Chapter 6

Nexus Mapping Sequence

5017 0001 – song – Prince – Let’s Go Crazy

9536 7779 – film – Logan’s Run (1976)

4400 1010 – song – A Tribe Called Quest – We the People

* Nexus Mapping Sequence media is provided to support chapter contents.

Knocked to the ground and blinded by the flash, Ethan’s heart pounded wildly. The air was thick with smoke, acrid and choking, and the sounds of shouting and boots pounding on the floor echoed around him. Disoriented, he stood up trying to steady himself.

A hand grabbed him suddenly, its grip firm and urgent. Panicking, Ethan struggled, flailing in an attempt to break free.

"Stop fighting—it’s me!" Akima’s voice cut through the chaos, her tone sharp but steady.

Ethan froze for a moment, recognizing her voice. "We need to go somewhere safe," she yelled, her words barely audible over the commotion. "Do you know somewhere we can go?"

Ethan’s mind raced as he tried to think, his thoughts jumbled and chaotic. In the haze of panic, one place surfaced: Will’s house.

"My friend Will!" he shouted back. "He can help us—he’s a former soldier!"

Akima nodded briskly, her eyes scanning the room for an escape route.

Just then, Ethan caught sight of the SWAT officers flooding into the living room, their dark uniforms blending into the haze. His breath hitched. They moved with precision, their weapons raised, their presence menacing.

Without thinking, Ethan thrust his hands out in desperation, willing something—anything—to stop them. A strange warmth spread through his fingers, followed by a soft hum in the air.

From nowhere, thousands of lasagna noodles rained down from above, cascading over the officers like a culinary storm. The slippery pasta piled high, tangling their legs and sending them crashing to the ground in a flurry of curses and shouts.

"What the hell?" Marco yelled, his voice cutting through the chaos as he gawked at the scene.

"I don’t know!" Ethan shouted back, watching the SWAT officers struggle to regain their footing. "I wish I had more control over this—it’s so random!"

Marco’s stunned expression turned to one of incredulous amusement. "Spaghetti noodles? Seriously?"

Meanwhile, Alex crawled across the floor, her movements purposeful despite the chaos. She spotted the puppy trembling near the overturned coffee table, its tiny frame quivering in fear. Gently, she scooped it up, cradling it against her chest.

"It’s okay," she murmured, stroking its soft fur as she tried to calm it down. The puppy whimpered, pressing its wet nose into her neck, seeking comfort in her arms.

The room was a mess of smoke, pasta, and frantic movement. Ethan’s mind spun as he looked at his friends, Akima, and the stumbling officers. The absurdity of the situation might have been laughable in any other moment, but now it was deadly serious. They needed to get out—fast.

Dodging a SWAT officer struggling to get up, Ethan darted across the room and grabbed his iPod from where it had fallen. His gaze lingered on the hammer for a moment, but with chaos erupting around him, he decided to leave it. Akima was already herding the group toward Marco’s bedroom, urgency radiating from her every move.

"Come on!" she shouted, waving them forward.

Once everyone was inside, Akima slammed the door shut, leaning against it as she caught her breath.

"What are you doing?" Marco asked, his voice edged with both panic and confusion.

Akima ignored the question at first, turning to Ethan. "Think about your friend’s home," she said firmly, locking eyes with him. "Just his home—nothing else."

Ethan frowned, unsure of what she meant, but he nodded. He closed his eyes, focusing on Will’s apartment: the worn couch, the cluttered coffee table, the faint smell of takeout that always seemed to linger.

Without further explanation, Akima pressed her palm flat against the center of the bedroom door. A soft hum emanated from her wrist device, and the veins of circuitry on its surface lit up in a pulsating green glow.

The doorframe began to shimmer faintly, an otherworldly green light spreading across the edges like liquid energy. Akima’s brow furrowed in concentration, her lips moving silently as she worked. Holding Ethan’s arm tightly, she closed her eyes, and the light in the doorframe grew brighter, casting long, flickering shadows across the room.

