The demented

Heroes in time and mind

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Comics to provoke thoughtful consideration of dementia sufferers

Concept Overview:
This comic series reimagines dementia not as a tragic decline, but as a profound, hidden gift—a form of mental time travel that allows individuals to safeguard our shared reality. By portraying those living with dementia as unsung heroes, the stories challenge societal stigmas, fostering empathy and respect. Each issue follows members of “The Demented,” a secret league of time adjusters, as they navigate their personal histories to make subtle corrections that preserve the present. Through humor, adventure, and heartfelt moments, the comics highlight their wisdom, resilience, and vital contributions, encouraging readers to see beyond appearances and value the inner worlds of those often overlooked.

Introduction Narrative:
Sometimes, history must be rewritten before we can spot where the tiniest course correction was needed in the past. We all know the tales of ripple effects—how altering even the smallest event could unravel the future in unpredictable ways. But what if those micro-adjustments are essential to keeping history on track, aligning it with the present we know? What if there are subtle, seemingly insignificant glitches in the fabric of time—errant stitches that go unnoticed because they only hold meaning in extraordinarily localized ways?

Perhaps those fleeting moments of déjà vu are early warning signs of such glitches: harbingers of potential disruptions, like misplaced pixels in the vast resolution of our reality. Much like a mechanical watch that loses a second over a year—imperceptible until it’s too late—these flaws can’t be fixed in the moment. Instead, they must be repaired from the future, ensuring the timeline remains intact without us ever realizing it was at risk.

Enter The Demented: those among us whom society discards as “aged waste”—no longer mentally sharp, deemed unfit to contribute, bodies in decline, kindly awaiting their end. As everyday people bound to a single timeline, we can’t comprehend what they truly experience. Their silences, outbursts, and apparent confusion aren’t infirmities at all; they’re masks for an existence across time.

In truth, The Demented are our timeline’s guardians. Recruited by the enigmatic League of Heroes, each uses their unique lived history to make precise micro-adjustments, preserving the present as it was meant to be. They possess the power to mentally journey into their own pasts—interacting with parallel moments they’ve already experienced—but they become anchored there, viewing our reality from afar while executing these subtle changes. No one notices the shifts because they’re not alterations; they’re reinforcements, keeping destiny on course.

Sample Story Outline

Page 1: Present-Day Setup (5 Panels)

• Panel 1: Wide shot of a mid-western U.S. suburban home. Police car parked outside. Middle-aged parents speak animatedly with an officer. Kids on the lawn with bikes and scooters, chatting excitedly. Caption: “Grandad has taken off in the car again—time for a Silver Alert.”
• Panel 2: Close-up on kids. Seth (a teen) smirks: “Crazy old mental patient took his car out again. My mom’s freakin’ out that he’ll drive into someone. Kill a kid or somethin’. I don’t see why anyone gives a shit—the guy’s totally lost, just wasting our air. Old fool thinks he’s still a phys ed teacher and a war hero in South Africa half the time. Always telling some meaningless stories.”
• Panel 3: Jau laughs: “Mine sits home all day smelling as foul as a litterbox, wetting his pants an’ then squishing around the house leaving a wet trail from his slippers. An’ I gotta clean that shit.” Group erupts in laughter.
• Panel 4: Officer to parents: “Name, age, description?” Mother: “He’s Peter—Peter Isen. Um, 78 years old, bald and bulky, 6’2”. He was wearing his shorts, sneakers with knee-high gym socks, and a 50-year-old tee from Waterkloof Prep School. Um, and lately he’s been speaking a lot in Afrikaans mixed with English.”
• Panel 5: Officer: “Afrikaans? Pfhtt. What about the car and where you think he was headed?” Dad: “He’s got his Subaru. I don’t know how—I took all his keys. I just don’t…” Mom interrupts: “He’s not stupid, you know. Did you take the hide-a-key?”
  

Page 2: Family Tension and Isen’s Location (5 Panels)

• Panel 1: Dad: “Hide-a-key? No, anyway, last time I found him at the high school trying to lecture the soccer coach on how to teach to win.”
• Panel 2: Mom: “Just because he’s not all there… you forget it’s his earnings that help fund our lives. He was someone—a teacher, a good father. He got a Silver Service Medal. What can we say about you?” Dad: “Sorry…” (cut off by officer).
• Panel 3: Officer: “We’ll start looking over at the school and send out a Silver Alert. Is he on any meds…?”
• Panel 4: Transition: Wide shot of elderly Isen leaning against a chain-link fence at a modern high school. His Subaru parked askew, door open. He’s gazing emptily at a soccer team practicing, but his eyes are distant—existing in the past, repairing a timeline glitch. Caption: “But Isen isn’t lost. He’s a guardian, mentally journeying back.”
• Panel 5: Fade to dual timelines. Split panel: Left side labeled “Timeline in Error,” right “Timeline Needed.” Both show young Isen (1970s athletic wear) leaning against an archway at Waterkloof House Preparatory School, Pretoria, overlooking a rugby field.

