May 2020 story

-John/Henry is placeholder name
-No title as of yet

		Whiteness.
	A white room. Is it a room? There are no corners, no textures, nothing to define… well, anything at all. He’s not even sure that’s what this is. How crazy is that; He can’t even tell if it’s reality? God, where the hell is he? Looking around, he sees nothing but blankness, as if space and time decided to evacuate the universe. It’s not particularly bright either, it’s just a lack of information itself.
	John puts his hand on the fl- nothingness, and stands up slowly, feeling a tad dizzy. Was he knocked out? Sedated, possibly? He wasn’t sure. Not a big surprise, for sure. His eyesight is getting a bit strained, the little orbs darting around trying to find any sort of difference, a sense of real whatsoever. Maybe it was drugs. He didn’t know what kind could do something like this and feel so real. Lucid. That’s a better word. These thoughts running through John’s head was probably the only thing that was keeping him sensible right now. That wasn’t going to solve anything though.
	So, he starts walking. Forward, march.
	…Marching.
	Sticking his hand out in anticipation.
	A barrier, a wall, a slice of plastic wrap, anything.
	But there was nothing. How could there be nothing? John expected to walk maybe six or ten steps, this is damned ridiculous. He’s quickened his gait, maybe thinking this nonreal world was playing tricks on him and it was maybe a football field’s length. It could’ve even been one of those huge warehouses that span a kilometer, but he kept moving forward, and absolutely nothing was there. Ten minutes passed, twenty, thirty, and now he was starting to ache a bit.
	John wipes his hair back to his neck in contemplation. Just to be sure, he scans the area every degree around him, but there’s no new features. There wouldn’t be in this hellhole. That’s a good term for it. What a god damned hellhole this is. Fire and brimstone, lakes of lava, pitchforks and spears would be one idea that traditionally makes sense, but no information at all? It’s torture on a new level.
	That’s when it hits him like a flying brick. What… What if it was torture? What if this is his own personal hell? Did he die? He couldn’t be sure. John looks at his hands and sees nor remembers anything different. Fingernails are a bit long, but nothing to indicate he’d been here a while. He checks the rest of his body, regular t-shirt and cargo shorts, sneakers, but nothing out of the ordinary. No marks, no scars, no pricks, and a pinch tells pain is still a thing. The only thing off is that there’s nothing on his person. No wallet nor phone, empty pockets. So, what… what is happening?
Did John die? Did he die? Oh god, he was dead, wasn’t he? What happened? He doesn’t even remember it. John, you’re fucking dead aren’t you!? Why doesn’t he remember it!? Was he murdered, or-or-or he fell off a cliff, did he commit suicide!?
aRe YOu deAD!?
WhO coULd evEn TelL yOU!?
thERe’s nObOdy hEre!
thERe’S NoBodY To TEll YOU whAt or whERE Or wHY or hoW oR Anything In tHIs eNDLESS No-sPACE of AnYThiNg In vAcanTSVILLE nOwherE WhAtthEFUCKIsHaPpEniNGwhYWhatDIdidOtoSeSeRvEthiSPlEaSegOdsomEboDYHELpMeIDIDnTDoaNythINGWRo-
Blackness.