"What’s happening?" Marco whispered, his voice barely audible over the hum.

Leukocytes had a secret—one even Akima didn’t fully understand. The devices they carried allowed them to turn any door in the world into a gateway, provided they could focus on the destination. It was a closely guarded technique, one that required both precision and unwavering concentration.

A second later, the glow subsided. Akima released Ethan’s arm and stepped back, the green light fading into a faint shimmer around the doorframe.

She gripped the handle and pulled the door open. Instead of Marco’s hallway, the doorway now revealed a modest apartment. Will sat on his couch, a takeout box in hand, staring blankly at his television.

As the door swung open, Will froze mid-bite, noodles dangling from his fork. His eyes widened as he took in the group standing in the glowing doorway. One minute he was alone, enjoying his dinner; the next, his closet had turned into a portal, and a bunch of kids were staring at him.

"Everybody go!" Akima barked, urgency snapping them into action.

One by one, they filed through the doorway, their movements quick and panicked. Alex clutched the puppy tightly as she passed into the apartment. Marco and Bobbi followed, each casting wary glances back at the chaos they were leaving behind.

Ethan hesitated at the threshold, glancing over his shoulder. He wondered about the floating crystal still hovered in the living room.

"We should go back for the crystal," Ethan said, his voice almost pleading.

"We don’t have time," Akima snapped, her tone firm as she pulled him through the doorway.

The moment Ethan stepped inside, Akima slammed the door shut. The doorframe pulsed green once more, the glow gradually fading until it was gone entirely.

Bobbi, ever curious, walked back to the door. He opened it cautiously, peeking through. Instead of Marco’s room—or the chaotic living room they’d just fled—he found only a small closet by the entrance to Will’s apartment.

"Whoa," Bobbi muttered, closing the door again.

Ethan looked around, taking in Will’s bewildered expression as he set his takeout down and stood up. "What the hell is going on?" Will asked, his voice calm but edged with concern.

Akima ignored the question for now, her eyes scanning the room as she mentally prepared for what might come next.

"How the hell did you all just come out of my closet?" Will shouted, his voice rising in disbelief as he stared at the group crammed into his small living room.

"It’s a long story," Ethan replied, raising a hand as if to calm him down.

"I don’t know how much time we have, but we should be good for a little while," Akima interjected, her tone clipped as she glanced out the front window, scanning the quiet street beyond.

Will wasn’t having it. "Again," he barked, pointing to the now-ordinary closet, "how are you all standing in my apartment?"

Ethan sighed, realizing there was no getting around it. He walked over to Will, gently guiding him back to his chair. "Okay, listen," he began, sitting down on the edge of the coffee table across from him.

He started from the beginning, explaining the dream that felt too real, the endless hallway, and his strange encounter with Wolf. As he spoke, he could see Will’s skeptical expression shift to one of cautious curiosity. Ethan told him about the floating crystal and the bizarre powers it seemed to grant him—the hammer, the giant hotdog, and even the spaghetti noodles. Finally, he described how they’d ended up in Bobbi and Marco’s apartment before things spiraled out of control.

"We were asking Akima who she was when everything went sideways," Ethan finished, gesturing toward her.

All eyes turned to Akima, who stood by the window, her posture tense. She didn’t look back at them, her focus seemingly fixed on something beyond the glass.

"I think it’s time you gave us some answers," Ethan said, his voice steady but firm. "Maybe start with how we went from Bobbi and Marco’s house to Will’s apartment."

“And why are you helping us,” Marco ask? “Aren’t we in trouble or something.”

For a moment, Akima remained silent, her hand resting lightly on the edge of the window frame. Ethan couldn’t tell if she was hesitating or just ignoring him.

Will stood up, his military instincts kicking in as he approached her cautiously. He placed a hand on her shoulder. "Easy," he said, his tone low and calm. "We just want answers."

In an instant, Akima spun around, her movements lightning fast. Before anyone could react, she had Will’s arm locked in a firm hold.

