Neil Dreams

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Science Fiction  |  House: Booksie Classic
This story tells of a young boy as he struggles to cope with boring physics lessons in elementary school with his imaginary parallel world of villains and espionage.

Submitted: February 14, 2014

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Submitted: February 14, 2014



"Thirteen point seven billion years after we'd all began, we're about to go back to the beginning of time." recited Mrs Watson, hers fingers tracing the text on the desk. I gave the clock the quickest glance, careful not to be caught desiring the end of Watson's lesson.


"The large hadron collider has just one simple but audacious aim - to recreate the conditions of the big bang." Mrs Watson droned on, her voice a lullaby lulling us to join the indulgent snoring few. 

Nine year olds were fascinated by fancy vehicles driven by purple dinosaurs and yellow sponges. Particle physics was just another equally bad lullaby.


"Two speeding particles will collide. Imagine them as two cars racing towards each other."


One was purple and the other was yellow. Their tires screeched and their exhausts howled in an insatiable appetite for destruction.


"Now imagine them colliding with each other."



Debris of all sizes devoured the street in a sandstorm of yellow, white and grey.


"Now, class, what can you tell me of these debris?"


Particles.Elementary particles.


"What of these debris?" Mrs. Watson chanted on, oblivious to the symphony of snores. She was the sole officer policing a society unconscious only in his world.

I was conscious, just not in Watson's world.


My world was better. It was yellow.



The debris settled, revealing the glowing spark within. Manic pedestrians were still scrambling for their safety, hugging lampposts and curled up in potholes.

Yet I stood there, my badge shiny, my stride steady.

I must have been the detective in that world. And I had a case to attend to.


"What's that glowing sparkly donut thingy?" Hawking asked, his voice coarse after puffs of dusts.

"The Higgs Boson,” I joked. Worshippers would soon gather when such sighting rumours spread.

"Hundred bucks say it is not the Higgs Boson,” Hawking snapped.

“Guess we will find out," I took a step forward but my stride found no certain ground.

I fell.


I fell.

I fell off my chair, closely trailed by rivulets of the freshest drool. "Ah!" they screamed as they faced certain splat.


I hit the ground, alerting Watson of my presence. The predator lunged at the prey.


"Having more fun in Lalaland?" Watson hissed.

Definitely, Ma’am.

I lay sprawled on the floor with neither shiny badge nor steady stride.

"What do the two cars represent?" she struck,her eyes steely, her scowl scary.

"Particles," I mumbled. It took time to adjust to this lesser world.

"What particles?!" my predator was desperate for a kill.

"Elementary, my dear Watson. Elementary." I quipped upon consciousness.

The great Sherlock with his great reflexes.

The whole class, then livid upon such confrontation, thundered in guffaws.

"Very funny, Neil. Out, and see the headmistress after class." the empress silenced all of us.

I calmly walked out, for I had more pressing duties at hand.


A heist was yet to be solved.



I clambered back to balance as Hawking called. Here I stood, just around the outskirts of town, lips chapped against the asphalt, face charred by the punishing sun.


 "Wormhole," Hawking confirmed my suspicion, "the supposed Higgs Boson's stolen, right before our eyes." We both knew that only particles of Higgs Bosons’ importance called for the extreme measures of a wormhole generator.


These days, breaking the laws of physics was considered a crime as well.


"It must be the worshipping extremists!" Hot-headed Hawking postulated. It was tempting to agree, but it is a capital mistake to theorize before one has data. Insensibly, one begins to twist facts to suit theories, instead of theories to suit facts.

"We need better eviden-"I was too late. Hawking had hung up and decided that he was the bad cop in this story. Knowing him, he had to be hot on the trail of the worshippers, leaving his partner alone in the streets of May.


My gut feeling told me it was an inside job. Wormhole generators required security from the top brass. Who better to break the law than the enforcers?


A detective detects. I got hold of the security feed of the street on the way back to the station. Slotting the disc into my desktop, I fired up the machine.

"Jenny, find me t-1 minute upon falling through the wormhole, magnify and enhance image. Cross-reference with other cameras."

"It shall be done, milord."

Nothing beats detective work like a little digital worship by a sultry female voice.


There it was.

I was falling right through the ground, and Hawking was, just behind. He casually blocked my disappearance from view and retrieved my prize, simultaneously dialling a number and strolling off.




But, could it be? Hawking did not seem to possess the mental capacity for such a slick heist.

He was a mere cog. Someone else had to be turning the wheels.

The plot thickens.


As I tracked my package through the feeds, the plot unravelled before me. The package exchanged hands many times, but never directly. It was placed in inconspicuous areas, and subsequently picked up with impeccable timing. Whoever was behind this knew my plans today, and went through much trouble to cover his tracks, not to mention implicate a bunch of my friends if things went south.


He knew that I would never rat on friends, which would be inevitable if I blew the case wide open.


Time to go off the record.


The trail went cold after twenty minutes, but I had seen enough. When the impossible was eliminated, whatever remains, no matter how improbable, must be the truth.


No one else could manipulate a dozen co-workers into meaningless transportation errands, and have access to a wormhole generator.

Such an elaborate heist, it had to be the head honcho.


