CHAPTER 1

PART 1

THE TRAVELLER

Not all those who wander are lost

~ J.R.R. Tolkien.

Jan 17, 2065

"Someone said, 'Immortality is to live your life doing good things and leaving your mark behind', didn't they? What better way to bring life to people if not through this, this handwork of mine. He pondered as he paced up and down his office. Imagine a life where everyone could be given a second chance living all heathy.

He stopped to look out of the window. It was made of glass and was large enough to serve as a huge plasma television. Just that this time you were looking at events unfolding live and the actors are untrained and without scripts. He watched as a man walked by. He was wearing his coat and gloves. So did the other people who walked by too all on a mission and some engorged in their own thoughts.

The shrill sound of the ringing telephone cut through the quiet in the office. Aelfric who now goes by Rick turned and walked to his desk. He checked to see who was calling; it was his secretary. He picked the call.

"Mr Rick, the Head lab technician said he has been trying to reach you since yesterday. He said he thinks something is wrong with the machine." Came the high pitched voice on the other end.

"Something like what?" Rick asked, fondling a pen in his hand, his eyes trained keenly on the phone.

"Sir I'm not really sure. He said a whole lot of things that I could not grasp fully. Should I send him over?"

"Immediately. Thank you." He made to end the call.

"And Mr Silver?" The voice called.

"Yes, Alice. Is there something else?"

"Yes sir. The young reporter, Clair Fisher is requesting for an interview with you. It's in your mail."

"Alright, I'll see to it. Thank you Alice." He didn't wait for a reply before cutting the call.

He lounged back in his reclining chair and looked around his office.

The interior of his office puts midnight to shame. From the glazed tiles on the floor, to the paint coating the screeded four walls of the room, to his office desk and the minimalist design of furniture arranged sparsely through out the space, to even the ornate ceiling. Everything was black. Rick loved to think he derived solace from the darkness. To pretend It helps to calm his soul not that there was ever any real comfort in doing that but he loved to think that identifying with darkness might bring him some sort of rest. He was wrong. Still he tried with what was left of his being, he opted for everything black.

Everything except of course, the writing and printing papers and the light bulb assuming they were turned on, which rarely ever happened. The look of the office alone was enough to chill anybody to the bones. One quick glance around the office and the pit of unease settles deep inside you.

A timid knock sounded at the door before the door quietly opened to let in a middle age man wearing a lab coat. The man with his spectacles perched on his nose, was slim and tall. The hair on his head was black mixed with grey and his beard all white.

"Good morning Mr Rick." The man said approaching Rick's desk with caution

"Good morning Stanley, have a seat." Rick said nodding in the direction of the seat opposite him. The man called stanley carefully took a seat, his hands fidgeting with the edge of his lab coat.

"Sir You asked to see me?"

"I did. Alice informed me that you have been trying to reach me. Is there a problem?" Rick asked, his eyes boring into stanley's.

"Not really Sir," Stanley began. He used his index finger to push his sliding spectacles back up his nose. "It's just the new product"

"What about it Stanley?"

"I tell you Sir, Something really weird has been going on with the machine. I tr... I tried to come up with a set of equations for it's working mechanism which we would insert in the article about the product. These equation were supposed to aid the readers of the article in understanding how the machine works, to explain to them the principles behind the operations of this device. But so far, all the theories and equation I have derived have been amply incorrect. It's as if  the new product is operating on some kind of supernatural power. Something beyond the normal understanding of the mere man. S...so Sir, I was calling to ask your permission to reach out to experts in my field and see if any of them would come up with a practical solution."

Although Rick maintained a stoic facial expression as Stanley spoke, his thoughts were running through how Stanley shouldn't even be thinking this kind of thoughts in the first place. He can't have him poking his fingers at things that are better left alone. He knew that he could not allow his head lab technician or anybody for that matter to entertain the idea of the machine possessing supernatural powers. Although it was true, they couldn't know it. Ever. He also knew damn well that he cannot afford to have Stanley informing third parties about the project before it was even out of the oven. He needed to act very fast. And there was only one thing he could do.

"Listen very carefully to me Stanley," when Rick was very certain he had his full attention, he took a deep breath to perform one of his rare, invasive feats of Power. He only did this in cases as this one, when he had no other choice. He pulled into Stanley's mind, his snaking tendrils reaching into Stanley's consciousness, stretching it out until the lab technician's eyes went matte, muted grey. Rick smiled, he knew he had him exactly where he wanted. But then he could feel the darkness wrapping it's cold hands around him, enticing him to just kill the man and be done with it.

No.

