Raindrops gently tapped at his window, as if requesting an audience with the honorable George McGraves. Of course George McGraves was only an intern, and he was stuck in the records room collating several reports he didn't understand, but the raindrops didn't know that. Hands littered with papercuts and stinging with mildly annoying pain, George walked towards the window to oblige the raindrops. Most people love sunny spring days, but George, he loved the rain. He loved the pitter-patter of the raindrops against the window, but, even better, he loved the feeling of the tiny raindrops splashing on his head and his shoulders, cascading down his body. But there was something ominous about today's rain, George could tell. It was almost like the rain was talking to him, warning him, as if the rain liked George too.

George left the records room and walked through the office, opening the door and stepping outside into the gentle rain. He felt strangely numb; almost like a sleepwalker. The rain slowly soaked him; leaving George feeling peaceful and happy. But there was something else, something he could not quite discern. A thought or feeling hovered just on the brink of George's consciousness, maddeningly out of reach.

Something was very wrong today. And George could not figure out what it was.

After a few minutes, George went back inside, feeling refreshed from his impromptu shower. the odd, foreboding feeling had passed nearly as quickly as it came, and George chuckled to himself a little bit as he entered the reception area of the office. He would have to come up with an excuse for his sodden appearence to tell Marge, the office receptionist, who was sharp-eyed, and quick to share any juicy bit of office gossip. As George was busy concocting his alabi, he stopped short. Marge was not at her desk.

That was unusual. Marge, who was quick to notice a fellow employee sneaking back in after a lengthy cigarette break, was never away from her desk on company time. The feeling of foreboding crept its way back down George's spine, as the rain spattered against the glass doors of the entryway.

"Really coming down out there," George muttered, as he passed Marge's desk and entered the elevator.

The elevator doors opened with a woosh, and George stepped out into the office...and stopped dead.

The office was completely empty.

Moments ago, it had been bustling with life and work. Phones ringing, paper shuffling, quiet conversations, occasional laughter...now the office was totally silent. Nothing moved. George glanced wildly about the room. Not a single preson remained.

The only sound was the insistent rain, drumming against the windows that lined one wall of the office. George's feeling of foreboding quickly became one of dread, then the first rush of panic began. George rushed through the office and entered the first open door, bringing him back into the records room, which he had left only moments before.

The records room was empty and silent. Everything was as George had left, except...something was different. It dawned on George that his cup of coffee was gone. He could see the dark ring the cup had left on the table where he had last placed it not ten minutes ago.

"What the hell...?" George said, glancing out the window. His jaw dropped. Outside, in the sheets of rain that were now cascading down from the sky, George saw...

A magnificent red light. It looked like a second sun but it was too close. Everyone seemed to be on the roof of the building. Even Marge who hesitates twice about leaving her desk without meticulously arranging things in order, was soaking under the rain like bewildered dog waiting to get into a house. George was awed by the strange sight and didn't know if to laugh or scream hide or stay outside where every eye was fixed on the strange orb.

George ran back inside and went running to the janitors closet where a broken umbrella was stowed until reclamed by it's anonymous owner.George ran up to the door almost slipping on the water leaking from his soggy clothes. He opened the door and there he saw what happend to his coffee.

" It's inevitable.." murmured Erica , a semi goth girl who never strayed from a black wardrobe and craved on the occasional pain killer. " I'd rather die now than die like this" she said pausingly.

George noticed the coffee cup on it's side spilt on the checkered tile floor. It had stained her grey stockings and seeped into some blue pills that were scattered on the floor.

"Damn it Erica! How many did you take!" George said staring at Erica's dialated eyes. Erica smiled. Her eyes, stared blankly past him. He felt the hairs stand up on the back of his neck. He felt the presence of someone behind him. George was afraid to turn around. Considering all he had seen up to now, but he turned and saw....

...that the door had slowly creaked open, and the orb that was casting the crimson shadows outside was now bathing the entire office in a creeepy red light. Stepping back further from the door in confusion and terror, George glanced back at Erica, who had now drowsily sat down behind the janitors desk with a dreamy look on her face.
"You should just accept it Jim...or is it Jerard?" She whispered, :Noone can get away." She closed her eyes and began to hum a monotone melody.
"Get away from what?" George shook her shoulder, and got no response,"Erica, hey!" He let go as she slumped over in her chair, fast asleep, her breathing shallow. He backed away from her, and haltingly took a step towards the door, and the source of the blood red light that now had permeated every dark corner of the offices. Gripping the handle of his umbrella like a sword, he held his breath as he stepped from the closet and into the silent main office, and away from the front of the biulding, where the strange red light in the sky held his coworkers captive...

