To My World and Back Again Chapter 5

When the Past Speaks

By Ghost

Did you ever see a dream walking?.

Remark attributed to Angelo Dante, Robotech: Metal Fire

May 6, 2006
12:51 A.M.
Oxnard Orphanage

Patrick closed the door to the orphanage behind him and clutched the small model rocket kit with his right hand. He felt almost invincible. Nothing in the world could stop him now. He would get everything he needed. When he proved to his boss that the project worked, he would certainly get all the help and resources he needed. Plus, the look on John Cindel's face would be all the reward in the world.

Of course, Patrick could not get ahead of himself. He had to wait on nature to provide the storm, and he had to send the rocket up. Patrick had almost walked completely up to the Iron Gate while he pulled out his car keys when he heard a small voice stopped him in his tracks.

"Don't think that your problems will be over just like that. John, like you, is more than he seems."

Patrick slowly turned directly to his left to see a small boy, whom Patrick presumed to be six to eight, standing against the brick barrier around the orphanage. The boy was wearing dark blue jeans, a night black shirt, and white tennis shoes. His face was as serious as stone, as if he was and adult with the most important piece of information that one could know. However, the strangest thing about the boy was his odd blue hair. A look of surprise washed across Patrick's face. By the Protoculture! Could we be related? Maybe, just maybe, he is my brother.

"That is one thing we aren't, Patrick." The child responded, face ever so serious, as if he had read his thoughts. "However, we are…related…in a matter of speaking…strange as it may seem. Of course, all you need to know is that destiny is approaching."

Patrick could not believe he was hearing, or seeing, this. Here he is walking up to his car, and a small blue-hair child walks up to him and says they are related. Not only that but the child says something about destiny approaching.

"Hold up a second, kid, what in the world are you talking about? Further more, how do you know my name?"

The child kept his serious expression, "Your second question is the easiest to answer. Who within these walls does not know who you are? As for your first question, the correct phrasing would be 'What in the dimensions are you talking about.' You see, Patrick, something amazing, surprising, and frightening will happen to you in the relatively near future."

'What in the dimensions?' "Kid, I do NOT know what you are talking about, and what do you mean, by 'relatively near future?'"

"I don't expect you to understand, Patrick, at least not for some while. As for 'relatively near future,' these events will happen shortly after this point in time relative to the time you have lived. Anyway, just know this: your power is beginning to rise within you and is beginning to awaken. The choice is yours and yours alone whether or not you accept destiny. Remember, Simmons, no matter how weird or crazy things get, you must continue forward on the path that has been selected for you."

" 'The path that has been-'" he started to say like another question.

"Hey Mister Simmons!" a child called behind him. Patrick turned around to see Joe Martinez running toward him. Joe stopped shortly in front of Patrick, taking in several deep breaths before continuing. "Are you were you all right, sir? I mean, weren't you leaving? If you don't mind me asking that is."

Patrick looked quite puzzled. "I'm quite okay, Joe. I was just talking to-" Patrick turned around to indicate the child he had talked to a moment ago; however, the child was no longer there. "Hold up! Where did he go?"

"Where did who go, sir?"

"Joe, do you know, considering it's your job, any blue-hair children that stay at this orphanage?"

Joe took only a moment to think about it and shook his head. "No, sir. You are the one and only one that I have ever known of with blue hair to stay here. In my humble opinion, you were day dreaming."

Patrick shook his head. "Maybe I was dreaming. Thanks, Joe." Joe ran off to aid a group playing kick ball, leaving Patrick to his thoughts. But I never day dream, and that kid was too real. He smiled. Maybe there was more than just sugar in that tea. "Oh well. Maybe I'll just get a CAT scan and a blood test." Patrick laughed aloud as he exited the orphanage walls, still unsure what had happened. Whatever it was, he was alert, expecting anything to happen. With his new gift in his car, he drove off, ready for destiny.

1:45 P.M.
Simmons's Home

As Patrick completed the final modifications to the model rocket, he wiped beads of sweat from his brow. He was in one of the bedrooms, which he had made a workroom. With books, wires and computer parts littered everywhere, this room was definitely the messiest room in the house. Hey, he was single and no one would care if he had a room that was untidy. Everyone, he felt, had a room like it, but for the time being, though, he was just feeling hot. He had been working for a measly fifteen or twenty minutes, but the soldering iron he was using seemed to have as much heat as Son of Sun would have.

There wasn't much to do to it anyway. He had connected an air needle (those things used to inflate footballs and such) to the tip of the rocket to act as a beginning path. Then he had connected some light coiled wires from the needle to the opposite end of the rocket. The wire would be used to channel the electric current from the lightening to the thicker wire connected to the machine in his lab. That was the reason why he had to add several more places for propulsion devices. He had plenty of those thanks to the fact he wanted to give them to Britt once he ran out, but Britt would understand why he needed them now. Of course, if the propulsion systems didn't work, he would just go out in the rain and use a bit of telekinesis. Of course, after the bolt, this would be the rocket's last flight.

