BOOM! An ear shattering explosion went off, shaking the ground and blasting a thick fog of dust that rendered visibility to nil.

"Cough! Cough!" As the dust fog parted, a huge hole in the ceiling became visible, and through it Nicholas King found himself staring at the dark clouds above, lying down flat on his back on the cold concrete floor. A sudden chill crept up his spine following the cold numbness of his arms, legs, fingers, and toes. He wanted to move, but his limbs refused to listen. Fear and anxiety clouded his thoughts, his heart rate accelerates, thumping louder and faster by the minute.

A warm salty yet bitter tasting liquid flooded his mouth accompanied by the familiar scent of rust. The stench of death lingered only to grow stronger and fouler.

"blood… how could it be…" he muttered to himself softly.

Nicholas didn't even have the courage to inspect his lower half nor look at his surroundings. With his ears still ringing due to the explosion, he'd rather not know a thing until it's all over.

Thump, thump! His heart raced louder, faster, and harder as if it wanted to jump out of his chest. "They're not there, are they?" He really wanted to learn, but fear prevented him. "Damn… this isn't the right time to think about this. I need to calm down. Dimming… my eyes are... Stay awake and calm down, damn it!"

Panic was his worst enemy, it increases his pulse rate and circulation, worsening his bleeding. Nicholas struggled to keep himself awake as he knew the moment he closed his eyes, it's all over. But what can be done? Can a mere mortal have mastery over fear of death when it stares him right in the eye?

Nicholas grappled with death's icy clutches. He used his brain to fight against the irrational fear of dying. He zoned in, processing arithmetic in his head, ignoring everything around him and even fear itself.

"Don't give up. Remember the sequence. Powers of two, let's focus. 2, 4, 8… hang in there, focus. Breathe in. 16, 32, 64… it's getting dark. No, it's not, be calm and breathe out. 128, 256… Who turned the lights off! Stay awake, damn it!"

ZZZZTT! The lights turned off all of the sudden.

[Initiating reformat… Please wait]

It should be over, yet oddly, Nicholas was still fully self-aware. He heard the steady humming of a transformer in the background accompanied by intermittent clicking noises.

Following a weak flash of light, his vision flickers. "Did someone turn the TV on? Hmm…"

Above, there's a flat digital wall clock in red LED segmented display, showing the current time, 2:00 PM.

"Michelle, it's been a while." He muttered, referring to the wall clock his friend gave him.

As if his eyes were playing tricks on him, his vision cleared up a little but remained blurry. It was as if he was watching the world from an old cathode ray tube display with some phosphors dimming and flickering. He thought he had something in his eyes, so he wiped his glasses, but the cloth came clean.

Even though his sight was plagued with visual artifacts, the scenery that unfolded to him was unmistakably familiar.

"This isn't the campus?" As if having a DeJa'Vu, he wondered.

The clicking, humming, and flickering noises died down, only to be replaced by the idle chatter of students.

Nicholas saw Camilla, one of his students, in front of the chalkboard next to a projector screen, seemingly preparing to report her assigned topic. She toggled the projector's red switch on. On the screen, a dim slide containing the words 'Pacifican Border Dispute' in big bold letters spiraled in.

He took his smartphone out of his pocket, checking the time and date. "Third period, social studies class. I must have assigned Camilla to do a presentation today."

Nicholas could not explain it, but he felt strangely relieved seeing her best student in class. He pressed hard on his temple, trying to recall what it was that gave him anxiety, but he simply couldn't remember. He knew he's forgotten something important, but he just can't put his finger on it.

It must have something to do with those strange artifacts that persist on his vision. No amount of squinting and rubbing of his eyes could remove the pesky little bugs. "Is this a dream or a prank? It can't be – these damned specks are too real to be a fake. I must see an eye doctor."

"Professor!" Camilla waves at him.

"Woah!" Nicholas almost fell from his seat.

"Hahahaha!" the students laugh. "Did I fall asleep? That must be it." He wiped the stubborn dust off his eyes, but his vision only improved, marginally.

"Brats! Wait till I get to laugh at your failing marks." Frowning, Nicholas glared at his mean pupils, quickly quelling the laughter.

"You can continue, Camilla! Wait! Ouch!"

"Professor!" Camilla screamed.

A sharp pain suddenly radiated in his head. Nicholas pressed his palm against his forehead for relief. His body lost strength, causing him to fall from his seat. The pain worsened and transformed into a burning sensation, so hot, he felt that his head would melt.

"Damn, it hurts… Ugh!" His headache progressively worsened. He felt like his head was being pulled and stretched like noodles in an oriental restaurant, turning, twisting, and folding over a hundred times, a thousand, over, and over again. His consciousness got sucked in and spiraled in the middle of a dark purple void.

