“We don’t believe what we see:
We see what we believe.”
Am I just a gibbering idiot?
If you think being born into Old Money makes a teenager’s life sweet, think again. For one thing, my parents are Vanpyres. The Vanpyre dynasty goes back to the Crusades - they make Old Money look like New White Trash. Then there are the names they gave us. They called me Curfew, which is beyond random. My sisters didn’t exactly get off lightly either: they’re called Taffeta and Amphetamine. I mean with parents like that who needs parents?
Also, let’s face it, it’s difficult to look cool when you live in an English village called Little Titmongering. Even if you do spend quite a bit of time in New York and your Dad has a top-secret laboratory in the Dakotas that you’re not supposed to know about. The Vanpyres are rolling in ill-gotten dough – my father is a banker (say no more), my mother an ex-model who’s had more face-lifts than a Pittsburgh slag heap. They’re both as cold as ice. There ought to be a law against people like that producing children.
It goes without saying that we’re all complete fruitcakes. I spend a lot of time in my room playing computer games, which makes me seem normal, I guess, and reading books, which makes me suspect. At least to adults, who get nervous around anyone who thinks. They keep telling me I live in a fairy tale. They’re sort of right about that, but in the wrong way, which is somehow a whole lot worse than just being wrong. Catch up with you soon. I’m the gibbering idiot in Chapter 1.
My sisters are geniuses and spend most of their time misbehaving at their awful boarding school. They’re good at that. They also get good grades, which infuriates our parents, because it gives them so little to gripe about.
I’m more the quiet, nerdy type. Which may be why I had the meltdown. That’s what everyone else is calling it anyhow. Personally, I don’t think I did have a meltdown. I think I saw the light. In a world where the so-called real seems so unbelievable, how can we be sure that something isn’t real? Either way, this is my story of how we saved the world from a bunch of fallen angels. With a little help from an Asian butler, some seriously cool multi-player computer games and a little (well a lot) of help from the planet Doon, better known as Kepler 186f. That planet really exists, by the way. It’s up to you whether you want to believe the rest. That’s where the quantum mechanics come in. We become what we believe.
The World That is Empty in the Middle