"Whoa, whoa!" Will exclaimed, holding up his free hand in surrender. "Take it easy!"

Akima’s expression softened slightly as she realized there was no threat. She released him just as quickly, stepping back with a sharp exhale. "Sorry," she muttered, her gaze darting to the floor.

Will rolled his shoulder, his calm composure unbroken. "It’s okay," he said. "But we need to know what’s going on."

Akima nodded reluctantly and walked over to an empty chair. She sank into it, her shoulders slumping as she rubbed her temples. For a moment, the room was silent except for the faint hum of the refrigerator.

Finally, she sat up straight, her dark eyes meeting the group’s expectant stares. "My device," she began, holding up her forearm, "allows me to open gateways anywhere on Earth."

Ethan and the others leaned in, their attention fixed on the sleek, bracelet-like device that glowed faintly with an intricate network of lights and symbols.

"It’s designed to read my thoughts and create a portal to any location I can clearly imagine," Akima explained. "If I don’t know a place well enough, I can use someone else’s mind to guide it. That’s how we got here—I used Ethan’s focus on this apartment to anchor the portal."

"Anywhere?" Marco asked, his voice filled with awe.

Akima nodded. "The clearer the thought, the better the portal. But yes, I can go anywhere. It’s one of the primary tools of my organization."

"That’s wild," Bobbi said, his voice soft with amazement.

The room fell quiet again. Everyone seemed to be waiting for Akima to continue, but she hesitated. Her gaze dropped to her hands, which were tightly clasped in her lap. She looked as if she was grappling with what to say next, torn between duty and the trust she seemed to have inadvertently developed with this group.

Ethan watched her closely, sensing her inner conflict. "Akima," he said gently, "we’re in this now, whether we want to be or not. We need to know what we’re up against."

She lifted her head, her expression a mixture of exhaustion and resolve. "You’re right," she said quietly. "But what I have to tell you… it’s not easy to explain."

"Like I said before, the world is controlled by a shadow organization," Akima began, her voice steady but carrying an undercurrent of weariness. "They’ve gone by different names over the centuries, but recently, they’ve been known as the leukocytes." She paused, glancing at the group, her gaze briefly lingering on Ethan. "I should have turned you all over to them. I honestly don’t know why I didn’t."

Ethan shifted uncomfortably. He’d only been in Will’s apartment once before, and now, crammed in with all his friends, the small space felt suffocating.

Akima stood in the center of the room, her posture rigid, like a coiled spring. "There are five main groups of leukocytes," she continued. "I’m a monocyte—a sort of enforcer. Those SWAT agents you saw earlier? They were monocytes too. Each group has a specific role, all designed to maintain control over society."

"Control society?" Marco interjected, his tone incredulous. "How?"

Akima ignored the question, her focus unbroken. "The first group is called neutrophils," she said. "They’re the observers. Think of them as first responders. They don’t take direct action, but they’re everywhere. You probably have a class with a neutrophil. You might sit next to one at church. They watch everything you do and report it back to my organization."

"So… that nosy neighbor down the street?" Bobbi asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Probably a neutrophil," Akima replied without hesitation.

The room fell silent as everyone absorbed her words. Ethan’s mind raced. The idea of a shadow organization orchestrating the world felt absurd, yet Akima spoke with such certainty that he couldn’t dismiss it. And if that wasn’t enough, there was also Chimera—a dream world populated by beings like Wolf. It was all too much to process.

"The next big group is the eosinophils," Akima went on. "They’re the ones with influence—presidents, preachers, mafia kingpins. They’re the ones who keep the world running exactly how my boss wants it to."

"You mentioned a boss," Ethan said, leaning forward. "Who is this guy?"

Akima hesitated, her jaw tightening. For the first time, her calm façade wavered. "You have to understand something," she said, her voice quieter now. "I’m human. There’s nothing inherently special about me—or at least, there wasn’t." She paused, taking a deep breath. "I grew up on a rundown reservation in the New Mexico desert. When I was five, my parents sold me for drug money, and I never saw them again. This world—this life—is all I’ve ever known."

