Utopia

Today is the day I live; today is the day I die. Today was the day I found hope, today will be the day I lose it. Today is October 15th, 2015 and my name is 175-96. It is actually Julie. An odd name for a male, I know, yet it is the name I was given, I suppose, 15 years ago from today. I go by a number as numbers are universal- anyone is able to identify and understand it. I guess I am human, although I’ve lived like a God. I achieved apotheosis today, all those years ago. What constitutes a God, at least in my book, is power- the power of controlling, maintaining and properly harnessing power. Of course there are other aspects to this as well, such as the correct preservation and usage of information, but those are merely minor issues compared to the big picture. In my final moments, I think it best to consider myself a god- for my ego’s sake. Everything else is gone; all I have left are my memories- the transparent, quickly fleeting streams of electrical current passing to and fro in my constantly decaying brain. I may be a God, yet I am filled with sin and virtue- I’ve saved thousands, and hurt millions.

I achieved my unfortunate apotheosis via a simple, child-like notion: what if I had a time machine? An innocent thought, yet one with so much pain and terror attached to it; the notion itself should be a mortal sin upon humanity. If one had a time machine, then one could easily misuse its power and create a world they deem right. This notion, this sin disguised as a virtue, an opportunity to help others, ruined me- it corrupted everything.

Growing up I was alone- I was left to my own vices: Reading, Math, and Science were my best friends. Taking my choice of acquaintances into consideration, it’s natural that I picked up a few things here and there. My favourite subject was science, a friend I frequented most above the rest. The best part about science was its uncanny ability to prove or disprove anything via its laws and theories. When you read a lot of science you tend to learn the advanced stuff pretty fast. I remember when I was about ten and reading books on Quantum Physics and General Relativity- I would try to hypothesize new theories and experiments to further advance my understanding of the subject.

It was on my twelfth birthday when my family was massacred. At the time I was in the kitchen having cheese pizza and fries, and my parents were in the living room by the fireplace, relaxing. My younger sister was playing with her building blocks in front of my parents- all was serene. Then a man with a gun shot at the window of our dining area and broke in. I snuck into the cabinet below our sink and hid. I wouldn't say I was scared, just annoyed. The man began to shout, and from what I could hear, my parents ran to meet him. I could not tell where my sister was, but I did not hear any crying- they probably hid her under the couch and put her pacifier with an elastic cord that went around her head on her. The man began to scream his demands- something about money and righteousness- it all sounded like incoherent nonsense to me. My parents did not give to his demands and, from what I could gather, tried to blitz him and ended up getting shot. My mother began to scream and my father tried to reason with him. The man began to cry and shot them both again- this time they went silent. He began to run around the house and gather what he could. I just sat there curled up, my mind went blank. I stopped thinking and everything seemed like it was closing in on me, and I began pass out. Just as I was about to close my eyes, I heard a cry- it was my sister, Layla. She was only a couple months old, but the man was paranoid- I assume that he did not want any witnesses, and dropped her on her head. She fell silent. Eventually the man left and I sat there in that cabinet for the next few hours till the police showed up.

When they showed up, they asked me all sorts of questions, and I answered them as quickly as I could- I wanted to get the whole ordeal over with. They told me that they would have me live with my mother's sister, but I denied. They said that because I was a minor, I had no say in the matter so I took some things from my house and sold them to get a lawyer to represent me and work to help me gain independence as a legal adult. Eventually I was declared an adult at age thirteen. I moved back into my house and lived off of my parent's money- they had enough to live off of for three lifetimes- I was rich

As both money meant nothing to me and I was left alone my whole life, this change of living conditions was not much of a huge difference. I decided, using the money I was given, I might as well use it to my liking. All of it I spent on one occasion- an experimental machine meant to test a hypothesis I’ve been working on for years now, yet had not had the funds nor capability to test as I was still legally a child.

My theory works as follows: as time-space expands folds along its surface form, causing space-time to be warped. Should one apply pressure on both sides of the fold so that they squeeze together, a wormhole would form allowing things to pass through. However, once reaching the other side, time and space would snap back and cause the entity to pass through to dissipate into nothingness. My machine would hold mass on both sides of the wormhole so it would not snap back and cause the entity to disappear. Furthermore, because mass and energy need to be keep at the same levels on both sides, the machine would transport all mass inside the machine, including the machine itself, and exchange that with extraneous mass from the other side so it would seem that no mass had left and no mass had been gained. Using this machine one could theoretically transport themselves throughout time and space.

