Chapter 58 (1/2)

Dan stepped out of t-space, and into his old quarters above Neptune. He wore faded blue jeans, a dark polo shirt, and carried his the torture collar in his left hand. He glanced at his surroundings with less than fond reminiscence. The room was exactly as he had left it, empty and abandoned. The walls were just as bland as he remembered, with dull steel acting in lieu of wallpaper. Not a single splash of color existed within. He hadn't noticed just how depressing this place was before. Too caught up in his own head, Dan supposed. He had bigger concerns back then, much more pressing than decorating his bedroom.

Though, not much had changed. His hotel room was much the same as this one on the station; just a warm place for Dan to lay his head at night. He had done little to personalize his surroundings. One could even argue that the Pearson's decor was worse than the ever present grey-scale of Mercury's space station, depending on how much said person loathed Wild West imagery. Dan didn't particularly care; he'd barely even noticed before now, honestly, but that probably said some unpleasant things about his headspace.

Dan needed a home of his own. Not a refurbished storage room on someone else's space station, not a hotel room, no matter how convenient. A real place of his own. Something to call home. This was his life now, it was about time he embraced it.

He made a mental note to follow up on that spark of motivation once he returned to Earth. Now was hardly the appropriate time to go house-shopping. He had an appointment to keep. Dan dropped the melted collar down onto the cot that had once served as his bed, then set off in the direction of Marcus's lab. He was curious to witness what changes the old man had made to the place since he had last been here.

Nothing. Nothing had been changed. Dan probably should not have been so surprised. He'd only been gone for about a month, and Marcus was rather set in his ways. It was just— Eerie. The station was clean as always, its walls and windows were spotless. With only one living being on the massive station, it would be distinctly odd to be dirty, but the place managed to wear its lifelessness like a cloak, draped around shoulders of all-pervading silence. Yes, eerie was certainly the word to describe the atmosphere of this station. Now that he wasn't living here, Dan wondered how he ever did.

He made his way down the empty hallways with more haste than ever, finally finding himself in front of Marcus's lab. The door sensed his approach, opening with a whoosh and Dan got his first look at what the old man's twisted experiments had wrought.

Most prominently, a general sense of cleanliness and order. Dan had once considered the laboratory a shining example of a man-made deathtrap. Jigsaw himself couldn't dream up the horrific dangers of what Doctor Marcus Mercury could build on accident. Traversing the room with any amount of haste took an extreme mix of courage and coordination, or the ability to teleport.

Or rather, that was how it had been the last time that Dan had seen it. Now, the tables had been wiped down, the stacks of junk had been cleared away, and the floor appeared to no longer be covered in acid. It was a definite improvement, and the lab sparkled in an appealing manner. It was almost distracting enough to ignore the floating window into nonexistence hovering at the center of the room.

As soon as Dan laid eyes on it, the familiar numbness of the void seeped into him. He felt a slight chill in the air, that had nothing to do with the temperature. The silence of the room grew deeper, and eldritch figures writhed within the darkness.

Dan pulled his veil over himself, and stood, unafraid (though absolutely prepared to run). He paid them exactly as much attention as usual, that being none. Whatever they were, they were nothing to him. They couldn't reach him here, and if they could, he'd be gone in an instant. He pulled his eyes away from the window, searching for Marcus. No whispers called him back, no monsters came for his soul. The room settled back into its normal state.

”What do you see?” a familiar voice asked.

Dan turned to the entrance, grinning warmly. ”Marcus.”

The old man looked healthier than the last time Dan had seen him. His body was younger, almost, less weary, less frail. The strength within his body was no longer hidden like before, but clear for all to see. His skin did not sag, though it was still wrinkled from age. His arms were more toned, more muscular, resembling an extremely fit sixty-year old rather than the ninety-something that Marcus was. He had never walked with a hunch, but his back was straighter, proud and firm.

Despite the changes, Dan recognized him easily. The man's hair was still a wild mess, and his eyebrows were as bushy as ever. He still wore his long white labcoat, a stethoscope hanging loosely around his neck, with his front pocket stuffed with pens and scalpels.

Dan nodded to his former teacher with approval. ”You look good, old man.”

Marcus rolled his eyes and scoffed, ”As if that was ever in doubt.” The words seemed to escape without the old man's consent, as he paused immediately after.

They stared at each other for an awkward moment, both struggling to decide if apologies were necessary. They had been close once, and were still, but their parting had been... not as amicable as it could have been. Neither knew what to say, and thus they both shuffled awkwardly.

There were emotions involved in their abrupt fallout; ones difficult to decipher, much less deal with. Dan was hardly an expert in facing his own feelings, and Marcus carried more baggage than your average Boeing 747. They each, independently and simultaneously, resolved to ignore the situation and move on.

”So what have you discovered?” Dan asked, breaking the silence.

Marcus hesitated at the question, then shook his head with a wry smile. He approached Dan with an easy gait, hands stuffed in his pockets. ”I've discovered that you are just as bad at answering questions as you have always been,” the mad scientist lamented. He gestured towards the hole in reality. ”What do you see, Daniel?”

Dan frowned, and glanced over with disinterest. He stared into the window for a long moment. ”Nothing new,” he answered honestly. ”An empty void. Darkness.” A black hole, minus the gravity.

Marcus nodded. ”You've been spending time in the Gap.”

Dan didn't deny it. ”My power sorta necessitates that.”

”So it does,” Marcus acknowledged. He jerked his head to the closest table. ”Come, sit. I'll share with you what I've learned.”

”The first thing you must understand,” Marcus began, sitting across from Dan, ”is that the Gap is intrinsically connected to us.”

The window to t-space lingered in the distance behind him, barely visible over his shoulder. Dan eyed it briefly, before asking his question. ”Because of our powers?”

”No!” Marcus exclaimed, throwing his hands wide. ”No, Daniel. Remember why your power struggles to affect living creatures! Every sentient being bears a connection to the Gap. They carry it for their entire lives. It is a part of them, of us. I believe, in fact, that this connection is far more active than I previously assumed, even before exposure to cosmic radiation.”

Dan shook his head in exasperation. ”That's a bold claim, doc.”

”Yes, yes, but the evidence is leading me in that direction— Ah! But I am getting ahead of myself.” Marcus settled back into his seat, visibly calming himself. ”Every sentient being bears a connection to the Gap,” he repeated. ”This is a result of the nature of the Gap itself. It is... It is change, Daniel. A realm of ideas and invention and choice. It is, I believe, the very source of self-awareness! The first spark of consciousness!”