Page 3: Error Timeline – Bullying Incident (6 Panels)

• Panel 1: Young Isen joking with coaches, ignoring kids bullying a tall, lanky young Musk (carrying books in ill-fitting jean shorts and a time-appropriate Star Trek tee).
• Panel 2: Bullies (athletic kids in shorts and school tees, juggling a soccer ball) taunt: “Look at him—all those books and stuff, but he can’t read up on being normal!” “Damn pocket-protected comic book greasy-haired weirdo!”
• Panel 3: “Get him! Watch the spaz run!” “Run, goofy, run!” They chase Musk; he falls, dropping books (Action Comics #544, Iron Man #158, The Martian Chronicles, The Complete Robot) and papers (UI drawings, scribbled code).
• Panel 4: Bullies kick books, scatter papers, push Musk face-first into grass, then run off: “First one there gets to kick!”
• Panel 5: Distraught young Musk picks himself up, crying, gathers items. Looks toward coaches, who laugh amongst themselves, mocking him.
• Panel 6: Musk runs off with books. Caption: “A small glitch, left unrepaired, unravels the future.”

Page 4: Error Timeline – Forward to Dystopian Present (4 Panels)

• Panel 1: Wide shot: Adult Musk (overweight, in tattered Captain America shirt, holding a Coke) behind a rusted gate of a ramshackle tin-roofed home, junk-littered yard, graffiti-covered wall with razor wire.
• Panel 2: Musk peers vacantly out. Thought bubble (quoting Bradbury): “This disease was called The Loneliness, because when you saw your home town dwindle… you felt you had never been born, there was no town, you were nowhere.”
• Panel 3: Street view: Smoke from passing cars. Close-up through gate: Aging notices hooked on bars—one from “Star-link” cable company: “Sorry we missed you” with note “Repaired corroded insulator.”
• Panel 4: Second tag from “Tesla Energy”: “Collection notice—2nd attempt” with “Shutoff notice” checked. Tagline: “Committed to cleaner coal.” Caption: “Uninspired, the ripple widens.”

Page 5: Needed Timeline – Intervention (6 Panels)

• Panel 1: Young Isen turns from coaches, witnesses bullies. Shouts: “Break it up!” Trots over. Coaches mock: “Hey Isen, you’re the Silver Service Medal military man—go over and show those boys some discipline.”
• Panel 2: Isen helps gather books, offers hand, pulls Musk up with a wary smile. Musk visibly shaken.
• Panel 3: Isen spots The Martian Chronicles, quotes Bradbury: “We Earth men have a talent for ruining big, beautiful things.”
• Panel 4: Musk relaxes. Isen: “Don’t let the uneducated, uninspired, and misdirected youth get at ya, mate. You’ll be the one to plant the oaks, the maples—every kind of tree. They’ll be lucky to seed a few apples that probably will bear inedible fruit.”
• Panel 5: Musk smiles, responds: “Ignorance is fatal.” Isen laughs knowingly, hands over items: “Now get outta here and do some good work.”
• Panel 6: Musk walks along cinderblock-fenced street. Thought bubble: “For the first time, kindred adult acceptance from the least likely person. We are all different, but actions define us.” Caption: “A spark ignites perseverance.”

Page 6: Needed Timeline – Forward to Positive Present (4 Panels)

• Panel 1: Wide shot: Adult Musk in front of modest modern desert home, Tesla in circular drive, rocket launching in background.
• Panel 2: Optimus robot offers iced drink on tray. Musk (smoking cigar, in Star Trek tee, phone on waist) reflects. Thought bubble: “I’ll always plant every kind of tree, nurture them weak or strong, seed the forest with my convictions.”
• Panel 3: Dreams of Mars. Thought bubble (Bradbury): “To get away from wars and government control of art and science!”
• Panel 4: Starship rocket deploys Starlink satellites, Mars in distance. Caption: “Destiny reinforced.”

Page 7: Return to Present – Apprehension (5 Panels)

• Panel 1: Back to present: Elderly Isen at modern school, being roughly handled by police. Adult coaches overlap: “Creepy old guy keeps hanging around the kids.” “He’s scaring the children.” “Who knows what he could do?”
• Panel 2: Policewoman pushes Isen into cop car.
• Panel 3: Cop calls parents: “We got him at the school. You gotta keep better track of him—next time we might have to lock him up. People are complaining.”
• Panel 4: Isen in back seat, distant gaze. Caption: “Society sees confusion. But The Demented see timelines mended.”
• Panel 5: Fade out on cop car driving away.

Page 8: Epilogue and Tie-Back (4 Panels)

• Panel 1: Split panel: Error timeline’s dystopian Musk vs. Needed timeline’s innovative Musk. Caption: “One micro-adjustment preserves the present.”
• Panel 2: Elderly Isen smiles subtly in cop car. Caption: “Isen feels a calm, a release from some undefined duty, a new peace”
• Panel 3: Parents receive call, relieved. Kids still laughing in background.
• Panel 4: Final wide shot: Suburban home at dusk. Caption: “The guardians among us, hidden in plain sight.” (Teaser for next issue.)

