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Blake, a grad student in psychology, is killed by the Heavens to maintain the balance of the multiverse. To ensure that no civilization can take advantage of another through the dimensional veil, he, like so many before him, is chosen by the Counsel to either go forward or backward in time. Going forward guarantees a life of obscurity and bliss, whereas going back allows one power and adventure. An error occurs during his selection, and he is sent back to the past at the maximum value, 4.54 billion years! Organic lifeforms cannot survive in such extreme conditions, so the system is forced to choose the most common object of the era, a rock. Watch our poor hero become the most mythical stone of legend, the Philosophers Stone from the most humble origins!
The dim light from the desk lamp cut through the darkness, illuminating a lone figure. Frantic clicks could be heard as words popped up on a screen as quickly as they dared too. On the edge of the desk, a solitary clock hung on the wall, its time reading 11:15 PM in dull red lights. Finals week was awful for any college student, but more so for graduate students like Blake. Not only did his own work needed to get done, but also the grading and revision of his students work. Blake wasn't overly loved nor hated by his students, which could have been seen as an accomplishment considering the subject matter, Advanced Neurobiological Basis. In lieu of a final exam, Blake decided that a paper would be a better reflection of the student's knowledge. Of course, this tripled the amount of work on Blake's end, but the results spoke for themselves. Higher than average results allowed a large majority of his students to pass the class with high marks.
Now, with his own deadline looming over his head, Blake tried not to curse himself and his poor planning. The evidence of staying up for 36 hours straight could be seen piled up in the corner in the form of energy drinks and takeout. As the minutes sprinted by, the clacks of the keyboard slowed down, until they stopped completely.
"One final check for formatting and I'm finished." Blake muttered, glancing at the wall.
11:45 PM. Finished with fifteen minutes to spare. A few seconds later the assignment was submitted, as Blake sighed in relief. Caffeine and a pulsing headache prevented any chance of sleeping for a while, so he elected to take a stroll uptown to check the nightlife and get a greasy snack. As his feet carried him out the office and towards the small part of the town effectively dedicated to the students, club music started to fill his already beating ears. Soon, elated cries for the end of the semester and graduating undergrads filled the streets, with more than one young patron drunkenly bumping into Blake.
"Ugh, maybe I'll skip hanging around. My head is killing me, and the atmosphere isn't helping. Oi, give me a number four, with extra onion" Blake grumbled to an order window, his usually polite demeanor beaten down by the lack of sleep.
Soon, his mood lifted as the three chili dogs, piled high with cheese, onions, and chili was placed in front of him. It may have been voted the worst chili in the USA, but it was the one he grew up with. Biting into the food, the soupy consistency of the chili with just a hint of meat and chocolate, was quickly chased away by overbearing taste of onion and cheese.
Breaking the relaxed ambience of the late-night chili dog, the hiss of a truck interrupted Blake mid-bite. A delivery truck full of booze zoomed through the streets, definitely going over the speed limit. Suddenly, a student stumbled in front of the truck, causing it to swerve and head towards Blake!
"Damn, if I were a blue hedgehog, I could get out of the way and still enjoy my chili dog. Hopefully my death will have better coverage than his movie" Blake stupidly thought, frozen in fear as the truck hurtled towards him.
However, swerving once again, the truck missed where he sat and ran into an electrical pole, coming to a violent halt. Grinning at his dumb luck, Blake scooped up his remaining wieners and ran across the street. Stopping behind a parked car, he grabbed his phone to dial 911 while simultaneously putting the Styrofoam container of food on the top of the car. A large crack sounded, like a dry tree snapping in half. The telephone pole started to lean away from Blake towards where he was just sitting.
Before he could think about how he once again managed to miss getting hit by a falling tree, or tree-like object, for the fourth time in his life, the electric cable on the pole snapped! It whipped out into the street, sparking and jumping around like a crazed animal. One of those jumps briefly slammed into the side of the car Blake was behind. And in that instant, 500,000 volts of electricity traveled through the metal frame, then poorly prepared food, and into Blake. A meaty explosion marked his death, coating his fried body in a foul smelling burnt paste that thankfully masked the stench of him evacuating his bowels upon being electrocuted.
Darkness once again surrounded Blake's world. Only this time, it would be permanent.
…
"Participant received. Extrapolating data. Booting up initial Travel System. Contacting local Administrator. Welcome Participant 000549144."
"Oh, no. Don't tell me all those terrible novels I've read have come to haunt me in the afterlife." Blake gripped.
"Oh yeah! It has! And about time too! You, Participant 000549144, have given us a lot of trouble over the past few years. According to our data, you are a decade late to the party. But that is a minor amount of time considering the circumstances. The record is still held by that Rasputin guy, at least in the human bracket. So, now that you are finally here, let us get down to business, shall we?" A disembodied, jovial voice echoed through the inky blackness, assaulting Blake with a pressure that made him feel locked in place.
Wherever this place was.
