Edited Chapters 3 + 4, Journal entry #2

Chapter 3: Wizard Shit

Walker couldn’t stop staring at the man in the green robe.

Maybe man wasn’t the right word. He had to be seven feet tall, with broad shoulders and a long, meticulously kept beard. His robe, a shiny yellow and green colored thing, would pulse at odd moments. However, it wasn’t the bearded archetype before him nor the strobe-like effect of the robe that truly confused him. 

It was the staff he was holding.

It looked to be in some form of constant change. The coloring kept changing, shifting from a range of reds to white and black. While some of it could be explained, like LED lights or some kind of transparent screen, that couldn’t account for it happening all at once, nor did it make sense that it all looked so natural. As if a white stick had always been black. 

But all of that paled to the biggest thing Walker couldn’t understand. Its size. One moment, it was as tall as the man himself; another, it was no more than the size of a ruler. While he tried to mentally adjust to what he was seeing, the staff went through its most drastic change yet. He watched as it changed from the length of a meter to that of a redwood, shooting into the night sky far above. The damn thing was so tall that it clouded his vision of the stars before quickly shrinking back to a more normal size. The bearded man, whose face seemed to alternate between anger and joy as its natural resting place, noticed him staring not at himself, but at the staff.

“Stop that,” he said with a light slap.

The staff changed color from black to white so fast he thought he was imagining it. The man nodded once as if saying that was that.

“Anyway, welcome to your world, Walker!” He said again with great enthusiasm, a long grin appearing on his face. It slid off for a moment, before reasserting itself. “This is your place, your seat of power. And what power it has! You have no idea how lucky you are that I chose you. Yes,” His face shifted back to anger, “my choice”, before a smile replaced it,” was quite fortuitous indeed!”

Walker didn’t know what to think about the man’s odd emotional changes. He seemed both ecstatically happy and filled with rage at the same time. His mind caught up with what the man had said a moment later, “Chose me?” Walker said with confusion. He was still sitting on the grass, his journal forgotten by his side, while the large man nodded in jerky motions. 

“Of course,” He spread his arms wide, “I had all of the Earth to pick someone. Anyone. And I chose you, Walker. You’re my guy.” Rage resurfaced, “MY GUY”. The staff pulsed red before shifting back to its now standard white. The red tinge up the man's neck calmed down, and he brought out a smile that would make Mrs. Wilson feel shivers, “My guy.” He reiterated in a different tone of voice, “The almost-midlife crisis guy. The “I’m sad and want to reinvent myself” guy. There’s millions of them on Earth at any single moment, but none with your background. I picked you Walker. You’re the one chance this place has. The only chance.”

“What the fuck are you talking about?” Walker said with more confusion laced into his voice. One moment, he’d been in Santa Barbara, almost enjoying a terrible day, and now he was dealing with an emotionally disturbed semi-giant with a weird stick that put on light shows. Too much was happening at once.

The bearded man looked around, pausing momentarily on something behind Walker while he spoke, “Don’t you remember? We were speaking about how terrible Earth is just a moment ago.”

Walker stabbed a finger at the man as he unsteadily jumped to his feet, “You’re that homeless guy.”

“Got it in one. Man, I loved some of the sayings on your old world. It took me years to get the “lay of the land,” he said, putting extra emphasis on the word lay. “You have such fun words for everything. But who am I talking to? You’re an English teacher….were an English teacher actually.”

Walker nodded while his brain felt paralyzed, “Uhuh, I am an English teacher”.

“Were, Walker. Were—no more. Now you’re the new God of Creation! Well, not yet, that is.” He seemed to taste something in the air, “and truly, it’s a small g.”

“God of creation?”

“Small g” he repeated, his face twitching erratically.

Walker knew what he needed to ask, but he was frightened of what was happening, not to mention the emotionally unstable man in front of him. Pulling some inner courage out of the ether, he asked the question sitting on his mind, “Then who are you?”

The man gave a wry grin, “I’m just a facilitator. I was chosen to be the chooser. Me and my, uh, trusty staff here.”

