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Schmidt 1

Author's Note ~

Every detail reveals the secret of what's inside. No page need be turned to solvethe mystery, only a perceptive eye and the limitless power of one's imagination.

Schmidt 2

Sequences of Thr3E

“

Overlaying theory grants humans the ability to think. Our higher process of thought enables us to ask questions of why, and how. But what I don't understand is our contingency of time. Time is in a basic form, just a human response to the randomness of the universe. We use it in our modus operandi to organize our thoughts and through the means of schemes wecategorize things based on sequence of time and event. But since this basic repetition of the threemeans can be separated and broken down, can humans learn to utilize certain aspects, and not others?”

The means in which are refered to are thought, time and reality. These three functionsoperate in a dictorial fashion. By theory, the paradigm can be separated and split intomonogamous forms; time – reality; thought – time; thought – reality. By losing the buffer, or middle man, the sum of said dichotomy and their separate variables now have a direct correlationon the another.“For fuck's sake Issac, get off the ledge!”A pistol aimed right at Issac's forehead forewarned him that Conway's threat was seriousand that higher ups had given the order to expel his soul from the face of this planet.Conway pulled down the safety and steadied his aim. His line of sight became parallel toIssac's retina. He squinted his eyes to help hold him aim. Moving his focus along the shaft of thegun compensating in his aim with the motion of his expanding lunges moving his aim just theslightest bit. This insured an efficient kill. The cold air runs down his trachea biting at his throatas it pases into his lunges. Conway stands there, wondering what Issac could be thinking thisvery moment. His persistence towards the subject of the three means and abstract thought madehim question Issac's sanity.

Issac has no history of instability. What the fuck is wrong with him?

“Have you lost your marbles Issac? You're standing on the ledge of a 60 story building, preaching to me these precious three means of your...” Before Conway could his lasting syllableIssac turn his body 180 degrees. His face now glanced towards the spatial gap between theskyscrapers. Below people hustling at their normal day lives unaware of Issac's unscheduledlanding. He could feel the wind winding through his hair, circling around his hands which beganto stretch out over the open air. Sweeping the hairs that sprout from his arms, the breezewhispered into his ears, taunting him, swaying him to finish it. “The funny thing about all of thisConway, is no one knows.” Looking at the ground squinting, forcing his eyes to focus on themeandering ants below, “People have no idea. They ignorantly wader about fixating themselveson the trivial terms they call an existence. Completely out of tune with reality. Life's wheel of consistency hangs only by a mere thread and yet their daily practices continue unhindered,unaltered.” Issac turns to face his advisory. Their eyes connect, sparking an energy that curses thesurrounding air.“You don't need to run Issac.”Twisting his neck, glancing towards to streets, Issac whispered, “They always run, that'ssomething no one can ever change.” The click form Conway's gun signaled the hammer was in position to fall, ready to ignite the line of events.“Then choose you next move Issac.” A smirk came across Issac's face. Giggling at theredundancy of the comment, “If there is anything to learn from all this, it's the fact that there areno such things as choices.” Issac's thy muscles tightened as his knees folded. His weight shiftedand soon became weightless. Before his mark left the steady concrete roof, Conway, fired onedeafening shot. His hands recoil as the shell casing shook hands with gravity. The spinning bulletzipped by Issac's head ripping the air in every direction.

Schmidt 3

The Mark

“

Fucking hell

.” A man's voice whines. “Oh, Saint Merry of Peter's pearly white gates myhead hurts.”A masculine voice rebutted, “Whats wrong suga pie?” The man glanced over to the blondhaired beauty laying under the covers. A distraught look came across the mans face as he realizesthe voice belonged to a very masculine looking man. “Your head hurts because you drank tomuch, silly. Take a few Advil and you'll be fine.” The man leaped up from the bed and danced hisway to the bathroom.“

What the hell...”

The stunned man through to himself,

“What the hell did you do last night Marcus?”

The firm man shuffled back into the bed room with two different sets of pills.“Here you go. Take these, give it 10 minutes, and you'll be dandy.” Marcus looked at therationality of the situation and found himself confused. He knew he had bisexual tendencieswhen intoxicated, but never had he awoke next to such a beautiful creature and not remember hisor her name. Realizing this he opted for the medication hoping that in the retreat of mentalconsistency during his high, this situation would be put to rest.“Thanks.”“Here you go studly.” The mans arms retraact in a flamboyant manner from handingMarcus his escape. “So, did you enjoy yourself last night?”“What exactly happened last night?”“Hah, well if I remember correctly, everything. And let me tell ya, evrathing was fan-freaking-tastic!” Marcus chuckled at this because even when hes inebriated he preforms well. Ashe focused his mind on trying to remember the past evening the nightstand next to the bed startedto vibrate. A red Razr set to the Vibrate setting shook the red oak table.“555-7865. Who is this?” Marcus muttered to himself.“Who's

that

? You're

boyfriend

?”“I don't know who it is. Ive never seen this number before.” The phone continued to buzz.“Well answer it, it could be Mr. Rigt holl'a'ing at cha.” The man snickered. Marcus took the crimson phone and flipped it open. Placing it parallel to his ear he began to speak, “

Hell

o?”“Hello, Marcus. What are you up to?” A voice answered.“Who is this?”“Well I don't condemn you for forgetting the sound of your brother's voice.”“Holy shit my pants, Issac. How the

hell

are ya?”“You know how life is, stressful. It's almost as though there is not enough time in theworld to accomplish even the most simple of tasks.”“You always did love to utilize your time wisely. Mom and dad would be proud.”“I know they are.”“What?”“Nothing.” At that moment Issac's normal uppity, go lucky, over pronunciation like voiceindicatively went sour. The mood rapidly shifts to a somber, solemn tone. Like many of the timesIssac has contacted Marcus, it was because he was in need of something.“So... What is it this time Issac?”“Well, I happen to be in town for work and I thought I would ring my big brother to see if he would accompany me to lunch today? It has been over 2 year Marcus since the last time wehave spoken.”“You were known to keep a tight agenda.”A wispy voice interrupted their conversation, “

Who

are you talking too?” The mans