Cli-Fi
John J. Falco
The story has changed drastically, folks but this intro flows much better and ties everything together. I've never felt so good about an intro though it hasn't really been proof-read to a huge extent. Hope you all feel the same. Sorry for the profanity, that's the characters dirty mind not mine 
After a few more delirious moments. Henry felt himself being lifted and as the world leveled out it seemed to become even more blurry. His eyes got heavy, as he felt himself slipping in and out of consciousness. Through some miracle Henry Wilson was able to make out the last thing he had ever heard his father say to him, “This is for the best son. This is for The Constant.”
Those words have haunted him ever since…
He shifted with disgust, in his chair in an effort to look away from the pink pests. That’s all they were, the ****ing pests bothered everyone, and it didn’t even matter what any one person was doing at any particular time. The timestream was getting polluted with the ****ing things, and humanity was getting sick of it. Though, Henry was simply annoyed at them, he was even more perplexed by this illness which had caught him completely by surprise! As he touched his left ear he winced and he felt a part of the inner ear melt off and evaporate leaving a trail of dead skin flakes floating up into nothing.
This disease didn’t make him swear off time travel like a lot of his pansy co-workers. In fact it made him love it all the more, but it was for a different sort of ridiculousness. The politics, the religions, and the idiots who were exploited for the personal gain of the Master Bloodlines—not that he would ever be apart of such a corrupt hierarchy. Henry loved time travel so much that he shaped his entire life around its tricky precision points, various events of causality, and singularity in order to make sure things went smoothly for everybody else and that things didn’t get too corrupted.
As much of the modern world embraced the treachery of time travel. He had made a name for himself in the industry as a sort of a legend. So now he sat uncomfortably in the waiting room at Yester-year’s Temporal Hospital while a thousand eyeballs were on him using various internet-connected platforms too numerous to mention. Here, on the outskirts of some random not particularly well-regulated timeline with little to no financial prospects to speak of, he couldn’t help fight the feeling that he had been there before.
It was odd that he couldn’t quite place this feeling of déjà vu, because he was usually very good at pinpointing where it came from. What was even worse for him was that something made him reluctant to go in the first place. Though, due to the annoyingly routine ear check-ups that his brother Tomas just happened to do while he was sleeping in the middle of the night; and thanks to the incessant nagging of his little brother. Henry decided to grant the stupid little telepath his wishes and go see a doctor.
It was ridiculous, he thought as he scratched at his mostly chewed up left ear. The notion that he, Henry Wilson could get sick from time travel was not supposed to be in the cards. He had checked, double-checked, and triple-checked. It wasn’t as if he checked because he was curious. He checked because it was kind of his job to do so. According to official records it never happened nor was going to, so why was it?
Henry sat back against the pale white wall in the waiting room, eyes closed, while these thoughts swam around in his mind. He tapped his foot on the pure white tiles to a beat that would be unknowable to the people in this timeline for the next twenty years, as he continued his thoughts.
His ears perked up as he heard more flapping in the background and saw that on the animated poster another flying pig had joined his friend. He cursed at the pigs—widely considered the eyes and ears of the government—under his breath, for the thousandth time, as the nurse called out his name.
“Mr. Wilson?”
Henry stood up quite eloquently and allowed the nurse to show him the way to his room. She seemed flustered and very emotional as she showed him to the patient seat. “I’m sorry, but are you the Henry Wilson? You started the Constant Riots right?”
Henry sighed and then smiled down at her. As much as he would like to forget that chaotic moment in time, it was sort of his claim to fame and for some reason made him a renegade of sorts in these parts. It didn’t even make sense for various temporal logic that he’d rather not argue about in a relatively quiet doctor’s office. So he just nodded, and the nurse had the sense to get the hint. He figured it would be a cool story to brag about to her friends.
Entering was Dr. Henrique Emmanuel a short chubby man with a very ancient Chinese bloodline some say went all the way back to the Mao Dynasty. An expert in all forms of biotechnology, chemistry, and various holistic and mythical healing practices. A Master in his own right.
The two men both embraced each other like a pair of good friends.
“You’re brother gave us quite a scare next week. Is he doing ok?”
Henry nodded his head, “Luckily that incident has not occurred yet for me. So all is good, however, he has pointed out some concerns about my own health which is the purpose of my visit.”
“Please, do tell. How is the ear?” Dr. Emmanuel said that in a way that made Henry suspicious. “How did you know I was going to be asking about my ears?” He asked the good doctor.
Dr. Emmanuel nodded his head. “Surely you know all too well that we Masters get just as much access to the time-stream as you programmers do right? It especially helps my medical practice in an attempt find the cure.”
Of course, Henry knew this all too well but even he didn’t know what was wrong with his ears and he never disclosed this particular problem to anyone other than his brother’s persistent telepathic abilities.
“This is a ****ing mystery doc, I don’t know where this sh*t came from. It’s entirely out of left field for me, and that’s saying something. I hope you have made some developments in finding a cure.” Apart from his brother, Dr. Emmanuel was probably one of Henry’s most trustworthy confidant’s and it was like they could tell each other everything! So he wondered why the doctor seemed to be hiding foreknowledge about the illness. Henry intended to find out whatever secrets he held....