How did Lucca do it? He had asked himself the question hundreds of times. There was no way he could have made Gato, who had metal joints. Patrick chuckled aloud. There was no explanation for the overwhelming sense of peace that he felt. The happy-go-lucky feeling of peace that told him that he would succeed. He almost gave the idea called "destiny" the credit, but no such thing existed for him. He was in control of his life, not any force or any person controlled his life for him.

Patrick wiped those thoughts from his mind and made his way to the living room. He picked up the phone and dialed the number for SROC. The telephone rang a couple of times until someone picked up. The voice on the telephone was familiar as daylight itself.

"Good afternoon, you have reached the Scientific Research of California. This is Michelle Miller speaking. How may I help you?"

Patrick cracked a smile, a practical joke swimming in his mind. He deepened his voice and spoke into the receiver. "Yes, uh, I'm a real lonely guy looking for a sweet, lovely brunet to spend a night in town with. Do you think you could help me?"

At the other end of the line, Michelle was supressing a giggle. "I'm sorry Patrick, but I've already got a date for tonight. If you're looking for a date, Director Marks may be interested."

Patrick was speechless for a moment, his jaw almost touching the floor, but eventually got the nerve to speak. "H-h-how did you ever know it was me, Michelle?"

Michelle grinned miles away, "Actually I didn't know for sure, but I figured you were trying to pull one of your little tricks. You're like the annoying little brother that I never had."

"Well, we are kinda brother and sister."

"That's exactly what I mean. You're close but not there. Tough luck, Simmons. So do you need?"

What do I need? "That's right, I almost forgot. I'll be coming over to set up some…new equipment, and I need you to ask Mr. Marks if he would have someone disable the alarm on that emergency exit door closest to my lab. It's really important, so could you help me out?"

"I'm going to need to think about it…Okay, I thought about it."


"Don't worry your little head off. I ask him before you get here."

"Thanks, Michelle, you're a doll. Oh, why would Director Marks be looking for me?"

"Don't worry about it. He just wanted to know if you were here early this morning. I think he wanted to talk about your budget, though."

"My budget? Well, looks like I used a lot of energy last night. I might have gone overboard for the month." Patrick took a moment to think. "One more thing. Is John there?"

Michelle remained silent, debating whether to answer. "Yes, he's here. He came in around ten, saying something about getting ahead in his work."

"Perfect! I'll show that son of a gun that I'm no loser. Thanks, Michelle, see you soon."

Before she could respond, Patrick hung up and began to get ready to leave. In the SROC building, Michelle hung up the receiver, a frown on her face. Oh, Patrick, you aren't a loser. Why can't you just accept it and stop trying to prove it to John?

2:30 P.M.

As Mr. Patrick Simmons walked into the SROC's lobby through the automatic double doors, the small group of people sitting in the chairs waiting for interviews and other appointments, couldn't help to, at least, glance at him. Patrick was wearing his casual blue jeans with the black leather belt, a solid red T-shirt, and the same white and navy blue tennis shoes.

As he walked up to the front desk, Patrick held the Zeno rocket box in his left hand. This was the one object the majority of the group noticed, and another thing the group noticed was Patrick's manner. Patrick's head was held high, his stride was full of confidence, and there was an aurora of victory. Even Michelle felt all of this as she watched him approach her desk, the Solitaire game safely minimized on her desktop.

"Well, well," Michelle began, "looks like the soldier is ready for a fight. You're definitely not the same moping soldier that was in here last night." She crossed her arms. "So, who are you and what have you done with the real Patrick Simmons?"

"It's the same me Michelle, but I am different. I can't explain it, but I have this certain peace and confidence of victory that I can't explain. I'm just sure that the next time I try…," he gave a confident smile, "I'll have to try no more."

A familiar voice then came from the "OFF LIMITS" door. "Try, try, try as much as you can, but you can't beat me because I'm…unbeatable." John Cindel stood, once again, by the "OFF LIMITS" door, back against the wall, arms crossed, and a malicious grin on his face. He stared into Simmons' eyes as Simmons stared right back.

"Didn't we do this last night?" Patrick asked, gripping the box in his hand more tightly. You already gave the 'can't win' speech last night, so just cut it Cindel."

The grin stayed on John's face as he ran his left hand through his raven-black hair. "My, my, aren't we getting aggressive. I didn't know you had it in you."

Patrick balled his right hand to a fist as it hung at his side, aware of the stares the three were receiving from the crowd. Michelle began to bite on her thumbnail.

"It must be tough being rejected by your birth parents at the age of four, a mutant, and left off the road for dead. I almost feel sorry for you," John kept his malicious grin, "almost."

Patrick tightened his fist as it began to shake. He could have so easily released all his emotion into a psychic blast, but he held his ground. Michelle continued to bite as she glanced back and forth, unsure of what was to come.

"And now you're on some stupid mission to make a gate. Simmons, take a piece of reality for once. My genetics are more likely to succeed than your time experiments."

All of a sudden, Patrick released the tension in his fist and let it and his head hang as if in defeat. The group of people still had their eyes on the two scientists waiting for the next move. Michelle put both palms on her desk and looked toward Patrick worriedly unsure if John had won. Those doubts left as Patrick released a noise.

