Chapter Twenty-Three

Dear Master G_,

My lover told you of my approach and so, when you wake, this entry into your journal will, I hope, not incur any rancour or mistrust. There is no malice or deviance on my part. I am here simply to show you a way. 

My name is Nikola Tesla and I have commandeered your journal until such time as I see fit to return you to yourself, and in turn the journal to you. In short, I have commandeered you. I have run a series of tests on you, experiments to unlock your mind, to push forward the boundaries of this NeverPlace and now, I believe we are there. We are ready for the final test.

I am watching you sleep while I write this. You are strapped into the chair. I have adjusted the harness and I have inserted all the cranial needles and both eye-vices. Pre-checks are complete. There are only a few more moments before we begin and so, with grateful thanks, I write a little about how it came to pass that you are where you are.

I came to you in the alleyway. You were hiding in the dark recess of a doorway. Your heart was beating fast. You were writing blindly. Hoping for answers. Yearning for truth. I approached and smiled my kind-smile at you, and you fell under a deep sleep-spell.

You fell to the floor and I took you to the LHC Gateway (you will see what I mean by LHC Gateway in time). It was here that your mind awoke, but your body remained in stasis. For a time, you were a Sleepwalker, like those you will meet when you awake fully. This may confuse you, but really it is simple. Think of yourself as an opposite to the population of Couldwell (as you call it). When you are cold, they bake, when you are hungry they bulge. When you are (truly) awake, they will sleep. You will see shortly. 

At the LHC Gateway, while under my sleep-spell I ran test after test on you. Took samples from every part of your brain. Every variation in sonic magnetism was fired into your eyes and still nothing. I read and re-read your journal, I tried to decipher everything. The train, the symbols, the dog, Alexander Tumour Baby, Lucy, Master Brekker – it meant so much, that at least was clear. But I could not understand. But I had to keep going – it was an obsession.  The tests were of the mind and the body. Invasive and painful to you and for that I apologise. You must understand that I experimented on you to gain answers for myself and my own predicament. Without your donation, how could I possibly marry your journal to mine? How could I possibly understand my own dementia, my own NeverPlace? 

For you see Master G_ I am like you! I too am an interloper here. I too am searching although as each day passes what it is I am searching for becomes that much fainter. It was once a vivid image; a bright and clear canvas, detailed and immaculate. Like a perfect equation. But slowly, new images and alterations began to form over it in my mind. Now it is a muddy grotesque. What was I here for? I have constructed so much, I have learned so much, but my machines do not work! Nothing works here and so I have unlearned everything. I am in a perpetual wheel. And so sculptures of memory and the machines of the mind led me to design and build this, my greatest of all inventions. The Tesla Dream Projector!

But as Couldwell (as you call it) is populated with Sleepwalkers and Skyswimmers, the machine would not operate. I tried everything, even testing it on myself, but the pain was too great to bear and hindered my results. My dream projection was simply a mirror of what I was doing. I was too focused on my physical being and so I could not release my psyche. I was at a loss. Twisted and falling into my own grotesque canvas.

Then I dreamt of you, of an interloper travelling through the NeverPlace that would illuminate the sky. Like a flash of lightning and in an instant the truth was revealed. I drew with a stick on the sand the diagrams of my motor. A thousand secrets of nature which I might have stumbled upon accidentally I would have given for that one which I had wrestled from her against all odds and at the peril of my existence. I write again, “An interloper travelling through the NeverPlace that would illuminate the sky.” And you will! 

Your collar is stiff and yellow. Stained from the sweat. Your chest gently rising and falling like a tide. You are relaxed, possibly serene. The dream you are having will soon be projected above you and I am overjoyed at the notion. I will see everything you are seeing, and I will understand now what it was that brought me here. I will see what it is that I am meant to do.  

After the test I will take you to the ridge and leave you. When you awake, will see beyond the LHC Gateway, onto the great plain. I will not tell you what awaits you as, I would imagine, like everything here you will see it differently. I can guarantee that I will leave you on the ridge unharmed. Should you awake in pain, know that in between my leaving you and you waking, ill tidings from another hand befell you. 

Before I turn the machine on and record everything you see (this will happen directly from your mind onto the page – you dream will, effectively, write itself). Before this happens, I should say that I may never see you again, but I sincerely hope you find some answers through my work. As for the answers to your predicament that I have discovered, I can give you only one truth. 

You wrote that you feel as though you are in-between. That you are in two places at the once. You cannot think like that anymore for the truth is, Master G_, you are not in two places at once. You are, in fact, in the same place twice. I go now to activate the dream-projector. 

Good luck NeverTraverser

With all hope and love, your friend,

Nikola Tesla

Graham Thomas