One moment I was in my bed, uncomfortable with the plaster around my leg, the next minute I felt my body move on its own. The ‘occupant’ was now in control of my body.

My senses were still intact: my eyes could see everything that my head movements permitted them to. It was exactly as Jorgen had described it. Disorientation set in as the thing that possessed my body seemed so fascinated by my hands and the room that it shook me hard by my shoulders, causing my head to shake vigorously back and forth.

It was maddening. I couldn’t even close my eyes, because my eyelids were no longer in my control. I had to stare at everything the invasive entity stared at. It did not help that whatever it was, it had perfect vision: my sight was definitely sharper now than earlier. This must have been one of the ‘adjustments’ Jorgen had told me about.

Luckily, as soon as Jorgen entered the room, the head-jerking stopped abruptly. The conversation Jorgen had with the thing inside me was all the proof I needed to believe the elaborate story I had been told to prepare for this moment.

I made a mental note to smack Jorgen for helping himself to my Scotch. The back and forth between the occupant and Jorgen did not intrigue me. After all, this was supposed to be a conversation between two immortals. It felt more like a school teacher lecturing a child. I lost some respect for these immortals after that point.

However, what got my attention again was Jorgen’s opening my drawer and taking out my Colt. How had he known that the gun was in there? Though he already knew several facts about me, he also knew that I rarely kept my gun in the drawer. It was usually kept under my pillow. So how did Jorgen know? This reconfirmed my apprehension towards his kind. Even though my occupant had been less than proactive, Jorgen was a different story.

What the hell are you doing?

I shouted. But my mouth did not move, and no sound came out save for a gasp. I relaxed once the weapon was handed over to me. For a moment I had been terrified that I was going to be killed. Was this it? Was this all a ploy to have me killed? Random thoughts flashed through my mind, and I could see by the expression on Jorgen’s face that he was enjoying this a bit too much.

Once I get my body back, I am going to kill Jorgen! I don’t give a shit if he is immortal, I was determined to put it to the test. The jackass possessing me was a different story. I would bang my head against the wall had I any control over my body. Who the hell just sits by watching someone draw a gun on them?

Your sluggish movements will get us both killed!

Again, the occupant couldn’t hear my thoughts; but I could. I could only judge this occupant by its words and actions. I did agree with Jorgen that this occupant controlling my body was some kid, which is why it was trusting of strangers.

When we arrived at the library and my occupant showed its disappointment at our operation, I knew it belonged to a very different world. This was the first time that I actually felt my occupant’s sense of discontentment as though I would be repelled from my own body.

Information was a luxury in Surren. I had spent my entire childhood being taught one version of reality only to realise much later that there was in fact another. And I had had to do this by means that were not legal: by theft, intimidation and torture. It was amazing how many things people were aware of but refused to be open about. For some it was loyalty, for others it was fear, but one by one I found that a house of cards was being built with one lie stacked on top of another. As soon as one of these lies was exposed, everything in the stack would come tumbling down. But how is that feasible, when there is a greater motive to keep the stack steady and to build further upon it?

With information.

The majority of published literary and academic works had been kept away from the reach of the general public. Channelising public sentiment towards a desired goal was going to be difficult; but creating havoc with several goals was easy. The more ‘taboo’ information I could pump into the system, the more the cracks in the foundation would begin to appear. And once the temple came crashing down, it could be rebuilt in the desired image. This also I had learnt from a banned novel.

The occupant must either be completely oblivious to the greater secrets of its world or, more evidently from what Jorgen was suggesting, there were no restrictions on information in the first place, in that world. If only I were lucky enough to have complete access. I began to imagine if this ‘Earth’ had a sort of mechanism whereby, if a question were to be asked, it could be answered immediately by some all-knowing body. I had to actively seek out the answers and piece together the truth by sifting it from the lies. And after my encounter with Jorgen, that rabbit-hole seemed to be deeper than ever before.

Jorgen, surprisingly, seemed very keen to be a part of my cause. I suspected that this was just a ploy for the kid. If Jorgen pretended that he actually cared about something, the occupant would take things more seriously. After all, who would want to disappoint someone who shows such dedication towards their goals.

Then we stopped at the painting.

What was wrong with this painting? I had bought it at a regular auction, just like the others. It cost a fair amount more the others, but the dealer had assured me that it was an original. Did my occupant find something unusual in the name or the content?

As we moved along the back-alley, I reflected that I would have asked Jorgen a bunch of questions. I did not expect such an existential experience, otherwise I would have thoroughly researched the background and details before agreeing to this experiment.

“Jorgen,” the occupant said. “How dangerous is Erasmus? I was told that I may have to do some really messed-up stuff while being his character.”

“He has quite a few enemies. Most of them do not actively pursue him as they are not exactly rivals. So there are no territorial issues, since Erasmus’ operations are quite unique. But the ones that are after him are quite high up on the ladder.”

So far, he was correct.

“So if by chance I die,” the occupant stated to my surprise, “will it affect my standing with Dumah Interactive? Since you are a veteran, you would have probably died a number of times. So what was it like for you?”

What was happening? What was with this sudden nonchalant talk of death? I couldn’t even knock this guy out. Was this how it was meant to be? Being led to my grave by some brat who is from another world?

Hey asshole! You had better not plan on getting me killed!

Surely Jorgen was going to explain the whole immortality thing and how it didn’t apply to me, right? Then again, if this occupant was already aware of this world, it would also be aware that I could be killed. In other words, they didn’t care as long it didn’t have any consequences for them.

“Oh, it's not an issue at all. Dumah understands that casualties like this happen. It will all be rectified. Knock yourself out.”

I wish I could! What crap are you feeding him, Jorgen ? Are you seriously letting me get killed? Why the hell would you do that? What about all the ‘purpose’ shit that you were feeding me earlier?

Jorgen stopped and turned towards me; or rather, my body. He put a hand on my shoulder and looked me dead in the eye. It was as if he were looking right at me, and not at the occupant. With the same smirk that I had seen so often, he beamed, “Welcome to The Anachron!”