The Imaginary Revolution - 1: The Imaginary Revolution, #1

By Roy Jackaman

(Book 1 of 2) This book is a work of fiction which is based on a true story. (New Edition 21st September 2018)

No one knows how fate can change a man.  How sweet dreams can be changed into something more compelling.

With peculiar events occurring at a rapid pace and a claustrophobic feeling of indifference, Richard was on the verge of cutting loose from his problems.   It became time to strike out but that would be far from salvation.

Meanwhile, there was someone who appeared to have a mission to change an Earth which was hell-bent on a bureaucratic death.   All it needed now was a ticking of the clock, which was not ticking in the normal way.  That would start everything moving.

Imagine, then multiple your imagination to bring back something which had been lost in the mists of time.  Then you see the way the strict rules of 21st-century science can change.

If Richard led a rather sedentary life that would soon change as he would be accelerated into something quite scientifically bizarre.

(This book is written in UK English.)

• Language: English
• Publisher: Roy Jackaman
• Release date: Nov 21, 2018
• ISBN: 9781386407690

Roy Jackaman

The author has earned degrees in mathematics, has a substantial career as an IT Specialist and is a member of MENSA. He has lived in many parts of the world. The objective of his writing is to tell a story from a technical idea and to present it in a readable form. He enjoys writing about complex fictional issues and abstract notions.  

Book preview

The Imaginary Revolution - 1

Roy Jackaman

Copyright © 2018 by Roy Jackaman

Library of Congress

All rights reserved.

This book is a work of fiction.  All characters and events in this book either are a product of the author’s imagination or if real are used within this book’s fictitious content and not meant to be a factual depiction in any way.

Time is on My Side.

Table of Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 1

RIZZO HAD JUST CLIMBED most of the stairs.  He hadn’t once wondered as he was making the laborious ascent why there had not been an elevator to whisk him up.  That would have been effortless.  He was going up nevertheless, without any of the usual indications of fatigue, no struggling for breath, no heavily pulsating heartbeat.  All those were missing.  There was also another phenomenon.  The walls were pressing in on him.  The stairs of his current encounter seemed endless and the walls seemed to ominously promote claustrophobia.

Would the impending doom be because he was climbing the inside of a multi-storied skyscraper stairway?  The emergency route down a blazing building?  It was something he had not imagined before.  However, what he did know was that he should be a little more winded and he was not but he could not be sure.  He was negotiating a twilight world.  He had lost the crystal clarity of pain.  He remembered thinking that was a good thing.  Then that thought was lost in a haze.

His mind seemed to break free.  He thought about the conversation he had with Stephanie last night.  A mix between an intellectual exposé on what is wrong in the world and an inability to change it.

He reverted to the task at hand.

He rounded what seemed to be the last twist in his irrevocable journey.  Then his disbelief.  He was climbing the building to reach the bottom.  No, take that back.  He had thought for a moment that he was going down until that thought about Stephanie popped up. Then he knew he was going up. Odd really.  Once again, he asked the question.

Why is there no elevator?  Was there no means to propel him to the top? 

He plodded on as if driven by some magical force mixed with sheer determination.  A journey in time immemorial.  He ponderously reached where he wanted to be.  It was about four miles into the stratosphere and if it wasn’t quite four miles it had to be close.  No, make that ten miles.  Way up, way, way up.  Not exactly the stars, more the upper atmosphere.  The enclosed walls had disappeared and Rizzo could see out.  He could see icy clouds through the large pane windows as he climbed.

He cast his rather muddled mind back.  He had that thought again.  It seemed a little odd that there was no elevator.

OK, no problem.

He could rely on the stairs.

Reaching the level where he would contemplate his most momentous escape he stopped.  He surveyed the landscape below, just as a queasy feeling hit his inners.  Daredevil or what.  No, not really, it all seemed a little too normal. He summed up in his mind what he must do next.

Head first, it’s easier that way less prone to any hiccups. Quicker.

In the hazy moments that elapsed between finally deciding, an aberrant thought passed through his mind.  He knew what Stephanie liked for dessert.  After all, she was his larger than life darling.

When she said, Apple pie and custard, he knew that she was only playing with him.  Then again, he could not be one hundred per cent sure.  He dismissed the thought, he had more pressing things to do.  It wasn’t exactly important what she liked in desserts.

He approached the large window; the sickening feeling was still with him as he opened the rather facile window catch.  He would soon be exposed to the outside world.  There seemed to be only a thin pane of glass between him and eternity.  Once open he would be privy to all its glory, corruption, and apple pie.

Oh yes, I forget about the apple pie, he thought to himself.

Was it a thought?  Was it his imagination?  He didn’t rightly know.

The window had suddenly sprung open.  The outside world was now exposed and he could feel the wind whipping around the hair on his head.  He looked down.  He had to make his final decision.  When he did, everything happened very quickly.  He slipped effortlessly into empty air

OK, chocks away!  He shouted defiantly.