Prologue:
As Henry Wilson’s world disappeared and the rhythmic rapping of wings was heard somewhere in the distance and his ears felt like they were burning. The bright lights whooshed faster and faster overhead, making him dizzy, or was that the medication? Henry, thought as he tried to remember what was going on. He knew he was in some sort of treatment center but he couldn’t quite make out what his father was saying and he couldn’t remember why he needed to be there in the first place. He could see an unrecognizable man keeping some of the wires that hung above him, steady as they raced the bed down the corridors. The man looked rushed as he kept looking around for some unknown adversary.After a few more delirious moments. Henry felt himself being lifted and as the world leveled out it seemed to become even more blurry. His eyes got heavy, as he felt himself slipping in and out of consciousness. Through some miracle Henry Wilson was able to make out the last thing he had ever heard his father say to him, “This is for the best son. This is for The Constant.”
Those words have haunted him ever since…
Chapter One: The Last Cry of the Masters
All the Time Travel Industry needed a good dose of actual ****ing science, Henry Wilson snickered and sighed to himself as he stared at the ridiculous poster of the flying pig on the wall. The moving picture of the city skyline and the animated words which read “Hang in there, always looking out for you,” didn’t do anything to help the way he felt. The temporal hospital’s fluorescent neon lights only made him more nauseous.He shifted with disgust, in his chair in an effort to look away from the pink pests. That’s all they were, the ****ing pests bothered everyone, and it didn’t even matter what any one person was doing at any particular time. The timestream was getting polluted with the ****ing things, and humanity was getting sick of it. Though, Henry was simply annoyed at them, he was even more perplexed by this illness which had caught him completely by surprise! As he touched his left ear he winced and he felt a part of the inner ear melt off and evaporate leaving a trail of dead skin flakes floating up into nothing.
This disease didn’t make him swear off time travel like a lot of his pansy co-workers. In fact it made him love it all the more, but it was for a different sort of ridiculousness. The politics, the religions, and the idiots who were exploited for the personal gain of the Master Bloodlines—not that he would ever be apart of such a corrupt hierarchy. Henry loved time travel so much that he shaped his entire life around its tricky precision points, various events of causality, and singularity in order to make sure things went smoothly for everybody else and that things didn’t get too corrupted.
As much of the modern world embraced the treachery of time travel. He had made a name for himself in the industry as a sort of a legend. So now he sat uncomfortably in the waiting room at Yester-year’s Temporal Hospital while a thousand eyeballs were on him using various internet-connected platforms too numerous to mention. Here, on the outskirts of some random not particularly well-regulated timeline with little to no financial prospects to speak of, he couldn’t help fight the feeling that he had been there before.
It was odd that he couldn’t quite place this feeling of déjà vu, because he was usually very good at pinpointing where it came from. What was even worse for him was that something made him reluctant to go in the first place. Though, due to the annoyingly routine ear check-ups that his brother Tomas just happened to do while he was sleeping in the middle of the night; and thanks to the incessant nagging of his little brother. Henry decided to grant the stupid little telepath his wishes and go see a doctor.
It was ridiculous, he thought as he scratched at his mostly chewed up left ear. The notion that he, Henry Wilson could get sick from time travel was not supposed to be in the cards. He had checked, double-checked, and triple-checked. It wasn’t as if he checked because he was curious. He checked because it was kind of his job to do so. According to official records it never happened nor was going to, so why was it?
Henry sat back against the pale white wall in the waiting room, eyes closed, while these thoughts swam around in his mind. He tapped his foot on the pure white tiles to a beat that would be unknowable to the people in this timeline for the next twenty years, as he continued his thoughts.
His ears perked up as he heard more flapping in the background and saw that on the animated poster another flying pig had joined his friend. He cursed at the pigs—widely considered the eyes and ears of the government—under his breath, for the thousandth time, as the nurse called out his name.
“Mr. Wilson?”
Henry stood up quite eloquently and allowed the nurse to show him the way to his room. She seemed flustered and very emotional as she showed him to the patient seat. “I’m sorry, but are you the Henry Wilson? You started the Constant Riots right?”
Henry sighed and then smiled down at her. As much as he would like to forget that chaotic moment in time, it was sort of his claim to fame and for some reason made him a renegade of sorts in these parts. It didn’t even make sense for various temporal logic that he’d rather not argue about in a relatively quiet doctor’s office. So he just nodded, and the nurse had the sense to get the hint. He figured it would be a cool story to brag about to her friends.
Entering was Dr. Henrique Emmanuel a short chubby man with a very ancient Chinese bloodline some say went all the way back to the Mao Dynasty. An expert in all forms of biotechnology, chemistry, and various holistic and mythical healing practices. A Master in his own right.
The two men both embraced each other like a pair of good friends.
“You’re brother gave us quite a scare next week. Is he doing ok?”
Henry nodded his head, “Luckily that incident has not occurred yet for me. So all is good, however, he has pointed out some concerns about my own health which is the purpose of my visit.”
“Please, do tell. How is the ear?” Dr. Emmanuel said that in a way that made Henry suspicious. “How did you know I was going to be asking about my ears?” He asked the good doctor.
Dr. Emmanuel nodded his head. “Surely you know all too well that we Masters get just as much access to the time-stream as you programmers do right? It especially helps my medical practice in an attempt find the cure.”
Of course, Henry knew this all too well but even he didn’t know what was wrong with his ears and he never disclosed this particular problem to anyone other than his brother’s persistent telepathic abilities.
“This is a ****ing mystery doc, I don’t know where this sh*t came from. It’s entirely out of left field for me, and that’s saying something. I hope you have made some developments in finding a cure.” Apart from his brother, Dr. Emmanuel was probably one of Henry’s most trustworthy confidant’s and it was like they could tell each other everything! So he wondered why the doctor seemed to be hiding foreknowledge about the illness. Henry intended to find out whatever secrets he held....