But that wasn’t enough information. If Walker was going to be dropped into the middle of a nonsense situation, he needed answers, “Ok then, who chose you?”

The grin left the bearded man’s face. “No idea, and that’s truly saying something." He looked at his staff, "Shut up! This is my part!". A manic grin appeared on his face, "Now we’re on a time limit for this whole shindig. Great word there. Let me tell you about this place in Isla Vista I once visited.” The staff pulsed red and a small ripping sound shot through the area. A small tear in space appeared over his head before the staff pulsed once again. The tear repaired itself before his eyes, causing Walker's mouth to drop open in astonishment.

The man looked at his staff for a moment and sighed before saying, “Fine, I know, I know. Look, Walker, you said you wanted to make a world where anything can happen. Where equality of opportunity isn’t just a…what did you say again?”

Walker remembered and responded slowly, “Where it’s not just a punchline.”

He snapped his fingers, “Right! This is your chance. Use your knowledge. Hone your memories. Build something that can last and be a home to things you can’t even imagine! Build a home that lets its people flourish, not ROT IN THE GROUND!" He screamed, his face shifting through a series of unexplainable emotions before moving back to his former grin, "This is your chance to do something great, that no one from your world, except maybe one, has ever had the chance to do.”

His staff pulsed red again as Walker said, “Wait, do you mean...”

“No time!” Then he did a very odd thing. He touched the air and stared at the sky for a moment, a small laugh erupting from him. A few more times, he seemed to be touching things only he could see before, out of nowhere, a blackboard materialized. Walker leaped back in fright as the six-foot-tall blackboard settled on the ground with a slight wobble.

“What the fuck!”

“Look, Walker. Look at this! This is your tool of creation! This is pure power, baby!” He was screaming and speaking faster now. With another touch of air, a piece of chalk appeared on the chalk tray. “And there’s your tool to use it! Don’t abandon your ethics, Walker! Do what you should've always done!” The staff turned a harsh red color. “Make me-”

He disappeared without a sound.

“What in the ever living fuck is happening?” Walker said as he plunked into the grass again.

This is too much, Walker thought. I was a teacher this morning. I was in a happy relationship last week. Now I’m a small g God? What the fuck does that mean? Also, WHERE THE FUCK DID HE GO!

Walker tried to calm himself down the way he was taught in the military: deep breath through the nose, let it push itself out of his mouth. In and out. In and out. His mind cleared a little, but the panic and anxiety of the situation still rooted themselves deeply into his chest. It felt like an elephant was standing on his heart, and his veins were filled with sludge that didn’t like to move.

Walker’s mind drifted back to his military training. “First st-ep,” he said to himself with a short nod. “First...step. Yes. Get the lay of the land.”

But still, he didn't stand up. His inner monologue roamed, and too many thoughts at once pushed for prominence. He forced them down a second time with his breathing exercise. After a mental brace, Walker pulled himself up and looked at the sky again. A million stars stared back at him. Absorbing the moment, he blinked his eyes in a slow fashion.

“Wow”.

Some stars were much larger than others, which hadn’t been his experience on Earth. Sure, some seemed brighter than others, like the north star, but here it looked like some of these stars were just one neighborhood over—only a quick flight to reach.

Walker looked around, and aside from grass and the blackboard, he saw a large tree behind him. Leaving the blackboard for the last of his inspection, he walked up to the tree. That homeless man had to be some kind of wizard. The dude was carrying a staff, wearing a robe, and had a long beautiful beard…straight wizard shit.

“Mr. Harrison” Walker said out loud with a laugh, trying to recover his mental faculties through humor. Although most people wouldn’t laugh at being stranded on a different planet, he hadn’t had much going for him back on Earth. The name he mentioned was an old teacher who’d retired from his school just last year. He was also a large man with a beautiful beard, and to top it off, he liked to dress up as Dumbledore from Harry Potter every Halloween. As the name John Reed was likely a lie, Mr. Harrison would work as an alternative name to describe him.

