Tuesday, December 8, 2015

The Multiverse of Earth 8-8-2

When asked to describe the multiverse of Earth 8-8-2, the best way to describe it is to say that "anything is possible".

Imagine for a moment if the Multiverse theory were real. If that were the case, then there are an innumerable amount of possibilities when it comes to what we will discover. Who can say for sure what we will find on the other side?

Earth 8-8-2 explores the possibility of multiple earths lined up in copious amounts. Every one with their own independent species of human; some much like us, others not at all like us.

Earth 8-8-2, which was the 882nd earth discovered, has a problem. Tyrants are hell bent on taking over the planet and no one can do anything to stop them. No one, that is, except for Doctor Frederick Scott.

Earth 8-8-2:
The Genesis Project 


When life becomes unbearable, when evil begets evil, what is the better of two evils to choose from?

For the longest of times, Earth 8-8-2 knew nothing but hardship, pain and suffering. Its people were made to follow unethical demands, submit to a corrupt leadership, to give and not receive. Those in charge took from the people, even taking from those whom had nothing; abused them, enslaved them, and killed them.

The people lived in fear and anguish.

Among them arose a group—The Rebellion—a compilation of residents, military personnel, doctors, scientists and many others, all with the combined goal of ridding Earth 8-8-2 of the brutality.

Within that Rebellion was a man. A man that had high hopes, big dreams and even whilst living in such a repressed society, he knew that he had the capability of freeing them from their oppression, for his ability was in his mind.

Dr. Frederick Scott had an idea, one that he was certain would lead to the freedom of his people. All he needed was the opportunity to show them what he could do.

One day, that favorable moment came.

Chapter 1

Earth 8-8-2

Alternate Parallel Universe

The Year 2014

Beep ... beep ... beep.

Dr. Scott twirled around his laboratory like a ballerina, having memorized every nook and cranny, every curve and corner. Beaker and dropper in his hand, expertly dripping a few tears of some mysterious chemical into the flask.

Mozart’s “Antique Heavy Metal Ballad” blared in the background, and his goggles suddenly became fogged with the puff of fumes that abruptly came spewing from the glass container. It caused his already naturally red skin to momentarily blush into a deep shade of burgundy. His lovely yellow eyes blinked behind the confinements of the plastic as if instinctively protecting themselves from the spatter that never came.

Dr. Scott's head pulled back in surprise, attempting to steer away from any substance that might fly out and splash on his face. Luckily none did.

Inhaling softly, he blew at the smoke, attempting to clear the air in front of him.

Thereafter, the authentic reddish hue of his skin paled the slightest as his stomach twisted into subtle knots. It was a mixture of excitement and worry.

This has to work!

The mahogany spirals of his shaggy hair were damp with sweat from a full night of laborious experimentation. Yellow eyes twinkled as he coaxed the liquefied substance audibly, “Come on baby, do your thing.” The molten element inside began to bubble and fizz. “Yeah baby,” he nodded absentmindedly, “You're doing it.”

With an additional single hard burst, a puff of smoke solidified what was once liquid, turning it into gelatinous matter. “Yes!” cried Dr. Scott, pleased at his achievement.

It was going to work. His experiment was finally going to become a reality—and those who had nay said against his logic would be proven wrong. He was not inept! He was not crazy, nor was he ridiculous. None of his colleagues had faith in his research, but now they'd see.

They would see, and they would honor him. More so, when they saw what his success would do for their world.


Earth 8-8-2:
Genesis' Rebellion

Chapter 1

General Townsen scurried to one of the tunnels which led out of his station. Channels which were miles long, dark and ominous. He jumped into a vehicle and screamed at the driver, “Hurry!”

“Yes, Commander Sir. Right away!” saluted the soldier and turned on the ignition with urgency. Saying nothing more, the soldier took off through the underpasses swerving from one to the next—a labyrinth of passages, none very distinct from the other. Only a person with complete knowledge of where each shaft led knew where he or she might be going.

Such was the criticality of General Townsen’s mien that he could scarcely catch his own breath. “HURRY!” practically screamed General Townsen as he busied himself dialing an enigmatic number into his military issued cellphone. Someone picked up the other line but said nothing, they merely listened for instructions. “Initiate Project Armageddon, pronto!”

“Sir, yes sir!” exclaimed the person on the other end. Then the call was dropped.

Genesis felt a familiar searing sensation in her throat; the one that told her that she needed to feed. The one, that she’d grown to recognize as her second nature.

She had never really been outside of the walls of her confinement, except to visit the library with her father and the few times that Tracy Wilderman took her to the mall. She knew nothing of where to obtain sustenance. But, she knew something … she knew that she was superior to all, so if she needed to feed then all she had to do was take it.

Moments earlier Genesis had landed in a freakishly vacant town. Eerie. Unnerving, even.

Well, Genesis surmised, perhaps to anyone but me. I wonder who is here.

With every gust of wind, Genesis’ mahogany hair lifted, swayed, then fell like a dance. Her tri-colored, red, black and yellow eyes squinted as she used her superhuman vision to scan the premises. Nothing could get away from her unprecedented gaze. Even the slightest movement would and could be seen. The chill in the air did nothing to perturb the scaly suppleness of Genesis’ deep red skin.

Behind the weathered, concave walls of a decaying beige house Genesis saw movement. The look of her vision was akin to projecting an x-ray through night vision spectacles. A richness of blacks, reds, greens and yellows; image negatives, but not.

From such a long distance away Genesis could see a small animal—about a foot in height, no heavier than fifteen pounds—who walked on its hind legs.

A raccoon? she thought, Like the ones on Earth 1-0-0? No, not possible. How could a raccoon get here?

There was a chill that rose and fell on Genesis’ spine, a tingle that told her something was amiss. Something, not quite right. Animals did not travel through the multiverse, so how could this animal resemble an Earth 1-0-0 raccoon? Seconds after pondering the strangeness of the situation Genesis heard a noise which wafted to her hypersensitive hearing from a very long span away.

A twig snapping. She was certain. Genesis turned abruptly to face the direction from whence the noise came, her eyes immediately refocusing on that area.

Not right.

Genesis inhaled deeply attempting to trace a scent, any scent.

Gun powder. A wicked smile cracked her lips as Genesis began to put the pieces of the puzzle together. Pivoting once again to the area where she saw the animal Genesis called, “Traps are a ridiculous notion.” she turned around again towards the opposite direction, “Especially, when trying to trap me.”