Wednesday, March 23rd, 314 years since Start

Journal entry 1

Today marks the start of an experiment which will, with any luck, push the faction further down its path. I am going to start keeping a daily log about the occurrences throughout in case something goes awry. Which, according to our knowledge, has a high chance of occurring.

I will be meeting with Abel in the coming weeks to compare both our notes, and experiences. We thought it best that we be kept separate, as we discovered in our preliminary tests that distance affects the outcome of the experiments. For future reference, our experiments will be based on opposite sides of the city, in the highest point of our respective lookout towers. These towers have been adjusted to suit our needs for the duration.

To reiterate, our experiment consists of looking into the concept of what we surmise to be a fourteenth race. Nothing has been recorded of said race, but through progression in our faction, subtle hints have been implied.

Specifically, the experiment is not to prove this race's existence, but rather in completing this experiment, it can be proved. Although I seem to have repeated the same phrase, with a slight deviation, the fourteenth race and concept of our faction are connected like humans are to the material world. The same could be said about the forefathers of the factions and the deep sea.

As we have seen through the accepted thirteen, each race has worked under their own laws of physics. Our thesis is that this fourteenth race had occupied a world before Start that resembles our faction, the source of knowledge: the mind.

A random occurrence in the universe, but happenstance that a certain object was at a specific point in time. A single cog that was out of place, that would cause the whole clock to be slightly off. The second hand, half a second too slow. Over millennia, the whole clock itself would be off kilter, ticking to an ever changing time. Luckily, this change in time has nothing to do with our tale. No, this was an ordinary day, in an unordinary world.

Our scene starts with a gentlemen, twenty-seven years of age, packing his bag in preparation for 4:30 PM. Why 4:30, you ask? According to our main character, working until 5 PM every day was not the kind of life he wanted to live. In his own words: never live to work, but work to live. He slid his laptop into his backpack, an extremely common tool that the everyday worker had. The backpack of course, not the laptop. The bag was designed with a plastic and silicon like material so that if one were to roll the top of the bag before putting it in predesigned clips, they would find not even air could pass through.

AH I’M DYING! How can you expect me to talk about such mundane things in such a pompous manner? I mean, has no one questioned why our character uses a waterproof bag to store his laptop? Why not a briefcase like a proper gentleman?

“Hey Yuclaus, you still down for some Valient tonight?” A dapper figure, who had a proper leather briefcase, said as he walked up to our irritating main character.

“I fear not, mine energy has been spent on preceding engagements. I may have to decline, though my heart shall be with you,” Yuclaus responded to the handsome man he was speaking to.

“Ya know, sometimes I really question you. Not how you say things, no, just you.” The dashing man commented, exasperated at the seemingly ancient way of speaking Yuclaus commonly used.

“Your words pain me; however, were I to match my vernacular with yours, I fear a worse fate would await me. Culture has died in a fire of our own making. Why, just a score ago, decimate meant only to destroy one-tenth of an armed force, now suddenly if my house were decimated I would find myself homeless.”

“We have literally talked about this so many times! Words change man, that's just what happens.”

“Yet you prove my point further by tossing out a once scarcely used word. Ah, how my heart aches for the days where “literally” held truth! Now it is simply an emphasis for the populace to butcher endlessly.” As the duo continued their banter, slowly making their way to an escalator, Yuclaus ensured that he made eye contact with every fellow employee he passed, nodding a singular time.

Their names may be unbeknownst, but I shan't turn down mine eyes like those whom are downtrodden, our “commonly named” protagonist thought to himself, while gazing unseeingly at the brick walls that made up their office building. His attractive compatriot noticed the lackluster, or lackadaisical (as Yuclaus would say), responses his friend gave him, and knew his mind was elsewhere.

“When was the last time you checked in with your parents?” His elegant voice interrupted Yuclaus' reverie. The duo slowly descended the automatic stairs in silence for a second while Yuclaus processed the question. He must've been stunned when he realized his friend’s compassion is only matched by his game sense in Valient. Yes, most definitely, I am-he is quite awesome after all.

“Quite recently, I called them the night before last. We discussed the optimal time for my quarterly visit. Perhaps wine tasting, the sweet blood of mother earth.” His walking partner knew of Yuclaus’ close relationship to his family, and had assumed he was simply thinking about the upcoming trip. However, this time he was wrong. Rather, Yuclaus had been pondering his lack of memory for the names of his coworkers.

“You still haven't livened up your house since you joined me out here right? I know your family is super into plants or botany or whatever. You don't need me to swing by and water anything while you're gone do you?”

“Contrary to my heritage, I fear my thumb is as red as possible. Red is the antithesis of green is it not? Black’s inverse would be nothing if not white. The absence and totality of color in two words. Nevertheless, I have no desire to manage living things at this juncture. I delight in the freedom of life, vitality far too much.” It was no secret that Yuclaus sucked at keeping things alive. The sole reason he once believed otherwise was that his parents would take care of the plants in his room when he was living with them years ago. Unbeknownst to them, Yuclaus had, for a brief while growing up, thought it was because of his talents that the plants flourished.

The automatic door opened as the two stepped out of the building in which they spent their working hours.

“Yo, we got a few minutes before we have to be on the bus, wanna grab an energy drink?”

“Not particularly, reliance on caffeine is a shot in the foot. Due rest is the healthier alternative.”

“I’m with you, but I just like the flavor! I wish there was a non-energy energy drink. The guarana or whatever it's called adds a flavor that keeps bringing me back.” A single glance from Yuclaus caused his confident speech to collapse one of self defense. “I’m not addicted ok! I'll find a non-energy energy drink another day! Watch I'll find one with less caffeine.”