Yes, it all made sense now, the dots were connected and the evidence pointed at her. There were plans to be made, while I waited for the office goons to leave. Then, more than just the laws of physics would be broken this day.



First, there were a few calls to be made. Actually, just one. Not many could handle this brilliant mind, and neither did I consider many to be my equal. Fat Carl was my favorite kleptomaniac, with an infamous reputation for talents unspeakable. The only reason he was not caught yet, was his talent for identity theft as well. A job needed doing, and that job needed Fat Carl.


"I have a job for you, Ca-"

"No names, you know the rules. Leave it in the locker, and pay up front in full."

I meant to do that. It is more sinister that way.


Half an hour after leaving my request through certain vents of certain locker, along with two doughnut vouchers, a nameless envelope was slipped under the door of my detective office. Opening the envelope, I found an oblong remote with a single button that fit nicely in my palm. The latin letter 'h-bar' was embossed in gold above the button, with a metal contact where my index lay. Perfect.


Leaning back in my recliner, I propped my legs on the desk and chewed my cigar, twirling the h-bar remote between my fingers, contemplating as office hours ended.


And yes, Carl is a cop.

Good cop, ditched by bad cop,teamed up with fat cop against the bad cop.



"Time to see the headmistress, Neil."

The coast was clear. The only thing left between me and the coveted Higgs Boson was the reinforced wall of a safe room.


Show time.


"Wait outside, and come in when you are called, understand?"

This is it. The reinforced wall.

I thumbed the remote, hesitating for a moment.





I feel... nothing at all. Am I supposed to have substantial wave-particle duality now? I’d hoped that there would be some omnipresence of sorts, or a change in my perceived surroundings.

I double checked the area.

Nope, no observers of any kind.

The lack of visuals was truly disappointing.


What now? Do I just attempt to walk through the wall? I do not even know if my wave function was sufficiently probable to pass through the wall.Now it seemed that using a confiscated prototype device from the evidence room was not such a good idea after all.Either that or it could be that the amplification of the uncertainty principle upon me has affected my resolve as well. I should have paid more attention during the case debrief for ‘the quantum burglar’.


“Neil? You can come in now.”

It’s now or never. I just hope this thing doesn’t fizzle out while I’m halfway through the wall.



“Hey, Neil? You do know you can use your hands instead of your forehead to open the door right?”


It worked! I managed to tunnel through to the safe room! But alas, the head honcho was a step ahead, awaiting my entrance within.

“Good evening, Detective. See anything you like? You know, I am very intrigued as to how you managed to break in there. ”

Hah, my method entry requires no breaking, vile woman.


My eyes quickly scanned the room for an escape route, and with any hope, the Higgs Boson as well. My remote could not work with her watching me, but there was something else here. I need a distraction.


“Mrs. Watson here tells me that you have been daydreaming in class again. In fact, more often than not you are living in your world of make believe, and that is very unhealthy for your age. Now what I have here is a little pamphlet for you to read. It should help you understand your social troubles better. Here, take it.”


Haughtiness, it shall be her downfall.


“Perhaps you were trying to detect this? The Higgs Boson?”


Nested in a velvet-lined case her hands were the God-particle, gleaming in all its glory like the wonder it was. The case stood open, a daring taunt in my face.


No spectacular plans were required at this point. No cunning or scheming, only speedy reflexes and the raw element of surprise. Such was the thrill of being a field detective.





“Oh my god, Neil! What are you doing! Don’t eat the pamphlet! Quick, Mrs. Watson, help me make him spit it out!”


Try as she might, no dame could stop me swallowing it, not even with the help of her goon.

It tasted massive.


“Ma’am? I think he swallowed it.”


“Is he alright Mrs. Watson? He looks a little green to me.”


“We should call his parents, just in case.”


“I hate my job. Please make sure he doesn’t go anywhere, I’ll get the phone.”


The arrogance! The great detective could never be restrained by a mere goon!


“Mrs. Watson, I need to pee.”


“Are you up to something again Neil?”


“No Mrs. Watson, I really need to pee.”


“Oh alright, I’ll have to follow you there. Just let me get my—Hey, who turned out the lights?”


Hah. She fell for it, hook, line and sinker. The time dilator in head honcho’s room which I just hit was usually used for emergencies, where time was of essence for the user, which is me in this case.


Pirouetting past the goon’s arms, I exited the station. Life looked much prettier in slow motion.



They nearly had me silenced, but I will not go down without a fight. Psychological warfare was right up my alley anyway.


Well, they say that genius is an infinite capacity for taking pains, especially for detective work.


First, I needed to gather my tools from my apartment, as well as a new identity. I made a call to Carl on the way back home, with promises of more doughnuts. Entering the house, I could already feel the tension in the air. Someone was here.


“You are so grounded this weekend Neil.”


The evil Mom-Lady! I did not expect this pre-emptive strike from the head honcho, but they made an oversight in placing me under house arrest while awaiting backup. I decided to play along as they imprisoned me in my study.


Inside, I found Carl’s package already delivered.


I reviewed the papers he got me, and retrieved my BB gun from the secret compartment.


Call me Neil, secret agent Neil.


I thumbed my h-bar remote.






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