Walker made it over to the tree as he considered his options. As he continued to move, he reflected on the fact that the walk should’ve been much faster. He had guessed it was only a few hundred feet away, yet he’d already stepped a quarter of a mile. 

“Wizard shit”. 

He arrived in front of it and looked back at where he’d left from. He was right; it couldn’t be more than a hundred feet. With a shrug, he looked the tree up and down.

It wasn’t very impressive. It looked tall when seen from far away, impossibly tall, but up close, the tree stood no more than four feet high. Really just a shrub with a stick of wood jabbing out of the middle of it. The leaves were odd, though. Each was shaped as something different. One was a lightning bolt, whereas another was shaped like an eagle in flight. In a passing glance, he could see dozens of different shapes hidden within. An eye, a snake complete with a forked tongue, a helmet, a heart, an arrow. They were all the same shade of green but in completely different shapes. There was a strange raised bump at the top of the shrub, but for some reason, Walker felt like he shouldn’t touch it. 

“Weird,” He said with another shrug. Walker decided to just roll with the punches. Being a teacher at a Title I school and a veteran of the war in Afghanistan, he’d learned to adapt to strange situations in a fast fashion. You never knew what your day was going to be like, regardless of lesson plans or given orders. 

Although, he could make an argument that those were one and the same.

He moved past the tree and kept walking on the grass with the blackboard behind him. While he traveled, he noted the green flora covering the planet was springy and looked quite healthy. Bending down, he couldn’t find any bugs or weeds, just flat, perfectly cut grass all around. Snorting at what a gardener would cost for a planet of grass, he continued walking until he found the blackboard moving into view again.

“No way,” He said with a gasp. “This is a tiny fucking planet”.

He was right, of course. Walker was standing on a planet the size of a small building. There was nowhere to run, and he was alone.

It was just him, the tree, and a blackboard floating on a small planet of grass in the middle of space. 

Also he also didn’t have any food or water.

“I’m so fucked”

Author's note: Reminder, journals will be moved to the back.

Journal Entry #2

So I’m stranded.
Maybe I’ll find my way out of here, or maybe I’ll “make a world,” as Mr. Harrison says.

I don’t know.

I should probably be trying to figure out a way to find food, or water for that matter. But as near as I can tell, there’s nothing here. Nothing at all. Just…an empty wash of green.

Plus it’s not like anyone will ever read this. My last chapter reads like I’m the saddest man in the world, yet, I’ve just been given an incredible opportunity. 

I ended my last page with hope, so maybe I’ll focus on it in this one. There are worse things to look at.

Poetry helps. I’ve always found poetry to reach the soul better than any other medium, with the exception of music.

Of course, music is just poetry in a different form, but that’s the English teacher in me talking.

So why not take a meager chance at writing some of my own.

Hope is a feckless bully
When you think you’ve lost it all, he appears
He drives you in the morning, keeps your eyes open when you should sleep
He forces you to carry him, always trying to share that burden with others
He’s a monster of unimaginable force, a dictator of your soul
He only fades and disappears when you forget him
Only returning when another soul feels his brush

Not my best or my worst. I’ll take it.

Maybe I can survive this place.

But even if I do, I have to ask, where did that crazy guy go? What is he?

Questions I hope I'll have answers to one day.

Some water right now would be nice. 

Chapter 4: The Alpha Protocol

Walker placed his journal beside him as he considered his current predicament. 

He’d walked halfway between the blackboard and the odd tree, recognizing again that the length of travel for the time allotted was too long. It was like each step only carried him a small percentage of the distance he knew should be traveled. 

After an initial freakout, Walker had returned to his original place of arrival, sitting down and writing in the camo-covered book. It didn’t hold many pages, but he’d been told that writing in a journal was therapeutic in nature. Plus, he’d always had trouble expressing his emotions in a verbal way. But writing them out, that, was quite easy. 

Walker looked over and considered the blackboard for a moment.

“Step 2: Make a plan”. He said to himself, further drawing on his military experience.