He furiously tugged open the umbrella, grasping hold of it, he felt the wind blowing it aside, swaying it uncontrollably, until it flew out of his hands. The rain showered him like kisses from the dull grey sky, he closed his eyes, why these raindrops brought back so many memories, he thought to himself. he came back to reality, opened his eyes in serious search for the other workers.
"Oh my gosh, come quick at once, Erica has overdosed herself down in the office!" he yelled at them. Yet, they all completely ignored George, all mesmerised at the strange red light.
"oh sod it" he muttered to himself, as he splashed his way out of the puddles on the floor, and back into the office. He decided to dial for an ambulance at once. He smothered the receiver with his cold wet pale hands, pressing it against his ear. There was no dial tone. What was this world coming to? he asked himself whilst gawping at his pale and unconscious co-worker. The rain outside continued to patter on the windows, almost as if they were trying to tell George something. George looked at the sky, the strange red light was gone. Instead, it had been replaced by a strange faint green neon glow, almost like plutonium glowing fiercely.

A sudden urge tugged at his conscience. He went out of the office, and back outside into the pitter patter of rain. It was almost as if someone or something was pushing him, urging George to go further and further. The something pushed up closer and closer to the crowd, until he was part of the crowd, standing in their midst. He reached up in an attempt to touch the green glowing light. He was about a few inches off, until it was as if some strange current was lifting George off his feet. He no longer felt the rain, he felt a strange sensation. Almost as if he was in ecstasy. He got closer and closer. He reached out further to try and grasp hold of the strange thing...

...and the closer he got to the green light, the brighter it became. In the end, it's intensity was blinding. As such, George didn't know how much time had passed before he saw something coherent. He may have passed out, it was impossible to tell. All he knew now was that he was lying on his back, surrounded by a green light, and that he couldn't move. He could make out movement somewhere above him, but the details were fleeting...

He tried yelling for help but his body felt heavy and his lips were numb. His body was helpless and his eyesight was petty. He tried moving his arm and it was working. He moved his head forcefully from the ground till small beads of sweat formed on his brow from trying too hard. He saw the dim shadow of his arm slightly above what he could make out as the ground.He was still on the roof but if only he could see. He rested his head back on the ground and as he did so he heard a distant cracking noise. The noise pierced the silence of the strange storm almost like that of a lightning bolt in the midst of thunder. Jim regained all of himself at that instant. He lifted himself off the ground and opened his eyes and doing so, he noticed that all his co-workers were pale and stiff scattered amuck on the roof around him. Their faces, scowled and almost hellish, marked their last seconds of life. He was hesitant to look about and take a peek at the city from over the rim of the building ,but he had to. And once he did he saw....

white vans and white figures walking amunst the scattered bodies on the street. The vehicles had a "toxic" symbol on the side and the white figures were actually men in white space like suits protecting them from what probably was a nuclear attack. George alias "Jim" for his skinny awkward figure, was stunned at what he saw. All of a sudden out of the busy crowd of space-suited men on the street, one of the men points at George. George's eyes began to tear up. "What the fuck happend?", he thought. "What the fuck, happend.." His thoughts trailed as his knees became weak rendering him to the scratchy surface of the buildings floor. A space suited figure came out of the double doors at the roof top where George was. He had a metallic blanket and a warm face. "Come on fella', lets get you checked out. Your safe now" the muffled man said....

As the man helped him to his feet, George looked back up at the sky. It was still raining, and his eyes blinked shut automatically. He'd always liked rain, he reminded himself. It was peaceful, serene. He shifted his shoulders a bit so that more of the water ran down his back. The warning feeling it had given him earlier had changed; now he felt calmed, comforted more by the familiar feel of the rain than the unnaturally shiny blanket or the masked man next to him, only the eyes visible.
For some reason the thought of a stagecoach robber came to mind, hat brim low and handkercheif across the mouth. The image disturbed him, and it may have been the reason the comforting of the rain wasn't the usual feeling he associated with it. Instead of a mother placing her child in a bath to wash away the day's dirt and scratches, it felt more like the water splashed across a boxer's face before he went back into the ring for another round. Then the suited man next to him pulled the blanket tighter around him again, cutting off some of the rain, and led George toward one of the trucks idling in the parking lot.

George made a mental note to check his phone messages once he returned home.

