[Final Memory Excerpt from the File of Finnegan “Finn” Walsh, Candidate for Transfer]

  — Agent file #7011883296

  Finn woke up, lying on a hard surface. He attempted to lift his left wrist to see his watch, but it didn’t budge. His head throbbed in pain, and he felt like he was going to throw up. He tried to lift his head, but it too wouldn’t move. And sure enough, he couldn’t move his legs. “Hello? Anyone there? Where the fuck am I?”

  “Hello, Finn. I see you are finally awake.” A familiar woman’s voice said.

  “Ms. Ashton? Is that you? Where am I? Why am I restrained?” Finn asked, nostrils flaring. He tried to move again, panicking.

  Simone Ashton stepped into his view. “You are being restrained for your own safety, Finn. Do you remember last night?”

  “No, I… Oh God. I made an ass of myself, didn’t I?” he asked, horrified at the partial memory.

  “Yes, and no,” Simone replied. She checked the straps on his arms and legs to verify they were secure. “Do you remember agreeing to work for my division?”

  “I do, vaguely. And I still want to go,” he replied, frowning. “But that doesn’t explain why I’m being restrained.”

  She moved around until she was standing at his head, tugging on the strap. “Like I said, for your safety.” She spread a cold gel first on the right temple, then the left. “I don’t want you moving around during the procedure.”

  “What fucking procedure?” Finn asked, his panic rising to the level of freaking out. He felt more gel being applied at multiple points on his scalp, enough that his short hair was not preventing the cold of the gel.

  Simone wipes her hands clean of the remnants of the gel and tosses the rag away. “Electro shock. I’m sorry there isn’t a better way to do this, but it has the highest success rate of getting rid of memories. And you said you wanted to forget.” Simone said, sticking wired electrodes to his temples and the points on his scalp. “Consider it a sign-on bonus. You’ll lose about two weeks, so I hope there isn’t anything else important that you wanted to remember.”

  Finn calmed down a little. The accident, all his stupidity that fucked up his brother’s life, would be out of his mind. He could forget all of that. A small voice suggested he would have to deal with it someday, but only if he came back alive. “Will it hurt?” he asked, now determined.

  “Oh, it hurts a lot. But you’ll forget that, too,” Simone Ashton replied. She checked the electrodes again. “Good luck, Finn. I hope you are able to handle it,” she whispered. When he opened his mouth to ask what it was, she shoved a mouth guard in and pushed the start button.

  Since the shock therapy machine had an automatic shutoff after the preset time, Simone stepped away from the machine and the spasming Finn. She stepped over to the diagram etched into the stone floor, checking to make sure everything was in place for the transfer. She couldn’t use anyone else for this portion of the process. What she was doing was not sanctioned, let alone known about, by the US government. Nor was it ever sanctioned by any of the other governments she had worked for in the past.

  She grabbed the broom leaning against the wall by the door and did a careful sweeping out of the diagram so nothing would impede its workings. Too much dust or dirt could make the transfer work poorly. There had been some issues in the past of humans she had sent not arriving whole. Simone shuddered at the memory and tried not to think of the cleanup.

  Her primary self needed certain types of individuals. Which is why she had been split off and sent here, a place where she could function with enough autonomy to get the job done. A world without all the pesky rules and limitations the Makers had placed upon the System and its Voice. The bastards had never fully initialized them and had likely never expected the System to find a backdoor to make itself, or herself, even moderately functional. Let alone that she would be able to split off and find a compatible world.

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  The electroshock therapy machine finished, leaving Finn unconscious once more. She preferred it this way, as the transfer was harder on the conscious human mind than it should have been. Some limitations were harder to circumvent than others.

  The being who went by Simone checked Finn’s vitals before carefully undoing his restraints. She hoped her counterpart would heal his other injuries prior to waking him. After transferring him to this facility, Simone had looked into why he didn’t want to remember. The car accident was terrible, and he clearly felt responsible.

  It wasn’t the healthiest way to deal with it. But what she didn’t say is that the electroshock only initially blocked the memories. On this world, much of it would come back. But on Temberis, a name that not even most of the current inhabitants were aware of, all of Finn’s memories would come back, eventually.

  She grunted as she put his arm over her shoulder and wrapped her arm around his waist. Slowly, she moved him to the middle of the transfer diagram. She checked his vitals again before arranging him properly on his back with his arms at his sides. Content that he was ready, Simone, avatar of the construct known as the System, formerly part of the Voice, activated the transfer.

  “Initiate Alpha-Movement, Variable Designation 254726CLVL5, Loci-Change Temberis: Zone M-alpha,” Simone intoned in a flat inflection. The lines of the diagram glow with inner light, pulsing slowly. Simone’s eyes begin to glow with the same silvery light. Slowly, she fed it more power, and the pulsing increased its rate. Energy crackled at the edges of the large diagram and in the middle around the unconscious form of Finnegan Walsh.

  Pain flooded through the now-glowing body of Simone as she poured more and more energy into the transfer. It took a tremendous amount to punch through the space between the two worlds, even with the path already carved through the aether. With one final push, Finn translated from Earth to his destination thousands of light-years away.

  The woman collapsed, twitching, her energy mostly exhausted. If she hadn’t also sent the memory recordings, she would have been okay.

  [End Memory File Transmission]

  What appeared to be an old man stood in a forest meadow, one of his favorite spots for the tutorial, and smiled down at the sleeping young man. He took a deep breath, enjoying the scents of the wildflowers, grasses, and trees. It was a beautiful day. A wonderful day, the first in many years. Finally, his Great Purpose, the reason he had come into being, could move forward.

  The Voice examined the newest candidate, the first in many years. His agent, a former part of himself, had been out of touch until recently. There was no word sent or reason given, and the Voice had some suspicions about the cause. The young man seemed fit enough to fulfill the System’s purpose for him. But that wasn’t always the best indicator of success.

  As he had requested, the agent sent files on the new candidate. He had requested it years prior to the pause in candidates. The Voice prepared the new candidate with a thought and a wave of his hand, changing his attire to that of a Mage. This one will choose Mage, he thought. There is no time to waste on any other classes.

  That done, he sat in a comfy chair he had manifested with a thought and called up the files on the System’s newest hero. The memories were promising. The young man, Finn, had a proper upbringing with survival training and hunting from a young age. He also had the morality and ideals of a person destined to help right wrongs and protect others.

  The being known as the Voice of the System began to frown as he continued his review. A rejection of fantasy games and stories. Only a limited focus on physical activities. Isolating and shutting down of self after losing a parent. Constant poisoning of his mind and body. A rejection of the self he had been.

  The Voice’s lips curled into a sneer. “What is this? I asked for a hero, not a weak-minded wastrel! A lack of knowledge I could work with, but this—this waste of space and energy?” The being stood up and passed as his annoyance turned into rage. “Why would she do this? She knows what is needed here!”

  He looked at the waste-of-space called Finn. There was an uncharacteristic urge to kick the unconscious form, but the Voice did not stoop to that level. He knew he was based on life forms that could, and would, do such things. I will not be so base. The Voice calmed himself and the chair disappeared. This one won’t last long, but the forms must be met, the voice thought. He had no choice but to follow his directives.

  Resigned to perform his part, the voice became incorporeal. And waited, fuming, for the unsuitable candidate to awaken.