After three years of constant working and building, it was done- I made my machine. I felt like a God- O how foolish one can be. After prepping myself for a week, I tested my machine with a live subject- it was the best way to gain information.

My machine was ten feet tall, seven wide. Contrary to the typical look of a time machine, I decided to give mine a rusted, steam-punk look. I packed the machine with the essentials: books, notebooks, pencils, dried food, a water synthesizer, a generator, a phone, an MP3 player, and a television set with DVD player and movies to go along. After saying a couple words and writing my will in the event that my machine imploded into a fiery inferno causing me to fry from the outside slowly and painfully, I went into the machine. I didn’t really have a plan in mind once I had the machine; I just wanted to make it. However, upon the accomplishment of my goal I was faced with a new issue- what will I do with this machine? I thought and an idea came to mind- a marvelously devilishly interesting idea: reenact books. I was going to go back in time and form society to my liking in accordance with the multitude of books I read such as “Brave new world” by Aldous Huxley, “1984” by George Orwell, and “The Republic” by Plato. I was going to make those worlds a reality and judge them as good or bad in an attempt to create the perfect world- my perfect world.

Stepping into the machine I realized I had forgotten something and ran back to get it- my father’s pistol. I figured that I will never know if I would need to use it so it was more of a security thing. Stepping in again, double- no triple checking to see if I had everything I set the machine to 1500- London and hit the button. I didn’t die, although I felt like I was- my body was constantly ripping and dissolving apart then attaching and ripping again all within the time span of five seconds. The pain suddenly stopped and I checked to make sure my body was still intact. There were no abnormalities, no changes I could make out- I felt fine. I wanted to make sure so I spent the next twenty four hours within the machine, constantly checking my vitals like I had read in a book. As far as I was concerned, I had accomplished part one: get there. Now it was time for rest, and thus, I slept.

The night left and the sky in all its blue radiance came back and I awoke. I was excited- If another had seen me, they would liken me to a foolhardy drunk, I am sure. Collecting myself, I opened the door, and left my machine. I found myself upon the floor of a house- the machine had taken me inside the cottage, I suppose, of another and fell into the floor. I climbed out and checked the machine- should any parts be damaged I needed to know immediately. Around the other side I saw red- the machine had landed on a man and killed him. I had never had much a connection with others of my kind so I did not think much of it- uncessecary causality, yes; yet worrying about it would serve no purpose. Moving on, I checked the rest of the machine and it all appeared intact, and thus, I left the abode in search of more interesting things.

The first thing I had noticed about 15th century London was its sun- its unholy bright, unobstructed sun. Then there was the air- O Dear Lord the air! It was splendid- crisp, new, brilliant. The scenery was wondrous- it appeared to be inhabited by a civilization that would destroy the land, yet the contours of the hills and the magnificent ocean heavily opposed it. At the time I had thought, “This would be an excellent time period for my purposes.” I looked around for other people and found myself delighted- they looked like civilized people. They would be easy to take over. They used a form of archaic English, from what I could hear so it would be easy to communicate with them. This was the perfect location: Brittan was the world’s largest military power, English was the language everyone used, save for the French, of course, and they were weak- oh so weak. This would be the place, yes this would be it! My reign would begin here.

I go t to work immediately- first I acquired the proper attire, lest I stick out like a fox among sheep, then I got myself used to the language to the point where I could speak it- this all took about a month to prepare. Once I was ready, I set my plan in action- I would perform the simplest of acts in order to begin my rule- I would disgrace the King. To them the act of disgracing a king would be equivalent to high treason; to me however, it would be the same as making fun of a bug before crushing it. The King at the time was Henry VII, first of the monarchs from the house of Tudor. I got myself ready, arranged all the precautions and things I would need, and went to the streets.

I found myself in awe of everyone- personally I enjoyed the culture: the way they spoke, how they acted, the names- everything was interesting. I first spoke to a homeless man- at the time I felt they could give me some valuable information as to where everything was and how life worked. After a little persuasion, also known as threatening him and his family, he told me the location of the castle and who to talk to. I said goodbye to my new acquaintance, disposed of him, and went to the castle- my future headquarters. Upon my arrival to the castle I screamed at the top of my lungs: “O king, whose might is apparently God--given and good, prithee, ne’er claim to be of God. Thy acture as king is foolhardy at peak- I believe it best the people make nothing of you, as even the basilisk himself was’t a baw-cock compared to thee.”

