The Eternal Journey of 'Mr Benn'

[Adrift in Obscurity]

"So you remember nothing?" the officer sat across a small square field table, chiselled jaw, round spectacles and hair immaculately brylcreemed, the khaki of his starched shirt and trousers blending with the greenish light of the cell/office in which they sat.

In reply he merely shook his head, although in truth flashes of needles entering his flesh and the vortex plagued his thoughts and made his teeth ache. The lieutenant nodded severely and added further notes to his report.

He had already noted the one way glass on the right wall, his mind felt like chopped salad a heavy fogginess that made it difficult to concentrate as if perpetually hung over or afflicted with flu, he shook his head to another monotone question and as the stoic officer returned to his clipboard he slipped into semi-wakefulness his boundary extending into the next room.

For an Optima Benn this was a simple trick, to cheat and extend his soft talents within the World, everybody dreamt even while awake, they just didn't realise it was merely a process of him listening in.

"He really can't recall anything?" the harsh accusing voice of MACSOK Colonel McCarmick
"No, critical trauma induces complete mental erasure" replied the husky voice of Doctor Lydia Carrick
"Goddam it, what is the fucking point of this, I've got GIs knee deep in blood and shit and were pussying around with a monkey who can't remember jack!"

He sensed Carrick smirk "Colonel this is the best soldier you've got"

"The hell he is, he's no better than the dogs and monkeys we're sendin into space"

"This tells me, that you have no idea the war the Benns are fighting"

"Careful Doc, Pentagon still funds your pretty ass"

"True but you don't write the cheques colonel, tell me do you know what it feels like to die!"

"What" the CO spat

"This Ben is an Optima; our truest breed so far, his mental defences are 100 times more developed than yours, we sent him into our most major conflict yet and he died"

"He's sat right there doc" railed McCarmick in frustration

"He died on the other side Colonel, you and I would be really dead, previous Benns put down, he's just lost his memory so all things considered he's doing pretty well!"

'This is the shit you get for letting Nazis's loose with fucking Roswell ' he heard the Colonel think.

[Adrift in Obscurity]

Was he damned forever with this confusion, with more illusion? He thought as he peered at the lieutenant across the table with the beginning of a sneer sliding across his face. There was only so much anyone could take without snapping, and although he was still completely in control of his faculties a nagging sense inside him informed him that a venting of his recent experiences was required. He acknowledged this fact, and was then made aware of the valve he would need to ‘turn’.

‘I’ve got a question for you Lieutenant’. A gentle deep baritone devoid of any set accent escaped his lips. Mastering his own surprise of his apparent ‘own’ voice he continued without waiting for an acknowledgement.

A pulsing charge suddenly raced through his system, exhilarating and fearsome at the same time. He felt the hairs on his back rise with the anticipation of power.

Suddenly with a blinding speed that surprised even him he stood and stepped to the right of the chair he was sitting on, grabbed it by the arm rest and flung it at the one way glass.

‘THIS MONKEY WANTS TO KNOW WHAT FUCKING YEAR IT IS COLONEL!’

He charged at the glass with the chair still in full flight, teeth bared with a terrible expression on his face, with the spittle frothing at the corners of his mouth. For an instant he saw his own image in the mirror, before the armour plated safety glass fragmented with the impact of the chair, all he could now see were thousands of grey eyes, bloodshot and raging. They were his eyes staring and accusing, lost and doomed.

‘Let’s break the boundaries of this ‘reality’!!’ he sneered as he rolled his head around his shoulders and spat.

His right fist impacted full force with the glass.

The thousand eyes took a red hue as his blurring fists relentlessly began to beat on the glass tearing his hands to bloody shreds, like a boxer on a punch bag.

‘Knock knock!!’ he growled as the blood began to splash over his face and clothes, the Benn did not let up on its assault.

Reality was tumbling down.

And he was the master of it.

Or so it thought…..

[Adrift in Obscurity]

His memory flickered through unconsciousness, Military Policemen barrelling into the cell, he launched into them displaying monstrous strength fed by rage as he battered them, more and more filed in hammering away with truncheons until although his wrath not anywhere near expended his body relented and forced night claimed him.