The room grew heavy with her words. Akima’s voice was steady, but Ethan noticed her hands clenching into fists. She stood abruptly and began pacing, the tension radiating off her in waves.

"My boss has gone by many names," she continued. "I don’t know much about him, only that he isn’t human."

"What is he?" Alex asked, her voice soft but insistent.

"I don’t know," Akima admitted, stopping to face them. Her expression was a mixture of frustration and fear. "I’ve always been afraid to ask. He looks human, talks like a human, but I know he’s not one of us. He doesn’t age. He’s been around since the beginning of everything. I think he changes his name depending on where he’s living at the time."

She suddenly rushed to the window, pulling the blinds aside to peer out into the night. The tension in the room rose as everyone watched her. After a moment, she let the blinds fall back into place and turned toward them, her expression guarded but determined.

"Sorry, I’m sharing more than I feel comfortable saying," Akima admitted, her voice quieter now, as though the weight of her words were bearing down on her. "His name is Gerry."

A beat of silence followed, then everyone in the room erupted into laughter.

Akima frowned, glancing at Wolf, who looked equally perplexed.

"Are you serious?" Marco managed between chuckles. "The most powerful man in the world calls himself Gerry?"

"Yes," Akima replied, her confusion deepening. "His name is Gerry. I don’t get it. Why is that funny?"

"Gerry just isn’t the kind of name you’d imagine for someone running a shadow organization controlling the world," Alex explained, trying to stifle her giggles.

"It sounds more like a guy who manages a car rental place," Bobbi added, shaking his head.

Akima’s expression hardened. "Oh, he is very dangerous," she said firmly, her voice cutting through the lingering laughter. "He’ll likely kill me for telling you any of this."

The laughter faded, replaced by a tense silence. Will, ever practical, stood and walked to the kitchen. He returned with bottles of water, handing them out as everyone quietly processed Akima’s words.

"So, how exactly does your organization control society?" Alex asked, breaking the stillness.

Akima took a sip of water before answering. "It started with the eosinophils," she said. "They’re people of influence—politicians, religious leaders, CEOs. They use their power to shape society, pushing certain policies and fueling division. Every major decision, every popular trend or opinion, it’s all by their design."

"But why?" Bobbi asked, leaning forward.

"Part of it is about control," Akima replied, her gaze distant. "But as I’ve learned more, I think it’s also about stifling creativity. Gerry wants to dominate all forms of expression. It’s one of the reasons humans go to the dream world at night."

"Wait, hold up," Ethan interjected, his brow furrowed. "What does the dream world have to do with any of this?"

Akima turned to him, her expression grim. "Gerry is literally draining creativity from every human being," she said, her words landing like a hammer blow.

"But why?" Alex asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

"I have my theories, but I don’t know for sure," Akima admitted. "I think it’s because he doesn’t like people finding their own way. Creativity leads to independence, to innovation, and that threatens his control. It always has to be his way."

"Man, that’s messed up," Ethan said, shaking his head. He turned to Will. "What do you think of all this?"

Will leaned back in his chair, exhaling deeply. "Fifteen minutes ago, I was gearing up to watch Top Chef and zone out," he said, his tone half-serious. "I’m still trying to wrap my head around how you all magically appeared out of my closet."

A heavy quiet settled over the group. The weight of Akima’s revelations hung in the air, thick and suffocating. Ethan tried to process it all—how a shadow organization could control the world so thoroughly, how they could press down on creativity itself. It felt impossible, but the evidence was undeniable.

Amid the tension, Ethan glanced at Will and remembered something. He walked over, pulling the iPod from his pocket. "Did you know my dad recorded messages for me?" he asked.

Will hesitated, his expression softening. "Yeah," he said quietly. "Sorry, kid. I figured it’d be better for you to find it on your own."

Ethan looked at the device in his hand. In all the chaos, he’d nearly forgotten about the recordings. The revelations about the world were staggering, but they hadn’t dulled his desire to learn more about his father. If anything, they made him more eager to keep listening.