Needless to say the King was just the tad mad about my somewhat mad utterance of words. The guards came to me and kept me in-between their bayonets as they walked me to the king’s throne room. When I arrived at the foot of the throne I lifted my head to see, barely three feet from my nose, a red-faced man whose hair needed an urgent trimming, lest he look like a tomato with an unkempt wig. When I looked upon his face, he began to scream- scream an utterance of incomprehensible jargon. While his words were obscure, his tone was quite clear. If I remember correctly, he called me a waste of meat and other delightful words to that effect. When he had his fill of catharsis, he sentenced me to death and asked me if I had any last words, “dos’t thou have any last words?" I told him “yes, just three”- a joke I heard once by a comedy group by the name of ‘The Whitest Kids U’Know’, and left it at that. Quite baffled at my remark, the kind soul sent me away. However, before the guards escorted me out, I reached under my shirt, aimed, and shot the king. Standing for a brief second in awe, he soon fell to my feet, and the throne was empty. As the crimson, somewhat viscose and sticky liquid pooled around me, there was an uproar- “O Dear God, save us!” or a shrill “AHHHHHHHHH!” reverberated throughout the hall with several echos to follow. Before the guards could attempt to sedate me, I shot them too, and they too fell to my feet. I felt absolutely great! the rule of life and death- the power to control another’s fate and decide for them whether they will have a future or not was exhilarating.

I got up and walked to the foot of the throne, climbed up, and sat in it. The throne was mine. I declared my name: 175-96. I made my name a number because it eliminated any sort of humanism with me- no one would think me soft. My name wasn’t human at all- it gave off an almost mechanical overtone- I felt no emotion for them and this name exemplified it. However, while this was what I wanted, it posed another issue, how would I relate to the people and effectively rule? This was the hard part- how would I gain everyone’s acceptence? There was no question that I was the superior power here, yet people tend to disobey if the ruler is forceful. I reviewed my course of action and laid a claim to the throne. While this was pointless, I felt that I might as wel humour my subject’s traditions. After clearly marking my terratory, I went to the House of Commons as well as the House of Lords in order to “voice my opinion” and become the legal monarch of England. After a week of constant “negotiating”, I was the legal ruler of great britan. This was where the hard part would be- the reformation of London into the form I desired.

Brave new world would be the first world to be created by my hand. The tale by Aldous Huxley depicts what some might view as a dystopia where sex and drugs are used to control the masses. Furthermore they are, before birth, placed into a caste system and learn to live without the idea of love or monogomy. People are tought this from a young age and infact, in the book, kindergardeners are taught hands-on sex education. While this all might be seen as dystopian, with the removal of the emotional connection to sex, jealousy would be gone; with the replacement of religion with drugs, it would be easier to control the masses, and they would have a much more exhilerating experience; furthermore, with the installation of a caste system, the oraganization of people would be much more efficient and proper. This would be my first creation- bringing to life the creation of Mr. Huxley. Of course this would take a while- it would take years, but it was what I wanted and thus, I did it. After ten years of continuous work, I did it- I made my first attempt at a perfect world.

The conditions for this world were as follows, told from the perspective of a person from conception to death: the conception was preformed via In Vitro fertilization with genetic materials from labeled test tubes provided from the various castes, or classes, of the world. Once the embryo is formed, it is chemically treated to alter the embryo’s physical state after grown. After the embryo has formed into a human baby, it is raised via hypnopeadia- the unconscious conditioning via lessons taught while asleep, or, in other words, a track plays while the baby sleeps and the track will relay information to the baby’s brain, causing the baby to learn the information while asleep. While in kindergarten, the children begin sex education and are thought to play naked and have sex with each other- they are thought from an early age that sex should be used to release stress and that sexual promiscuity is good, this way they are prevented from forming meaningful relationships as there is no connection between sex and emotion. From school, depending on their caste, they enter a job which suits them- if they are an Alpha then they are given high positions, if they are a Gamma, they are given low positions. Their genetic parents and types of chemical treatment dictate which caste a person belongs to. When they have free time, they may participate in a large series of activities such as golf or travel. They are paid in the hallucinogenic drug soma in an attempt to further control the people via an artificial release from stress when sex doesn’t work. After living for approx thirty to forty years, before they begin to look old, they are disposed of and converted to ash and phosphorous. The phosphorous is then used in the production of fertilizer. The life cycle of the average citizen is just that- In Vitro to ash and phosphorous.

