Prologue

Space.

It's a word used to describe the emptiness we beings of substance move about in.

Or the heavens above.

Both meanings imply a volume of some sort, brought about by the three axes that uphold the structure of the universe. In addition, both imply an underlying meaning; a set of rules that govern where these axes intersect, and how those that move through and about them can interact within.

If Time were to withdraw its meddling hands from this union of axes, then these rules could bend, yet Time is a contradictory old fool, set in its ways. The iron will of Time was always so, and so too was its antiquated doctrine.

Yet, as if to spite the old fool's meddling, there exists a singularity within which Time and Space no longer intertwine. Forcefully divided, they could no longer speak freely with one another, thus causing the universe they upheld to temporarily collapse inwards upon itself. The sensation evoked by this phenomenon could only be described as a sudden halt to the flow of time.

There is only one power that could separate these two from their joint existence. It comes from a sequestered mind, robbed of its sense of reality.

In particular, it came from the mind of a single man, alone.

Alone, in the sense that he was isolated. He slept on the floor of a dingy, concrete cell. There was no door to this cell, neither was there a window. Perhaps to compensate for the lack of egress or view of the outside, a singular fluorescent tube glowed faintly on the ceiling above.

His grizzled face twitched in his restless slumber. Besides these convulsions of facial tissue, there was no other.

The man was unaware of the screen that flickered on the wall. On its pixellated surface was a greeting, rendered in neon-blue lettering.

[Welcome, Inmate No. 19.]