Parallel

Prologue

I live in Flushing, Queens. As a child, it was a neighborhood full of Jewish people and then they started moving to Long Island. As a result, my neighborhood began to fill with other kids just like me: American-born Asians along with immigrants and people of different walks of life. I liked my life, it was less stressful than what I needed it to be. My parents were dead. Dad died while on a business trip overseas and mom suffocated during the attack on New York in 2012 from the dust that formed because of the debris, but I lived a peaceful life with my godparents and twin brother. It wasn't eventful. If anything, my life was just a bore. The daily routine was wake up, go to school, buy breakfast while going to school, study at school, maybe argue with some teachers and embarrass Flash Thompson, do extracurriculars, go back home, eat dinner, then study until two to four in the morning, redo the entire routine. This daily routine was shaken up with a random meeting in Manhattan's Chinatown because I wanted to go buy some Bo Zai Fan (Cantonese Sausage Clay Pot Rice). I'm Asian and I prefer to eat my native foods over other foods. Maybe that's the reason why I get sick every time I eat American food? But I digress.

It's no surprise that I ran into Wong of all people. Just a random little thing when I shoved past him to rush to the subway entrance so I could go home and eat my rice while studying and completing the homework I didn't finish at school. According to Wong, he sensed strong magical energy in me, which is why he talked to me while I was waiting on line one day to buy my steamed Cha Siu Bao (Roast Pork Bun). It was out of this world, bizarre. Honestly, what the fuck was he talking about? And then he pulled out a journal to reveal my dad's name and my dad's handwriting.

I loved my dad and I still do. I visit the temple we (my mom, older sister, and older brother) leave his ashes at, burning incense and bringing in some of his favorite dishes to eat, like the Bo Zai Fan, and when I feel like I'm lost and in turmoil, I'll pray and ask for advice. We had a great relationship and he died when I was seven. Seven years old. My mother just told me it was an accident. A bomb had been activated and my father, instead of running out to save his own life, hurried his staff members out of the building. Said bomb exploded and he was crushed under the rubble. His death has haunted me for my entire life. I felt guilty for some reason as I could have done something to prevent him from going. He told me it was mandatory and that made me sob like a baby. I didn't try harder to keep him home.

Wong told me my father wanted me to inherit the journal he presented before me. I was suspicious of a random stranger just giving the worn down book to me but like an idiot, I decided to trust his word and take the journal. I had nothing to lose, I guess. Only something to gain, if his words were true. And they were. I recognized my father's neat, small handwriting. The journal was more worn down than I thought with torn pages, the white pages turning into a faded yellow color, some characters being unreadable because I had never been taught those characters or because the ink was worn out, and the incomprehensible concepts that were presented before me. I did recognize a sketch of a familiar building in New York. So, during a weekend, I decided to visit said building and entered without an issue. That was when I met the most pretentious douchebag ever, who eventually became my surrogate father.

I've heard of the miracles performed by science. After all, I attended Midtown School of Science and Technology (MSST), a science-based high school. So believe me when I recognized the face of Stephen Strange, a surgeon with the most steady hands and the worst attitude on the planet. I couldn't believe my eyes when I saw him. A man of science wearing some strange outfit and a red cloak that caused him to levitate? With glowing circles around his hands?! It was like a fantasy movie! He appeared to be shocked that I knew his name, in which I proceeded to explain that I had read all about his achievements regarding all the surgical procedures he performed, especially the ones that were deemed impossible. It was, no pun intended, strange to meet one of my many idols for deciding to study medicine once I got into college in a suspicious building. But that excitement immediately dissipated when he attempted to force me out. It was rude but within reason? I mean, I would definitely force a stranger out of a building I was at who knew about my major achievements like the back of my hand. I still didn't enjoy it though and got kicked out.