Now, there were various rebellion groups, but I dealt with them all accordingly- hypnopaedia and, how should I say, physical reinforcement, were quite helpful tools. By this time I was twenty six and intoxicated- intoxicated on drugs: soma, as was used in the book, sex, as it was a part of everyday life, and power- I ruled over everything and everyone. I had established a false democracy in order to give the people a false sense of power and played on this to keep my rule in check- how would one in one section of my new world, know what another in another section was thinking? One person was unaware of the entire country’s state, and due to this ambiguity, it was easy to install false ideas and opinions and make them truths. One example would be when I wiped out (former) Greenland- I told section 5-A, (former) Russia, that section 15-B was plotting to over throw the government and if they did so, life as they knew it, would end. Where section 5-A was told to eliminate the threat of 15-B, section 15-B was told to be wary as there were terrorists among them. And just like that, section 15-B, or Greenland, was gone all because I was bored and looking for a thrill. I was a maniac, I see that now.

I lived in this world for approximately thirty years: thirty years of drugs to stay sane, thirty years of anonymous sex to keep it all together, thirty years of sickening, twisting, infernal power. After that I left- this world was bad, it was corrupt. I couldn’t take it- the drugs, the sex, the power- it was crushing me, I had never felt so alone before in my life. I was diluted: this world is horrible: kids having sex, people replacing God with drugs, for Christ’s sake racism was rampant. The worst part was the people giving up. This was how life was for them- no emotional attachment, just solitude with the illusion of attachment via sex. Towards 1530 suicide was rampant- suicides of all sorts: familial, mass, random, ceremonial, crazed- suicide, suicide, suicide. People were dying left and right- my followers were leaving me in the hopes to find a better god than the one they could see with their own eyes… no, I was not a god to them, I was the devil. My attempt to become their Yahweh ended up in me becoming their Lucifer. I couldn’t stand it, thus, I left. No, I ran- I called it leaving, but in reality I was running.

Brave New World, world one, a complete failure. Reason: depopulation via extreme rate of suicides leading to potential self-inflicted genocide.

Time to move on; time to go to my second attempt at a perfect world: 1984. I thought that I had known my mistakes and thought I wouldn’t make them again- my ignorance was horrendous. I readied my machine for another round. I had to go to a different timeline in the past- thanks to the butterfly theory being a reality, I was able to, again, go back in time, but to a slightly different timeline. Put simply the butterfly theory says that for every action, there form two paths for time to follow: one in which the action, no matter how insignificant, takes place, and one in which the action does not take place. My machine would take me to a different timeline where something that happened in the one we are in now didn’t happen. I set it for both the same time period, and same location and hovered my hand over the button. I didn’t want to go yet- I remembered I still had one last thing to do.

I went to the castle- the pool of dried blood was still there- I never really saw it as much of a problem, so I forgot about it. I yelled at the nearest maid “get me a bucket of water and rag NOW!” I wasn’t the nicest of people. When she came back I snatched the rag and bucket from her and told her to leave. When I no longer saw of her, I got to work. I spent the next couple hours wiping and cleaning the pool till the floor regained its original marble finish. I didn’t know why I did it then, nor do I currently know I why did it then either, it just felt like I had to. Maybe I wanted to make some attempt at amends, maybe I couldn’t bear leaving a mess before I left, or maybe I was trying to be a nice guy- prove I wasn’t as much a monster as I thought I was. Whatever the reason was, it’s moot now. I returned the bucket, mumbled an apology under my breath to the maid, returned to my machine, and left.

The travel was just as painful and terrifying as before- I felt myself being torn apart, falling into shreds of shreds, being compiled into my usual self, and then being torn apart again- my skin was falling off, my muscles were unraveling, my bones were falling- all that remained intact and standing was my nervous system, as far as I could tell. I assume it was due to the large amounts of energy constantly being transported by it, however, as for the other body parts, they were just there. This time it was longer- ten seconds. Ten seconds of falling apart and then being put back together giving me an awesome amount of pain.

I blacked out.

I awoke on the floor of my machine with a massive headache around dusk. I couldn’t get up, my migraine was incapacitating. I laid there on the floor for about an hour, cowering, until it started to die down. I should have brought medication. I got up and sat down- I was unable to proceed. I wanted to sit down and relax, but I knew I needed to look around and make sure I wasn’t anywhere populated where people could spot me and break my machine. Slowly I got out, holding on tightly to the perimeter of my machine. I walked around and was delighted to know that I was in the same place as before- the same cottage, the same amount of depression into the floor, and the same dead guy. Just like before it was pointless to think much of him- so I left him there.

