Invisible Threads

by Michael Hyslip

  Everything seems to move in fast-forward, diving or dodging past boxes, beakers, and equipment. At the edge of my vision is some sort of metal cage made of metal rings. It’s the source of the throbbing electrical hum, but details are slipping away like water in a fist. A different sound draws my attention as a device beside me is struck by a bullet; its shattered glass and contents slam into the side of my head.

  Gunfire in chaos and a nearby explosion, then blackness.

  ◆◆◆

  I regained consciousness after a few minutes and wondered if I’d just remembered something or had had a nightmare. As hard as I tried, the details wouldn’t come, but it wasn’t fading from memory like a normal dream. Perhaps it was a legitimate memory from before the coma. But, if so, what’s a “nanoprinter”? I took a deep breath and hoped that, over time, more memories would make their way through. I tried to keep hold of that experience, since it might be the only true part of the original “me,” whoever that was. Did this mean I was part of a military team? A contractor? Mercenary…or possibly terrorist?

  Sighing, I picked up my phone and started searching for nanoprinters. There were many results of companies using 3D-printing type of applications to build products with pieces as small as 30nm or so, or 30 nano-meters, but nothing that made any sense why it would be in my dream/memory. Even current processors and memory components were being built with 7 to 10nm technology, denoting the space between some components was that small. Interestingly enough, a strand of DNA is 2.5nm wide, and a human hair is 30-50,000 times larger.

  I rubbed my temples and closed my eyes, unable to understand how any of it fit together. Time to turn my attention to more immediate issues, though, as I thought back to my experimentation at the mirror. The light in the bathroom had been dim as I went invisible, even though the sun was shining. So I wasn’t causing electrical problems….

  All at once it hit me: as I was becoming transparent and light passed through me, it was also passing through my retina, rather than being absorbed into the optic nerve. This certainly made sense and could explain why everything grew darker—and even pitch black, at times—when I was completely invisible. I wondered if that was why I would see some slightly fuzzy images, since light was not only coming through my cornea, but from all around me. I was seeing some sections of light that were no longer being filtered through the front of my eyes—as well as light coming from angles that my optical brain center was not translating well.

  I stood up straight in front of the mirror again, determined to figure out my limits, or if possible, extend them. I took another deep breath. And another. I reached back internally, and let the invisibility flow outward, watching my image in the mirror grow transparent and the room darken. For the first time I also realized that my clothes and body were both becoming transparent.

  Very interesting.

  I was about 90% invisible and still able to see somewhat, so I wanted to experiment again before the headache grew too strong. I gritted my teeth and focused on seeing more clearly; as I did so, the room started to brighten without my image in the mirror becoming visible. After a few seconds I gasped and dropped back onto my forearms across the sink as the invisibility faded. Wow, that’s one mother of a headache, and it came on fast.

  I stood up and dizziness started to overtake me. This was taking a lot more out of me than anticipated, so I slowly got some aspirin and water, then made my way to the couch for some much-needed sleep.

  Chapter 5

  Gunshots. Screams. A piece of equipment nearby explodes as a bullet dislodges a magnetic coil holding a beaker. Shrapnel slams into me, and its contents are expunged toward the side of my head as vibration ruptures everything around me, and I fall to the ground. Everything fades, and the only thing I see is a label reading “ASP Systems, Inc.” burning from a box on the floor, apparently next to me.

  Looking up, I see a structure with metal arms wrapped in a spherical pattern about eight feet tall. A humming sound emanates from it, like we’re outside of a large power station. Someone in a lab coat is fiddling with a console by the structure, but I have trouble taking in details through tear-filled eyes. The pain in my head is immense, and my hand comes away bloody as I touch the place where I was struck. I’m supposed to stop him, but I don’t know why. The urgency pushes me up to my knees, my body shaking under the effort. I see sparks in my peripheral vision and see they’re floating in the air at the center of this metal-sphere grid work; the air is distorted in the center, bending and twisting like it’s alive. The sparks are replaced by movement in the light from the center, and the warped area grows to encompass the entire globe of alloy rings.

  I don’t know where my rifle went, and as I look down to try and find a weapon, I notice everything metal on my gear looks like the raised fur of a frightened cat and is aimed at this swirling rift. The technician, or scientist, whoever he is, then steps into this vortex of light through a gap in the curved beams and simply disappears. At that moment a burst of energy exudes from it, and I start sliding toward it as my metal zippers and buttons are being pulled magnetically, dragging me with it. I feel as if I am being ripped apart internally. My head bounces off part of the structure as I’m pulled to the center.

  The nausea ends as I abruptly hit a concrete floor, then silence and darkness.

  ◆◆◆

  I snapped awake and realized I’d been dreaming, yet it was totally unlike any other dream, and I was in the same place as my earlier memory. Was I part of a special operations unit of some sort? If so, my fingerprints should have triggered a result, even if it meant someone showing up from outside normal government channels to claim me. Or had I been part of a weird experiment? I certainly hoped not, or “they” would be coming to lock me up or dissect me. This could really turn into something crazy serious, although firearms aren’t normally given to test subjects.