That very unexpected thought forced him to consider whether he would ever be returning back home, or even back to Earth. Maybe in this new place he could lose the memories of his past...for they had been haunting him since he was but a young boy. Memories of solitude and immense sadness, and the memories of being comforted by the rain. His days as a young child had brought him to seek happiness and comfort in the rain. Whenever he had nowhere to go, the rain would always come to meet him....But today's rain had been different. He had had a roof over his head today as he had had for the last two years. Why did it visit him today, and whisper for him to come outside again? It had not come for him in that way for almost two years....and its visit was followed by the mysterious events that had lead him to consider leaving his recently rented home and new job. "Yes," he whispered back, "you called me out for another reason today."

George's mind began to wander back to his childhood. There was his dad, loud and provocative. He was always so stubborn George remembered. Whatever happened to him? George had no idea. His thoughts seemed like nonsense to him, all he could see that made sense was the rain. There was a light, he remembered. When did that happen? He did not know. How long had he been asleep? Or was this still an odd dream.

Suddenly, he felt a hard bump on his head. His hand went instinctively to his head, and when he took his hand away, he saw blood. He looked around , and on the floor, he found a black obsidian rock. There was a sharp, jagged point with his blood dripping from it. He searched the distance but found no one. The rain was getting so heavy that he couldn't even see his hand if he held it out in front of him. A frantic rage and panic surged within him. He looked all around him and could not find who had hit him?

George did not think to look up.

George took off his coat and laid it down on the ground. He sat down on the rough asphalt, feeling a bit lightheaded. By now, the bleeding had stopped but a placebo effect took over his mind. While George sat there, wondering whether he should go to the emergency room, a loud barking startled him. A large Doberman came pounding up to him, and began to lick his face.

At first, George was startled by the dog, but he was friendly and he made George feel not so lonely. George checked for a collar but there was none.

"i guess its just you and me, huh, buddy?"

They sat together on his coat, trying to keep warm. The rain began to thin and he could see that there were people around him! He rubbed his eyes, not believing. They were walking around, as if nothing had happened. Their backs faced George. How could he have missed all these people before?!

George walked up to a tall man wearing a leather jacket and tapped him on the shoulder. The man did not turn around. He ran around to the man's front to see his face, and gasped. The man was his father! But, the man did not seem to recognize George.

"Dad! What are you doing here?" George exclaimed.
The man looked at him uncertainly.
"I'm sorry, do I know you?" he said.
"Dad, I'm your son! George! Don't you know who your son is?"
"You must have mistaken me for someone else. I have no children." he said sternly and walked away.

"Wait!" George ran after him, but the man disappeared into the foggy mist that persists after a heavy rain.

Then, he noticed there was no one else around again. He rubbed his eyes but it was no use. There seemed to be no one. Except the Doberman at his feet, panting with his tongue out and his eyes eager. A feeling of foreboding swept over him again. He decided he should go to the emergency room to have his head check out. Maybe the damn rock damaged my vision, he thought.

"Come on, boy. It's you and me, now. Just you and me."

As soon as George started to walk away, the crowd turned to watch. He could no longer see them, which meant that they could do nothing for him. His father looked up at the sky, frowned, and allowed one tear to run down his face before deciding to follow his son. The crowd was gone for him to. They had both been separated. Now all that George's father could think was, "He won't find any hospitals around here."



George could not sort out what was dream and what was reality. He decided to assume that he was no longer dreaming, but he had been for...how long? He obviously didn't have a job. He didn't have a house. Did he have a father? His father was supposed to be dead, two years ago. Maybe this is hell, he thought. Maybe, heck, maybe this is heaven. All of a sudden it began to rain, and he knew, whatever it was, it was not a dream, and he was not home.

As George stumbled along he behan to see familiar events from his life. A street he used to walk down appeared and just as quickly dissappeared into the rain. Never any people though. He felt alone and was glad for the company the Doberman provided. George continued to pray for him to wake up, but he knew that he would not. Suddenly the dog gave a whine. "What is it boy?" George asked. Suddenly, the rain and wind doubled in their fury. They seemed as though they wanted to pull him down into nothingness. It seemed to swallow him, Then just as suddenly the rain slowed and George looked around him. He was lying on the ground, the dog faithfully standing over him.

By now this sensation was very familiar, and George managed to let out a small laugh, along with a groan as he tried to stand and failed. When he finally stood, there was his father. But wait, he wondered, why isn't he fading as quicky as all of those other memories. "The one person whose memory won't fade! I am truly cursed!" he yelled. His father looked hurt, and immediately he regreted yelling outloud. They just pretended to stare at each other as each took a look at his surroundings. His father said, "Let me have a look at your head." Immediately George backed away.



