24:00: The Institute, #2

By Andrew Zellgert

Time falls into disrepair,

Crumbling worlds around them stare.

The quest given. The mission great.

Save the world from a horrid fate.

 

Shelly had no idea why her life became so dull until a mysterious man in a metal suit arrives to tell her she has Twenty Four Hours to save the universe.

 

Will she succeed in bringing down the forces of evil? Or will she be trapped forever in an endless cycle of her own creation?

 

Find out in this exciting sequel to The Institute.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Zellgertbooks
• Release date: Sep 26, 2023
• ISBN: 9798223436348

Andrew Zellgert

Andrew Zellgert is an award-winning science fiction author who primarily writes for children and teens. The topics covered in his work translate the calamities of life into relatable, entertaining allegories. He currently has nine releases spanning from epic intergalactic espionage to chilling dystopian prison life. His latest work, The Adventures of Randy, is a sci-fi trilogy involving time travel, cunning villains, heroic sidekicks, and an intergalactic adventure you will never forget! Join Randy, the restaurant employee as he goes on an allegorical journey through self-discovery. Zellgert is a medalist in the Outstanding Creator Awards of Summer 2022 and was given a five-star review by Reader's Favorite. In his spare time, he loves to read children's books and go for walks in his hometown of St. Cloud Minnesota. You can contact or connect with Andrew Zellgert at: Twitter: @AndrewZellgert Facebook: @zellgertbooks Pinterest: /andrewzellgert Goodreads: Andrew Zellgert All Author: /author/andrewzellgert BookBub: @andrewzellgert

Book preview

24:00

The Sequel to the Institute

Andrew Zellgert

Zellgertbooks

Copyright © 2023 by Andrew Zellgert

All rights reserved.

No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except as permitted by U.S. copyright law.

The story, all names, characters, and incidents portrayed in this production are fictitious. No identification with actual persons (living or deceased), places, buildings, and products is intended or should be inferred.

Designations used by companies to distinguish their products are often claimed as trademarks. All brand names and product names used in this book and on its cover are trade names, service marks, trademarks and registered trademarks of their respective owners. The publishers and the book are not associated with any product or vendor mentioned in this book. None of the companies referenced within the book have endorsed the book.

David Hilbert invented the concept of a paradoxical hotel in 1924 known as the Hilbert Hotel. This concept is used in this book to help display the concept of infinity for the reader. The original idea and inspiration came from David Hilbert and his work.

Book Cover by RebecaCover

Print ISBN: 978-1-0882-2057-3

1st edition 2023

Contents

Future Fog

1.The Monotonous Routine

2.Battles

3.The Hilbert Hotel

4.A Dimensional Door

5.The Task Master

6.Story

7.The Mind

8.The Fool

9.Relapse

10.The Threat

11.Kings

12.Manipulation

13.The Dead Zone

14.Childhood

Normalcy

About the Author

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Future Fog

It was dreary in the streets of Drent. Water trickled down the pipes nervously like perspiration across the skin. Cold and unforgiving. Holographic advertisements flashed across the street, reflecting through puddles dotted across the cyber roadways. Houses flanked the sides of this grid-like street. Neat and orderly. Eerily perfect.

Where is she?

Ashton received another punch to the face, and his lip bled. A slight trickle of blood slowly dripped down his chin as he slowly looked up at the women who caught him. The young adult stared at his captors through his matted black hair, large gray trench coat, and soft gray eyes. Neon holographic streetlamps rippled in the low light. Casting ominous shadows onto the party of businesswomen. It felt like déjà vu all over again. Any second now, the shift would happen, and they would return to where they started.

Let me ask you again, stated the woman in the front. Where is she?

I don’t know what you’re talking about, lied Ashton through the rain. The woman raised her hand again, but Ashton hastily replied, She’s dead.

He gave her a smug look, which was quickly followed by another swing from the woman that caused his smug expression to dissolve.

You’re lying, stated the woman with an eerie smile that made Ashtons mind freeze up. She’s here. You can’t kill a Networker.

Well, this one’s dead, replied Ashton as he raised his hands. Look, I’m sorry to disappoint you, but she is truly gone. He winced at the sign of the woman’s strong arm, but she lowered it and promptly began to circle him in an eerily syncopated fashion.