"I don’t know why," Ethan said, his voice low, "but I feel like he’s talking me through all this chaos."

"Maybe," Will said, resting a hand on Ethan’s shoulder. "Or maybe you’re more like him than you realize."

Ethan gave a small, tired smile. "Maybe," he replied. "I doubt he ever dealt with… this." He gestured vaguely around the room, encompassing Akima, Wolf, and the insane story they’d just heard.

Will chuckled lightly. "No, you’re right about that."

Ethan stepped into the kitchen, his fingers tracing the edges of the iPod as if seeking comfort in its solidity. Plugging in his headphones, he scrolled to the third track and pressed play. In the chaos at Marco and Bobbi’s apartment, he hadn’t caught much of his father’s words.

As Knights of Cydonia played, Ethan closed his eyes, letting the music wash over him. He thought about stopping when the song ended, torn between wanting to hear more from Akima and longing to hear his father’s voice again.

But the weight of everything felt crushing, and his mind spun with questions. Seeking solace, he decided to keep listening.

"God, I love that song," Ethan’s dad’s voice said, warm and animated through the recording. "I first heard it in a movie years ago, and it’s been my theme song ever since. That line about fighting for our rights and fighting to survive—it just hits home. This world is full of people who want to tear you down, rip you apart. So, people, big and small, need to stand up for what’s right."

Hearing his dad speak with such conviction was surreal. Ethan couldn’t help but think about what Akima had said earlier—about the shadow organization controlling society and dividing people. The parallels were unsettling.

Ethan leaned against the counter, his thoughts drifting. His dad’s words about standing up for your rights resonated deeply. For all the frustrations Ethan had with the world, he knew one thing for sure: too few people stood up for what was right.

"That song makes me feel like I can take on the whole world and every evil douchebag in it," his dad continued, his voice tinged with both humor and determination. "Now, this next one—it’s a classic. If you don’t know who Prince is, well, get ready, because the man’s a true legend. He’s got so many incredible songs, but Let’s Go Crazy? That one just gets me going."

As the recording faded, the unmistakable sound of an organ began to play, and Prince’s iconic voice filled Ethan’s ears.

"Dearly beloved," the song began, its opening line like a call to arms. "We are gathered here today to get through this thing called life."

The music swelled, pulsing with energy. Ethan smiled faintly, letting the song carry him for a moment before pulling himself away from the kitchen.

When he walked back into the living room, he found the tension had lifted. The group had shifted focus and was now listening to Wolf, who was animatedly describing his world.

"It’s really dark," Wolf said, gesturing with his hands. "There’s no sun, just endless darkness and clouds.”

The room was filled with curiosity and occasional laughter as the group peppered Wolf with questions. Ethan paused in the doorway, watching them. Seeing everyone relaxed and smiling was a relief.

For a moment, he let the warmth of the scene wash over him. Despite the spiraling chaos of his life, he felt lucky to have friends like this—people who could keep things grounded, even when everything else felt like it was falling apart.

The song in his headphones swelled to its electric crescendo, perfectly matching the surreal energy in the room. Things were definitely going crazy, but somehow, amidst it all, there was still a sense of hope.

When the song ended, Ethan reached into his pocket, switched off the iPod, and tucked it away.

He didn’t have all the answers yet—far from it. But for now, that was okay.

"So, how do you fit into all of this?" Bobbi asked, turning the group’s attention back to Akima.

Akima straightened slightly, as if preparing for a lecture. "As I’ve said, there are five different groups of leukocytes," she began. "I’m a monocyte. Whenever something is out of place, it’s my job to fix it. If a human gets lost in Chimera, I bring them back."

"But won’t that person remember everything?" Bobbi pressed, his curiosity outweighing the tension in the room.

"That’s where the fourth group comes in," Akima explained. "Basophils. They clean it all up. They can literally reshape reality, altering memories or even changing the fabric of events to erase what shouldn’t have happened."

