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The Multiverse Anthology

The Multiverse Anthology is a collection of works, written by a variety of

authors, which all seek to reexamine the successive potentialities of real

events if they had different outcomes. The selected real events are often

portrayals from the author’s actual life, spun with differing, but possible,

outcomes, and then slipstreamed into themes of magical realism, fantasy,

and science fiction.

The works often include themes of a political nature and social

commentaries, and are intended to cause the reader to rethink the everyday

circumstances of life they accept without question, and help bridge the gap

between what is commonly believed to be possible with the realistic

possibility of the unthinkable.

Enjoy the possibilities,

Adam Casler (Founder of Multiverse)


The Multiverse Anthology: The New Humanity
Written by Adam Casler

Part I – The life which once was

“Ready Scott?”

“Have him give me one more mic check”

“Test, test 1 2”

“All clear, rolling in five, four, three, two ….”

“This is Cindy Margolis with Channel Four News, live here from Colombo, Sri Lanka.
We are sitting in Wijisekera’s Coffee House across from the United States’ Embassy,
interviewing American ex-pats living in Sri Lanka about how they feel with the security
provided during this current crisis. I am here with Adam Casler, who is studying in Sri
Lanka as part of an exchange program with his University. Adam, tell me, how
comfortable do you feel moving around on a day to day basis?”

“Uh, well, when you stop to really think about it, it can be scary I guess, but its just one
of those things that seems so surreal until your actually in the midst of it that you
typically just go about your daily activities without much thought to the dangers lurking
around the next bend. But that’s life I guess, you never know when the next moment…”

---A loud thundering boom rips through the shop shattering the windows into a shower of
broken glass, opening a channel for a burning inferno to enter the room- -

Blackness

Color returns through swollen eyes


Head pounding, blood filling mouth, vision swirls
The sound of screams reverberate around the room bouncing from wall to wall, colliding
into one another, and transforming into a shrill indistinguishable cacophonic chaos.

“Sakina, Sakina! Are you alright?”

“Yea, I think so. What the fuck was…” - - Clack clackclackclack - --clash-thudthud-
clashclash. The unmistakable sound of fire from an AK-47 rings out from across the
street. A bottle on the counter explodes, a man just standing to his feet, spews blood from
his chest and falls back to the ground without a noise.

The shop becomes a beehive of angry bullets, shattering, clashing, ripping, tearing,
killing. Each bullet seems to release that special pheromone attracting more and more of
its company to the feeding frenzy.
“We have to get the fuck out of here. Now!”

Adam dives across the room, scrambling across broken glass, slipping over pools of
blood, ducking under the whistling screeching birds of prey ripping through the room,
and tripping over the mounds of bodies littering the floor. He slides to a stop at the bar
counter and reaches up to grab a bottle of alcohol, but pulls back only a shattered bottle
neck. He risks a look from his safe haven behind a fallen table to peer down the bar top,
seeing only shattered glass after shattered glass.

Deep breath

“Fuck it”

He scrambles out from behind the table, jumps onto a bar stool, and throws his self head
first over the counter top, crashing straight down into the concrete floor greeting him on
the other side. Something snaps in his shoulder, and he no longer can move his arm. No
time now.

He raises his eyes from his awkward position on the floor. A glorious box of Johnny
Walker graces his vision. He scrambles up, pulling the box top off and withdrawing four
bottles from the case, rips the caps off, and stuffs a piece of rolled up paper through each
one. He pulls a lighter from his pocket and lights the tips of each paper as if pulling the
pin from a grenade. He chucks each one towards the shop entrance, the first two
exploding in a shower of flames and smoke into the neon light demarcating the store
front, the second two creating a thick wall of flames after crashing into the windows
curtains.

“It’s now or never. Everyone out!”

He half falls/jumps back over the counter top and runs over towards Sakina. “Lets go!”

She rushes over across the gauntlet of aisles, before suddenly lurching to a stop,
staggering a few more paces, and dropping to her knees. Her eyes look up, locking with
his. She coughs, spitting out thick red blood.

He rushes across the distance separating them, grabbing her in his arms as she goes limp.
He tries to maintain the locked gaze, but her eyes glaze over, and the sputtering stops.