He resisted the urge, he only wanted to make Stanley forget his assumptions and equations and also never think of contacting any third party about his doubts.

"The machine is perfectly normal and has no supernatural backing whatsoever. The equations are not accurate due to some unaccounted errors so instead rough estimates will be made until a better solution is found. Under no circumstances will you contact third parties to either notify them about the project or ask for their help on it. You'll leave this office now and never remember that we ever had this conversation."

Rick blinked his eyes releasing him abruptly. When Stanley came back from under, he looked about the room in obvious confusion. He looked like he could not remember coming in there. He looked in front of him at his boss, his confusion deeper. " Mr. Rick?"

"Stanley," Rick replied coolly.

"I'm sorry Sir, I don't rem...Never mind" He got up and walked to the door, muttering something about how old age was finally catching up with him. He opened the door and left.

When the door closed behind him, Rick breathed a sigh of relief. The darkness has gone away now, although the ever gaping hollowness within him was still present. He hated when he had to do that but trapped in the corner as he was, it was his last resort.

The various duties of his modern life kept  Aelfric, or Rick as he went by now, busy enough to pass the time and feel passably useful. Useful because he could use the knowledge he possessed about healing to help ailing people recover. But his loneliness was so heady, it behaved like a pet. The agony of it had faded over the centuries, until it became this distilled void in his being, almost exhibiting its own thoughts and feelings.

Living, if you could call it that, for so long was not the glamorous existence that contemporary fiction made it out to be. There was certainly nothing glamorous about constantly changing identities, having employees rather than friends and even having fake dates to keep gossips about his sexuality out from the mouths of the public. It was bleak, listless, and extremely tiring. It made one a slave, with no personal desires left to fulfill, no book left unread, and no lasting connections whatsoever. Mortals were akin to pets, perhaps less. There could be no true friendship or love exchanged, for he was a monster with no counterpart, with no soul.

It was only in his work, his age old mission, in which he found some reprieve from the nightmare he inhabited. That was what had driven him when he was young, what led him to the path he was on today and it is still the only thing that comforts his fading soul. As a young man he had set out to become a healer, to make healthcare accessible to more than just the rich and powerful. And with the new machine he was about to release, he would accomplish just that.

He couldn't risk the the new product being exposed before it's time.

Now, with modern technology being its own kind of magic, and certainly a perfect disguise for his brand, he was able to help and heal in every country. His company, Siltek INC was the largest producer of pharmaceuticals, home medical devices, and high performing supplements in the world. Under the guise of ingenuity and technology, he'd brought the lost healing arts of his time to the modern world, incorporating elements of magic that few had mastered, and even fewer would care to share. Sometimes, he even feared that he was the only one alive who still possessed this precious knowledge.

The launch of his newest product was shrouded in controversy. He'd held back on releasing something of this magnitude in the past, but on the wings of his new mission, it seemed fitting to leave something truly amazing behind. Though he would soon leave these fragile, beautifully imperfect creatures to their own devices, he would leave them with a gift to lighten the load. In the past he'd worried that another ancient being might recognize the power of this device, and seek him out, or that the invention would be under too much scrutiny to ever make it to market. Experts would want to debunk and criticize it, him, and the company.  Today although he didn't care, he would still prefer the product to be kept a secret before it's launch. He would pass it on to humanity as his final contribution, in a last attempt to end their suffering before he ended his own.

He weary of life and the very thought of his continual living was like a cumbersome load to his worn out body. He had become a very old man. Though the skin of his boyish face still stretched smooth over his enduring bones, and though his eyes remained clear and blue, the man inside his body was an ancient thing. He stood next to antique artifacts and marveled at their youthful sparkle. He attended a funeral with happiness for a departed soul with both a smile and a deep, burning envy. For he, young and spry though he seemed, was older than the very dirt he now walked on and after nearly a millennium, craved to be set free from the soulless body which had been his prison since the day she disappeared. His Love.

My sil

He still remembered the tiniest detail about her. Her golden red lock, her shiny green eyes that even the sea would envy. He found himself most times lost in them. Those plump lush curves that he always love to run his hands over. Her porcelain skin, so soft. Her cheerful giggles that never fails to put him in high spirits.

He knew he shouldn't think about these things or remember but He found some solace in remembering. Now that his pain had changed, now that it was not the fresh sting of loss, but a  constant throbbing, chronic companion- it did help to go back. He welcomed the pain of remembering.

He deserves it.