Approaching the blackboard, he grabbed the chalk. It didn’t seem all that special, but Walker considered that Mr. Harrison had created this from nothing. The cylindrical chalk was that plain white you can find in classrooms that don’t approve of the standard marker. In his classroom, which used markers as is right and proper, he had always preferred digital presentations and saved writing on the board for moments when it mattered most. His own personal problems with such notwithstanding.

Of course, he had Dysgraphia, and it was a pain in the ass to not only write but write well. Not the thoughts on the page, but the actual act itself. The swish and flick of the pen to the paper. His hand would cramp, and the letters would sometimes re-arrange themselves. Strange things. 

Throughout his life, Walker had been forced to take his time writing each word with agonizing slowness, not to mention after he was done writing, he had to double-check everything before revealing it to the class. The moments where he tried to speed write, to keep up with his schedule, had made it seem like he was writing in ancient hieroglyphics—all twists and unnatural dips that could hardly be understood.

Walker placed the chalk against the blackboard as if to write, and immediately felt something unseen hold his arm in place. While his mind drove itself into a panic, a series of words appeared.

Error
The Creation instrument is not linked
Error

"Fuck!" He yelled out as it released him, causing the chalk to slip out of his hand as he stepped back in fear. 

Something he couldn’t see, had just gripped him. Was it telekinesis? Some form of gravity? Plus, the words. 

They had appeared as if from nowhere, floating in projected script over the blackboard. Was this more magic or something else? Perhaps technology so advanced it would seem to be magic and nothing less. 

Further testing was required.

With some grumbles and an eye on the blackboard, he picked up the chalk and held it in his hand as he re-read the message. Shit just kept popping up and disappearing every time he turned around here.

“What do you mean not linked?” he asked the air, hoping for an answer.

He waited until the count of thirty but never received a response.

Walker tried to write again, only to receive the same results, albeit with less of a panicked response.

He looked down to grab the chalk again but found it missing. After turning in a circle, Walker found it in the chalk tray, in the exact same position it had been when he first walked up.

“Magical disappearing and reappearing chalk!” He said with a light laugh to no one in particular. He approached it and looked at it from all angles without picking it up. Walker decided there still wasn’t much special about it except its ability to teleport.

Picking it up, he tried talking to it.

“Hello there, my white friend. Ummm, do you have a story in you?”

No response.

“Do you want to say something, but I can’t hear you?”

Still no response.

“Why do I need to link you?”

Text appeared above the blackboard.

Explanation
Linking of the creation instrument is required before the beginning of the alpha protocol initialization period
End

With the text appearing, Walker realized he needed to be very specific in his questions if he wanted a response. Thinking things over carefully, he asked the most logical question he could come up with.

“What is the alpha protocol?”

Error
Information requested is restricted to the current entity
Error

“Okay then, how do I link to the c-creation instrument.” He said, stuttering over the term.

Explanation

Linking to the creation instrument can only be done through genetic material. Refer to the guide for more information

End

“What is a guide?”

Explanation
The guide is an entity that chooses a Creator for the alpha protocol
 End

“Guide? What guide?” 

Yellow and green robes flashed through his mind. 

Walker shouted into the air, “Fucker didn’t tell me anything!” 

Mr. Harrison had appeared, acted erratically, scared the shit out of him, then said some weird things and left. The idea that he was supposed to stay and help Walker out but had left instead didn’t shock him. 

He glared at the blackboard, willing it to help him out of this jam. But after a long time with nothing happening, he eventually just shrugged and decided to move on. 

“Easy enough.” He brought the chalk near to his mouth, licking it.

“Tastes like….nothing.”

Error

Genetic donation is insufficient

Error

Walker sighed after reading the words over the blackboard again. The chalk looked the same as before, only slightly damper.

“Fucking kidding me,” Walker said, realizing what the requirement was.

Blood.

He tried painfully plucking a strand of dark brown hair and placing it on the chalk, but no dice. Then, thinking outside of the box, he tried wrapping the chalk in his hair. Still no response.

Taring at the white piece of chalk for a moment as he tapped his chin, Walker threw his hands in the air. “Fine,” he said before biting the bottom of his lip hard. He swiped a finger across the pooling blood in his mouth and placed it on the chalk, which immediately made the red substance of life disappear.

