A beautiful view of the starless sky, how miniscule are we?

  When compared to the infinite?

  Our hero opens his eyes and stares at the ceiling, lost in contemplation. What does he ponder?

  At a slow pace, he drags his feet to the sink. He stares at the dirty mirror. For a moment, he catches a glimpse of a figure out of the corner of his eye. "Yes?" he asks, but there is no answer.

  A cold shiver runs down his spine, a grip of anxiety around his throat. "YES?" he asks louder. Silence fills the air. He looks back in the mirror, trying to compose himself when a cold hand grasps his back. He screams!

  A cold sweat pours down his brow. "What was that?" is his only thought. The coldness of the hand felt so real, so familiar. "It was just a dream; I need to calm down," he thinks. He moves to the mirror, like déjà vu. "Have I been here before?" The thought freezes him in place, stun locked by the same fear from his dream. Such an oppressive force, weighing his very essence down.

  His trance is suddenly broken by clamors in the distance. He bolts for the door. "MA!" he calls. A tall and curvaceous dark-skinned woman emerges. Beautiful and radiant, with hazel-green eyes and a mane of perfectly kept dreads. But her clothes were in tatters; rags are what the people of Paradise could afford.

  On the far side, all you could see was the silhouette of an unkempt Afro waving in the breeze that trickled in through the window. The gaze of a stoic man who had seen many battles and overcome many hardships. They were of simple means, but life was not always this way.

  He yells again, louder: "MA!" She turns her head, finally acknowledging the third party, screaming, "You used to be a Champion, a champion! What happened to that man?" Her eyes swell up with tears. A stream runs down her cheek.

  "What happened, Dante? I heard you screaming." The room quiets as all eyes turn to see my person. 6'2", 220 lbs. Stone-faced with a giant afro and a clear disdain for authority. Intimidating was a concise way to put it.

  D: "Nothing, Ma. What is everybody yelling about?"

  Ma: "Your dad. He gets on my last nerve."

  D: (scoffs) "Again? He has been like that since he lost his title, 3-time world boxer. He is the champion, he doesn't know anything else, Mom."

  Ma: "See. This is why he never gets better. That was 11 years ago. It was cute to defend him when you were ten. But he should learn to move on, if not for us then for himself."

  Pops: "I can hear you two! It's not like I'm dead, you know."

  Ma: "You might as well be, never leave that damn bag. Get a damn job, we can't eat sand."

  Pops: "I'm so tired of your attitude, woman. I'm the goddamn champ. You can't talk to the CHAMP like that!"

  D: "Alright, that's enough. Cut it out, both of you. I need to start heading out for the morning. I need to finish collecting some cells."

  Ma: "At least somebody has a J-O-B around here."

  D: "Enough!!"

  The rickety door slams behind him. It reads “Loosmon Gym” in the distance.

  The landscape is A futuristic city emblazoned by neon lights and signs.

  The city is New New York 3155, it was once a sprawling two-tiered metropolis.

  In the tallest skyscrapers lived the city elite in the Bustling art district.

  The city connected in the sky was dubbed NEW New York. In the polluted

  Remnants of what is not known as Paradise to its inhabitants. Dilapidated and grey, A

  Forgotten City, Fueled by waste and debris. Crime and lawlessness ruled the

  Underground, this truly was a damned City.

  D: "Alright. Now I can finally focus. What was up with that dream? The chill of that hand... It felt so real, but it didn't feel... I don't know, malicious, I guess. It felt familiar. So familiar, like I know the touch." (sigh) "Forget it. I just got to my first site, let me focus."

  The days are long and repetitive collecting thrashed data cells. The materials can be recycled so the cells can be sold to "scrappers". Everybody is just trying to survive. Life is hard in Paradise. Scammers, junkies, thieves, and murderers are a dime a dozen. Hard living for honest people.

  This novel's true home is a different platform. Support the author by finding it there.

  D: "10 cells, not bad for a morning haul. Let me check two more sites and then I'll go see Ally and the Old Man. They always give me the best deals."

  At the third site Dante feels a brushing wind whisper his name. He glances over across

  the Street his eyes meet a sign he has never seen before.

  Four strange symbols aligned, flickering flirtatiously. "(Dante)," a whisper echoes again. A shivering panic breaks down his spine, cold beads of sweat run down his brow. A deep anxiety, like before, swings him into a trance-like state. The fear induces him, nervous shakes fumble his belongings. Suddenly, an ungodly scream: "WAKE UP!"

  His trance breaks. He scrambles, bending down to scoop up his cells. A familiar cold hand graces his back. The touch ignites his sprint, full steam in the opposite direction of fear. He trips over a loose tile as he braces for impact, tensing his muscles and gritting his teeth. Suddenly, he is greeted with nothing. He opens his eyes to find himself in his room. Drenched in sweat, blood dripping from his lip, and a deep sense that he had just escaped tragedy. He glances over to the clock: 4:44.