He remains motionless on his knees, her dead body in his arms. His own eyes mirroring
the glaze in hers.

A shadow crosses his face, as the soldiers enter the room and form a semi-circle around
him, awaiting orders from their commanding officer of what to do with their dumb-struck
hostage. –Thwack--, a butt of an AK-47 crashes into his skull, answering the soldiers
query.
A blinking red light in the corner of the room, peering out from the motherly caress of
Scott’s dead body was the only witness to the last requiem for a life which once was, but
would never be again.

Part II- The life that never would be again

That videotape, salvaged by the thick layers of fat which once encased it, returned home
to America and met instant stardom, continuously played and replayed by salivating local
news channels, receiving millions of hits through streaming internet video, and becoming
a cult classic amongst talking heads who simply dubbed this massacre of dreams, lives,
and loves, as the “Colombo Coffee-House Crisis”, or more affectionately as “3C”, for
short.

Their beloved morose shell-shocked protagonist, Adam, was rewarded lovingly in his
grieving with camera-laden paparazzi, overbearing unwelcome support, and the status of
heroic icon for the causes who interest it suited. He was the Sea Biscuit of twenty-first
century America.

He also became the first civilian to receive the Purple Heart for his heroic actions during
the 3C, as well as the first to receive it “in absentee”, much to everyone’s astonishment. It
arrived at his house two days later via FedEx.

Responding to the question from a Paparazzi about how honored he felt to have received
this prestigious award, he provided his first press statement since the events of 3C.

“What does it matter? What does any of it matter? The actions I undertook during this
event you sophomorically refer to as the Colombo Coffee-House Crisis, even if done
every day for the rest of my life, would not change even the simplest aspects of the
onslaught of bloodshed we sadistically perform upon our selves.”

“Even the very government which champions my actions and awards me with its greatest
honor is not itself committed to standing up to this violence which it has placed me upon
a pedestal for. I am not saying they are liars, at least not in this regard, for some may even
believe they are truly committed to such things even while they undertake actions which
ensure its continuation for years to come. It’s not a conspiracy, because it’s bigger than
any one man or collection thereof. It is society, a fault inbred within our very species. Not
a single one of us would choose to end these things, because such things are essential to
live the lives we live. When you strip away the pop-icon status, the glitter, rainbow
colors, and smiley faces, Peace just doesn’t out trump daily comforts. Society is the
reflection of our collective will, and our collective will chose to live in the world we live
in. It was never forced upon us, this is what we want.”

“Talk about desiring anything else other than that which is performed by our collective
actions is just makeup applied to a face to hide its true flaws. We have pushed our
species’ wheel too far down the hill; there is no turning back now. We have lovingly
embraced that which will be our own oblivion.”
That night, the headline news ran “3C Hero speaks out against world violence”, and
armchair heroes all around the country did their part to the “cause” by watching the two-
minute segment and felt reassured that having performed their duty, they were now safely
excluded from the people the 3C Hero was ranting about. It’s just someone else issue
now.

Part III – Revelations

As time passed, interest in the 3C Hero faded, and Adam was left to wallow in his misery
in solitude. How could he ever re-assimilate his self back into society? He was
permanently traumatized from the carnage of that fateful day over a year ago. The human
brain is the most complex organ ever scientifically documented, and as with all complex
things, it is therefore fragile. There are certain extremities which the human brain is not
adapted to handle. Witnessing a massacre while holding a loved one in your arms as the
last breaths exit their body is one such extremity. Pushed to such outer limits can lead to
insanity; however, it could also lead to new unknown possibilities.

Montesquieu wrote once on how different our concept of intelligence would be if our
species was made with one more organ or one less. Imagine how different what we
conceive real or ordinary would be if our species had never known the gift of sight, or
smell, or sound? How bizarre would the idea of color be if this phenomenon was never
witnessed? How odd the thought of a smell without ever a nose, or the theory of sound
without ever an ear to hear it? Similarly, who could say what extraordinary, perhaps even
inconceivable things would be possible if we had only been born with another organ
capable of such features? The same can be applied to the evolution of an existing organ.
Who could say what new intelligence, what new abilities may be possible if we could
only access that great bulk of the brain which our species has never been able operate
before?

