Quantum Hearts

Chapter 1: The Beginnings

Chapter 1.

Rays of bright yellow light pierced through the openings of the curtains as the dark room slowly lit up. The birds chirped outside, singing the songs of the dawn of a new day, and the gentle breeze that blew in the fresh smell of morning crawled up, permeating the entire room. It's a beautiful day, don't you think? No, not for Adam Sandler. It's just the start-up of another gloomy day to continue the next episode of a very detestable and hard life.

Adam Sandler was born an orphan. His father was long dead before his birth, and his mother almost lost him as a baby when she was involved in a ghastly motor accident that claimed her life. Luckily, the doctors who operated on her were able to bring out premature Adam and placed him in an incubator for the next four months before his birth. He was raised in a government facility for gifted kids but later on given up for adoption due to his unbending devotion to breaking rules and disregarding authorities, even as a kid.

His foster parents used him more like a slave, abusing and violating him in any way possible they could imagine. By the time he was fourteen, he ran away from home, or rather escaped that hell, and began living on his own. Without proper education, his ability to understand and work with technologies is how he's been able to make a living. Even at that, he has been shortchanged so much in life: used, cheated, betrayed, and abandoned by friends he held dear. Histories of girlfriends who left him for his other friends, exploitations in various workplaces, and reclining to a life of solitude. This is the Adam Sandler who has woken up to a brand new day.

Rolling off from the bed, he hit the floor palms first as he carried out his routines of morning exercises. A few hundred push-ups, stretching, climbing, squatting, a warm bath, and settling with a cup of coffee just before he made out for the day.

Adam now works as a weapon designer and spacecraft engineer for a private military and arms development organization known as VOW, an abbreviation for Vertigo's Operations of War. His designs and innovations have gone international, with his superiors claiming patent rights and receiving several recognitions and awards. He is just a creative mind, relegated to the basement of a world-class organization, who lived on peanuts.

For years, Adam had lived his life contemplating the meaning of it. He attempted suicide countless times but just didn't die. Although not a drug addict, one time he overdosed on cocaine only to pass out and wake up fine the next day, way before his alarm. He drowned himself many times, only to swim out alive and angry. He wouldn't drown. Rather, he'd find himself doing underwater breathing exercises. Life was hard, and he couldn't escape it, even through numerous suicide attempts.

Drenched in the thoughts of how miserable his life had been, he was brought back to reality by the baritone voice of his African-American work friend, Grey.

“Hey buddy, are you okay? You've been sitting, staring at a world visible only to you, for minutes. Are you fine?”

Grey Temples asked. A question to which Adam simply shrugged his shoulders, shook his head, and muttered, “I guess I am…”

Grey came closer, sat on his desk, handed him a piece of sandwich, and said,

“Buddy, I've been here for only two months, but I can vote you up for an award as the saddest worker in the whole organization.”

Adam burst into deep laughter as he munched on the sandwich, letting Grey know he did great to brighten up his mood.

“It's an award I'll sure like to hold, since it would be the only recognition I will ever be given all my life…”

Their moments of laughter was disturbed by the project supervisor's nasally loud call, indicating he needed Adam in his office right away.

“Thanks, man, I appreciate the gesture and your words of dark humor,” said Adams as he sprang to his feet, heading for the supervisor's office. He turned and added, “Do make sure I get that award , Grey; I'd relish it.” Both men laughed and excused themselves.

He was reaching his hands to knock on the door when Collins' annoying nasal voice broke his recently regained joy.

“Don't freaking knock on my door, Adam; just get in here and sit down… I don't want noise.”

Before he could sit down, Collins brought out a file that had been approved by the head of operations, slapped it on the table, and coldly let Adam know he would be joining a “search and destroy” team that was going on a covert government operation in Iraq. The mission would take a week, and they expected heavy opposition, so he'd be their tech repair and weapon maintenance guy.

“But sir, I don't have any combat experience, and I…”

“Cut the that crab s**t Adams,” Collins interrupted.

“We profile our employees for months and dig up their history for years before we hire them. You escaped your foster home at age fourteen, lived in the streets of Detroit, and made a living as a repairman or boy. You worked for Carlo De Marquez until the fall of his drug empire. After he killed your close friend, Carlo suddenly died afterward, and you removed yourself from a life of crime and vices. Furthermore, you started up clean after a year, doing tech jobs and being a repairman anywhere you could find. Besides, I know of your excellent mixed martial arts training records, and I also know you go for shooting practice every goddamn day. If not for your brain and your lack of proper training and refinements, you'd have been an outstanding field agent. So, cut the bullshit, Adam, you're good for this."

Collins sighed, then continued,

“Take the rest of the day off and get ready; you leave at dawn.”

Adam was unsettled, still standing. He tried to speak when Collins barked in objection,

“That would be it; gently shut the door on your way out. I still don't want any noise…”