Moving on and back into my machine, I decided it was a little time for some relaxation. I set up my generator, plugged in my TV and DVD player and started playing a couple classics: the shining and a clockwork orange. I spent the next couple hours watching some of the greatest pieces of cinematography ever made. After the films finished I charged my MP3 player and listened to some music as I fell asleep.

I awoke in pain; my entire body was on fire- the time traveling was beginning to take its toll on me. I wanted to rest, but I hadn’t the time for that- I needed to get to work. I checked my vitals again- my blood pressure was lower than normal, I heart rate was slow, and my body felt weak. I had no choice- I required rest again, lest I collapse in action. I hated it, but I needed another’s day rest.

I awoke again; aside from my own restlessness, I felt fine. I got out of my recliner and out of the machine, stretched, and left the cottage. I got myself situated again- food, apparel, reacquainted myself with the language and set out to find the same man as before who helped me locate the castle and identify whom to speak to- if there were any changes from last time, I needed to know about it.

I found him at the same place as before- a smelly, dark, moist alleyway. I intimidated him a little and he told me everything I needed to know- it had appeared that there had been no differences between this world and the previous which pleased me greatly. I did the same as before- disposed of him, took his clothes and went in search of water to wash his liquids off the clothes. I went to a nearby lake and began to undress when I froze. Looking back at me from the water was a sight most mysterious- it was me, but a younger me; I had regained my youth- I was back to fifteen. Looking back maybe the pain from time traveling was the pain of my youth returning to me. I finished cleaning off my newly acquired clothes and went to meet the King.

I was in a bad mood by the time I was in front of the bug’s house, so when I screamed, I accidentally used a couple expletives I honestly shouldn’t have. At any rate, he was, once again, furious. Just like before, thanks to his ego, I was dragged to his feet by his way-too-big henchmen. And again, just like before, a couple inches too close to my face, he began to scream at me. All the mouthwash in the world couldn’t save the godforsaken land that was his infernal mouth. When he sentenced me to death, I shot him, when the henchmen tried to apprehend me, I shot them, when the maids began to scream, I shot one, and told the other to be quiet- I had a headache. I commanded the maid to clean the mess up. Sighing, I went back to my throne. For the next couple days I did what I did last time and fully established my rule- the age of King 175-96 began, again.

After fully regaining my power, I began construction of my new world- 1984. This world would be particularly tricky to create as the novel depicted cameras within T.V.s which would steam information to a large central hub of information gathering so that everyone was always watched. Due to my current time period, this would be impossible. Giving it a couple days thought, I remembered Nazi Germany- they had a secret police which would watch the people. This was a magnificent idea, although it posed one problem- if the police were to purposely cause pain to a citizen, it would be their word against the citizen’s. Thus, this idea needed something more- an internal division for sorting out such matters: another tier of police which would watch the secret police secretly. Odd? quite. Did it work? to an extent. I spent the next number of years working on that system, trying to put it in place, and making it effective.

During the construction of this world there were a multitude of events to arise which hindered the building of my world such as riots, attempted mutinies, and attempts to persuade me via sex and drugs. Foolish attempts, of course, but why not play along? While I was humouring these attempts, I soon became addicted- not to the drugs, not even to the sex, but to a girl. It was out of character for me to let something come before my job, but she had me absolutely entranced by her beauty.

I had met her at one of the attempts to persuade me via sex- a group of people had sent her to me in an attempt to kill me in my sleep- keep in mind I was in the body of a fifteen year old. Once she got to my humble abode, she began to seduce me- keep in mind she was fifteen as well. Thinking back, her parents must’ve really hated me- hated me to the point of sending their one and only fifteen year old daughter in order to seduce a tyrant. After seducing me and luring me to my bedchamber, we had sex-keep in mind I was fifty plus years old mentally. Whether that is creepy or not isn’t for me to decide- I’ve done enough judging in my life. Nonetheless, she didn’t kill me that night- she cried. I wasn’t the greatest person, sure, but even I had morals- one of which involved making sure that I never see a girl cry. I was helpless against her, so I asked her. She told me that she was forced to do this and that she never wanted any part of it. I was shocked- this girl didn’t want to kill me? After everything that I had done, she didn’t want to kill me? Unbelievable, simply unbelievable. I put that aside for the time being- what mattered then was her wellbeing, not my silly ponderings. Against my better judgment, I let her stay the night in my bed while I slept on the floor.