On the brink of insanity, alone, uncaring, and extremely unpredictable Adam found these
traditional walls which block messages from traveling down the nerve paths to previously
unaccessed portions of the brain were removed. He felt his self reunited with a glorious
gift, such as a blind person would feel as they had first regained their sight, a gift which
they were always capable of, but for the first time able to perform.

The glass shot across the table and leapt into his outstretched hand. For the first time in
over a year, a smile crossed his face. He was weak, but he knew with time his ability
would strengthen if applied the same rigorous work ethic of an athlete training for the
Olympics.

And so he did practice it, feverishly night and day, taking only short breaks in between to
regain his strength, until it became as second-nature as any other function his body was
capable of, and he could suspend a car clear above the ground for over a minute using
only his mind.
With this accomplished, he was left without any clear-sighted goal, or a sense of purpose
to blind him of his agony, and he was brought painfully back to his bleak reality.
This was clearly a miraculous discovery, one that would forever change the way humans
viewed the world, but to what purpose? The discovery of the atomic bomb introduced a
power so great that the world was never the same again. But nothing changed with its
invention. Power shifted hands, the stakes grew direr, but the game continued to be
played the same. Society would just take this power and abuse it in a similar way, as just
a new way to threaten others and extract the things they want from them.

But, society didn’t have this power yet, he did. Only he did. If only one man had
discovered the atomic bomb and his intentions were pure, he could have ensured its
original intentions were achieved. Perhaps society was not too far gone down the hill.
The problem was that just too many people were trying to control that wheel at once, and
without any coordinated action, no effect could be gained. However, if only one person
could control that wheel, he could make sure that everyone was moving in the right
direction to send that wheel back up that hill, to turn back the clock on humanity’s
species, to right its wrongs, and ensure it did not repeat them.

He did not need any one else’s consent either. He was, right now, the single most
powerful man on the planet. No one could challenge him. He would make them get it
right, by force if he had too. He would be Socrates’ Philosopher King.

Part IV- The new humanity

Although he was the living representation of things to come, he would still have to
operate within the system to destroy it. He needed manpower, firepower, and the
resources to get them. It was best to start off grassroots, no need to attract more attention
than necessary, until he was ready for it.

He would have to campaign person by person to build his army. Surely once he had
displayed his abilities and offered the promise of guiding his followers down that same
path upon which he gained such power, they would no doubt be salivating to join him, to
correct their misguided wrongs, and be saved from their down-ward spirals. Inevitably
though, a few were incapable of understanding his power. They saw in him the Anti-
Christ incarnate, and vowed that God Almighty would strike him down. They had no
place in the future he was constructing, and yet, he still felt a ping of sorrow as he
concentrated on moving the equal halves of their bodies in opposite directions. However,
this feeling faded after the first few dozen times, as he realized that these people were just
contributing to the species rapid downfall. He was the one gifted with extraordinary
powers, it was up to him to save humanity, and sometimes that meant eliminating those
who were just incapable of seeing this.

These indeed were not bad actions, as the old humanity classified them. The new
humanity had no need for such relative and arbitrary classifications of good and evil,
haram and halal, saint or sinner, which were based upon antiquated religious doctrines or
circumstantial cultural interpretations. The new humanity could reach all creeds and
cultures through a universally acceptable definition. The human race is perpetually
striving towards a goal. Some may call this goal God or divinity, whilst others prefer
Evolution or progress. It matters not which distinction you prefer because the two are
indistinguishable in their fundamental objectives.

While the goal of old humanity and new may remain the same, the difference lies in the
measuring stick. Old humanity relied on categories, classified in ink, written on blocks,
yes or no, black or white. New humanity is circumstantial. Anything which moves
humanity closer to this God/Evolution complex, towards which any rational being strives,
is a good thing, and anything which moves humanity further away is inevitably bad.

Now, reexamined under this new illustrious light, Adam’s required actions of violence
were necessary to bring humanity closer to God, to move humanity towards its next
Evolutionary stepping stone. Such actions could only be considered good, perhaps even
saintly.