"Arrrghhh!" Nicholas screams, his vision turns all pixilated and WHITE? He was afraid he would go crazy if it went on.

ZZZZTT! Again, the lights turned off.

[Reformat in progress, 30 percent complete… Please wait]

"You've got mail!" the pain passed and his vision clears. Now Nicholas had in his face a cathode ray monitor, showing an email.

"This isn't my computer? What's going on?" He scratched his head. He knew he had forgotten something again, but he couldn't tell no matter how hard he tried. There were some remnants of pain in his arms, legs, and head, but beyond that, nothing came to mind.

His head and eyes ached. It was hard for him to shake the feeling of having to look at the world through an analog-esque filter. The artifacts were still there in his eyes, and he found it hard to focus.

After the pain subsided, he picked up his computer glasses and wiped its lenses with a clean cloth. He began reading the email.

"Dr. King,

"We are watching you.

"You shouldn't have written for the Pacifican Times.

"Your defense of drug addicts is suspicious.

"We suspect you're connected with the drug lords, the enemy of the people.

"We know you're one of their protectors.

"Just a friendly advice, we are not your enemies but friends of the republic!

"But if you keep on talking, teaching against, and writing about us, we'll eventually have to turn your fat, fat brain into a smoothie, all for the greater good of the republic.

"Heil, Trent! Heil, Galapagus! Heil, the Republic!

"Your deeply patriotic friends,

The Phantoms"

A love letter. He remembered the column he wrote on the Pacifican Times. There, he criticized Trent for silencing his critics, and now he is in trouble.

"Fools! For the greater good of the republic, expression of dissent and grievances must be allowed. I won't let you intimi…date… ouch. not again…"

Feeling the splitting pain in his head, Nicholas fell from his chair and rolled on the ground. His eyes felt like it was boiling and melting in a pot of steamy chili soup, to be scooped out and tossed in a bowl slurped by the blackened lips of the devil. His consciousness speedily accelerates, stirs and churns in an elliptical motion under an immeasurable force of inertia, pulling, pushing, and stretching. Suddenly, an implosion, he gets sucked in and crushed from the inside.

ZZZZTT! Once again, the lights went out.

[Reformat in progress, 60 percent complete… Please wait]

"Professor King, are you alright? It looks as if you've seen a ghost."

Warmth, someone's got his arm – red nails, a golden watch, a big nose, long curly brown locks, and a few wrinkles. Nicholas quickly recognized the renowned figure. It was Allison, PhD in social sciences, a magnet for trouble and one of his colleagues in Pacifican University.

"Just what did I do to be sitting next to her?" Nicholas said to himself.

"Professor King?" Allison called.

"Allison. I'm fine, though my head smarts, but just a bit." Nicholas replied. A faint, but persistent pain lingered in his head. Deep at the back of his mind, he was troubled by something, but he couldn't say what it was.

Flash! He felt his headache worsen. As he turned around, he saw a multitude of people seated, densely peppering the auditorium, blindingly glittering in different spots as they take pictures with their smartphones. There could be about a thousand or more on the ground and on the balcony. They were all wild, excited, and there too were his students, compressed at a corner, occupying all the seats there with some who had to stand up due to scarcity of seats.

"Allison, what trouble did you get me into?"

Allison tapped on his shoulder lightly. Plastered on her face was a thrilled smile – her eyes and bright white teeth glittered. "Don't tell me you'll chicken out now after you called out Trent on live TV. Boy, you're about to be fired, but look, everyone's waiting, even the kids. They're all here to support you. It's almost your turn. Aren't you excited?"

"My foot, Allison. I'm not an attention seeker like..." Flash! Nervousness caught him. Nicholas nearly choked as if his balls got trapped in his throat. How he wished he had a helicopter, so he could leave right away.

"Ho, ho, ho, ho, ho! Look who's in trouble!" Allison laughed. She stood up and walked to the podium. "Ladies and gentlemen, tonight, I introduce our next speaker, Dr. Nicholas King. He is an expert in the topic of anthropology and social sciences, especially on the subject of technological evolution. As seen on TV, he also is known as a staunch critic of the incumbent president. Here he is!"

Nicholas clenched a bottle of water and drank all of its contents. His hands and knees trembled. He couldn't recall the events that lead to this controversy, but since he's here, he had to own it. Inhale. Exhale. He gathered all his courage, stepped on the podium, and grabbed the microphone, clutching it as if he were to choke a live chicken to death. "Thank you very much for the warm welcome. It's been a while since I spoke in this institution. I never thought I'd be invited back to speak on controversial topics such as the one we're about to discuss. Oh, no! I'm trouble!" The audience giggled.

