Fleeting Visions

Atlas felt as if he had just woken up from a bad nightmare.

He was back in his room in the real world. His books were still scattered, just as they had been before he was chosen for the trial. 

The gun he had taken out of its resting place lay on the ground, the trigger never once pulled.

The thought might have crossed his mind for a split second, but Atlas could never go through with it. His life has too much to live for, too many good books to read and memories to create.

The sun blurred him for split second, and his whole vision shifted. Now he was in the library, his workplace. Coworkers were talking and moving around, and then he saw himself, standing across the room, as if he were an observer looking into his own life. 

Atlas remembered this day; it was the day before he was chosen.

He recalled a girl coming in, and as if on cue, she opened the door.

She had red hair, green eyes, and an unforgettable taste in fashion. Their conversation was about the ending of a book they had both read.

Atlas only participated to be polite, but he was actually listening to an audiobook at the same time.

He watched as the events played out exactly as he remembered them, except this time he noticed something unusual. Around his own body, there was the faintest hint of aquamarine, a color he had become familiar with.

The color began to appear right after the woman left the bookstore. This made Atlas sense that there was something more to her, but it didn't add up.

There was no color emanating from her that he could see, and he knew she was a regular at the store. Unless this had been planned for months, she should have been a mundane human.

Lights flashed.

The scene shifted again, and now he was watching himself preparing for bed, just hours before he saw the timer appear.

The visions started to hurt his heart and core.

He saw himself brush his teeth over and over, then used mouthwash before stepping into the shower. As he did this, the aquamarine color around him grew stronger, and he began to notice something new.

This aquamarine glow wasn't just surrounding him—it was stretching outward into the world like a line.

After a moment, he realized it wasn't just a line. It was showing him something: the future, or at least a tiny glimpse of it.

His past self was following the line, he exited the shower, dried off with a towel, and turned his fan to the coldest setting. This time, he chose to sleep in only his shorts. He pulled the blankets over his head, cocooning himself in warmth while surrounded by the chill of the room.

He flicked the last light off next to his bed.

The vision shifted again, taking him to the moment he was chosen.

After waking up, he dressed in his usual pants and shirt. Then, he saw the timer appear in his vision.

Atlas still remembered the feeling of his heart sinking deep into his stomach as dread took over. Soon after, he was overcome with a strange, peaceful calm, only to return to the terrifying realization that he might die. The thought that truly shook him was having only nine hours to prepare.

He watched himself desperately flicking on the tablet at his desk.

From this perspective, he saw a man frantically searching for answers. Atlas tore through each website, finding mostly basic information or being asked for thousands of dollars just to get a hint of what was to come.

Atlas wasn't wealthy, so the second option was out of the question.

The present-day Atlas observed as the aquamarine color shifted from a line into the shape of himself. It was as if there were three versions of him in the room: the one desperately searching for answers, one just slightly in the future made of Aether and faintly glowing, and finally, himself watching all this unfold from afar.

This vision persisted, but now the scene sped up.

He was fast-forwarded to the point where he had only an hour and thirty minutes left on his timer.

Atlas rose from his seat, exhausted from encountering the same information repeatedly, only reworded. He regretted the days he hadn't spent building a life for himself, the dreams he hadn't pursued. He even regretted not being born rich, thinking that, if he had been, he could have bought more information.

Leaving his home without even bothering to lock the door, Atlas, now observing, watched curiously as his Aether form mimicked his actions.

It truly was like seeing into the future. Even if it was only a second or two ahead, it was enough to excite him.

He saw himself take a seat and enjoy a slice of his favorite snack, lemons pie.

After eating, he left without leaving a tip.

The city passed by as he walked, lost in thoughts about his impending death. Finally, he saw himself standing in the middle of a dense forest, with no one around.

A door quietly appeared in front of him, and he noticed that the Aether form reacted strangely.

As soon as the door appeared, the Aether form vanished into it, as if the future could no longer be foreseen.

Atlas couldn't see more, as the space his past self was in became a blank white room.

Cutting off the rest of the world.

Lighting struck moments later flashing the sky.

The scene changed again, time and space blurring past.

It finally stopped, and Atlas found himself in an alleyway he didn't recognize, one that looked as if it were in a bustling city.

At the end of the alley was a door, a door that looked slightly blurry, as though it resisted being seen or remembered.

Atlas's Aether form tried to put its focus toward it, but no matter how hard he focused, he couldn't make out any details.

He willed himself to see even one clue.

It was useless.

A force of Aether blew across the sky and another powerful shockwave followed.

That's when Atlas saw it: a great hand descending from the top of the alleyway. It was made of pure black, as if shadows themselves had manifested to claim his life.

The hand was larger than the sky itself and as it descended the hand split into multiple versions of itself.

Suddenly a booming voice rang out, deep and hollow:

"You have seen enough."

Atlas couldn't react. The hand squashed his body in a instant.

He woke up again, this time back in the cabin, his senses on high alert as he scanned his surroundings for danger.

He turned his gaze toward his target, Ivan.

How was this part of the truths Ivan spoke of? And was this how gods, or perhaps even Ivan himself, saw the world? Could Atlas learn to replicate the vision of an Aether future version of himself, or even of others?

And what's the truth behind that girl.