Chapter 3: Wildest Dreams

As the world around Max unfolded, he found himself in a completely different place than before. The first thing he saw was a huge chandelier hanging from the ceiling, maybe bigger than himself. It was certainly unique, with beads and engravings all over, and it illuminated the entire room, even though the room itself was enormous. Paying more attention to his surroundings, he noticed that the chandelier wasn’t the only reason for the room’s brightness; it was the furniture, which was covered in gold. It seemed that someone had painted all the wood or metal of the furniture with golden paint, and that made the room much brighter than it ought to be.

This time it seemed that he was alone; the girl, Nike, was nowhere to be seen. He decided to explore and went closer to a table to inspect it. It appeared it was made of the finest materials, and it had beautiful drawings and colors on it. The walls around were white, but with golden frames and symbols decorating them. In the center of the room there was a huge bed with green curtains; it had a beautiful design and golden details fixed to its top.

If Max had to guess where he was, he would’ve said a king’s room. It was so luxurious and all of it seemed to be ancient, no technology in sight. He was still exploring the room's details when the doors flew open and a man stormed in. He was clearly nervous, and was speaking with someone in an exasperated tone in a weird language that Max couldn’t make out. He thought it sounded like French, but he wasn’t quite sure. After all, languages weren’t that important when everybody in the world shared one.

Max noticed that there was an old lady behind the man, and as soon as she got inside the room, the man slammed the door shut in one swift movement. He was pacing the room, and one of his hands was on his head, pulling his short black hair, while the other was scratching his beardless chin. He was talking quickly, and seemed quite stressed. The woman didn’t say anything, but was giving him her full attention, until she suddenly looked at Max.

“Sorry, youngling, you can’t understand him, can you? I will fix it for you.” She snapped her fingers, and at this moment, three things happened. First, the man instantly switched to English; second, Max noticed that the woman had exactly the same impossible purple eyes that Nike had; and third, he recognized the man that was with her. He was none other than Napoleon Bonaparte.

“I gave them one job, and that’s the result?! I should have known! If you want something done well, you have to do it yourself! I would have done better, or my name isn’t Napoleon!” shouted the then emperor of France.

“Calm down Napoleon, you know your stomach gets worse when you get yourself stressed like that. There’s no such thing as an accident; it’s fate misnamed.” The old woman was talking to Napoleon as if he was her grandson.

“You are right. I don’t mean to complain, but sometimes the pressure of running an empire is just too much! Sometimes I think it will be impossible to win this war…” Napoleon sat down on the bed with his head in his hands.

“Impossible is a word to be found only in the dictionary of fools! You are capable; remember what happened in Marengo? You won even though you were outnumbered.” Now she sounded more like a teacher than a grandmother.

“Why am I in Napoleon’s bedroom? What the hell is happening here?” Max was sure he was losing his mind.

“You are seeing a tiny fraction of my life, child. I want you to understand some of it,” she said, looking again at Max, her purple eyes fixed on his. He noticed that even though she was old, her eyes showed vast experience, as if she was much older than a person could possibly be. It also seemed that Napoleon couldn’t hear anything that she was telling him.

“Are you some kind of war councilor or something?” Max looked towards Napoleon, who was now talking again in French, and apparently didn’t require an answer to keep the conversation going. “Why are you showing me this? Why am I here?”

“Are you uncomfortable here, dear? Well, we still have one more stop, anyway.” And just as she said it, the rich room they were in turned instantly into a small village.

The village was simple, with several small houses mostly made of wood. There were lots of people, apparently of Indian descent, walking around, including several kids. Again, Max noticed that no one was paying him any attention. It was as if he was invisible, which he actually believed he was, as crazy as that sounded.

Some distance away from the rest of the people, there were a man and a woman looking at the horizon, talking. Just as a bug feels unexplainably attracted to light, he felt compelled to approach them, and as Max got closer, his suspicions were proved correct. Despite the woman being in her forties and the sun being relentless, her skin was as white as snow. And as soon as he approached, she looked at him, smiling just as before, and her purple eyes seemed to sparkle in the sunlight. Max heard her fingers snap, and just as it had happened before, the man started speaking English.

“When I admire the wonders of a sunset or the beauty of the moon, my soul expands in the worship of the creator,” said the man, while appreciating the sunset.

He was bald, short, and was wearing round glasses. Based on his appearance, and their surroundings, Max came to the impossible conclusion: the man was none other than Mahatma Gandhi himself.

“The creator will be pleased that you like the work,” she answered, turning to look at the villagers. “It’s your mission to save these people, to free them and all the others, and I will aid you.”

“I am but a servant,” Gandhi said, humbly.

“No, you are a leader! You must be the change you wish to see in the world.”

“I see. You always help me see the bigger picture; I am truly blessed to have you by my side.”

“You must live as if you were to die tomorrow, but learn as if you were to live forever. I will help you with the latter,” she said, with a soothing smile.

“Wait a minute,” Max said. “Are you actually trying to tell me that you were the one that told Gandhi ‘You must be the change you wish to see in the world’?”

“Yes, and I believe you just saw the exact moment it happened,” she answered plainly, now looking at him.

“So, you were friends with the naked Greek guy, Napoleon and Gandhi, is that it? Are you some kind of ghost with a god complex?” It was difficult for Max to make sense of everything that was going on. It seemed that the more information he got, the more confused he became.

“Well, just so you know, ‘the naked Greek guy’ was Alexander the Great. And answering your question, I’m not a ghost.” It took a while for Max to realize that she had finally answered a question about herself, mainly because he was still perplexed, thinking that he had seen one of the biggest conquerors in ancient times not only naked, but running to carry a horse because a little girl told him to.

“It looks like even you can run out of words.” She seemed to be entertained by the whole situation. “I showed all of that to you for a reason, Maximilian. I have a mission, and all those people that you saw tried to help me accomplish it, but they failed. I believe with you it could be different.”

“Let me see if I’ve got it straight. You want me to help you do something that neither Alexander the Great, Napoleon, nor Gandhi could do? Who do you think I am? That’s way above my pay grade.”

“It’s not titles that honor men, but men that honor titles. It wasn’t the case that those great men tried to help me; they became great men exactly because they tried to help me in the first place.”

“Are you promising me success in exchange for me helping you? Are you trying to involve me in a pyramid scheme?” Max had to admit that a ghost running a pyramid scheme would’ve been a first.

“I’m afraid I won’t be able to answer your questions now; our time is almost up.” She looked uneasy. “We will talk again, and I’m sure you will change your mind. You’re still young. The more sand that escapes from the hourglass of our lives, the clearer we should see through it.” And just as she said it, everything around him started to fade.

The village was gone, the people vanished, and even the dirt under his feet disappeared; he was now standing on a white floor. Everything had become white. The only thing left was the woman, but even she was starting to fade. Her paper-white skin became transparent until it was completely gone. The last part to disappear was her big purple eyes, staring deeply into Max’s, as if she was looking into his soul.

And then Max woke up.

Author’s Notes

I hope you enjoyed the Vessel’s Short Stories.

If you liked Code Stasis, please leave a review, it’s of great help to indie authors, such as myself.

And if you are interested in how the story continues, I invite you to continue reading Code: Revelation, available in e-book and paperback.

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Boris Sanders is present on social media if you would like to get updates about his next book or just know what he’s up to, follow him there.

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