An Author's Struggle - What Lies Ahead

Ch 13 - A New Hope

After spending the afternoon together, Murphy got to know Nella better than he did when she was alive. Though they were friends, he tended to keep a boundary around him at all times.

The old man was on the brink, and Murphy didn’t have the heart to let him deal with it alone. So, despite very unwilling to deal with the understated awkwardness, he could only grit his teeth and comfort the man.

A few drinks in, and they were sharing fond memories of her. Another few drinks later, and both men had to stifle their tears to avoid making the situation even more unbearable.

By the time he was out, the old man was passed out, and Murphy had decided to stay in Romania.

He couldn’t pin down a logical reason for it. Granted, it was very cheap and picturesque in the mountains, but there were a hundred other places just as good. 

Booking the cheapest cabin hotel, Morpheus felt his dreams stir that night. 

For the first time in what felt like decades, the doors leading to the ethereal realm he forsook, slowly but surely cracked open.

Swimming in its infinite potential, he felt a pang of regret so strong, no laments could express it. 

He danced among new ideas opening themselves up to him, at no hidden cost. Brief and invaluable glimpses into what could have been had he chosen to stay. There were no traps, no obscure clauses that could be interpreted a dozen different ways. No hostility from his peers. 

There was only abstract beauty, in its most pristine form. His imagination shook from its sealed sarcophagus and regained function, stirring inspiration along with it.

He dreamt. 

It was simple, yet a concept so mysterious no one could quite explain it.

Was it anything but divine intervention for a mere mortal to receive so many ideas overnight? To be blessed with entire lifetimes worth of stories, all without paying anything back…

If only his journey in the dreamscape could be endless… alas, he was a god in name only.

Waking up with a headache, he tried and failed to shake the dizziness from his system. Finding the urge to vomit getting stronger, he could only stop and lament his folly.

‘I should…’ 

Rummaging through the cabin, he failed to find his backpack, and immediately assumed the worst.

“Fucking hell, I knew choosing this place was a mistake. Not one day in, and my shit gets stolen!”

Too drunk to know if he was the one who misplaced it on his way home, or if someone truly stole it, he could only wave it off since he was in a hurry.

Fiddling with his pockets, he ultimately found something to write on. A mottled paper filled with tear stained ink nearly washed off by now, but a paper nonetheless.

Shifting it back and forth, he ultimately found a corner to pen his new ideas down. Surprisingly, it was a poem, something he had little to no experience in writing.

Amidst the misty valley of tears

The dragon’s regret pulses astir.

Awaken by woe from slumber eternal,

Receive its lament, its bequest fatal,

And open thine third eye perennial.

A feeling of sudden relief washed over him just as he inked the last words, as if he had accomplished a monumental task. 

Then, he felt his exhaustion catch up to him and fell back asleep, likely never to remember any of this. 

It was only in the evening of the second day that he awoke, his headache and woes gone like a spell. Refreshed and full of vigor, he stretched almost happily, but then remembered his laptop was stolen!

‘There goes another month of savings…’

Cursing out entire generations of people, he ultimately realized none of it would restore his belongings. After a brief breakthrough into the acceptance stage, he checked his wallet and sighed in relief.

Fortunately, most of his data and works were already stored on a cloud service. The last thing he could afford was to have his drafts fried. It would be the end of him.

As he gathered what little belongings he had on him, he stumbled upon the handwritten note. Briefly skimming the poem, he even cringed a little. It failed to evoke anything special in him.

He considered discarding it, but that stained paper had accompanied him since the start of his journey. As a sucker for memorabilia, he could only pocket it safely.

If the legacy gypsies that once inhabited these lands knew he stumbled on a Numen Code in his dreams, they would surely curse him in turn. Unfortunately, neither he nor they knew of it.

The Divine Keys, The Lost Testaments, The Numen Code, and many other names in languages few people remembered how to pronounce — What were they?

Ancient cults and witch lineages held obscure records of what could be found, but not sought after. A Key from God, which would unlock a mystical road few others had walked before.

So little was known, that even if people had the intact keys before their eyes, they might not know what they opened. 

The Codes could be passed down, but they would do nothing if one didn’t find the respective doors. As for what these seven doors represented, most were frankly clueless. Only a number remained, a hint just as obscure as the keys themselves.

In effect, Murphy had stumbled on a game changing treasure, but had absolutely no idea about it. He came into personal contact with something divine, but in his ignorance continued to stumble about, worrying about mundane problems first.

[i17 VR set. Fully immersive experience, starting at 2999!]

[Microweave digi-key gloves, a replacement for your old keyboard, 449!]

Browsing the latest tech gadgets in a shop, Murphy groaned like an old man, despite only being in his early thirties. Seeing nothing he found usable, he decided to approach a salesperson. 

“Excuse me, where can I see some laptops?”

“A laptop?” the young girl balked, looking him up and down. Despite wearing a polite smile, her eyes flickered with evident disdain, “I’m sorry, sir. We’ve stopped selling those half a decade ago.”

“Is that so?” he mulled briefly, considering his options. It would take months to get used to writing in a virtual environment, and his flow would surely suffer. Not to mention, they were super expensive!

Still lost running calculations, he only snapped out of it when he heard the lass call him a dumb millennial relic, or something to that effect.

“What was that?” his brows rose in accusation. 

“Hm? Nothing, sir. I just asked if you need any more help…”

Staring at the smile plastered on her face — insincere and rigid to trained perfection —  he laughed. 

The moment he put himself in her shoes, he found her pride hilarious. The girl judged him, but was merely a pretty mannequin slaving for minimum wage. He couldn’t even get mad at her, and just waved it off.

He could naturally stir a scene and get her fired, but he couldn’t care less. In her eyes, he was just wasting her time and wasn’t worth the effort. Immaculate customer service was reserved for customers, and he clearly wasn’t one of them.

“Forget it. Have a good one.”

Just as he was about to leave the shop, he gave it another cursory glance and stumbled upon something interesting.

[NeuraBlink! A revolutionary retinal implant. Access the web directly with your mind!]

His curiosity sparked, he drew closer and thoroughly read the advertisement brochure. 

A few moments later, he came before the counter and slammed the paper on top of it, startling the girl behind it.

“This,” he pointed excessively at the beta registrations, “I want you to sign me up for this.”