1 Astral World
Within what could arguably be called the world's most secure maximum security prison was a specific cell. Number 15 to be exact. Within this cell was a certain youth chained to a bed. A label on his tightly bound prison garments read "Number 15". The number was his life, his legacy, and his name. It was the only name he had ever responded to. It was ingrained in his life. He even had the number tattooed upon his thin pale back. 15 had never been called anything else.
The boy had pale white skin, not indicative of the little time he was allowed in the sun daily. Instead, his skin was pale white ever since he could remember, and even when he could not. Dark brown hair crowned the top of the head, wild, unruly, and untameable. His pale green eyes cut through the intimidating darkness, his pupils dilated as they sought to make sense of the non-existent patterns on the ceiling.
As the minuscule beams of moonlight threaded through the iron meshed window and illuminated 15s cell, a clanking noise rank out. 15 was bored. Nothing interesting ever happens at night, or so he thought. So he did what he always did when he decided life was to dull. He started to sing. It was a song that was quirky, filled with laughter and mirth. Or so 15 thought. The strange oddly spaced syllables were oddly reminiscent of a carnival tune, but oddly nothing similar to a carnival tune. Even more interesting was the fact that the 15s mind seemed to be in two places at once. One singing and conducting a melody he had just came up with, and the other contemplating tomorrow's breakfast.
" Hmmmm..... I wonder what's for breakfast tomorrow. I do hope it's just as good as yesterdays pancakes, they even cut them into cute little shapes for me,"
As time passed his melody slowly grew louder. Silently filling up the empty concrete cell. Well, empty with the exception of three things. The youth himself, a steel bed, and the chains that bound the youth to it.
" It should be a Tuesday..... Tuesdays should be eggs right ??... Eggs are real nice. Just add some ketchup and pepper and your sett."
Sudden fear struck the guards positioned outside the steel door. The sharp notes gushing out of the infinitesimal crack under the thick solid slab of steel called a "door". It struck like a bolt of lightning, sudden and quick. The melody slowly permeating throughout the air, the florescent lights flickering along.
" Now the real question is if the eggs will be scrambled or sunny side up ?? I'm betting scrambled, but I remember 7 saying that this week the eggs will be fried.... oh well, either way, will be fine "
The two men stationed outside cell number 15 felt primal fear. A fear they had never felt throughout their 30 years of brutal training and experience. They had worked guarding some of the worst people humanity has ever birthed. They had witnessed scenes that would have made the average man collapse into madness. But yet this simple and disjointed tune had made both of them want to run as far as they could. This unintelligible song had scared them more than anything they had ever experienced.
" You know what... I actually don't think I've had milk in the longest of times. Breakfast is so much better with a nice tall glass of cold milk."
A permeating dread filled the air as the song sung by 15 continued to grow faster. And in turn louder. From a snail's pace, the melody was slowly reaching a limping drag.
Soon the guards were running, and alerts were sent. The prisoners in cells number 14 and 16 slowly became aware of the song as if filled their cells. In a cell, exactly 100 feet from 15's lied an aging woman. After the broken and disjointed tune caressed her eardrums she awoke with a sudden jerk. The entire bed-frame she was also chained to jumped up an inch before slamming back down to the concrete floor. After calming down a look of contemplation appeared on her wrinkled face. Afterward, a sweet and aging voice joined 15's.
Shortly followed by a watery gurgling noise from cell number 16. The missing gaps in 15's song were slowly patched up as all three voices joined together.
" I swear didn't the world government pass a law stating that all global prisoners must revive basic nutrition. I swear Milk is somewhere on the food triangle..... is it a food square..... No, I'm pretty sure its a triangle... "
Soon the song traveled from room to room. Each time it woke up the occupants, who shortly afterward contributed to the broken song. Slowly patching it up and smoothing it out. The concrete walls and metal doors only amplifying the unholy symphony reverberating throughout the prison walls.
As the melody reached its climax as all 200 inmates began to sing together in unison. The broken melody mended, as it transformed into something altogether different. It was unlike anything ever recorded, both joyful and sinister, it painted a strange feeling within all who heard it.
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Within an immaculate office filled with the stench of cigarettes sighed a tired voice.
" Sigh.... their starting again..."
" Yes Madam Warden, this is the tenth night in a row,"
A young man with a face of steel responded as he placed a cup of coffee in front of a stunning woman in a uniform. The many medals on his perfectly ironed uniform clinked and shimmered.
In the fluorescent lighting of the luxurious office, a sparkling marble floor shined and sparkled. It was so clean in fact everything upon it was reflected. Sadly because of this the floor basically became a mirror preventing the warden from ever wearing dresses or skirts, and requiring all females to keep a spare pair of pants in their personal locker ( In case they were ever called up to the warden's office).
In his other arm were a stack of folders and paperwork. The folder itself carried a big giant CLASSIFIED on the front in big black lettering. Next to which was a strange inverted triangle with the words MEMETIC HAZARD written around it. If the big bold lettering was not noticeable enough the words were underlined and circled several times.
Within these folders was information that a total of 30 people in the world had ever seen. Each one only out of necessity, as they were the ones who had to deal with the information inside. Without the express need to, and proper training, not even the president of the united world federation was allowed to read the full version. This was because these forbidden folders held the abridged details of the events leading to the capture and containment of a certain little boy known only as 15.
These folders were far from anything close to an actual report of any events involving 15. People who had seen the original reports and photographs had lost their sanity long ago. The images were considered a class-A memetic hazard long ago locked up within a special containment cell. The digital files were non-existent, as no digital server was truly unhackable.
Even the highly abridged and censored documents required special mental training, and a psychological evaluation before anyone was allowed to even read them.
" Private Mason.."
" Please for the love of god, please call the big boys and rush the order of soundproofing material. We cannot have this god damned racket every night."
" Why don't we try gags Marm, I'm sure that would shut them up."
" After Incident -1223, ? "
" God, nevermind, "
The young mans face contorted at the recollection of incident log -1223
" Marm we can't just sit around. Because Of this damn noise half of the guards have reported PTSD, and violence levels within the nearby city have risen by 15%."
" Private Mason, my hands are tied. I kn---"
Just as the young man was about to respond a slightly robotic middle-aged woman's voice echoed throughout the world.
-- Ding! We are happy to inform all humans that the binding of worlds has been completed. You will now be teleported to the newest branch of the Astral Royal world.--
Just as the woman's surprised figure jumped up and spilled over the mug originally filled with over-sweet coffee both the man and the woman seemingly vanished from the world.
The mechanical clock on the wall that was ticking away suddenly stopped, seemingly forever stuck at 1:02 Am. This seemingly impossible scene was replicated to every single person around the globe. Although everyone heard their native language, and the clocks around different time-zones were all set to separate times.
--------------------------------
This scene also affected No. 15 as it did everyone else. Just as the unholy symphony was reaching its climax, and the guards outside his cell were on the ground crying.
The notification silenced everything.
-- Ding! We are happy to inform all humans that the binding of worlds has been completed. You will now be teleported to the newest branch of the Astral Royal world.--
" I mean milk goes soo well.... with.... Wait a minute.... Telep..."
15's thoughts were abruptly caught off as darkness spread throughout his vision.