[Adrift in Obscurity]

A moment later and the pain had gone, he stood in the grounds of Angkor Wat, an attractive blond woman in her late thirties stood admiring the terraced walls of the ancient place, his rage had subsided, he was in a place familiar and far more home to him.
He looked her up and down from her shoulder length curled blond hair, glasses, white blouse slightly open at the front and black Jodhpurs, he smiled in appreciation "Doctor Carrick or should I call you Lydia?"

The woman turned towards him and gave him a tight lipped smile
"How are you here doctor?" he challenged, primal angry feelings still swam throughout his system

"You’re not the only ones who can enter the sphere, I'm a Lucid Dreamer"

His eyebrow arched

"Although not as potent as you"

A bitter laugh escaped his lips.

‘Are you coming onto me? Is that why you’re here?’ he asked as he slowly turned away and stared out at the large body of water that was inundated with flowering lilies that moved softly with the humid breeze. It appeared to be near dusk with the final rays of light creating a pink hue to the water, the loud whistling and chirping of million crickets and other such insects seemed to rise and fall with the wind, like the crashing of waves on a beach. ‘Certainly chose a nice place for it…’ he added as he knocked his fist against the solid and ancient stone of the Cambodian temple. As expected, his hands showed no sign of any trauma sustained previously, this was evidence enough to know that he was ‘elsewhere’.

‘You certainly seem to like your ‘monkeys’, you must derive some pleasure out of them I would think’.

‘Are you being monitored ‘Doctor’?’ he asked quietly. ‘Would help arrive if I made your lucid dream a fucking nightmare?’ he turned his head towards her with a glint in his appraising eyes and a less than encouraging smile.

‘Or is that what you really want?’

He turned around and slowly moved towards her.

‘What year is it Doctor?’ he asked conversationally as he stared at his open hand, then he twisted his wrist to look at his knuckles again.

‘Who am I?’ he continued in his advance, now looking around at the lamp lit masonry of the veranda, as if searching for something.

‘What is my purpose?’ his eyes locked on her, drinking in the sight of the flesh before him.

‘Tick tock, Doc……’

[Adrift in Obscurity]

A cloud of cherry blossom filled the air, obscuring the doctor; he could exert his will and disrupt or destroy it however he waited.
As the whirling petals dispersed he noted that she now stood upon an ancient dais some distance away, yet her voice carried to him.

"No Ben, may I call you Ben? I'm not monitored, this is your place and it is difficult for even the most proficient of Sandmen to follow you, only because I have studied your mind can I navigate the currents.

Your name is Ben Victorson, born 1st April 1913, in the World the year is 1963 and Ben unlike the Man I don't think you’re a monkey, I think the Optima’s like yourself are our best hope!"

The man paused and choked back on his rage fuelled destructive lust; and laughed again.

‘Ben?’ he shook his head and laughed without a trace of humour as he brushed away the petals off his shoulders. With that action he noticed now that he was wearing a fresh pressed pastel blue shirt, with sharp creases running down the arms of it. The shirt sleeves were neatly rolled up to the elbow.

Almost playfully, he kicked up a pile of the petals that had come to rest on the ground. He was wearing a pair of grey trouser jeans and brown shoes which were buffed to a high shine.

He once again advanced slowly towards the doctor, discarding his viscous mood in the same way he had brushed away the blossom.

‘It’s just a name and some dates Doctor, makes no difference what you call me, or what you say.’ He said bluntly.

“May as well play along with this delusion for now’ he thought.

‘As you are well aware, I have no memory of anything about who I am, what I have done or have been.’ His sharp eyes locked onto hers. ‘You can fill this empty vessel full of whatever information you like and naturally I will lap it up like a thirsty zebra at a watering hole during the dry season in the Sahara.’

The man paused in his stride as he had a mental double take. ‘Where had that come from?’ he thought.

He rallied quickly, smoothing over the perceived weakness, with logic. ‘Except I have the knowledge of an existence, and not the experience of existence’ he blurted this apparent epiphany as he final stood before her, ensuring that his body language was completely neutral.

‘Oh that’s good!’ he congratulated himself.

[Adrift in Obscurity]

‘You see ‘Lydia’’ he rolled her name around his tongue. ‘How can I be anybody’s hope, when I have no hope for myself?’ he asked quietly, trying a different tack by playing the pity card. ‘She obviously has a thing for me’ he thought..

‘All is pretty dark from where I’m standing. As I’m sure you’ll understand.’

I will try and eavesdrop into her thoughts, as I did in the interview house. It appeared that I could do that there, can I do it now or was it just another illusion?

