Chapter 1
His mind would not be quiet. It couldn’t sit still at all. It raced 1000 miles an hour, thinking of random thoughts about life and silly things. He stood in line at the grocery store and saw a magazine. That brought his brain to zap synapses connecting and linking memories of times past.
He took out his phone to check his email and saw something he had never seen in his life.
“Iaraak from the Grand Zamboa. He again retired in 1918. Piquant effect of the light of a lamp.”
It bothered him, it perplexed him. What was it? Who was it from? What did it mean? He thought for sure the Internet would help solve the mystery. The Internet was aloof with any clues. This was not a quote from a book, or a passage ever sent. Not even separate sentences fragmented together. This was an original bit of construct.
Who was Laraak? The Internet had no clue. A brand new word, or name that had never been seen. How did it sound. What did it mean? He said the name out loud. lar-aak. At least that’s how he thought it would be pronounced.
The Internet didn’t think that Grand Zamboa was a place but rather a video game character. That couldn’t be right. It had to be a place. Maybe it wasn’t on the Internet. It all came from the Internet, the message in the bottle.
He retired again in 1918. That was 96 years ago. What happened that many years ago? The world was different then. Was this a ghost in the machine? Was this someone reaching out from the great beyond? Who? What?
As he broke apart every word, every phrase, it became more and more puzzling. Was in something else? And anagram an acrostic? What could it all mean?
He pulled up the anagrams:
A Databank Graham Firmer Zoo
A Databank Graham Firer Zoom
A Databank Graham Rifer Zoom
A Databank Graham Frier Zoom
A Databank Graham Romeo Friz
A Databank Agar Rhizome Form
A Databank Agar Rhizome From
A Databank Raga Rhizome Form
A Databank Raga Rhizome From
A Databank Forearm Rah Gizmo
A Databank Framer Hora Gizmo
A Databank Farmer Hora Gizmo
A Databank Homage Armor Friz
A Databank Homage Razor Firm
A Databank Graze Mohair Form
A Databank Graze Mohair From
A Databank Gazer Mohair Form
A Databank Gazer Mohair From
A Databank Hammier Razor Fog
A Databank Hazier Farm Groom
A Databank Fag Armor Rhizome
A Databank Fora Gram Rhizome
A Databank Faro Gram Rhizome
A Databank Gram Mohair Froze
A Bazaar Trademarking Of Ohm
A Bazaar Mandrake Fright Moo
A Bazaar Mandrake Fight Moor
A Bazaar Mandrake Fight Room
A Bazaar Mandrake Goof Mirth
A Bazaar Mandrake Forgot Him
A Bazaar Mandrake Roof Might
A Bazaar Trademark Of Homing
Nothing made sense at all.
Why did he get this message?
He could respond and see if more would come, but it would reveal that this was a good monitors email address. The universe had sent him a message. 1918, what possibly could’ve happened in the year 1918? The email is April 18th. What happened?
“Apr 18th – Cleveland center fielder Tris Speaker turns an unassisted double play.”
Nothing seems to add up nothing at, all this person, this place, none of it matches. There wasn’t much left to do. If he was going to travel down this rabbit hole and find out what was going, he would have to respond to this email and risk it all.
Tick tock tick tock he kept looking at his clock it’s been 24 hours since he got this email and yet he still wasn’t sure do it don’t do it do it or don’t do it. It was getting dark in the part of the world where he believe this email it come from it was probably darker was probably no one there to answer and provide a reply.
He typed out on the little screen Laraak of the Grand Zamboa I hear your message loud and clear please respond. But would he press send? he just set his phone down on the table and thought some more once he revealed that he was there what could happen what was the consequence he couldn’t figure it out.
In a momentary lapse of judgment he hit the send key it traveled through the Internet at the speed of light his message reached its target destination somewhere in an undisclosed location in Spain. He thought for sure that would be a barrage of emails coming to his system. He thought for sure that something would happen, but he just sat there and waited.
Nothing. He could hear the drip of the sink it was quiet everywhere just the southern voices that you would normally hear in a somewhat quiet room. He could hear the clock on the wall tick-tock tick-tock. He could hear the air flowing from the air conditioner making that sing noise that let him know that air was flowing through the room.
But then there was that familiar ding that he heard on his phone when it email was pushed through the system. He breathed a big sigh getting ready to open up his email and see what exactly was there.
He finally got back in auto response from the server that said the email account doesn’t exist. He thought well I guess that’s it I guess I’m done I try to go down the rabbit hole and I couldn’t get there.
Then finally a second email showed up and it read…
“After hearing that the Circus Bros. Orlova, Alexandra and V. Taken by Lisa Bowerman, 1994.
Then in plain English, "ACTIVATED!”