Contemplation
A few minutes later, Alex sat in the back seat of the car as his parents rode up front, chatting softly. Their voices blended with the gentle hum of the heater, a comforting background melody that filled the quiet spaces between the lines of their conversation. Outside, the winter world blurred past his window—icy streets glittering like glass, old red-brick buildings lined in frost, and the silhouette of distant high-rises looming against the pale afternoon sky.
He rested his cheek against the cold window, watching the snow-covered city roll by. Though he appeared calm, his mind was a whirlwind of clarity and questions.
Over the past three days, Alex had slowly regained the majority of his memories—his childhood, his family, his home. But along with those familiar recollections came something else: a sharp, unnatural awareness. He remembered things he had no right knowing. Concepts. Ideas. Fragments of knowledge from decades, even centuries, ahead of his time.
The calendar said it was January 7th, 1985. Brooklyn, New York. He was eight years old.
His name: Alexander Robert Carter Williams.
And he had just awoken from a six-month coma after a near-fatal accident—one that had narrowly stopped a kidnapping and claimed the life of his would-be abductor. No one, not his doctors or his parents, had told him the full truth. But Alex remembered it—every terrifying second.
Yet that wasn't the most troubling thing. What haunted him now wasn't just the trauma of nearly dying. It was the inexplicable knowledge that lingered in his mind like ghostly echoes.
He knew things no child should know. Details of science far beyond anything in this time. Events that hadn't yet occurred. And more disturbingly, a particular advice—Cognitive Amplifier—kept resurfacing in his thoughts. Buried within.
According to what little he could piece together, it was a device created in the year 2150—165 years from now.
An invention meant to transcend human limitations. The ability to implant knowledge, accelerate learning, and refine cognition could change the course of history.
The CognitiveAmplifier would make conventional learning obsolete. A farmer could become a surgeon in hours. A soldier could master strategy in days. A child struggling with numbers could become a mathematical genius overnight. Or anyother field of study for that.
As the device stored, countless knowledge, written and record media.
Was he going insane? Or had something far stranger happened to him?
Alex didn't know. And for now, he didn't want to unravel that thread too far. One step at a time.
A voice pulled him gently from his thoughts.
"Alex," Martha said, glancing over her shoulder with a warm smile that barely concealed the worry in her eyes. "We're here. If you're done admiring the snow, there's a surprise waiting for you."
The car had come to a stop in front of their apartment building. Alex blinked and nodded. He didn't need to ask—he already had a feeling what it was. But that didn't make his chest feel any less warm.
They climbed the stairs to the fourth floor, the hallway filled with the scent of freshly cleaned linoleum and the muffled sounds of TVs and radios leaking from behind closed doors. Alex walked in the middle, held gently between his parents—his mother's hand resting firmly on his shoulder, his father glancing back at him with a smile that deepened with every step.
At the apartment door, Oliver stopped and looked down at his son.
"Ready for your surprise?" he asked, eyes twinkling.
Alex nodded again. A small, knowing grin tugged at his lips.
The key turned, the door creaked open—
"SURPRISE!"
A burst of color and sound hit him all at once. Confetti rained from above as laughter and applause filled the air. The living room was packed with familiar faces—his siblings, his aunts and uncles, cousins, neighbors, and friends—every one of them smiling, clapping, some even teary-eyed.
And down at his feet, a small black cat purred and wound between his ankles.
"Stuart!" Alex exclaimed, kneeling down to scoop her into his arms. The little cat nuzzled under his chin, her soft fur a comforting reminder of everything that had waited for him.
Though he had known the surprise was coming—his parents had let it slip earlier—he still felt the joy bloom naturally in his chest. He saw Duke waving from the couch, Ashley standing by the snack table beaming, and Jennifer lingering near the hallway, her eyes red-rimmed but her smile tentative and sincere.
Mark and Michael were there too, side by side with Grayson and Gabrielle, who held up paper signs that read "Welcome Home, Alex!" in brightly colored markers.
His uncles Jack and Daniel, alongside their wives Donna and Maria, give him warm smiles as Alex walked in.
Though not blood relatives. But in this moment, none of that mattered. They had come—for him.
Alex stood there in the center of the room, Stuart curled in his arms, his eyes gliding over each face. The joy, the love, the warmth—it was real. And for the first time since waking up, he allowed himself to simply feel it.
To feel home.
The party had a gentle, subdued energy—not loud or chaotic, but warm and steady, like a softly glowing fire. Laughter drifted through the apartment, mingled with the scent of cocoa and cinnamon pastries from the kitchen. For Alex, the room felt alive in a way he hadn't experienced in a long time.
Fred and Francine, the elderly couple now in their late 80s, from down the hall who often helped watch over him, were visibly stunned by the changes to Alex. Fred, usually a man of few words, had shaken his head in disbelief more than once. "Boy what medication did those doctors give," he muttered under his breath.