The moment the chalk absorbed his blood, text began appearing over the blackboard. As he began to read it, something spiked into the back of Walker’s skull, causing him to stumble forward a step, while at the same time, the pain in his lip disappeared. 

Falling to a knee, he desperately looked toward the text on the blackboard, trying to ignore the most recent oddness of the world and the lack of pain from his lip. 

Alpha Protocol initialized…

Creator Human10 recognized

Congratulations Creator, and welcome to the Alpha Protocol!

As your guide should’ve told you, you’ll begin your work with a preliminary tutorial that will walk you through a few of the abilities you’ve just now gained. For instance, you may not have noticed, but this isn’t written in your native language. Instead, it is in the original language of all creation! You can now read any language that is found within the annals of the multiverse.

What’s the purpose, you may ask?

So you may communicate with other Creators throughout the system!

Communication is very important for any sapient entity's needs. The more you speak with the others, the better off you’ll be.

We’ve also used some of our resources to heal any maladies you may currently face, that way, you can be at your very best!

After all, we want only the very best worlds and entities that all of you can create.

It’s not about quantity but quality! More about that later.

“All of you?”

As a bit of help to get you started, you will also be given an assistant who will help you within the predesignated parameters, and a few minor skills that relate to your genetic diversity. To even the playing field a little, you’ll be given one random ability. 

Hope it’s a good one!

You’ve already taken your first step in creating your own world! Congratulations again! Please allow for the overlay system to begin. It will take a few moments for your mind to adjust, but please do not worry; it is all for the best. 

As a last note, please make sure to change your identity in the system. No one wants to see blitzburg7 or galacticplaneteater2.

Thankfully, there aren’t many galactic planeteaters still alive after the last war, so don’t worry!

Good luck! 

….
….
….

Overlay Starting

Walker was still on a knee, or he’d have collapsed the moment the overlay began. Colors flashed, and geometric shapes spun and shifted throughout his vision. Closing his eyes didn’t help, and he could feel his stomach rolling and bouncing from the unholy experience. When it finally settled, after many minutes and not the few moments that were promised, he’d vomited twice on a mostly empty stomach just from the induced motion sickness.

Rather than stand up, he dropped to a sitting position with his legs splayed out in front of him so he could look at the changes to his vision. As he opened his eyes, the first thing he noticed was the blue shade coloring everything he saw. Blue-blackboard, blueish chalk. It was...annoying. After however much time went by, most of his vision cleared out, his overlay shifting itself to the periphery.

On the right, he saw empty boxes that he felt should be filled out, with one flashing box at the top. It pulsed with a gold color that simply said, “Congratulations.”

“How the fuck do you use this?” He asked the blackboard, but unshockingly, he didn’t get a response. Probably another thing his guide should have told him. Then he remembered Mr. Harrison touching the air, so he reached up a hand hesitantly and touched the pulsing word in his view.

A small list faded into the middle of his vision.

New Abilities gained: 3

Assistant gained

Universal Translator Activated

Walker clicked on the abilities portion.

Error

Change identity first

Error

“What a tease. Give me abilities, but make me change my identity first? They must really hate those random monikers, whoever they are.” Walker clicked on a now pulsing identity in the top corner of the overlay system.

Identity system found

Current identity: Human10

Would you like to change your identity?

Yes/No

Walker was about to click on yes when a thought emerged. If he was human10, that meant there were at least nine other humans in the alpha protocol, right? 

That led him down a theoretical rabbit hole. If there were humans, were they from Earth? His Earth? Or were there other planets across the…Multiverse that had humans on them? 

He couldn’t discount the idea of parallel dimensional theory, that other universes, Earths, and potentially Walkers existed. Mr. Harrison said that he was chosen, but there was no guarantee that he’d been the only guide to choose on his planet. So either they’re from other planets that also have humans, they’re from his planet, or they’re from a parallel planet. The scope of parallel dimensional theory possibly being true was incredible.

