to him. Now that he thought about it, he didn't know what he looked like. He knew he looked like a mess for one. His black hoodie was slightly askew, and his black pants were ripped to shreds. Yet not a single person batted an eye at him.
"...What the hell is this?" He muttered under his breath.
A crease formed between his eyebrows as he felt the glare of the sun beaming down on him, almost burning his skin. The sky was clear. There wasn't a single cloud obstructing the sun. His head tilted to the side as he noticed the humanoid droids stationed at every corner. They stood there completely unassuming, yet he couldn't help finding their presence…eerie. They looked entirely human, so from a distance it was easy to mistake them for human, but Kenneth could tell they were artificial. It wasn't noticeable at first, but cyborgs always had strange mannerisms. Pure perfection that made them feel…uncanny. He couldn't help thinking of the boy.
Looking around, his imposter syndrome was immediate, but he didn't let himself dwell on it. He needed to figure out where the hell he was and if there was a way for him to go back.
A lump formed in his throat. He scanned his surroundings, on the lookout for an information centre or an embassy so he could get some answers. But no matter how he looked, he couldn't find a single one.
Strange, he thought. They were practically scattered in the Americas.
He then spotted a library not too far from him. Since he was at a loss for time and didn't have any other option left, he sauntered towards the large building. He hid behind a large boulder, watching people come and go. At the entrance, two droids with humanoid features checked everyone's identification cards.
Kenneth frowned.
He reached for the bag and pulled out the card he'd seen while he was looking for something to staunch the blood from his wounds. He also fished out a key card and a V Watch, and saw a fresh set of clothes. The rest of the bag's contents were useless to him: a pack of reusable tissue paper, as well as a carton of protein patches. There were only three patches left inside.
His hand tightened around the ID Card before flipping it over.
NAME: KENNETH L. GREY
RACE: E - HUMAN
TYPE: ANCHOR
GENDER: MALE
REGISTRATION STATUS: REGISTERED
His brows furrowed as he zeroed in on the race again. "E - Human? What's that supposed to mean?"
He glanced further down, and to the right, he saw a picture of the owner of the body he'd taken possession of. His brows shot up. The only similarity the two had was their name. Aside from that, they couldn't be further from opposites. The man in the picture had red hair, for one, and amber eyes. He had sharp brows, almond-shaped eyes, and full lips. His features were sharp and pronounced, and he had a complexion that betrayed a peaceful life, one where he didn't need to get his hands dirty.
Kenneth's hands unconsciously shot up to his hair. Since he was in the special forces, he had to keep it short and tidy. His dark strands were unruly, so it helped to keep them shorter than regulation required. His skin was darker thanks to months spent in the sun, and he had hazel eyes instead of these fiery red ones. He sighed, feeling the locks slip through his fingers like silk. They rested perfectly above his shoulder.
He gripped the card even tighter, his knuckles turning white. Since he had what he needed, he walked up to the entrance. The two guards greeted him, asking for his ID in a monotone voice. He acted as naturally as he could, handing the card over and watching with careful eyes as the droid on the left scanned it. Once his pupils lit up with a light blue light, it handed the card back to him.
The other guard who'd been waiting on the side gave him what looked to be a smile.
"Enjoy your visit." It then turned around and greeted the person behind him.
Kenneth's eyes narrowed. Only one word came to mind as the automatic doors welcomed him inside: creepy.
The inside of the library was just as impressive as its exterior. Immediately upon entering, he was greeted with a ten-foot-tall statue of an owl. Looking into its giant, beady eyes, it gave the illusion of staring right at you, watching.
The internal layout was simple yet intricate enough to make him pause for a moment and take it all in. Everything was white. From the concave shelves, the long and winding staircases, and the marble flooring. It was divided into ten levels and included a little glossary that showed visitors where to find what they were looking for. What Kenneth cared about were three things: geography, history, and politics. That's all you needed to survive in an unknown place, that and a weapon.
He picked out the books with the most details and began his search. This was what he'd gathered after an hour of reading:
He was currently in the Republic of Caüs. It was the year 2045—so just about ten years into the future. The Republic of Caüs was located in the Americas, just north of what used to be the US border before the World War and Continental War. After almost eight years of fighting, the countries signed a treaty, and the continents regained their independence, allowing them to separate into their own countries, as they had forty years prior.
"...So, I'm in the future? How does that make any sense? Did I leap through time?"
The young man couldn't understand any of it, and he had a feeling this was more than just being in the future, so he kept reading. It was boring as hell, but he had no choice.
After another hour and a half of reading, he closed the book with a thud and rubbed his face. This was a lot for his newly living brain to process. But he came to the terrifying conclusion that he wouldn't be able to make it back to Hagar, not that he had anything to go back to.
He was thankful that the place he'd resurrected in spoke English. Not being able to speak the native language would've made it difficult for him to survive and to blend in. He was lucky in that sense, but he couldn't help feeling bitter at whatever being choosing to bring him here of all places. Life truly was mercurial in that sense, and the young man had every reason to panic, but he didn't. Instead, he decided to use the energy he had to do some more reading. But as he did this, Kenneth started to notice something strange in his body.
His eyelids felt heavy, his vision grew a little spotty, and a headache was bearing down on him at full force. It was so sudden and unexpected, Kenneth had to wonder if the effects from getting his head bashed in were finally creeping up on him. In fact, it was amazing he wasn't already concussed.
He pushed on and realized just how different this place was from his old world. For one, they believed in something called harmonic rationalism, combining structured social harmony with the supremacy of scientific reasoning and technological advancement. In other words, they were pro-science and technology, believing that it was the key to social harmony. Kenneth frowned.
The Republic was split into three primary bodies: The Council of Mind, the Harmonium Core, and the Civic Chain. He didn't care much for the first body, but the second caught his attention.
"The Harmonium Core executes the will of the Council via specialized departments," he read aloud in a low mutter. "Enhanced Forces (Strikers and Anchors), Intelligence, Infrastructure, Public Harmony, with the most central and important force being the Toleran Academy, which specialized in training elite enforcers and tacticians."
There was that word again. Anchor. What in the world did it mean?
That's when he noticed a little footnote next to the word. He scanned down the page, which led him to an index inside the book. After frantically flipping through the pages, he found a chapter dedicated to this Toleran Academy.
TOLERAN ACADEMY - "To endure. To evolve. To protect."
His frown deepened.
A military academy for Enhanced Strikers and Anchors of the Republic of Caüs.
"A military academy? So they still have those even in the future, huh…wait, it's only been ten years. I doubt they'd make any reforms that quickly."
He shook his head. It looked like the blow to his head was affecting his critical thinking. As he leaned forward to read more, a sudden searing pain shot through Kenneth's brain without so much as a warning. His hands immediately went to his head, clutching the strands of hair as he stumbled forward.
His body convulsed, and for a moment, all he saw was a white hot, blinding light. Suddenly, a myriad of images flashed through his mind like a movie, and all kinds of information about the world he was in, the country, and the identity of the person known as Kenneth Grey flooded his mind.
Memories from his past, his childhood, as well as the moments before he was struck by that man. The last thing he thought was that he'd never get the chance to enter the academy, becoming the Anchor his father wanted him to be. With his memories now in his possession, Kenneth no longer needed the books; his V Watch would suffice. It had access to all kinds of information ready at his disposal.
This made things much more convenient for him. He closed the books and went to the bathroom to change into another black zip-up hoodie and baggy black jeans before leaving the library, his next destination already in mind. He needed to head downtown, where the academy's application process would be held.
Once he was enrolled, he'd figure out what he'd do from there.