A roll of 10.

Also can you roll me a skill for acting/bluffing? Then I’ll roll the dice?

A harder look settled across her face "A little melodramatic Ben, still considering your previous life or existence as you call it little wonder, boys of sixteen are dying in the jungle Ben and we're here wallowing in self pity"

She seemed to sense him stiffen "You may not like the moniker of monkey, however you are a possession of the US military, not a person, your existence depends upon your performance, you recently suffered psycho sub-cerebral death when we sent you into the vortex, death on the other side for most means death in the World, fortunately your mind is made of tougher stuff and you merely suffered memory loss"

"However I need you back on track, we've got older Alpha Bens and unprotected GIs being murdered on the other side, this is serious shit Ben, fan hitting shit and I need you operational by 05.00"

‘Really, Doctor?’ He sneered as once again he found himself strangely shifting his demeanour to cold logic, tinged with a genuine fear and loss.

He stared into her eyes ‘Have you ever lost your memory?’ Turning his back on her he surveyed the scene of the lilies once more.

‘What I was before now is an enigma to me. So I advise you not to critique my previous ‘existence’’

‘Why haven’t you just plugged me back into whatever I came from and let me crack on with the purpose I was ‘made’ for? Why this ‘pep’ talk?’

‘People are dying? Why the fuck should I give a damn?’ he swung his head around at her.

‘Born in 1913? Sounds like I was hatched from your data thus far……..’

‘This empty shell requires data. Data to cope, data to function, and data to execute; is that what you want to hear?’ he bellowed with a staccato bark as he suddenly charged on her with his fury blazing once more.

<Now get the fuck out of my mind!>

Willpower roll of 10 I Attempt to eject her from probing my thoughts.

Dexterity Roll of 15, Intelligence Roll of 17 / Attempt to grab her.

‘This can’t be happening! This is purgatory!’

‘Remember this! Remember this! Remember this! Remember this! Remember this! Remember this! Remember this! Remember this! Remember this! Remember this! Remember this! Remember this! Remember this! Remember this! Remember this! Remember this! Remember this! Remember this! ‘Remember this! Remember this! Remember this! Remember this! Remember this! Remember this! Remember this! Remember this! Remember this! Remember this! Remember this! Remember this! Remember this! Remember this! Remember this! Remember this! Remember this! Remember this! ‘Remember this! Remember this! Remember this! Remember this! Remember this! Remember this! Remember this! Remember this! Remember this! Remember this! Remember this! Remember this! Remember this! Remember this! Remember this! Remember this! Remember this! Remember this! ‘Remember this! Remember this! Remember this! Remember this! Remember this! Remember this! Remember this! Remember this! Remember this! Remember this! Remember this! Remember this! Remember this! Remember this! Remember this! Remember this! Remember this! Remember this!’ ‘Remember this! Remember this! Remember this! Remember this! Remember this! Remember this! Remember this! Remember this! Remember this! Remember this! Remember this! Remember this! Remember this! Remember this! Remember this! Remember this! Remember this! Remember this! ‘Remember this! Remember this! Remember this! Remember this! Remember this! Remember this! Remember this! Remember this! Remember this! Remember this! Remember this! Remember this! Remember this! Remember this! Remember this! Remember this! Remember this! Remember this! ‘Remember this! Remember this! Remember this! Remember this! Remember this! Remember this! Remember this! Remember this! Remember this! Remember this! Remember this! Remember this! Remember this! Remember this! Remember this! Remember this! Remember this! Remember this! ‘Remember this! Remember this! Remember this! Remember this! Remember this! Remember this! Remember this! Remember this! Remember this! Remember this! Remember this! Remember this! Remember this! Remember this! Remember this! Remember this! Remember this! Remember this!’………………………………..

[Adrift in Obscurity]

"Shit" swore CIA agent Franshaw, concentrating he felt like he'd just slammed his head into a block wall.

He sensed Professor Carrick’s mind signs grow agitated then weak, he threw his own psyche over hers like a blanket, his discipline as with all of the psych spooks visualising it as grains of sand flowing.