He wondered what another version of himself would be like. Would he have stayed in the military? Would another Nicholas have appeared, or another Valerie even? Did Mrs. Wilson still have that shitty smile? Mr. Wilson, maybe?

Walker recognized that he could spend all day thinking about what different versions of himself might’ve done or the choices that he might’ve made, but he still had one difficult decision to make right now. He clicked on the yes button.

Change identity by Human10 confirmed

Please use the provided tool to change your identity permanently

Warning: Cannot be changed after confirmation of new identity

A standard keyboard appeared at the bottom of the overlay. There were some strange characters at the top, but he ignored it for now as he just wanted to get it over with. He only had one problem….he was bad with names. One of the biggest reasons he’d never gone into writing was his inability to randomly create a name and apply his invented characters to them. Thus, his journal was named Journal, and his car was named Car. Well, that wasn’t so strange, but still, this was problematic. 

He could just go with Walker as his given name, but that felt wrong.

This was a new world and a new experience. Mr. Harrison said he had power, and that he was chosen. Walker’s mind was a collection of different novels from Beowulf and the Bible to the more modern Sanderson and King. He needed a name that was chosen throughout literary history, and just to boost his confidence, he needed a name that would reinforce that no matter what happened, he’d succeed.

So, naturally, he made his choice with the best possible start.

Identity change confirmed

Human10 will now be known as Dante

Change cannot be modified in the future

Hello Dante

Walker smiled to himself. There was a good reason for selecting Dante. First, it related to poetry, which he’d always been a fan of, even in his military time. Langston Hughes and Robert Frost swam in his veins.

Second, Walker’s roots were in Italian-American traditions—the big plates of pasta, big conversations, big Catholic guilt. It was all big. Contrary to tradition, his father was the cook in the family, always making too much food for too few people.

Lastly, Dante’s Inferno, or “The Divine Comedy,” was a trial of divine proportions. No name fit him better for this current scenario. He wasn’t sure what was coming, but he knew that he’d have to be on his toes and ready for anything. A little bit of Dante could go a long way.

Now that his name was settled, Walker clicked on abilities again.

Congratulations Dante! You've gained an Advanced Assistant!

For those who weren’t born with the greatest of potential, an advanced assistant can be invaluable. The standard assistant will be upgraded to an advanced model, with enhanced form and function, including customizable options. The assistant will also work to anticipate the needs of its Creator and can, with permission, work autonomously to succeed in any current tasks in the alpha protocol. Please consult your assistant for more information.

Congratulations Dante! You've gained the Tree of the Gods!

The Tree of the Gods itself. It’s power, a mystery. Its history, unknown. Further investigation can unlock potential paths forward in the alpha protocol.

Congratulations Dante! You've gained the Evolutionary Edge ability!

Some species in the universe are born powerful, while others evolve or form from natural selection. Each time the Creator attempts to evolve a creature, they’ll receive a higher chance of success. The greater the scale of evolution, the larger the impact evolutionary edge will have during the alpha protocol.

Looking over his three new abilities…Walker didn’t feel any different. He had a box filled in on the side now that plainly stated abilities, but nothing about his mind or body had changed. 

“It seems, it’s about me, but not.” He said while scratching his chin. Since the abilities were applying to what he would be creating in the protocol, rather than he himself, Walker reasoned that he wouldn’t likely see a lot of danger. It wasn’t about him, but his creations. 

Going for a walk to think, something he had done through most of his life, he headed over to the odd shrub, the only other living inhabitant of his small world. When he arrived, he noticed it had grown and was now almost as tall as he was. The leaves had filled out more and even the shapes had become more noticeable. He found one lightning bolt leaf had started to shift from its original green coloring to blue, and as he scanned the rest of the leaves, he found others were also changing colors to fit their imagery.

Walker reached out and touched the thin bark, but received a simultaneous shock for his his efforts. He yelped and pulled his hand away, shaking it to try to relieve the feeling.

“It’s not ready,” a voice said behind him.

Walker spun around to look at the speaker, but he wasn’t ready for what he was seeing.

“Call me Virgil”.