The next morning I awoke before she did, she seemed much more at ease than she was last night. I had a maid fix us both breakfast and my assistants clear my schedule for the day, I had to know more about her. I waited in the dining hall for her to wake up so I could speak to her- she arrived about half an hour or so later hungry and a little tired. I welcomed her, said good morning, and ate with her. While we were having breakfast I asked her about herself and why she didn’t kill me. She told me that no matter who the person was, she never wanted to harm another human being. This was foreign to me- why not? Was she mentally incapable of doing such a thing? Was there a person who possessed such virtue? At any rate, this still was not the time for this; there was an issue- my being alive. What would we do now? She didn’t kill me, and as soon as I stepped out, they would know, and they would kill her the next time they could for betraying them. We were trapped.

I thought about how we were to deal with this- should I play dead? No, if I did that anarchy would begin. Should I kill her? No, I couldn’t manage it- something inside me wouldn’t allow for that. Should I send her away in secret? No- what if one were to find her and bring her back here? She’d be kilt in an instant. There were no options save for one- a most undesirable one: make her join me. This was the only option: if I let her go they’d kill her, if I didn’t, I could protect her. I had no choice, I had to make her join me and stay in the castle with me. Normally this wouldn’t be an issue- my word was law and my law was a divine command, but for her it was different. I figured that she had shown me kindness; it was only fair to show her the very same kindness. Thus, I pleaded with her to stay- I didn’t want her to die. She was hesitant at first, but she soon agreed. Thankful, I left to continue my day and get back on schedule- this affair had preoccupied me for hours- hours I could’ve easily used to better reach my goal. I moved on to more important issues- the language.

In the novel 1984 by George Orwell, language is constantly being changed and broken down in order to remove the ability to think ill of the governing powers. Furthermore, the government uses language to promote itself via a cognitive trap of sorts named doublethink. The entire grammatical system was altered by removing words and altering the syntax in such a way as to change the citizen’s thought patterns entirely- it was brainwashing via changing the language. It was brilliant! This would be the first thing I would impose upon my ever-so-easy-to-breakdown denizens. This was the most important step in creating this world- after this would come surveillance, after the surveillance would come the various ministries Mr. Orwell wrote about in his book: the ministries of truth, peace, love, and plenty. These agencies dealt with the control of information, war, punishments, and economic affairs respectfully. Once these were founded, it would be complete- my world would be complete.

Thirty years later it was done, I had founded my 1984 in 1530 London. Along the way I had married, had a child, killed all those who stood before me, and maintained rule- I was a god once again, and that was my perfect world, for the time being at least. The girl I had met years prior’s name was Alexandria and she was my wife. I’m fuzzy on the details, but if memory serves me correctly, we got married on the fifth anniversary of the ministry of truth opening its doors for the first time. I was euphoric- I had everything: money, power, a beautiful wife, and an intelligent and obedient child by the name of Hazel, life was good.

One day that all changed, while I was doing maintenance on my machine, there was a riot, a large riot with people, a lot of people stampeding to my walls. This wasn’t a mere riot- this was a war. They barged in, killed my guards, broke into my room killed my wife and child and smeared their blood along the walls. I had only found out about their demise when I heard somebody in the street gloating about how they killed the king’s family and desecrated their bodies. I had failed. Not only had I failed in making my creation, I had failed my family and myself. I stayed in my machine, I didn’t want to go anywhere, all I wanted to do was put my father’s gun in my mouth and pull the trigger. In fact, I did do that. I quickly realized that I had used up all the bullets I had on killing my predecessor and his guards twice. I couldn’t help but laugh- I had failed again.

1984, world two, another complete failure. Reason: civil war and death of wife and child.

I couldn’t kill myself now- I wouldn’t let those monsters kill me and I definitely wouldn’t let myself die in vain. I had to live- just because I had no wife or child anymore doesn’t mean my job was done. I forced myself to go back in time again- this was my last chance at a utopia: Socrates’ republic. If this didn’t work, then that was it. I gathered myself, regained composure, made sure everything was okay with the machine, and left to a different timeline.