The women pulled out strips of gum in unison, shoved them in their mouths, and chewed aggressively as if they were considering Ashtons words. Even through the faint neon glow, the women could be seen. Chewing in perfect sync in a way that almost made them look artificial. Fake. Non human.

She’s trewly gawn? she stated as she chewed her gum.

Ashton sighed heavily and said, She is.

The woman turned to her fellow businesswomen and nodded. Then turned to walk away. After a moment, she stopped, stared down the street, and spat out her gum. We will inform the Director that the target is dead. She turned to face Aston as she lowered a pair of smithing goggles. You are no longer needed. After a sharp nod, her business cronies dragged Aston toward the sidewalk as the young man wailed at them.

You can’t do this to me. I am an agent! I have friends in high places. The White Knight will stop you! Just you wait!

The woman smiled eerily to herself and pulled out a small watch. The expensive Patek Philippe slowly ticking clockwise across its cracked surface. A crooked smile covered her face, and she carefully placed the watch back into her pocket as the sound of a train came into earshot. It got louder and louder. Thundering down unseen tracks to the syncopated rhythm of a ticking clock. The whistle blew into a high-pitched squeal as the sidewalks and houses around him scattered and dissolved into nothing. Black smog filled the air as a low, ominous bell echoed throughout the cavernous streets. No more than a moment later, Drent was gone.

1

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The Monotonous Routine

Shelly opened her eyes for the first time that night. She had decided to sleep after pulling an all-nighter attempting to complete her taxes before they came due. A pitfall of her character. University hadn’t taught her much about procrastination, and unfortunately, even in her adult life, she delayed things until the last possible second. She groggily reached for her alarm clock to see the time. 10:45 PM. She yawned and stretched her arms. Trying to see straight as she pulled herself out of bed and slipped into her slippers. Making her way down the stairs and into her kitchen. One depressing supper later, she was already lounging at her television watching the news.

Experts have reported that the weather was perfectly ordinary today. Chance of summer weather and ordinary breezes throughout this week. Nothing out of the ordinary this week, folks! Moving on to the sports for this week…

Ordinary. That was the weatherman’s favorite word. The forecast always went for hours. That was all there was to do before work. Watch the forecast. Shelly hadn’t felt the need or desire to do anything else but lounge before the night shift. Lounging, work, and taxes were all she expected from adulthood. The same monotonous routine of null. She felt like her life had always been like this. A world where all she was made to do was work her hours, get paid, then inevitably lose that money to expenses. Today had been a lounge day, and because of this, Shelly soaked in every second of boredom as she slowly drifted off to sleep. The news rambled on about the dead beaches and closed cruise getaways. Nothing comes for free. Fun never lasted. She knew that much.

As her eyelids slowly got heavy and her vision blurred to naught, she thought she saw red outlines within the TV and thin black tendrils inside her mind. Her alarm was due to go off for work in a couple of hours anyway. She was sure she would be awake by then. When her vision went out, she dreamed a dream of her life at work. The same manufacturing factory on the same dingy street. Despite her degree from The Institute, she didn’t seem to have as much as she had hoped for despite her potential. Her life was lounging and the factory. No between. No alternative. Just the same repetitive cycle of physical demand. Despite Shelly being fairly young, you could already see soot embedded into her skin and nails. Bags under her overworked eyes and the crushing psychological barbell of adult expectations weighed her down as she tried to sleep. She began working at midnight, and unfortunately for her, she could only make money by working at that old, run-down facility.

She could hear the hydraulics and the machinery grinding in her mind as thoughts bounced around her empty subconscious. All her hopes and dreams had left her as if they were searching for a new home. An owner that would take care of them properly and not shove them to the side. Shelly dreamed for a long time about the factory and her exhaustion. Soon after the alarm rang, she got suited up, and after driving a bit, she came to the factory. Its smoggy smokestacks and dark metal cast an ominous shadow upon Shelly as she slowly stepped through the creaky rusty gate, careful not to slide her finger against the jagged shards of rust.

The factory was horrible. Every night at half past 12, they began manufacturing little metal squares. Always metal squares. Nothing else. Shelly sighed as she donned her hard hat and gloves, then set to work raising and lowering a heavy iron lever that poured molten iron into little