Ultimo Mentis Valebat Beginning

Hi, I’m back with another eBook being edited as I speak. This one is different. The story is a medical psychological fantasy. Ultimo Mentis Valebat is Latin for Final Mental Adventure. This is the beginning of the story. This one takes many twists and turns.

Read the start, and if you want to review this one, I will add you to my newsletter when you sign up. I hope this one is interesting to you. When it’s edited, I’ll send it.


Ultimo Mentis Valebat Beginning

I have been dealing with The Suzerain for weeks. They aren’t aliens from another planet, they are oddities from another dimension. They are relentless in the usurping of our dimension. I was the only one to touch them. I guess that makes me Earth’s guardian. I was delegated to correct the wrong. Since nobody else can touch them, nobody can be recruited in my army. They could just watch the melee.
My name is Jackson Quwelliks. I’m a game designer. I studied at Acroyear University for six years to learn my skill. I wasn’t from a long line of jar heads, I wasn’t an army brat, and never wanted to fly for my country. Since I hated to swim, and didn’t get a girl pregnant, I never enlisted.
I am definitely a patriot mind you. I bleed red, white, and blue. I just never wanted to get shot in a country I had never heard of because our leaders had a disagreement. I decided my computer skills, that I’d worked for over 10 years to perfect, would be more feasible in my life instead.
Besides, being half Pakistani, half Filipino made it difficult for military trust in the services. I became my own man.
It really irked me that critics wouldn’t call video game creation art. They call classical music art. They call paintings art, they even call comics art, and however, video games were not. Programmers slaved over their creations for months, if not years. We just use a different form of chisel for our sculpture. If I hear that from them again, my only question would be. Could you do it?
I was working late night on one of my masterpieces. Creators don’t punch a clock. Inspiration has no time table, it comes randomly forthwith at any time.
It was around two in the morning, and I was calculating algorithms when I saw them.
I guess my observation of them was one way in sight and sound. They didn’t acknowledge my presence in any way. Maybe they couldn’t see a living being of our dimension, kind of like others couldn’t see them. Maybe they were just rude, but in any instance, they didn’t acknowledge me.
They weren’t tiny things. I would say they weren’t action figure sized, if they looked anything like an action figure. They had no arms, legs, head, or torso. They looked like what an amoeba looked like in a microscope in high school. They were around three feet tall, so they would be relatively large amoebas, plus they had on strange equipment. They were amazingly advanced amoebas.
They emitted this strange sounding gibberish. If anyone heard these things, they would think that was the call they would make. They would be right in the communication aspect, but it was way more byzantine than just calling out Hey! Do to inflections, cadence, and timbre, it was their language. I didn’t think I would understand it, however, I heard it in English, like listening to a French film with vocal subtitles! Their language faded into the background while the English became prominent.
I bet you are wondering what I did upon our initial contact. I didn’t try to slay the interlopers. This wasn’t an action movie, and I’m not an action star. There were no second takes either. My heart jumped out of my chest, and packed for the Orient. I froze in terror.
I know you’re thinking, Girly Man! Be in my situation without mixed martial arts training, and see if you don’t freeze.
Aside from that, these Gargantu-amoebas were not hostile. I speculated later that they were their species’ scientist. They were the explorers of their realm. They were assessing, and calculating our dimension. They didn’t try to take over our world. That came later with the other dimensional warriors.
I know you’re saying my psych asthenia has been impregnated and tangled in neurotics, marked by fear, phobias, and anxiety. You think I’m a basket case. I wouldn’t blame you. I would think the same way you do, if I didn’t experience what I experienced. I’d think I was a few eggs short of a carton too. That is why I stopped telling about what happened to me.
I told a co-worker, and he asked me what I was smoking. Later was when officers from the Straykin Clinic came to my job. They called me unstable, and escorted me in cuffs to Straykin.
Why would I be surprised? I told Cliff, and he was stricken with severe paranoia. He saw my seriousness, and knew I wasn’t joking. Guess who called Straykin?
I saw one of their psychiatrists. I think his name was Bellows. Once I told him about the amoebas, and he left the room to discuss my situation. He came back later with a syringe, and a bottle of pills. He injected me with something called Polipareridone palmitate. That was a Schizophrenia drug! He told me it counteracted the side effects for the Zinrasidone, a Schizophrenia pill that alleviated irrational motor functions! I wasn’t a fidgety schitzo! I actually saw these things! That’s what AA always says. The first step to recovery is accepting your disease. I’d accept it, if I had one! I wasn’t Schizophrenic! They didn’t even diagnose me! They just ran me through, like an assembly line part! I still can’t believe they called them doctors! I could have done what he did to me! Give me some drugs, and send me on my way.
I took the pills, and then a cab back to Greymalkin Games, and the security guard escorted me to my boss, Mister Devlin.
He told me they couldn’t deal with an employee with a warped imagination. I thought they hired me for having a warped imagination! That was when I realized, you could have a warped imagination, but it had to be a controlled warped imagination. That sounded like an oxymoron to me, but regardless, they let me go.
I went back to my apartment. I had nowhere else to go. I had to get another job. Bills don’t care if you have been diagnosed with lunacy, they just keep coming. Thank goodness I banked a few of my royalties for a rainy day. I had some CDS (Credit Default Swaps) for an emergency. I guess this was that emergency. I was set for 6 months from the residuals from my game, so not living from check to check was beneficial. I had time before life caught up with me. Since they fired me, I had unemployment coming, so I wasn’t panicked.
When I came home early, my girl didn’t believe me. She thought I was pranking her–that I was making a joke about being fired. That wasn’t the case. Everything I told her about was veracious. That was why she left me. Yep, the only one I confided in bailed on me. She said I was too whacked for her, and my unemployment didn’t help.
So, that’s how all of this began, a schizophrenic, unemployed,dreamer who was afflicted with dimensional perception.
I just wanted to tell you the truth before you heard the rumors. I’m not the indigent tweak playing basketball with imaginary turtles, but if you heard my story from someone else, I’d be the strung out Bill “Tortoise Slayer” Walton.
All right, prepare yourself, here we go.

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