They walked down the street while they had talked, entering a grocery store without hesitation. This was their daily routine. For one reason or another, the duo would always go into this particular store. Whether it be an energy drink for the debonair companion, or a few random odds and ends for Yuclaus, tradition brought them back on the daily. They always timed it so that by the time they got to the bus stop, the bus would be pulling up.

Perhaps this once I will join in the partaking of a beverage. A drink is best with the warmth of company,Yuclaus thought to himself. As they reached the aisle, there was a two-for-the-price-of-one discount. Yuclaus, never one to pass up a deal, contrary to his lavish spending on vacations, decided to get two energy drinks. He molified his worry about chemicals by getting two organic energy drinks. His friend quickly grabbed four and dashed toward the register to avoid the inevitable disapproving look from Yuclaus.

As they waited in line, Yuclaus ended up snagging two BICC lighters. Along with him enjoying the occasional cigar with the bois, he always wanted to be prepared; after all you never know when an apocalypse or global pandemic will occur. Both protagonist and dashing sidekick paid through their phones, and exited the store.

Yuclaus paused for a moment, went through the effort of unclipping his waterproof bag, unrolling the top, and then placed his spoils inside. Being who he was, Yuclaus made sure to take a sip of the canteen nestled in his bag.

“Let me throw these in your bag when we get to the bus, I don't want to get condensation or anything on my laptop.”

“Ah, so the prodigal comes to understand the true value of the everyday, economical luggage. I shall acquiesce, for I have secured victory in my heart.”

“Yeah yeah whatever, now hurry and buckle up your environment slaughtering hobo bag so we don't miss the bus.”

“Do I not always buckle my clasps with the utmost finesse? Fear not, us and your handbag of systematic bovine destruction shall make due haste.” Yuclaus returned verbal jab for jab. The two chuckled as they moved to the bus stop.

They saw the stop in the distances, slightly rusted metal overhang protecting waiting passengers from the sun above. As they hurried, Yuclaus found his thoughts returning to familiar waters. The abundance of folk astounds me, and yet, while I observe their diversity, I am shown unfamiliar faces with unknown monikers. Though my compatriot and I have been through thick and thin, where can more be found? While two brothers can withstand many things, cannot three prevail? Despite desire, I fear our odds of finding a fellow decrease as we age.Truly, the populace feels almost stagnant.

This was not a thought shared by Yuclaus’ best friend. His friend was content with just the two of them. They had grown up together, and even eventually ended up working in the same company, granted his friend hooked Yuclaus up. They had had acquaintances along the way, but the barrier to close friendship was a hard one to overcome. Yet, his friend was not daunted by this, as in fact it was encouraging to him. Though many faces and names came and went, the two knew they could rely on one another.

The friend’s rush as well as Yuclaus’ ruminations were put to a swift end as they reached the stop simultaneously with the bus. They climbed the metal bars into the bus, and went with their usual seating arrangement. Not next to each other, please, friends need space sometimes.

The two sat across the aisle from one another. Their bus ride was thirty minutes, which was either fast, or slow depending on the perspective. Yuclaus put on headphones, and looked out the window. This was a skill mirroring his friend’s. His best friend, while seeming sociable and outgoing, didn't feel like dealing with strangers. He would put headphones on, and look out the window; no one wants to ask someone listening to music if they can sit next to them.

Yuclaus mirrored this tactic, however, only rarely. Where his friend was content with their friendship, Yuclaus would always attempt to talk to more people. However, his calm demeanor and strange words would often get him pinned as socially awkward. Contrary to Yuclaus, his friend was often seen as extroverted, and maybe a little too energetic, but never tried to form deeper relationships. Anyway, today Yuclaus was just exhausted after his recent camping trip. He wanted some peace, and hopefully a quick nap. He stared out the window -silent headphones dampening the ambient noise- and inevitably, found his mind wandering back.

Although new bonds may not be forthcoming, I am satisfied with my person. Too many are uncontent with their lot in life, wanting to exchange the mundane with the awe-inspiring. Yet I find myself ensconced, surrounded by a trustworthy comrade and family who adore me. Nor do I fear the mundane, for excitement and adrenaline is but around the corner. The necessities of society are but a speed bump in the car park of life.

Yuclaus truly was satisfied with everything, except his one desire for more friends. Unlike his amazing friend, he loved his current life. For the same reason he never saved his checks for anything. He was content with an apartment, his furniture, his lot in life. Instead he spent his money on exploration, seeing more, enjoying his present.

He felt a familiar hand on his shoulder, and turning, saw his friend raising his hand overflowing with energy drinks. He motioned to Yuclaus’ bag, and said something that was too muffled by the headset to hear. Yuclaus, assuming his friend wanted to put the drinks in his bag, nodded. His friend smiled, said something else, then moved his hand from body to bag.

Yuclaus turned back towards the window. In but a moment, he found his head slowly dipping, his body leaning comfortably against the bus window. He could still hear gentle sounds of conversation, and the general shuffling of the travelers. In the corner of his drifting consciousness he heard a rustling next to him. Almost as if a clasp was undone, a few hollow thuds, and a dull...thunk... resonating in his semi-conscious brain. He fell into restful, dreamless sleep.

He felt something foreboding deep in the core of his being. Just like his head did recently, he felt his stomach drop. He was falling. Endlessly. Nothing but darkness surrounding him as he spiraled into the abyss. Just as he was certain he would hit the bottom of the neverending casm of his mind, he jerked awake. As he startled awake on the shattered cobblestone, he entered what he would consider a dream. One I would consider a dream come true.