  D: "Was that a dream? There is no way that was a dream! Was I dreaming the whole time? What a loser," (scoffs) "who dreams about picking up trash? Is that even a thing?"

  A déjà vu scenario. Dante shuffles out of bed into his bathroom for his morning routine, unaware of the lurking shadow that follows. Staring into the mirror, he waits for the creeping anxiety that had infiltrated his dream. But nothing ever came, his trance only broken by the sounds of laughter and joy. He rushes to see his parents in a drunken stupor.

  D: "What's going on?"

  Ma: "WE WON! The CHAMP did it again. We just won the big prize at the open fight night down at Gilgamesh's."

  D: "Bare-knuckle boxing? Pops, that is dangerous. It is not sanctioned or even regulated."

  Pops: "Listen, boy. There comes a time in a man's life when he reaches a crossroad and he has to make a tough decision : 'lay down and die' or 'get up and keep fighting,' and I am choosing the latter."

  D: "That is fine and dandy, Pops, but you used to be the champion!"

  Pops: "Enough! I do not want to hear that CHAMP talk again. It has been eleven years, eleven years! Dante, just be grateful you still have a roof over your head and shoes on your feet."

  D: "Whatever you say, Pops. I'm late for work. Congratulations on the win."

  As the door closes behind Dante, he can't help but feel guilty. Maybe he should've been more supportive. But before he has a second to ponder on the thought, he hears a familiar voice. "DEE!" His eyes are greeted with Alice's ice blue stare, her braids billowing in the dusk air. She was the definition of a Nubian goddess: strong, beautiful, and intelligent.

  A: "What happened to you yesterday? You keep acting abnormal."

  D: "What do you mean? How so?"

  A: "Well, for one, you left your payout for the cells you dropped off, and you kept saying you heard somebody calling your name."

  D: "Shut up, why are you messing around?"

  A: "I'm not. Here is the pay for yesterday."

  D: (Digi-wallet has received 30k credits) "Ally.... When was I there?"

  Suddenly, an icy breeze blows, and silence covers the rowdy streets. A howling wind sweeps in with a slight whisper, "Dante."

  D: "Did you hear that? There is no way you didn't hear that."

  A: (Panic-glazed eyes) "Hear what?"

  Paralyzed in fear, silence blankets the streets until all you can see is a hooded visage in the distance. Time almost freezes as this cloaked figure walks over and touches our backs with the same cold embrace from my dreams. All I could do was look over and try to peer under the hood, and then I heard a woman's voice say, "Wake up."

  When I opened my eyes, I was suddenly in my room again, but this time was different. My body was paralyzed; I tried to scream but my brain could not execute the thoughts. As I lay there, a flurry of images bombarded my thoughts: visions of a battle, visions of embrace, memories of love and loss, the story of someone's life. These ancient memories gave insight into landscapes and beings that I was not familiar with. Suddenly, the image of another battle appeared. No, more like the end of a battle. No mercy was being shown to a warrior. They severed his head from his body.

  As soon as the head hit the floor, my paralysis ended, and I awoke to find myself in my bed for the third time. I grasped my neck out of instinct. His eyes, his eyes showed no pain. His face... I feel like I know him. Who was that?

  My thoughts are broken by a slam downstairs. I can hear Ma and Pops fighting. I slowly tread forward, dreading the altercation looming downstairs. I trudge to the sink, dragging every step. I look in the mirror; I look weathered, eyes tired, skin puffy. How long was I even sleeping? I splash some water on my face. When I look back up, the mirror reflects a horrible scene: endless rows of womb-like entanglements propped up by sleek structures, the architecture anything but human. The image quickly changes back to normal.

  A cold sweat beads down my neck; I'm frozen in fear again, deeper than before, when suddenly I hear glass break and blows landing. I rush down to witness my parents in a full-on assault. A vicious brawl with no remorse for each other. Fists, pans,

  anything and everything that was not bolted down was thrown. HEY! HEY! WHAT IS GOING ON?!

  Ma) I'm Fucking fed up with this shit TAY, He pushes and pushes and takes, I've given him my best years. For what? FOR WHAT?! (She bawls).

  Pops) For What, What(mockingly). I'll tell you for what, cause you never had any goddamn sense. You should know better than to talk back the man....

  When suddenly a gruesome sound of flesh being pierced—a sound I would one day become accustomed to—followed by a skin-crawling scream. Blood sprayed the walls red. Then a silencing thud as Pop's body drops to the ground. Mom's breathing is heavy and full; blood gurgles from Pop's neck, pooling on the floor quickly. I pulled all my courage and started yelling, "HELP!" as I rush to cover Dad's wound.