  And what was ASP systems and that vortex of light? How much of my “visions” were even real—or are they part of an overactive imagination I didn’t know I possessed? It would be much easier to conduct a search in the library on a larger screen, and I could print what was needed, so off I went. I sat at one of the library computers and started searching. First for “nanoprinters,” but didn’t find anything further. I then searched for “ASP Systems.” No direct matches, but right here in Atlanta was an entry for IASP, some international science group. Their website simply said “Coming Soon” with no further information. The background image just showed what appeared to be a stock marketing photo with children doing science stuff. My interest waned, and finding nothing else, I went home.

  I checked my schedule and realized I had the night/day off. A rare opportunity, one that I intended to make the most of. No pain, no gain, so back again I went to the bathroom mirror. Taking a deep breath, I dug into that inner reservoir or wherever my ability originated, and flipped it on. Like the previous times, the lights dimmed, and my body faded.

  I maintained the invisibility on a lighter level, and the headache didn’t seem as bad this time. I looked directly into where my eyes would be and dipped into the invisibility deeper as the light retreated. I pushed myself to see better, and as I did, part of my eyes themselves actually materialized a bit, while the rest of my body did not. I saw an amazing outline of my cornea up close, as well as the back of the retina and part of the optic nerve. It was incredible, even more so when I closed my eyes and nothing changed. My eyelids were completely transparent, so they had no effect on my perception. Some of the strange lights speckled in my vision and then diminished, but their slight presence let me know I was more or less invisible.

  I let go of it all and snapped back into visibility. I kept my eyes closed and let the headache subside a little. I had been able to hold my invisibility longer this time, so I must be training my brain to work better and stay stronger. After a few minutes, I opened my eyes and tried again. I started slowly and turned up the volume, so to speak, reaching full invisibility, yet maintaining my eyes just eno
ugh to be able to see clearly. It was working well, and as long as I could stay conscious, then perhaps I had time to experiment more.

  I turned to walk out of the room, but the sudden movement sparked extreme dizziness, along with an abrupt trip to the floor. Not completely passed out, but not exactly coherent either. I felt like I was going to rip the contents out of both my stomach and skull, so I rested on the floor until things settled. I suppose if I were going to puke all over myself, I hoped it would be invisible too. Not so sure about the smell, though, and the thought made me laugh.

  Fifteen minutes later, I took the cell phone I had picked up with my extra cash and returned to the bathroom mirror. After enabling the video, I started recording my progression to invisibility. The headache was still fairly big, so I kept it simple and returned to my plain ol’ visible self. I stopped the recording and played it back, watching as I indeed disappeared with a strange shimmer taking my place; then my phone went black. I popped back visible with no other issues, and it looked as if I’d used a special effects app, because the phone “disappeared” as well.

  Interesting…

  I propped the phone up against the back of the sink and started the process over again. After practicing, the video looked amazing, showing no shimmer, but a smooth transition into nothingness. This may have been due to the camera staying visible itself since it was no longer in my hand, and now I could see the entire range of the ability. I was astounded and completely enraptured by what I could do. I immediately deleted the videos since I could always make more later, and no sense in tempting fate if someone finds them. Sure, it could be explained as special effects, but there was no downside to simply deleting.

  I dropped to the couch and flipped on the television, cycling through some channels to find something to let my mind settle down. Perhaps soon I’ll see how long I can stay invisible and push the envelope while moving. But more importantly, barring a spreading hallucination to the phone, this meant it was real. Totally real and happening.

  Chapter 6

  A few weeks passed, and I spent any extra time between jobs expanding my ability. I found that moving around while invisible was the best way to practice, but, unfortunately, movement also caused the most nausea and headaches. Moving around slowly, I could maintain the shell for five or ten minutes before growing overwhelmed. Today was another practice day, and I had something specific in mind. I kept experimenting with speed and timing and was sweating profusely. By the time I’d finished, I realized that three hours had passed, while maintaining the shell/shield the entire time. It was certainly a new record.

  My earlier conversation with Janet had been coming to mind a lot recently. If a tumor or other physical issues were causing this ability to flourish, then I wanted to know sooner rather than later. I didn’t have insurance, but could go through a self-pay process. I figured I could easily be charged $10,000 for an MRI and CT/PET scan, but it was worth it to know. I texted Janet, and got a response a few minutes later that she was at work and could spare some time with one of the doctors to talk to me. I couldn’t explain everything that I was experiencing, but I could hint at periodic vision concerns.

  I entered the hospital, found Janet, and she took a quick break to run me down the hall.

  “Have you been feeling okay?” she asked.

  “I’m occasionally experiencing some headaches with visual artifacts and prefer to make sure there isn’t a bigger problem. I know it may be expensive, but I’d feel a lot better having an answer if possible.”

  “Okay, Sam, but understand that if this is a mental repercussion of the coma, or whatever put you into the coma, then we may not be of much help. I suppose that knowing there isn’t a tumor would be a plus, but then it’s most likely all in your head.”