As he slid out of the large window he now had only one choice, which really had stopped being a choice.

Should he put custard or cream on her apple pie?

IF RIZZO KNEW WHAT Stephanie liked.  It was culinary know how.  Rizzo was a champion of that because he liked food himself.  He imagined his rather pretentious tastes veered towards haute cuisine.  Thus, it was not strange that good food was a secondary knowledge to him.  Secondary knowledge or maybe some would equate it to a sixth sense.  A strange feeling which he used to ascertain the food preferences in others.  Given that Stephanie was somewhat closer to him than any other human, that feeling with her was strong, a very strong instinct.  With his rather snobby tastes, it ruled his appreciation of others.  He cast it like a judgement. A rod of iron.  Still, it was only a culinary sense and by implication not of any great worldly use.  He had it however and when called upon to perform he would swank with the best.  Food wise, he knew what Stephanie liked and would often agree with her preferences.  With Rizzo, the impulse of sex languished way behind.  However definite he was about that he would never talk about the two in the same sentence.  He would never compare them.

He had surmised that Stephanie would like cream when he first met her.  It was more than supposition, it was a cast iron guarantee.  However, in the office of Snodgrass, Rothschild & Beam at that precise moment, Rizzo did not hold his same unusual power.  That was probably merely due to not being in the proximity to the individuals within.  Snodgrass, Rothschild & Beam, accountants to the well-heeled.  Carlene Fallows sat there and Rizzo was far from her both in distance and that uncanny secondary sense he had.  Rizzo, as yet, did not know what she, Carlene, liked.  What perversions or anything else either physically eaten, swallowed, ingested, or spat out.  However, if Stephanie rather politely liked cream on her apple pie he would have strongly guessed that the more domineering Carlene would enjoy eating hard biscuits.  Rizzo had surmised Carlene’s domineering powers from the written communications he had received from her.  It was nothing to do with his special talent, it was the words he read which he translated to an expression on her face.  He then quite naturally, for him, extended that to her supposed tormented mind.  Rizzo was not in Carlene’s office.  If so he could have been a bit more precise about her food preferences for what it was worth.  If he had been there in that pristine office he would have known more, but he was at home in front of his computer.  Carlene nevertheless was there in the offices of Snodgrass, Rothschild & Beam in full fighting glory. 

That takes the fucking biscuit, she said, raising her voice.

Steven Smiley who sat no more than ten metres away had heard the remark and decided to comment.  He knew her ferocity from old.

What biscuit?

Some little twerp trying to bamboozle the tax authorities.  That type of biscuit.

Oh, Steven Smiley said.

Then a moment of insecurity, which Carlene could turn on intermittently when it suited her.

Should I take him on Steven?

SRB would be disappointed if you did not extend their profits, Steven said.

It was a judicious reply where he abbreviated Snodgrass, Rothschild and Beam to a form with which Carlene was most familiar.  It was also the form which he used when drinking in the bar across the road.  Although at that time he would almost certainly be referring to ‘Suck my Rubber Bollocks’.  It was Stevens way of relieving himself from the rather odious regime the firm often imposed on their accountants.

Steven was not so hard arse about all and sundry as was Carlene.  You could almost see it on his face.  It was mild and stress-free compared with Carlene’s which showed the signs of frown lines. Lines which portrayed some of the mental battles with which she was often involved.

I do think though that you should not judge before you know, Steven said.

Carlene replied saying, Of course, even though she did not mean to do anything of the sort.

Carlene already had Rizzo’s card clocked.  She had not met him but she already knew he was a snivelling little turd who just wanted to extricate himself from any blame.  It wasn’t even to do with Rizzo’s current situation, Carlene knew instinctively if incorrectly that Rizzo was a bad apple.  It was remarkable that she even believed herself given her penchant for seeing nothing but the worst in almost anyone she met.  Steve, by comparison, was demonstrably more mellow.

Everyone is innocent before being proven guilty.

Not on my planet, Carlene muttered under her breath.

Chapter 2

RIZZO, YOU ARE SUCH a dreamer.

If Stephanie had witnessed the very personal dream that Rizzo had last night it would only have reinforced her comment.  If she had been looking into Rizzo’s mind as he had leapt to his death.  Nevertheless, Stephanie did not need any such evidence, as normally she didn’t.  She could make statements, Rizzo called them ‘so-called facts’, as if they were set in tablets of stone.  This comment was nothing exceptional.  She said it with the sort of conviction she normally said things.  Just, a battling resolve not to be challenged.  No room for compromise, least of all a different point of view.

Yeah, well sometimes you need to be a dreamer, Rizzo muttered under his breath.

As he made his quiet remark there was a look of wonder on his face, which bestowed on it an amazing look of innocence.  His statement had not been an attempt to be hostile or anything close.  I was a boyish impulse to challenge as best he thought he could without confronting the reality of the argument.  Well, it was even