I didn’t feel anything while traveling this time. No, that’s a lie; I felt an odd numbness- a numbness with a catatonic quality to it. The travel also seemed quicker- maybe I was just so dazed that I couldn’t keep track of time. I arrived at the same place and time as previously. I couldn’t get up- it wasn’t pain or anything of that sort, I just couldn’t get myself up- I couldn’t move at all. I just laid there, staring off into the distance, contemplating God-knows-what. The seconds ticked by quickly, the minutes followed in suit, and I was just there, in the same chair as all those times before, frozen. Before I knew it, I had fallen asleep and been transported into another dimension- one of joy and happiness. In this place I had Alexandria and Hazel again and we were on a balcony, looking over the ocean. It was serene, the picture of a loving family. Then, just as soon as my dream had come, a nightmare had come to take its place. The image shattered- a crowed came with pickaxes and torches, red in the eyes and steam forming around their crowns. The mob had broken into my castle and into my room. I screamed and fought, but my arguing and fighting were futile- they had snatched my wife and child from my arms and pinned them to the floor. They had grabbed my arms and secured me in such a way so that I could not fight back. I just cried and said apologies. “I’m sorry; I’m sorry… forgive me. Please, let them go, they have done no wronging!” I sobbed, to which they laughed. The women in the crowd who had pinned my wife to the floor positioned her head so that she faced Hazel. She was telling Hazel to calm down and that everything would be okay. They slammed Alexandria’s head into the floor. Over and over again they smashed her face into the marble until there was nothing left to bash in. Hazel was in an uproar and I was kneeling, stunned. I didn’t blink, I didn’t make a sound- I couldn’t see, I couldn’t hear. My wife, the sole person who I had loved more than myself had died in front of my eyes in unjust penance for my unjust transgressions. The next part was the worst of it. They didn’t kill Hazel- they tortured her for hours in front of me. They… did things… inhuman things. These weren’t people anymore- they were monsters, demons- no! they were devils. I had done this, this was my entire fault. Hazel died. My daughter had died. I felt hate, unimaginable hate. They began to crowd me, slowly. Just when they were to strike me, I awoke, sweating and in tears.

I picked myself up- I was fueled by rage at this point, pure rage. I checked my machine- the man was still there, between my machine and the floorboards, only this time, it wasn’t just him- there was another body there too, probably his wife. I was too mad to wonder who that was or feel bad, so I turned and forgot about them. I did what was becoming the usual protocol and went to the homeless man to get some clothes. At this point I wasn’t worried about any sort of change in the timelines or anything to that nature, I just needed some catharsis. I killed him again. I went to the same pond as last time to clean the clothes and found myself young again. At this point I was eighty years old and once again in the body of a fifteen year old.

I wanted to move fast, but I couldn’t. One of my virtues was my carefulness. I had to make sure everything would work like clockwork. I checked my gun and remembered that I had no bullets left; I would have to secure some. There was no way anyone would sell bullets to a child, so I had to make my own. This wouldn’t be that much of a hard task since I learned how to make them in a book I read a while ago. It took about a week to make the bullets- while I wanted to move quickly; moving without the proper preparations would be unwise. I moved on to the castle.

Just like usual, I insulted his majesty, he demanded I be at his feet, he threatened me, I shot him, the guards attempted to stop me, I shot them, the maids began to scream, and I made them shut up. I staggered to my old seat and did something rather odd and out of character- I laughed. I laughed and laughed- I seemed like a crazed maniac to all the on-lookers. Over the next couple weeks I went about business as usual and secured my rule once again. This was my last chance at this- I would make Socrates’ republic and realize my dream of founding a perfect world. I was eighty then, they say that wisdom comes with age- apparently I was an exception.

The guidelines for this world would follow Plato’s republic to the letter, just as Socrates’ would’ve wanted. I established the social system first and solidified the three classes in his republic from auxiliaries to guardians to philosopher kings. After the castes I started working on the flow of information as well as the economic stability of the state. From there, I founded the other miscellaneous parts of the state such as regulations on art and mating lotteries in order to obtain the perfect generation of humans which exemplify all the qualities of a “good” person according to Socrates.