  I lifted an eyebrow and tilted my head in acknowledgment. She did the same, not being one to back down if I needed to hear it. I appreciated that, even if I pretended otherwise.

  She pointed to a doorway, knocked, and we entered the office of Doctor Friedenstein. All I could think of was Frankenstein, and hoped I wouldn’t end up with an arm replaced with the tentacle of an octopus.

  She introduced us both, he being a kind-hearted older gentleman who was sympathetic to my plight. Having to get back to her shift, she gave me a half-hearted salute and left with a smile.

  “So, young man, tell me a bit about what is going on,” Dr Friedenstein said.

  “I’ve been seeing tiny lights around the edges of objects, like after rubbing your eyes. There are moments I think the lights have dimmed, although it’s happened in the daylight as well.” I smiled, and continued, “But it also coincides to moments of increased adrenaline.”

  “Janet mentioned earlier you may not have insurance. Is this the case?”

  I nodded.

  “Very well. I owe her some favors. The medical world runs more on the backs of nurses than anyone else, and any doctor who thinks he doesn’t need them is quite foolish.” He said this with a twinkle in his eye, and I sensed his appreciation for his staff. “We’ll run you through some tests, but I’ll keep it off your file and out of billing, since you’re her friend.”

  “Oh you don’t have to do that!” I exclaimed.

  “I don’t, but it’s less work for me if I don’t have to explain why it should be written off or deal with follow-up paperwork and the like.”

  I bowed. “Well thank you much for your kindness. Where do we begin?”

  He guided me through each piece of equipment, having me sit still as each ran through its imaging process. Friedenstein watched the monitors closely as my tests progressed, nodding to me after they were complete. Once I had dressed again, having to wear a gown during the process, I leaned forward to give him my full attention.

  “I see nothing here that would indicate any sort of tumor, cancerous growth, or otherwise abnormal function of the brain. I do see a slight area that indicates an initial trauma, but based on your early x-rays here during your coma, you seem to be in prime condition and are healing well.”

  “Okay, so you’re basically telling me it’s all in my head?” I asked.

  “Correct. I see no evidence of any physical issues here, so let’s see how things go for you over the next few months. It doesn’t hurt to be sure, but from looking at these results, I’d say you have nothing to worry about.”

  I didn’t know if he’d given me good news or bad news, but I thanked him anyway and headed home to grab some dinner, leaving a message to let Janet know the results. After some dinner, it was time to head to another boring night as a bouncer, something I was growing extraordinarily tired of. The shift went without incident, and while walking home some ideas came to me. I’m not saying they were good ideas, but you have to start somewhere.

  There was a line of houses down one of the nearby side streets, and the entire block was a drug area. People pulled up along the side of the road while minors took the “orders” and money, then disappeared inside the houses. They would come back out, hand something to the vehicle, and then the cars drove away. The minors couldn’t be charged with anything worthwhile, and the people inside the houses would all scatter if raided. No big drug players were involved this far down the chain, so the police left them alone.

  I figured if drug operations were “nonexistent” to the police, then maybe I could be nonexistent to the drug dealers. The first time I intentionally shielded in public, which was what I had started calling my ability, was probably not the most intelligent of times to choose. But hey you live, you learn. You die, you learn faster. Sort of.

  Shielded, I stepped across the street. I could feel some of the headache building slowly, but mostly it was just background noise as long as my pace was leisurely. I stepped behind the line of houses and saw a few cars with people standing beside them. I assumed they were getaway vehicles, ready for anyone inside the houses to escape quickly, if needed. I walked at a cautious pace to keep both headache and sound level down, and snuck up on a young kid smoking a c
igarette. I could see a gun sticking out of his belt, but seriously what good would that do if you don’t know you’re being stalked?

  I had seen myself turn invisible on my cell phone and in the mirror, but had never intentionally done so in front of others. I snapped my fingers a few paces away, bringing a quick look from him directly through me. He looked back and forth, trying to find the source of the sound, but saw nothing. Giving up, he leaned back against the vehicle. I exhaled relief that my invisibility was real or the hallucination was convincing.

  I stepped right up beside him and slammed the side of his head with the palm of my hand. His head bounced around a bit as he struggled to stand up straight next to the car he leaned against. I took advantage of his disorientation and grabbed his head in both hands, pulling him low and out of view, then slammed the heel of my hand into the side of his head again before he recovered and reached for the weapon. I slowly lowered him to the ground behind the car in an improvised dream state. My own head was painful, due to all the fast movements, but I easily remained standing as the scout lay unconscious on the street. I took his gun, unloaded it, tossed the cartridges into some bushes, and then slid the magazine back into the grip. At least, if he woke up and tried to use it, he would be surprised when it didn’t fire. I didn’t want to leave a dead body, which would certainly cause an investigation and possible fingerprints. These dregs of society would hardly go to the police just because they’d gotten beat up. I waited a minute to let the headache recede.

  The music from the other punks in neighboring houses covered up any sounds I had made while playing basketball with this guy’s head. Perfect. I walked up to the house and opened the backdoor, wincing at the squeak.

  “Yo, who dat?”