He opened the text without hesitation, without fear of what It might hold. He had been through enough to where he was desensitized to surprises. Upon opening the text his eye's widened, his heart stopped, he could feel a bead of sweat run downing his forehead. On the iridescent screen of the phone, was a picture of a broken robot with the number six painted on it. He spaced out and stared at that robot. the robot that forever changed his fate and the number that branded him for eternity.
What did this mean.
He witness the death of the original. Had he come back from the dead, to deliver one last message. Or was he still alive, somewhere in the underground.
He played a hunch, something he never did. He walk back to the drop site, five miles from grand central station. When the courier got there his bike, along with package GCS24-77462, the chain reaction starter. Under an orange field of a dying sun and purple clouds, he opened the package. Pulling out a note, he raised one eyebrow. There was no sender signature on the note. opening the note, he read…
I would tell you if i'm alive or not, But it would reveal too much of my location to you…
It was him, he sent the note. The courier sigh in relief to no it was a lost friend talking to him.
...I think, however, I owe you an explanation. An answer. A background to a blank canvas of you, your art, and I left a black hole of nothing behind you. I need to fill in the holes, the ditches, the empty, and paint unsaid words into your mind. I need to explain myself to you, and tell you about the original
Back to the Beginning, of a story told six times…….