NOTA BENE: Complimentary eBooks and postage-only ($3.00) print copies of the present volume will be available to all advance purchasers of the oft-delayed Cthulhu Attacks! Book 2: The Faith; as well as to all Kickstarter supporters of the even-more-oft-delayed Mr Tesla & Mr Darwin Fight Edison’s Ravenous Megalodons Through the Judicious Use of Time Travel & Giant Robots.
Now, I welcome you to please enjoy this excerpt from the opening of NIKOLA TESLA MEETS THE SLENDER MAN.
A warm welcome to those following my intellectual exploits through Amateur Electronics magazine or via the “Dime Novels” or “Penny Dreadfuls” published on either side of the Atlantic, respectively. Commendably, these publishers wish to place advanced concepts into the minds of the penurious masses yearning to breathe free from illiteracy and idiocy. (The business concerns in question also wish to earn profits doing so, but no man is entirely immune to the call of Mammon.)
The present reader no doubt knows that Nikola Tesla, inventor of modernity and imaginer of devices to end human suffering, is myself. However, those of more average intelligence should not close this booklet in intimidation, for I will keep my explanations simple. (Do not be insulted, reader; average intelligence is something to be cherished in these dark early days of the Twentieth Century, where ignorance seems to be King, or at least vying for the throne.)
As you may have read in the biographies outlining my multifarious scientific endeavors, my periods of sleep are almost superhumanly short. Medical doctors seeking to assist in my mission call incessantly to offer prescriptions for dormitive elixirs, but I would not trade my highly productive schedule for a ride with the Wright Brothers! The limited amount of sleep I take each evening allows me, when awake, to fall into a sort of liminal state between sleep and full consciousness of my surroundings. It is during these periods, in fact, when I am best able to run my potential inventions through rigorous “thought experimentation” that is much more effective—not to mention cost-effective—than old Edison’s wasteful trial-and-error approach.
When in this state, I can see the workings of my designs from every angle, holding them before me with a mental hand, if you will. This is how I was able to conceptualize Alternating Current as well as the elegant, simple infrastructure required to bring it into being. (If you are reading this by electric light, you are very welcome. I am joking, of course. Enjoying my technological breakthroughs is the thanks many, many people give to me, and it is all I need.)
I do not believe that this excellence and precision of thought experimentation would be possible if I gave in to the advice of overzealous medicos and wasted fully one-third of my life in true sleep, entirely absent from my mental workbench. Therefore, I enjoyed and embraced this productive schedule.
However, this is not to say that sleeping so little was entirely salubrious. There was one odd effect that I hear is an annoyance to all those who maintain the same sleep habits as I. The effect of which I speak is one that, after the events to be related in this volume, I came to call “The Slender Man.” I did not have a name for him in the beginning, nor did I even think of the phenomenon as anything beyond a trick of overtaxed eyes and an underutilized bed; however, the phenomenon was hardly less unnerving for that knowledge. He was merely a smoke-like human form, impossibly reedy, vacant of features on an utterly smooth and white oval of a head. The form was shifting darkness espied in my peripheral vision, always outside whether day or not, darkening a doorway or recesses between buildings, but these infrequently; most of the sightings were made while I walked to or from the Edison campus, his body floating between the trees fifty yards away, first on one side, then the other.
This effect was less annoying in the beginning—I was nineteen or so when I first noticed it—because it amused me, the way the effects created by stereoscopes amuse those who gaze into them. Exactly so, in fact: one knows it is an illusion, it must be, but it remains captivating, compelling, the usually dependable senses going haywire in the presence of that which should not be.
Every time I noticed the shade, I credited it to overwork, but instead of seeing it as a call to cease the quantity and quality of my efforts, I took it as a sign that I truly was giving everything I had to peeling back the mysteries of electricity and using that knowledge to help the world. If I be honest—and I am always honest—I know now, and I would bet ten groats I knew then but denied this knowledge to myself, that he was something evil, something worse than death, something with a dark existence that was absolutely, horrifyingly, undeniably real.
In fact, from the years between the haunting encounter in Manhattan to the last in a wooded area near Wardenclyffe Tower, I invariably chose to turn my mind to anything—anything—else when he floated like a corpse from the depths of my memory. Young science enthusiasts, it is only in the service of truth that I endure the conveyance of this experience.
A SHADOW IS ENCOUNTERED.
My first encounter with what I now know was the Slender Man came while I was but a 31-year-old electrical engineer struggling under the employ of that dark wizard of Menlo Park …
To order Nikola Tesla Meets The Slender Man: https://www.amazon.com/Nikola-Tesla-Meets-Slender-Man/dp/1985345730/