Marco leaned forward, his expression serious. "And the fifth group? What’s their role?"

"I’m guessing it’s lymphocytes," Bobbi interjected, a smug grin spreading across his face.

"Yes," Akima replied, raising an eyebrow. "How did you know?"

"I remembered from advanced biology last semester," Bobbi said, his tone light.

Marco rolled his eyes, smirking. "Of course, you took advanced biology."

Bobbi shrugged, clearly pleased with himself.

Akima continued, her tone growing darker. "Lymphocytes are the last resort. There aren’t many of them, but whenever someone seriously disrupts the system or manipulates things in a way Gerry doesn’t like, a lymphocyte is dispatched."

"And what do they do?" Alex asked, her voice cautious.

Akima paused, then said bluntly, "Kill everything."

Her words cast a heavy silence over the room.

"That’s why I’m so nervous," Akima added, her gaze shifting toward the window. "They’ve probably already assigned a lymphocyte to clean this up."

Will stood abruptly, breaking the tense quiet. Without a word, he left the room, returning moments later with a large duffle bag.

"We need to go. Now," he said, his tone leaving no room for argument.

"He’s right," Akima agreed.

She moved toward the closet door, reaching for her wrist device to prepare a portal.

"No," Will interrupted, holding up his hand. "We do this the old-fashioned way."

Akima turned to him, frowning.

Will walked over to a hook by the wall and grabbed a set of keys, jangling them for emphasis. "If they can track you by where you go—if you use your magic whatever to jump from one place to another—" he said, looking pointedly at Akima, "then they can track you back here."

Akima’s eyes widened slightly. "Yes," she admitted reluctantly.

"So," Will continued, "that means they can already trace you here."

"In theory, yes," Akima replied, her voice uneasy. "It’s more complicated than that, but they can track us. It takes time to process the data, though."

Akima raised her wrist device and began tapping rapidly, her expression becoming increasingly alarmed.

"We need to go. Now," she repeated, urgency sharpening her voice.

"Go where?" a calm, unfamiliar voice called from down the hall.

The group turned to see a short man stepping out of the shadows. He wore a grey pinstriped suit that seemed meticulously tailored, and his slicked-back hair gleamed under the dim light. His thick-rimmed glasses framed eyes that glinted with intelligence and something colder. He looked as though he’d walked straight out of the 1950s, a detail that unsettled Ethan.

"Oh, Akima," the man said, his tone casual but underlined with condescension. "I’m so disappointed in you."

Akima tensed, stepping back instinctively. "Listen, Gerry," she began, her voice carrying an edge of desperation. "Something strange is happening. Something we don’t understand—"

"Save your breath," Gerry interrupted, brushing invisible dust from his immaculate suit jacket.

The irritation in his voice made Ethan bristle. Gerry’s dismissive tone grated on him, and he could see Akima’s shoulders slump slightly under the weight of it.

As Gerry stepped closer, another figure emerged from the dark hallway behind him. Ethan’s breath caught in his throat.

The man who appeared was stunning in a way Ethan had never experienced. He was tall, standing a full head above Gerry, with features that were impossibly symmetrical. His presence radiated a magnetism that was both commanding and unnerving. Masculine and feminine qualities blended seamlessly, creating an ethereal beauty that made it impossible for Ethan to look away.

"You don’t understand!" Akima cried, her voice breaking. "Something is happening, and you need to do something about it!"

Gerry raised a finger, silencing her mid-sentence.

Akima flinched, her face contorting in pain as she sank to her knees, clutching her side.

"Isaac," Gerry said, addressing the beautiful man behind him. "Be a dear and clean this up. Leave the boy, though." He gestured lazily toward Ethan. "Bring him to me."

Without another glance at the group, Gerry turned and strode away, his movements crisp and unhurried.

Ethan stared after him, his heart pounding. The ominous calm in Gerry’s tone, the raw power emanating from Isaac, and the sight of Akima writhing in pain left him frozen.