"I knew it! University of the Pacific is filled with reasonable people who are open to hear about the hard truths... unlike some other institutions who succumb to the pressures of the tyranny of this country's wretched censorious bureaucracy."

"Well, you know that the censors are tightening their grip on public opinion, thus I'm glad how the University of the Pacific resists the calls to silence views, speeches, that oppose the mainstream narrative. I'm honored to speak in an institution that protects the freedom of speech, one of the most important values that makes our modern society the greatest that the world has seen.

"So tonight, I will share with you stories that even the cowardly and conniving masterminds in the mainstream media and the current administration don't want you to hear.

"First, let's talk about drugs. This dangerous thing destroys countless number of minds and lives but victimizes none but the addict. Undoubtedly, the sharp rise in the number of people involved makes it a serious social issue, but not to all, thus the issue on their treatment should be open for public discussion, debates, and criticisms.

"I know that our President Trent, the Trent Galapagus, have good intentions in resolving the problem, but the method he uses are heinous and objectionable as they violate human rights and human dignity. Like what we're told, the road to hell is always and almost paved with good intentions. We cannot let Trent squander our nations' resources while there are more pressing issues waiting for solutions. Thus I speak out in objection! For the sake of truth, I'm not afraid, fire me Trent!" The ground shook as the hall drowns in applause. Cheered on by the crowd, Nicholas found his feet. Intoxicated with cheers, he continued to speak.

"And I'd just like you to know, the trolls, the phantoms, those barbaric stooges banging at the gates of hell, or whoever they call themselves, they regularly send me death threats by mail and email by the hundreds! They want me silenced too. It's not okay for them, but it's not illegal yet for me to speak, so let's continue. – WOOAAHH!"

BOOM!

An explosion went off and Nicholas was blown away, his back slammed forcefully against the cold concrete floor. His ribs snapped and broke to the impact of flying debris that hit them. Coughing blood, a bludgeoning blunt pain of a thousand malevolent hammers and dumbbells that dropped from a thousand feet in the sky radiated painfully in his chest.

Once more, a dust fog obscured his vision and a little bit after as it parted, he found himself staring at a huge hole in the ceiling, showing a pristine view of the sky and its numerous twinkling stars, all undisturbed in the midst of the chaos.

"If this ought to be my final moment on earth, let it all end." His bloodied hand reached to the stars. Nicholas earnestly prayed.

"My ancestors, you must be welcoming me home. I've done my mission, facing my adversities bravely like you did, oh old heroes! To die in the same manner as you did in the revolution, I am honored. My body may rest, but my ideas will live on. good bye…"

A vicious headache attacked Nicholas once more. His head, brain, and thoughts all melted like butter would in a pan, tumbling up and down as if being sautéed by a gourmet chef with reddened skin and horns as big and dark of that of a buffalo, must be the devil himself cooking.

ZZZZTT! For the final time, the lights turned off.

[Reformat in progress, 95 percent complete… Please wait]

Warmth. The pain's gone, but now he's enveloped in complete darkness and talked to by a weird metallic voice from nowhere, using jargons and other nonsensical terms that were beyond his comprehension. And the craziness ensued as a terminal window appeared out of nowhere, reporting something it calls, reformat, for which Nicholas recalled hearing faintly earlier.

[99 percent complete… read error, bad sector detected. Please insert the disk labelled RECOV.SYS]

[Y to continue, N to skip]

"I don't understand."

[Syntax Error]

[Y to continue, N to skip]

"How about a Y?"

[Syntax Error]

"Y!"

[Read error at sector 125]

[Please insert disk, N to abort]

"What disk? How about an N?"

[Syntax Error]

"N!"

ZZZZTT!

[Due to read errors, reformat failed.]

[RECOV.SYS: Restoring system files.]

[Initializing system, please wait…]

Suddenly, the lights turn on, and bright, too damn bright that it was blinding. Nicholas could not see anything but outlines in shadows, contouring in all sorts of directions, in the primitives, lines, circles, triangles, and squares, not to mention, the high pixilation, the blocks of varying shades of gray that obstructed his vision, probably hiding something obscene.

"Waaaahhhhh! Huff! Waahhhh! Huff" Nicholas struggled to catch his breath. "Goodness, did I manage to survive that?"

"It's a boy! Madam, this child is strangely quiet." a woman said.

"Oh, isn't he wonderful? Adorable! I can't wait for Julius to come back home." replied another woman.

On a warm bed he rested, his pain is relieved, Nicholas slowly lost his consciousness, and everything faded to black.