>Brain pt. 3

>Table of Contents
Part 2

Log 3: The second I realized that I was being attacked, it was as though time was slowed; in that I could actually see the air bending around the darts as they came at me. I was moving accordingly slowly, but I found the darts, at this speed, quite easier to dodge, akin to dodging a thrown baseball from a hundred feet away. As they continued to fly out of the holes in the walls, I noticed that the rate at which they were coming towards me was increasing, as was the number of holes. I soon realized that there was such a great volume of darts that I wouldn’t be able to dodge them all. Instead, I tried to knock them off course, which was very difficult. Again, like deflecting a thrown baseball with your bare hands.
     And that’s when I noticed that the darts were curving away from my hand before I touched them. I was causing them to curve with my focus alone. Once I realized this, I expanded my focus to include the darts that weren’t heading toward me. I brought them to a stop, and brought them into a large sphere, which I used to shield myself. Once I was sufficiently protected, I continued to make my way across the room. 
     Time returned to normal, and my ears began to ring with the sound of darts clicking against each other as my makeshift shield did its job. This was an interesting side-effect of time slowing down… it was as though someone had flipped a mute switch on reality. And sound I did hear was of very low pitch, so it was barely audible.
     I found a door, and this time, instead of looking around mindlessly to find a key, I used my power that I felt coursing through my mind to rip it off its hinges with a flick of my finger. The darts immediately stopped flying toward me from the walls seconds after the door hit the ground. I let my dart-shield fall to the floor, which resulted in a satisfying clattering. Before taking another step (which would have been suicide, as the darts were coated with synthesized black widow venom) I waved my hand and all of the darts littering the floor went flying into the wall next to me.
     I, at last, took the opportunity to look into the room I had just opened. I saw the man who had put me under the last time I was awake, along with a number of other medical-looking people. “Ah, you’ve survived the first day of rehab.” The short man with the glasses said. “And not a scratch on you. Good, good, good. Those darts were coated with synthesized black widow venom.”
     “What kind of rehab IS this? And what did you do to me!?”
“We simply improved you. No cause for anger.”
     “… Improved me?”
“Well, I’d certainly call the addition of telekinesis to one’s skill-set to be an improvement. You do like your new abilities, correct?”
     “Well… yes.”
“Good. I can see that you are the first person for whom the surgery has worked so flawlessly. Some of our test subjects descended into madness after realizing how much power they had.”
     “What happened to them?”
“We had them killed. An angry person with your abilities would be… unstoppable. Law enforcement simply would be no match, and countless people would die without cause.”
     “What exactly did you do to my brain?”
“We streamlined the connections between the neurons, allowing your brain to generate massive electromagnetic fields. The mathematics behind your abilities are extremely complex, so of course to allow them to be practical, we had to ‘program’ the set of mathematical laws associated with your abilities into your subconscious so your abilities would be useable. Perhaps when we completely perfect the method, we’ll make the telekinetic effect weaker. There’s no practical use for abilities of your strength.”
     “Yes, I can’t imagine any.”
“So, you feel alright, John? No headaches?”
     “No, no headaches… And my name is Neligula.”
“What an odd name… Is this your last name?”
     “No. My last name is Octavian.”
“Neligula Octavian? Okay, that’s a great deal more eccentric than John Smith.”
     “Yes, so am I.” I was rapidly regaining my memory. I was remembering why I wandered into this shady clinic in the first place. I had been disowned by all of my closest friends after I slit that man’s throat and tried asking them for help disposing of the body. None of them would help, so I burned the body, and after I learned from the last friend that stayed true to me that the police were after me, I ditched my car and my job. And I wandered the streets for weeks before coming across the flyer on the side of the Dumpster. It changed my life, of course.
     I wandered in, hoping to score some money with which to begin building a new identity. They didn’t ask any questions save, “Are you ready to begin a new life?”
Of course I said yes. And then they brought me into the room in the back. And that’s when my memory ended.
     I couldn’t let them know of my past. I was sure even then that there was more dirt in my past than I remembered. Even the name had been made up. I still didn’t actually remember my name. I know that if they found out what kind of man I am, they would try to take these powers back.
And I wouldn’t have any of that… I liked these powers.

Next Log

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About flaminglog

I am a novelist, a poet, and a musician. I love to create things. That is who I am. Who are you? (I'd love to meet you.)
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4 Responses to >Brain pt. 3

  1. vibe says:

    >how many parts are there?

  2. Anthony A. says:

    >So far, three. I'm posting as I write.

  3. >nice post, how much parts are there going to be?

  4. Anthony A. says:

    >Probably a lot. I can see this story actually going somewhere. The majority of the next few posts will be continuations of previous posts.

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