Fred and Francine also had an older sons with a similar condition to Alex, however he was more prone to violence. Who is now living in a psychiatric facility with 24/7 care. Hence, why both of them cared for Alex deeply as it reminded them of their on son.
It took some time for Alex to break away from the elderly couple, as they chatted for some time with Francine trying to stuff Alex cheek with home made cookies.
After breaking away from the two Alex went around interacting with everyone at the party.
Most of Alex's time was spent in the comfortable company of his siblings—Ashley and Duke—and his cousins, Michael and Mark. They shared stories, laughter, and the quiet understanding that came only from having grown up together. For a while, it was easy to forget the coma, the accident, the mystery of his new mind. He just let himself be.
But not everyone had found peace.
Jennifer stood quietly in the far corner of the room, her arms crossed tightly over her chest as if shielding herself from the warmth in the air. She barely spoke, except for a few murmured responses to Gabrielle, who stayed near her side, trying her best to draw her out of her shell.
Alex had noticed. He had seen the way Jennifer avoided his eyes, how she flinched ever so slightly when he approached. He tried to start a conversation, but her responses were clipped, her smile brittle. The guilt weighed visibly on her shoulders—an unspoken belief that she bore some responsibility for what had happened to him.
So he didn't press her. Not right away.
But as the evening wore on, Alex gently took her hand in his and tugged, wordlessly leading her out of the shadowed corner and into the light of the party. She resisted at first, but eventually followed, her steps hesitant.
Jennifer's when Alex took her by the hand, her pulse thrummed like a trapped bird against his fingers. She tried to pull away, but a nerves smile crossed her face. As she subconsciously squeeze Alex hand.
'You almost died because of me,' those shadows whispered floated in her head.
He didn't say anything. He didn't need to. Sometimes, all a person needed was to be reminded that they still belonged.
From across the room, Oliver watched the scene unfold. A soft smile touched his lips as he held his wife hand. Martha had a complicated look on her face her feelings messy to say the least.
Oliver noticed this embarrassed Martha, in his arms.
The party lasted another three and a half hours before guests began to trickle out, exchanging hugs and promises to visit again soon. Soon, only the Williams family remained, surrounded by paper plates, empty cups, and trails of confetti still caught in the corners of the room.
The cleanup began with, laughter, and the clinking of dishes. But Alex, still deemed the man of the hour, was lovingly exempt.
He slipped out to the balcony with Stuart now curled in his lap, purring softly. The night air was crisp against his skin, and the city stretched out before him in flickering orange and silver lights. He stroked Luna's fur gently, her rhythmic breathing helping to quiet his thoughts.
For a while, all was still.
Later, after the last plate had been washed and the final trash bag tied, the apartment settled into a cozy, exhausted silence. Lights dimmed, and one by one, the family retreated to their bedrooms.
Alex lay in bed beneath a thick wool blanket, staring up at the ceiling, his eyes wide open. Sleep eluded him, his mind too full— memories questions, numbers, voices from timelines that may not even exist.
With a quiet sigh, he slid out of bed and padded softly into the living room. The apartment was dark save for the faint amber glow of a nightlight near the hallway. He made his way to the kitchen and poured himself a glass of water, the coldness sharp and clean against his tongue.
As he stood by the counter, sipping slowly, something caught his eye.
A stack of papers sat on the dining table, half-shadowed under a flickering lamp. Curious, Alex stepped closer. His fingers brushed the top page and paused.
Medical bills.
Hospital fees. Rehabilitation therapy. Medication.
Below that, electric and gas bills, rent notices, credit card statements. All neatly organized, but with more red stamps and due dates than any child should ever have to see.
His throat tightened.
Beneath the Con Ed bill, a crumpled flyer advertised 'Dragon's Lair' at the corner arcade. Alex's mind autoplayed its laser-disc animation flaws—and how he'd fix them with Commodore BASIC.
Alex quickly shook his head to focus on the important issue here.
From what Alex had learned his father, Oliver, had been working construction for years and had most only recently started transitioning into a junior managerial position—handling budgets, coordinating materials, trying to prove himself capable of more. Martha, his mother, taught primary school children by day and tutored by night when needed. They were strong. They should be doing very well for themselves in all honesty.
And still, the burden showed.
They hadn't spoken a word of this to him, of course. They wanted him to focus on recovering, on being a kid again. But now that he saw the evidence with his own eyes, the quiet tension in the house made more sense. The fatigue in his mother's smile. The way his father rubbed his temples when he thought no one was watching.
They were managing—for now. But Alex knew that things wouldn't be easy for a long while. And that was assuming nothing else major happens during this time. It would take some time for his parents to get back on their feet.
He set the glass down gently and stared at the stack a moment longer. The weight of reality sat heavy on his small shoulders, a contrast to the party joy of just hours earlier.
Then, quietly, he turned off the kitchen light and slipped back down the hallway, barefoot and thoughtful, the soft creak of the floorboards beneath his feet the only sound in the sleeping home.
