Synthite (2017)
Dennis Jones took the dose of powdered synthite with an
abrupt inhalation through his left nostril. After the initial
burn settled down he took a seat on his couch and prepared to ride out the
first wave of psychosis and delirium that would soon follow. He knew the dose taken was
sufficient to break through and reach maximum effects. He also knew that the
accompanying madness would wreak havoc on his psyche until the moment he
transitioned to the other side.
The
drug was still a relatively untested novelty, even for seasoned psychonauts
such as Dennis. Reports of its effects first spread on the deep web news
network called the Mystic Underground a few years ago, when it was accidentally
discovered by an amateur chemist attempting to create a more potent version of
DMT. The reports were profound in their nature. The first few users who broke
through experienced the essence of an independent multiverse inside their own
mind. They were able to live out a series of events not as beings with egos but
as sentient particles of subatomic matter. They could form and create entire
chains of multiverses and live out generations upon generations of lifetimes as
the beings who inhabited them. The power of this drug greatly surpassed DMT,
which was thought to be the most powerful psychoactive substance prior to the
discovery of synthite.
The
first wave hit Dennis like a freight train. His body began to tingle and then
slightly warm up while his mind began to feel like a balloon inflating at an
exponentially increasing velocity. Memories of his childhood flooded his mind
but they now were severely altered. Instead of being pushed on his swing by a
compassionate father, Dennis was being whip lashed around by a snarling belligerent
demon with thick grey horns. The psychosis had begun. More visions followed.
Dennis’s body grew ever warmer and his perception of his own mind continued to
expand, faster and faster.
Within
moments Dennis found himself floating in deep space, completely disoriented. A
cold void surrounded everything he perceived. Then the demon returned, only
this time it was much larger, and it was laughing at him.
“What
do you want from me? Where am I?” Dennis asked. He felt an intense sickness grip his senses.
“I am
your own interpretation of you,” said the demon. “Why so troubled?”
“You’re
not me!” Dennis yelled back. His eyes were bulging out if his head in a fit of panic. His arms and legs flailed around in a swimmer's motion as he desperately tried to find something to hold on to.
“You
have much to learn. Do you even remember taking the drug?”
“What
drug? What the hell is this? This isn't real!” said Dennis.
Dennis truly forgot. He forgot that he had taken the most powerful psychedelic in the
universe. He was at its mercy now. The demon continued in a calm and collected tone.
“I have
much to show you,” said the demon. “First you must let go of the part of you
that is tortured. It doesn’t get any easier from here on out. This trip is just beginning.”
“I’m
not tortured… I had a good life… then I woke up here… in space.” said Dennis.
“This
is an illusion. Don’t be dense. You took a drug, remember?”
“No, I
don’t remember… at all.”
“What I
will tell you next will shock you, but I assure you that I am telling the truth.
You’ve been on this drug your entire life, Dennis. None of your life actually
happened. You were an astronaut and you smuggled some of this stuff into your
suit during a spacewalk. There was some trouble. Your ship and crew abandoned
you. Now you’re floating in deep space with only minutes left in your life
support system.”
Suddenly
Dennis woke up on his couch. The change of scenery occurred in less than a second.
Deep
space.
The demon.
What happened?
The
chilling memory of what the demon said remained with Dennis as he was coming to
his senses. His current life wasn’t real.
He actually was still deep space, minutes away from death,
tripping on synthite. Dennis then began to question himself. Which reality was actually true? If
synthite was as powerful as the reports said, then he could be tripping right
now in his clean modern apartment while his true reality is actually him drifting
in space as a lost astronaut. He did seem to recall vague inconsistencies in
his life, even strange flashes of white and purple light which occurred in his
field of vision from time to time. Could they be small seams in the drug’s grip
of his mind?
To get
some immediate answers Dennis took out his mobile phone and called his good
friend Jack. There was some initial static in the call, which gave Dennis a
sinking feeling of doom in his stomach. Eventually, however, Jack answered the
call.
“Hello.”
“Hey,
Jack. It’s Dennis. I’m having a bit of a struggle today…”
“You
need to stop tripping, man. What did you take this time?” said Jack.
“It’s
more of what I didn’t take,” said Dennis as he sunk into his couch.
“What
do you mean?” said Jack.
“What
is reality? Are we real?” said Dennis.
“That’s
a deep philosophical question,” said Jack. “No one truly knows what reality is, but I suppose this is as real as it
gets.”
“If
your whole life has been you tripping on a powerful drug, how would you know in
the first place? What if you simply died when the effect began to wear off?”
“Hmm…
are you sure you didn’t take anything. You sound tweaked, Dennis.” said Jack.
He was
right. There was a lot of panic and tension in Denis’s voice. Jack sensed that
his friend was in deep psychological trouble.
“Look,
I’m at a store around your area. I’ll stop by with a case of beer. We can just
hang out and relax, you seem to be struggling,” said Jack.
“Hmm…
sounds like a good idea. I’ll see you soon.”
They
both hung up their phones. Jack arrived at Denis’s apartment about twenty
minutes later with a case of beer and a few bags of snacks.
“Good
to see you,” said Jack. “Man, you don’t look so good. Maybe it is time to give
this psychonaut thing a rest? It is breaking you down pretty badly.”
Dennis
did not answer normally. Instead, he screamed and reached for the machete he
kept in the hallway closet. Jack suddenly got uneasy.
“Hold
it, man… what… what… what! What are you doing?” Jack began to backpedal but he
could not escape. One precise swing of the machete sliced into his stomach open
and he collapsed to the floor, bleeding.
“Get
away from me!” screamed Dennis. He did not see Jack as his normal self. He saw
him as the demon from earlier. “Make it stop! Make it stop! Make it stop!” He
screamed the phrase a few times while pacing around in circles. Jack was on the
floor, bleeding out and shaking.
“No
more! No more! No more!” Dennis let out several more screams and then charged
towards the biggest window in his apartment. His flailing arms hit several shelves, knocking down all of their contents. Without hesitation he let out a primal roar and jumped while leading with his shoulder. He broke through the glass and fell
twenty one floors down to the concrete street.