This took the longest time to fully establish- eighty years. Eighty years I spent working on my final world. This was my magnum opus, I spent more time here than either of my previous two worlds. Just like the worlds before, there were a large sum of mishaps to stop construction and all of which I dealt with with speed and an inhuman ruthlessness. I was a monster who only cared about results. While it may have seemed like that before, this time it was different, I felt nothing- all I wanted were results and as long as I got those I was fine. Of course, with eighty years of continuous work, I had experienced more than my fair share of stress. To cope with the stress, I drowned myself in sex and drugs- I was an addict. Whenever I saw someone of whom I fancied, I had my way with them, and then discarded of them. I hated myself and I was just looking for a way to express my hatred without having to deal with it by drowning myself in whatever I could to feel better. From sex, I turned to drugs. Marijuana was a personal favourite due to its calming effects. Eighty years I spent like this- it was miserable and pathetic.

I thought that this was it- this was the perfect world that I had so long for sought out for; but of course, it ended. A rebellion which had been brewing for years soon set its plan into action and attacked the capital. The auxiliaries- the farmers and hunters, and the guardians- the military, had come after me with a vengeance. It started with fires- they set the land aflame. All the houses, all the crops, had burnt down. They began to form a mob and rush the capital just like the world previously. I wondered if I had unintentionally set a singularity or if this was the hand of fate. Then I thought better of it, this train of thought was pointless- I had a rebellion to deal with.

I had two possible courses of action- leave, or fight. If I was thinking logically, I would’ve left, but I wasn’t. I decided to stay and fight. They came to the castle in frenzy- there were a large mass of people whose faces were red with anger and others whose faces were black with despair. Some had guns, some had axes, others had knifes, and others had pitchforks and torches. This reminded me of Frankenstein when all the villagers went to the castle ready to kill the monster living inside armed with pitchforks and torches. However, there was one difference- Frankenstein didn’t have cannons or bombs. From my balcony I threw bomb after bomb into the crowd, killing as many as I could. After I ran out of bombs, I ran to the cannons lining the walls. While running from place to place, they shot their rifles and threw their cleavers and weapons at me, hoping to kill me, the old man, as he tried to run from place to place. None of them succeeded in killing me, but a couple grazed me. I shot as many cannons as I could by myself- my living staff had decided to, let’s say, opt out, rather than pick sides. I spent the next couple hours killing as many of my citizens as I could. In the end, thanks to my walls, they were gone. Those who fought died and those who ran committed suicide. It was genocide on both parties’ sides. I killed my own people and they killed themselves. No one was left- I was alone again.

Alone.

I blacked out- I’m not sure what happened for the next couple hours, all I know is that when I came to, I was in my machine, clad in blood and other bodily fluids. I was in a daze when I came to, and my body moved on its own- October 15th, 2015 showed on the monitor and I hit the button to go back.

I arrived at my old home, fifteen again, writhing in pain. I waited for the borderline unbearable pain to go away, and crawled out. I went to my fathers’ cabinet and took some of his liquor. I found one of his other guns and took the ammunition out. I laid out the ammunition on the floor next to my father’s other gun- a revolver. After laying out the ammunition and setting up a camera, I told my story and this is where we are now. I currently have a revolver capable of holding six rounds with me and six rounds of ammunition to go along. I intend to go out on my own terms and nobody else’s- I’ve let fate run its course long enough, now it was my time to take control of fate- my final act of defiance. Maybe this way I’ll achieve the perfect world- a world without me. I’ve saved thousands- thousands of homeless and people who had lost hope had regained purpose in life when I introduced jobs and places in society for them. I’ve killed millions- millions of people had either been killed or killed themselves, including the people of whom I had previously helped.

As of right now I’m going to start playing Russian roulette and sing until a bullet passes through my brain and renders me unable to go any farther. Here I go:

First round: piano man by Billy Joel.

Its nine o clock on a Saturday, regular crowd shuffles in… *click*

There’s an old man sitting next to me, making love to his tonic and gin… *spin*

He says ‘son can you play me a memory, I’m not really sure how it goes, but it’s sad and its sweet and I knew it complete when I wore a younger man’s clothes… *trigger*

No dice, next round, same song

Now john at the bar is a friend of mine, he gets me my drinks for free… *reload and spin*

And he’s quick with a joke or to light up ya smoke, but there’s some place that he’d rather be… *click*

He says ‘Bill I believe this is killing me’ as a smile ran away from his face, ‘well I’m sure that I could be a movie star, if I could get out of this place’…*trigger*

Darn, again it didn’t work. Same song, round three

Sing us a song you’re the piano man, sing us a song tonight…*another bullet, spin*

Well we’re all in the mood for a melody and you’ve got us feelin alright…*panting*

Goodbye

*bang*