The Next Morning — January 8th, 1985
4:00 A.M
The soft hum of the cathode-ray tube television filled the early morning stillness of the apartment. The morning news broadcast flickered across the screen. The anchor's voice crackled through the old speakers, delivering headlines about city construction projects, rising grocery prices, and a recent cold snap sweeping through the Northeast.
Alex sat curled on the living room sofa, the sleeves of his sweater slightly too long, draping over his small hands as they absently stroked Stuart's silky black fur. The cat purred softly beside him, curled up like a shadow against his side.
To anyone walking by, it would seem like a simple, quiet scene: a child watching the morning news with his pet. But Alex's eyes, though pointed at the screen, were not truly watching. They were distant, their focus turned inward. Deep within his mind, something remarkable was happening.
He was analyzing. Sorting. Comparing.
The CognitiveAmplifier—a device that, by all logic, should not exist in 1985—had done something impossible. Though not physically present in this world, it had imprinted something into Alex's mind during his coma. It was as though its entire function—a system designed to amplify cognition, understanding, and memory—had been distilled into his being.
Now, Alex's mind functioned like a living supercomputer. He wasn't just watching the news—he was decoding it. Cross-referencing historical data, social trends, and economic patterns. Verifying timelines. Comparing present-day facts with future outcomes stored in his brain like a vast, living library.
Concepts flickered behind his eyes like broken film reels—quantum entanglement, 1987's crash, the chemical formula for Ritalin. He squeezed Stuart's fur, anchoring himself to the scent of home: lemon Pledge and burnt popcorn. At the same time he did his best to only focus on the relevant information he wanted, through the clutter.
In just half an hour, he processed what would take a normal human nearly a year to absorb.
Every second brought a new revelation, a new piece of understanding. And still, his expression barely changed. Only Stuart, sensing the subtle tension in his body, looked up occasionally with curious eyes.
Finally, Alex blinked and slowly exhaled. His thoughts, once surging in a torrent, began to settle.
His fingers stilled, resting lightly against Stuart's back.
He whispered to the room, to himself, "At least I'm not losing my mind."
That question had haunted him quietly since waking up—Was this clarity real, or madness disguised as genius? But the coherence of his thoughts, the consistency of the information, and the unmistakable logic in what he knew... It all confirmed the truth.
He wasn't broken.
He had changed.
As he sat there in silence, another thought crept in—one that weighed heavier than all the knowledge swirling in his head: What now?
His first instinct was to help his family. The bills on the table the night before had told a story his parents hadn't. A quiet struggle. Tightly managed budgets. Pressure they refused to let show.
He wanted to fix it.
He could fix it.
But how do you explain that an eight-year-old suddenly understands complex finance? Or that he knows how to create solutions not even invented yet?
He couldn't draw attention to himself. That kind of spotlight would be dangerous—and not just for him.
So, he made a decision.
First, he would understand what kind of life he wanted to build for himself. Then—and only then—he'd start shaping the future for others.
Looking up at the clock on the wall, its second hand ticking steadily forward, Alex made a quiet vow to himself: No rushing. No mistakes. This gift… this impossible miracle… would be used wisely.
He reached over and clicked off the TV. The room dimmed slightly without the screen's glow.
Stretching, he rose to his feet. Stuart leapt gracefully down from the couch and followed him, tail swishing gently behind her.
Together, the boy and the cat slipped quietly down the hallway, back toward the bedroom—toward the quiet hum of a new beginning.
Opening the door to the his shared bedroom, with Duke. Alex found Duke already, awake and jotting down notes from his corner desk.
Using a lump for lightning. Duke attention was drawn to his little brother entering the room, alongside Stuart who quickly ran onto Alex bed. As she made herself comfortable on the bed.
Turning his attention back to Alex, with a questioning look on his face as Alex slowly closed the door behind him.
" I thought you were asleep," Duke said, putting down the he was holding pen. " Why are you up so early its five o'clock in the morning... are you're having trouble sleeping? "
He asked, with a serious yet soft tone, he was worried that Alex remembered, the events leading up his coma. And was having trouble sleeping due to the accident, which was something the doctor warned about.
Hearing Duke words and sensing the worry in his tone quickly, replied quickly.
" Am fine there's was just something that has been bothering me that's all." Alex answered, honestly however he had no idea his words just increased Duke's anxious in his older brother heart.
" I see you know I'm always here if you need something to get off your chest. " Duke tried to not to pressure Alex, and tried to seem.
Alex however waved of Duke concern not thinking to much about it, as his thoughts were still on how he was going to go about helping his parents. If Alex knew what Duke concerns were he would have dismissed it so casually.
As he walked over to his side of the room and opening the desk door, taking out a piece of paper and a pencil. Alex contemplated for a second before jotting down five strings of numbers.
Meanwhile, Duke watched Alex closely worry evident in his eyes.