"No, who do you think you are?"



"I'm your father, and I have been here for two years. I'm a changed man, George, you have to believe that. This place can change you for the better or the worse..." He trailed off and looked up again. All of a sudden, as it began to drizzle, he shouted, "RUN!!" They ran together, father and son.

George's father had to explain quickly. "They're aliens son. And frankly, the human race, the part that is alive anyway, is stupid. Stupid for thinking that there are no other worlds, no other times, no other dimensions! Now that we're here, we can realize that there is no heaven or hell. There is just life, about a hundred forms of it. And this one is second to last...I sometimes wonder about the next one." George said nothing. He didn't know who to believe, or what to trust. He had thought that he would be killed at least three times tonight. And he had woken up from a dream only once. Something had just gone terribly wrong, and George found himself missing his old life. He...he couldn't believe that he trusted his father, his...new father.


"How do you know all of this? Who told you there is one world left?"


"The ocean told me. Hey, did you ever wonder why it's so salty?" George's father took a seat, right on the floor. Yes, George knew that he was, at least, a changed man. "Just two types of salty water out there George: the kind from the ocean, and the kind that we humans make."


By now, the aliens had surrounded them. George was afraid, but his father seemed to know what to do. "The rain is your friend George. As it has always been. You doubted it, and it brought you here. I think the rain takes a different form in our last lives..." The aliens were coming closer. They were tall, six feet, and very skinny. Their skin was red and blue, but not purple anywhere. All of a sudden, as George's dad opened his mouth to speak, the aliens grabbed him. George shouted for them to stop, but then they grabbed him too. They took his dad somewhere into the mist, and George was thrown...somewhere. He couldn't see the ground, but he was falling. As he accelerated with gravity, his vision got worse, until suddenly...he woke up! He was back on the street. He was homeless. His dad was dead. He never had a job, or a home. He couldn't think, he could not move! So he cried. He cried for a long time, until he finally decided what he needed to do with his life.



He took a knife, and stabbed himself in the heart. As he lay there dying, it began to rain.

And then he woke up in Heaven.

But it wasn't really Heaven, because...Heaven didn't exist.

He was in...

the hospital.

'Time for your next injection George', chirped a buxom, black nurse with a West-Indian accent, squirting a needle in the air filled with clear liquid as she approached, smiling.
'How was the trip, good?'.
He tried to budge, but the restraints around his limbs were so tight he could hardly breathe comfortably. He tried to protest, to yell, to object, but he was so choked by the round, hard object in his mouth which stretched his jaw so widely he felt it might snap off.
'Just one more hit George, I promise, then we'll be all finished.'

The needle's head poked into the targeted vein and unleashed its psychoactive cargo.
George's perceptions blurred on all fronts, and every object in his field of vision seemed to merge. Before long, the whole of his consciousness became garbled and his identity shattered. Though he currently existed without a body or sense of location, George felt as if he was accelerating toward a bright, warm sun. For all George knew, he remained in this state for years.

The world materialized at a random instant. George found himself in a public bus, fresh raindrops splattering on the window to his right. His cellular phone rang, and he flipped up the display.

His father was calling.

"Curious George!", his father's voice bellowed. George always hated that nick name. His father called him this for as long as he can remember. "Do your old man a big favor. Pick up a loaf of bread and a copy of the TV guide on your way home, will you?"

George scowled. That would mean that he'd have to stop at the store. It would mean that he'd be home later than originally planned.

That would mean that Sylvia would be waiting longer for him, and Sylvia wasn't a patient woman.

"Dad, when are you going to let me ship you off to the home?"

He heard his father chuckle on the other line.

"Make sure it's wheat, Georgie Porgie. I'll have none of that pansy white bread."

The line went dead.

George heaved a sigh, and shifted his purchases so they were more comfortable on his lap. A pair of turquoise and fuzzy hand cuffs fell out onto the empty seat next to him.

With a blush tinting his otherwise pale face, he quickly stuffed the handcuffs back into the bag.

Yes, he hated to keep Sylvia waiting. Covertly, he scanned the crowd, hoping that no one had spyed the kinky toy that had escaped it's bag.

As luck would have it, a particularly ugly woman wearing too much make up winked at him from the opposite seat.

It was only when George noticed the conspicuous bulge in the pink leather mini skirt did George put two and two together.