	Whiteness. A white room. Is it a room? There… There’s nothing new. He’s been here before, hasn’t he? In this subway of reality, there is no new ideas or concepts. That, John recalls. That, and the onset agony of the back of his head. He must’ve passed out; a fervor of realization like that would most likely be the culprit. He sits up slowly, rubbing the tender spot as the face of subtle disgust slowly turns into awareness. His last thought was that he was dead. However, if he could feel pain, he could pass out or have any form of unconsciousness…
	How could he be dead? Dead people don’t usually suffer the pitfalls of biological shells, do they?
~ Every one of you go through the same line of thought when they first arrive. ~
“What the fuck?!”
	John stands up a little too quickly and his head swims from the pain and rush simultaneously. It’s taking him a moment to refocus on the non-surroundings around him, especially that sudden dark rift about five meters in front of him.
OH GOD
NEW INFORMATION?!
	For some reason, the dark rift makes the white nothingness seem a lot brighter in comparison and you shield your eyes, partially blocking your sight as a figure steps from the rift as if they were coming out of a pool of water. Not that you’re complaining, it’s something besides the nothing and that’s A-O-fucking okay with you.
The figure isn’t quite focused yet, but it speaks within your mind, nonetheless.
~ It’s always ‘I’m dead, this is penance’ or ‘Wow, I was wrong my whole life, my faith is a sham’ or something like that. I guess it’s only to be expected. ~
You stammer for a moment, unable to form coherent words. “Ghhgguh- “
~ What? I’m not that pretty, calm yourself. I will not hurt you. I swear. ~
	Only now can you start to tell what’s happening. This figure is human, at least. Not one you could say you’ve ever seen, recent memory lapse or not. You’re fairly sure it’s a he. No defining bulges sexually or physiologically. Most of his body is covered by this dark, silvery metal. Metal? It’s form-fitting, moving with his body, so like a metallic… spandex. It’s reflecting your surprised countenance in its sheen, but darker than you’d expect. Like a dirty chrome, with a dull black double stripe down the sides.
	His face isn’t anything to remember either. He’s a bit wrinkled, no twinkle in his eyes that the old wise geezers get, so not that old. Balding hair, indistinct features. You probably won’t be able to pick him in a lineup later, but either way-
~ I’ve picked this form specifically for its non-descript appearance, so thank you for the validation, John. ~
“Okay, so… wh-what the hell is this place? Can you talk with your, y’know, mouth?”
	The figure smirks as the dark rift from behind fully closes, leaving him as the only new information in the nothingness. “Sure, sure. It’s easier to speak telepathically, more honest to me. However, we can speak as such.”
	John takes this acceptance of his request as a sign of relative peace and starts to relax. He isn’t quite ready to throw down the questionnaire gauntlet quite yet, since this odd fellow could very well be the one to put him in here.
“I am the one that put you here.”
“Jesus- Dude, can you stop reading my mind!?”
“Ah, sorry. I will not respond to your mental observations.”
“Thank you…”
	The man eagerly nods, wanting to press on the conversation despite John’s obvious recoil of mental scanning.
“Well. To answer your first query in the simplest terms, you are in the Beyond.”
	John squints for a moment, then shakes his head in denial. “The Beyond? What-what-what is that? That isn’t an answer, it’s a pronoun. Care to explain before I bust out of here and call the police?”
“A rational course of action, but it won’t help here. To elaborate, the Beyond is just that. Beyond. Beyond what you call home, what you see as your world, what you see as the stars and galaxies around you. It’s past that. Past the ‘Hubble deep field’, past the quasars. Past the beginning.”
“Mmkay, so you’re saying we’re out of universe.”
“Precisely.”
	John involuntarily chuckles, anxiously sniffing his nose as well. “Alright, yeah, I’m out of here.”
	The unknown man says nothing but keeps that smile on his face. He’ll show him. John walks past him almost shoulder to shoulder ready to leave this nothingness when he calls back out.
“My name is Henry, by the way. Nice to see you in person for the first time.”
	John looks back for a second at the so called ‘Henry’, and sneers at his kidnapper before moving forward.
Smack
“Augh- ouhh, what?”
	He stops in his tracks, holding his nose as he realizes the thing that he coveted previously is now hindering him very actively.
	A wall. An invisible one, or a white one depending on your point of view. Featureless, and when he puts his hand on it, it leaves no trace.
“…How did you do that?”
	The mysterious gentleman turns around, hands behind his back in a calm, eased state. “As I said before, I put you here. I wouldn’t go through all that trouble of transporting you to the Beyond without making sure I could converse with you, now would I? Not to mention, if you couldn’t leave your planet without years of training, I doubt you’d find your way back to your universe.”
	John turns as well with a defeated look and a reddened nose. “So, you’re a telepath and a telekinetic now. What do you want with me? I’m a nobody.”
“Ah, a pertinent question. A good way to deflect your importance in the hopes of being let go, but to no avail. John, you are correct. You’re a nobody.”
	Well, Henry sure is blunt, isn’t he?
“Apologies. What I mean to say is, it doesn’t matter. You could be a busboy in a restaurant or the leader of a country or the most wanted criminal in the galaxy, and you would be here just the same. Random statistical data does not discriminate.”
	John clears his throat for a moment to think, and what comes out is off the top of his head. “So I was random… And you said before, ‘every one of you’, … I’m one of a whole bunch of people you’ve taken for this nothingness.”
	Henry nods in excitement. “Oh, you’re a bit sharper than the norm around here. Most everyone skips right past that little tidbit, but yes indeed, you’re one of many, nothing but probability, and yet here you are.”
“…Why?”
“Why indeed. I’ve brought you here to the Beyond, John, because it’s time for your test.”
	…A test.