The profs vitals jumped and she took a deep breath, as she had been holding it for a long time, he sensed her settle into REM sleep, as he wiped the torrent of blood from his chin and contemplated the pool at his feet, Christ his head hurt.
***

The canvas command tents shook with yet another of Nams tropical downpours, the briefing room was thick with cigarette smoke, MACSOK Colonel McCarmick sat at the head, grimly surveying the Spooks, Intel army commanders, they’d reviewed the currently status of combat operations now they moved onto the esoteric conflicts.

McCarmick laid his hand firmly upon the Chakra crystal on the portable table before him and eyed the freaks suspiciously, god he hated these fuckers.
Field Operations CIA Chief Holister cleared his throat and took a drink of water “Coinciding with the NVA’s Southern push in Hue Province, we seen a second Vortex open, so far in the past fortnight we’ve had 30 near fatal cerebral haemorrhages specifically targeted at command staff and Intel, 7 fatalities”

The Colonel grimaced “So we’re clear, our boys died in their sleep”

“That’s correct”

“So what the fuck are your Sandmen doing about it?”

“Colonel I haven’t got enough fucking Sandmen to babysit the entire 8th Army” Holister replied sarcastically “Not with the Home Front”
McCarmick’s attention had already turned to Professor Carrick’s assistant head, Professor Ackland

“We’ve got three Omega and one Optima Bens ready to go in” he replied smarmily

“The Optima being the psycho?” he growled

“Yes sir, however contrary to Professor Carricks concerns as to his mental state, I think his aggression and rage will be extremely valuable sir”

McCarmick smiled a feral smile he liked this arse kisser, none of this bleeding heart shit

“Send them in, Holister I don’t give two shits about your shortages get more, I’m not telling Westmorton that we’ve lost the entire offensive because these fuckers are killing our boys in their sleep!!”

He stood abruptly daring any further comment and marched from the room.

[Adrift in Obscurity]

If he had a retreat, a home or somewhere where he would go, what and where would it be and what would it look like?

Well, I’m still not really sure where his is/was/will be from to be quite honest, but I would have thought that he may have some form of large log/stone bungalow with a river running out the back. He would have a few acres of both orchard and pastures and have stables and a very large vegetable garden. There would be a makeshift drawbridge across the river which could be lifted up on the house side. He would keep geese and chickens. He would have a large wooden pagoda by the river and a rowing boat.

Does that help?

[Adrift in Obscurity]

The scenery of the temple blurred and took upon the aspect of being seen through the oily membrane of a soap bubble. Lydia was suddenly enveloped within her own bubble that despite her now impotent shouts and cries drifted back toward the bubble wall, slowly squeezed through and dropped out of existence.

Satisfied he had expelled this current annoyance he could sense her within the flow, now drifting upon the dreamscape.

He turned and walked into a large Buddhist statue emerging before a large log cottage, the roof clad in mossy slate and its north wall constructed from stone supporting its robust chimney.
A river ran to the rear of the cottage at the bottom of a small slope, a slightly rickety wharf extended out mooring two row boats.

It sat within a few acres of pasture, bordered by orchards; a stable sitting to the back of the pasture enjoying the cover of the apple trees, nearer the house was an expansive vegetable garden.
He drew in the fresh air, the smell of earth and manure and the honks and warbled clucks and clicks of his geese and hens.

‘Peace at last’ he uttered aloud as without a pause he slowly walked up the long meandering cobblestone pathway to the front door. The pathway was edged with rockeries of shrubs and roses of all colours whose smell drifted on the breeze enveloping him in the ghosts of familiar memories that nagged him, tantalisingly prompting him with strange rumours that he could not truly perceive.

How long would this last?

But for now, he thought in this brief moment maybe; he would be left to at least come to terms with whatever was going on, or more importantly who he was.

Looking down he saw he was now wearing a pair of khaki long work mans shorts with a pair of sturdy hiking boots that were very travel worn. A mud stained white flannel tee shirt was slung over his right shoulder and cooling sweat was dripping from his forehead and chest. His hands were caked with the fragrant living earth, the particles of which seemed to almost shimmer in this pleasant bright, hot day.

[Adrift in Obscurity]

He drank in the scene around him; every step he took was slow and measured. Almost as if he was treading on egg shells on a narrow mountain trail, as if the slightest heavy tread on the path would shatter this idyllic moment and send him screaming back to ‘purgatory’.

He finally reached and stopped at the front door, hesitated for a moment, considering whether to knock on the well made oak to announce his presence. Another part of his memory made the decision for him as he firmly grasped the handle and opened it.