In a world where a human volunteer, smart, yet bold and lacking common sense, journeys into multi-parallel universes in order to save his nation and kind from extinction, takes an unexpected turn of events and enters a different, exotic world where...
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RYAN STRAPPED INTO his complete white skin-tight garment made of elastomeric fabric for temperature stability and neutral buoyancy from the interior and Kevlar fiber for low thermal conductivity, abrasion, and ultra-violet resistance, suspension to the paramagnetic salt enclosure, and enhanced body protection on the exterior. The basic idea: soft, warm, comfortable on the inside and hard, resistant, everlasting on the outside.
The dress room's hooks had his regular suit hanging like livestock in a slaughterhouse. His personal items, including his smartphone, fossil watch, and wallet were taken earlier by high-security PFPA officers with red-patched holographic access cards. However, taking advantage of the situation, Ryan turned off blocked contacts from a girl he used to date that obsessively kept calling him every hour of the day, even after they broke up. She'll be their problem, now. The former agent had to smirk at that, imagining the girl he forgot constantly being a nuisance to the PFPA officers.
Teach you to be careless idlers on the job, Ryan thought both bitterly and smugly.
Once he dressed in his garment, finishing with the white armor on his chest and shoulders, and then the visor helmet, sitting on the metallic folding chair without use. He didn't want to put it on now, whether the suit's phone-sized carbon recycling filter was ready to use or not. Ryan only held the helmet under his arm, holding it like a brand-new inflated basketball in front of an NBL audience.
Walking down the narrow corridors in a skin-tight garment brought back painful memories of his most strenuously training those few months ago. Waiting in a room underground, having his name called when ready to commence training, and working hard without a show of impenetrable breakthroughs. He'd only show unyielding success and flexibility in crucial episodes without assistance. The first half of training was a mere breeze for the former agent, knowing how to conquer fear and follow sense; but mid-training became much more difficult than he had ever anticipated, and finals were indescribably, much to say, beyond human physical and mental expertise even for veterans.
However—turn the tables—and that'll become your breakthrough, he finally learned after months of brutal preparations in front of the most eminent and prestigious political, scientific, and martial officials. In desperate situations, when you're faced with difficult and disadvantaged scenarios...think conscientiously; be vital; have faith; do what's right.
Think conscientiously; be vital; have faith; do what's right. Because without these—humanity has no reason to exist. Without legacy in humanity—then our remains on Earth were merely nothing but our atavistic undoing and endures.
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Ryan was escorted through the test facility, the former agent in-between two PFPA officers. One was old and the other seemed to have recently turned thirty. He hardly glanced at the officers, finding his position slightly creepy for his comfort. But as soon as they approached a rising platform, inside a metallic two and a half story facility radiated by heavy-duty fluorescent lights on the ceiling, walls, and LED floor lights gleaming on the edge of walls and everything else. He saw, before led onto a platform, Control Station on the opposite side, rising to the ceiling. He knew his sister, Doctor Helienson, and Chief of Staff was in there with technicians, operators, engineers, and scientists of various fields. They could see him. He just couldn't see them.