Aelfric still remembered in striking detail the world as it was when his age had matched his body; when his happy soul was still nestled close to his young heart. He recalled being a part of this world, rather than glimpsing it and grasping at it as if through a reflective pool.  In those days, he'd been a lad with heroic ambitions, and studious dedication. The desire to do good and to see wrongs righted was all that drove him in his youth.

But all that was gone like a flash when he lost her.

How I miss you my darling Sil. Life hasn't been fair since you left. I wish you were here.

But Rick knew better than to spend his day wishing for things that could never happen. He sat up straighter and picked a pen to write a note to his secretary.

His computer beeped. It was another one of the endless list of mails sent by the National pharmaceutical society. They were requesting his presence at the conference coming up that Saturday. More like requesting an opportunity to annihilate him. A slew of high power pharmaceutical companies was dogging his every step.  He had received several threats and as of a week before has even been attacked on his way to an event.

The product he was about to unleash on the world was bad news for them and their wallets because it would make most of their money-making products obsolete.The email below the National pharmaceutical society's caught his eye. It was from the reporter his secretary, Alice had told him about. He never liked reporters because he thought them nosy cunny individuals who only wanted to write viral articles even if it's at the expense of your well built reputation. Besides, he didn't need any sort of publicity for his new product, he believed a good product sold itself. And his machine was the best gift the world would ever be given.

Even as all these thoughts ran through his head, he still went ahead and opened the mail. It read;

Subject: Request for an Interview

Mr silver,

My name is Clair Fisher and I am a reporter for the Quotidian News Company. I have heard about your hard work and about how you are planning to change the medical world for good. This is no doubt impressive and has gotten the attention of the public. We want to know more. I am writing an exposé and would love to interview you. This exposé is particularly for your company and i'm certain it will create a lot of hype and intrigue even more than enough to help launch your product into the world. It would also give people the opportunity to finally have a look at the Man behind the Magic. And which other news company to do this if not the Quotidian News Company, the City's biggest News Company.

Please feel free to reach out to me when you have the time. I promise I would not take much of time. I hope to hear from you soon.

Clair Fisher.

The man behind the magic. He actually smiled. "If she only knew."

As he read her proposal, he considered what a wonderful idea this might actually be. Rick decided perhaps a little publicity will do his planned launch a whole lot of good. That way a lot of people are made aware of the existence of this life saving innovation. What the reporter was suggesting did seem like a great way to get the word out. Even if the world rejected his gift, there were always people desperate enough to seek out alternative cures, and if he made enough of a commotion, perhaps his life-saving device would find its way into the right hands.

He didn't know what prompted him to go ahead and type her name into his search engine. Suddenly, he was filled to with an intense urge to know all there is about her, to investigate her most hidden secret.

He typed ' Clair Fisher' and hit enter. In a pico second, numerous search results filled his computer screen. She was a part time reporter at The Quotidian and She used her free time to work on her own personal project which also features on the quotidian news papers if the directors consider it news worthy.

Lots of blogs talked about her infamously brutal criticisms and striking wit. She was strikingly popular for being very blunt and straight forward. As he scrolled down, he saw a comment that said, " It takes seriously huge balls to give an interview with Clair Fisher, and Even bigger ones to read the published work."  He saw that Clair had more retractions and retraction requests than any other journalist. She'd been quoted in the new York times saying " I write what I think people need to know, I don't care if it hurts your feelings. I don't work for you. I'm not your fucking therapist. I'll retract it, but it's still been written and that's all i care about. Call it commentary if you want, but I write the truth, and people deserve to read it."

An interview with Fisher might be the perfect way to create a buzz; and if she covered the stories that would inevitably ensue: " Siltek claims miracle cure ", " Billionaire Rick Silver investigated for fraud", " Life saving Siltek Device a scam" , perhaps he could control the onslaught. If she really did "Wrote the truth", maybe she was exactly what he needed.

The colleagues in the field constantly fought his products, because it would wipe the product the drugs they made billions from off the market. This other pharmaceutical companies specialize in producing medication for treating and not curing sickness: keeping people alive just long enough to absorb every last cent out of them. Siltek's mission was to abolish the need for a majority of their drugs, and in 6 months when the device went public, it would be an all out war. So far according to his research if any reporter could handle that, it was Clair Fisher.

Rick came to the conclusion that the publicity was necessary and decided to grant her a  meeting. If things went well, he might just like this reporter. Rick wrote her a quick reply, hoping to spark her interest but not scare her away. She'd figure out the gravity of the situation once she started digging. He just needed to get her here. The telephone on his desk rang for the umpteenth time that day interrupting his thoughts. This damn phone...

"Alice?"

"Yes. Sir, your three O'clock appointment is here."

"Already? Send him in."