It had seemed like a stuttered hum at first. Then, it was a chuckle. Then, Patrick erupted into full-blown laughter. John was caught off guard as Patrick laughed, and the others were surprised at the turn of events. Patrick didn't need to read their minds to know what they were thinking. Everyone, including Michelle, had thought he had lost it.

"Patrick?" Michelle asked. "Patrick are you…all there? You still with us?"

Patrick stopped his laughter as quickly as he had begun. He met John's gaze, and he felt he was on the sending end this time. Certain feelings formed within him, not of anger or hate, but of something untouched for twenty-three years. A smile formed on his face. "Don't worry, Michelle, I'm fine. I'm all here." He took a step toward John. "As for you. Mark my words, Cindel, one of these days we will go at it again. And once you think you have the upper hand, I'll turn the tables and show you how I outrank you in every...single…way."

John showed no fear if he had any and coolly replied, "Is that a threat, Simmons?"

Patrick kept the smile on his face, "No, John, that's a promise." He turned to Michelle showing a smile. "Oh, Michelle, did you talk to Director Marks?" The group in their seats had gone back to their reading and Michelle gave a light nod in response, unsure what had happened to change Simmons overnight. "Thanks a lot, Michelle, I'll see you later."

Patrick gave one last look toward John as he went through the "OFF LIMITS" door. He had no idea what had happened just know. It was as if he had gained some sort of confidence on the brink of quitting. He hadn't lost his cool, that's for sure. If he had, Patrick would have felt very sorry for John…maybe.

In the lobby, Michelle had gone back to her work, and John looked toward the door Patrick had just walked through. A smile formed on his face while thoughts ran through his head. The smile stayed on his face as he whispered, "So it has begun, Simmons. It has begun."

3:24 P.M.
Simmons's Lab

The lab was no different than before. The walls were white, the computer was working, the floors were clean, and everything was what it should be. It just felt different as Patrick, lying on the floor in his white lab coat, finished connecting the wires, connected to the rocket, to the circular device that he had built that had brought him near success the previous night. The night's events ran through his mind as he finished his work. He had not just worked on the wires; he had adjusted the computer to read the current that would, hopefully run through the wires.

"Trying something new, Patrick?"

Patrick sat and stood up to see Director Marks at the entrance to his lab. Jeffery Marks was a short man at four foot nine. At sixty years of age, he had a light mass of white streaked brown hair and a light brownish beard. At the time, he wore light blue dress pants, a brown collar shirt and a tie with an ocean scene on the front.

"Actually, Mr. Marks," Patrick responded, clapping the dust off his hands, "this will be the last new thing I try for a while"

Director Marks walked into the lab looking around, especially paying attention to the circular device setting at the back wall. "Pretty confident of you, Simmons, of course, I shouldn't be surprised after the confrontation between you and John a while ago. At the same time, I am surprised. That's not like you at all."

Patrick looked at the digital Timex watch on his left wrist. At the same time, he felt his face redden, "Yeah, that was about an hour ago. I suppose word travels fast. I can't explain it, sir, but I just felt this surge of emotion-"



Jeffery Marks' eyes met the eyes of Patrick Simmons. "I asked you if the feelings you experienced were hate. You know. Did you lose your cool?"

Patrick shook his head, "No. I did not lose my cool, Mr. Marks, and I did not feel hate. The emotions I felt were different, more like confidence. I was sure I wasn't going to let him let me be on the receiving end this time. ."

"Well how can you be sure you didn't lose your cool?"

Patrick smiled as he did an hour ago, "No threat intended, but if I lost my cool, John wouldn't feel good right now." Patrick averted his gaze and made his way to his computer terminal. He began to hook his terminal up with his laptop to update the laptop's data banks.

Director Marks studied Patrick for a minute, "Fair enough. Now, about your request about the emergency exit door close to here."

Patrick kept his eyes on his terminal as he copied information to his laptop. "Yes, sir. For your information, I'll need the door opened the night after tomorrow in order to launch a model rocket to…summon a bolt of lightening."

Director Marks raised an eyebrow, "I'm impressed, Simmons. You've really thought that through, but how do you expect your budget to cover the expenses. You do realize that last night's experiment used up quite a bit of your energy funds. Out of a possible hundred percent, you have used eight percent thus far in the first week of this month."

Patrick moved his gaze back to Mr. Marks. "I expected as much, Mr. Marks, and I am willing and ready to pay all additional costs including routing the money in the budget I take home. I must complete my next experiment on the eighth of May"

"Are you that determined?"

"I am."

Mr. Marks sighed, "Okay, then, I'll have one of the janitors unlock the door the day after tomorrow." He began to leave the lab, "I'll leave you to your work, Simmons, and good luck." He began to leave the lab when he remembered something, "Oh, one more thing, Simmons. Have a watchful eye when that door is opened. I don't want any strangers in this building."

Patrick turned from his computers, "Yes, sir. I'll be sure to keep an eye out." With that, Director Marks left the lab, leaving Patrick to his afternoon work.


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