Of course, there was an additional bonus. As an increasing number of bodies severed in


half began to surface, and once Adam revealed his powers, recruiting became
substantially easier and his army grew alarmingly fast.

It was time to move out of the underground.

Part V- Out of the underground

The doors to the World Trade Center flung open. The pupils of businessmen and woman,
consumers, and security officials simultaneously widened in response to the sight of
Adam leading a contingent of one hundred heavily armed men, all dressed in black –after
all, theatrical impressions can be very advantageous. The three security officers huddled
together as if pondering the best way to gracefully back down. Adam whipped the guns
from their holsters, floating one down to rest in an empty holster to his waist, while
directing the other two into his outstretched hands. “Find something black to wear or get
the fuck out” he said.

No one moved.

“Jesus Christ, nobody has a sense of humor anymore”

He fired four rounds into the air.

“That means now!”

People ran, scrambling over one another towards any exit they could find, with the three
security officers leading the charge.
“Set up our perimeter. Squad A guards the front entrance, B and C split the grounds and
set about constructing our fortifications, and D, you got round up duty.”

The men disbursed into action.

Adam began to take the stairs up to the second floor but staggered half way up, dropping
to his knees, clutching the handrail for support. Blood rushed to his head as his vision
somersaulted back and forth.

“Sir, what’s wrong sir?”

His mouth felt like cotton, as his tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth.

“I just need…I just need some water. Get me some water.”

A bottle of water was rushed to him and two pills placed into his palm with the assurance
that they will help. He gulped the water down, but rather than alleviating his condition, it
drove him into a state of complete lethargy.

His eyes drooped, his muscles went limp, and he passed away into sleep.

Part VI – Decide

“Sir, you have got to get up Sir!”

“Those fuckers are right outside and they are going to open fire!”

Eyes shot open, and vision was restored. Blood rushed and restored power to restive
limbs.

“Stay here” he said as he proceeded down stairs and walked directly out the front door
towards the waiting flashing lights, submachine guns, and a megaphone barking to
“freeze and put your hands on your head”.

“Gentlemen, your era is over. I am about to show you something, and when I am finished,
I encourage you to step down gracefully and accept the invitation I am extending to you
to join the new era. Those who reject this offer shall be ripped from limb to limb.”

“This is your last warning—put your hands on your head and surrender!”

The first two squad cars were lifted up into the air and thrown crashing into the densest
area of the officers’ fortification. Some officers ran for cover in the confusion, others
opened fire onto Adam. He suspended the rounds in the air before releasing them,
clattering to the ground. They stared open-mouthed in disbelief at what they had just
witnessed.
“Now, this is the last time I will extend you such an invitation so I advise you to take
advantage of it before—“

An officer stepped out from behind his barricade and walked in procession towards
Adam, holding a tray with a glass of water and two pills placed inside a small paper
drinking cup.

“What are you—“

“You need your water Adam. It will help with your medicine, so you can feel better. You
need your rest so you can feel better again.”

His mouth grew parched, as he watched the water’s approach in anticipation.

He swallowed the pills and greedily gulped down the glass of water.

Once more fatigue set in. Pavement met eyes, eyes met black.

Part VII- Multiverse

“Adam. Wake up Adam. You have certainly overslept this time.”

“Come on now, you have to take your medicine. Two blues for the morning.”

“Yes, Nurse Cindy.”

“Oh, I almost forgot. Don’t forget your glass of water. You know you need your water to
take your medicine and you need you medicine to feel all better. It will help you relax and
then you will feel all better.”

-Gulp- Two pills slide down his throat and an empty glass is placed back on the tray.

They just didn’t understand. He tried to explain to them what had to be done, but they
wouldn’t listen. He tried to convince them by showing them his powers, but their optical
organs must not be evolved enough to see it. He thought he could save them all, he
thought he could save humanity, but he was wrong. They just couldn’t see it, that other
realm where the fight for new humanity was waged.

But it didn’t matter, he had saved his self. His face stretched into a big smile, just like the
one that had graced his face when he had first discovered his powers.

“Now, those of you who are with me lay down your weapons and come across peacefully.
The rest of you, prepare to die”.

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