Original Short

From Silver Service Medal to Silver Alert

In the quiet sprawl of a mid-western suburb, where manicured lawns whispered secrets to the wind, Peter Isen had vanished again. His Subaru, that stubborn relic of independence, was gone from the driveway, triggering the familiar hum of a Silver Alert. Outside the family home, a police car idled like a watchful sentinel. Middle-aged parents, faces etched with worry and frustration, conferred with the officer under the midday sun. On the lawn, children clustered around their bikes and scooters, their chatter a mix of mockery and indifference.

Seth, the oldest boy with a smirk that hid his own insecurities, leaned against his handlebars. “Crazy old mental patient swiped his car again,” he scoffed, glancing at his friends. “Mom’s freakin’ out, thinks he’ll plow into someone—maybe even kill a kid or something. I don’t get why anyone cares. The guy’s totally lost, just wasting our air. Half the time, he thinks he’s still a phys ed teacher or some war hero in South Africa, spinning these meaningless stories that go nowhere.” As he spoke, Seth reflected inwardly: Why do I even say this stuff? Grandpa’s stories used to make me dream of adventures. Now they just remind me how stuck I feel in this boring life.

Jau, wiping sweat from his brow, chuckled bitterly. “Mine’s no better—sits home all day, smelling like a foul litterbox, wetting his pants and squishing around the house, leaving wet trails from his slippers. And guess who cleans it up? Me, every damn time.” The group erupted in laughter, but Jau’s mind wandered: It’s not funny, really. Taking care of him makes me think about my own future—will I end up forgotten too, or will I make something of myself before it’s too late?

The officer, notepad in hand, turned to the parents. “Name, age, description?” he asked, his tone routine.

The mother, her voice trembling with a mix of love and exhaustion, replied, “He’s Peter—Peter Isen. Seventy-eight years old, bald and bulky, about six-foot-two. He was wearing his old shorts, sneakers with those knee-high gym socks, and a fifty-year-old tee from Waterkloof Prep School. Lately, he’s been mixing Afrikaans with English, like his mind’s bridging two worlds.”

The officer raised an eyebrow. “Afrikaans? Pfhtt. Alright, what about the car? Any idea where he might be headed?”

The father sighed, running a hand through his thinning hair. “It’s his Subaru. I don’t know how he got it—I took all the keys. I just… I don’t understand.” He paused, reflecting on his own failures: I’ve always been the practical one, but maybe I’ve forgotten what it means to fight for something, like Dad did.

The mother shot him a glare. “He’s not stupid, you know. Did you check the hide-a-key?” Then, softer, “Just because he’s not all there anymore… you forget, it’s his earnings that keep this roof over our heads. He was someone—a teacher, a good father. He earned that Silver Service Medal for long service and exemplary conduct back in the SADF era. What can we say about you?”

The father mumbled, “Sorry…” but the officer cut in. “We’ll check the high school first—last time he was there, trying to lecture the soccer coach on winning strategies. We’ll send out the Silver Alert. Is he on any meds?”

Meanwhile, miles away, elderly Isen leaned against a chain-link fence at the local high school, his Subaru parked haphazardly behind him, door ajar. To onlookers, he stared emptily at the soccer team practicing on the field. But in his mind, he was adrift in time, repairing a glitch in the fabric of reality. These moments… they’re not madness, he reflected. They’re my duty. Society sees decline, but I see the threads I must mend to keep the world from unraveling. What if one small choice changes everything?

His consciousness split into dual timelines, both rooted in the early 1980s at Waterkloof House Preparatory School in Pretoria, South Africa. There, young Isen—fit and clad in his WHPS coach’s tee and athletic shorts—leaned against an archway, overlooking the rugby field.

In the timeline of error, Isen joked with fellow coaches, their laughter drowning out the cruelty unfolding nearby. A tall, lanky boy—young Elon Musk—stumbled under the weight of books, his ill-fitting jean shorts and Star Trek tee marking him as an outsider. Athletic bullies, juggling a soccer ball, closed in. “Look at him—all those books and stuff, but he can’t read up on being normal!” one jeered. “Damn pocket-protected comic book greasy-haired weirdo!”

“Get him! Watch the spaz run!” another shouted. “Run, goofy, run!” They chased him until he fell, books scattering: Action Comics #544, Iron Man #158, The Martian Chronicles, The Complete Robot. Papers fluttered—drawings of user interfaces, scribbled code. The bullies kicked the items, shoved Musk’s face into the grass, and dashed off: “First one there gets to kick!”

Young Musk, tears streaming, gathered his belongings. He glanced at the coaches, who now looked his way but only laughed amongst themselves, their mockery a dagger. Why me? Musk thought, his heart aching. Am I doomed to this loneliness forever? No one sees the worlds in my head—the machines, the stars. Maybe I’m the glitch in this reality. He ran off, the seed of despair taking root.

Fast-forward to a dystopian present: An overweight adult Musk stood behind a rusted gate, his tattered Captain America shirt stained, a Coke in hand. His ramshackle home, tin-roofed and junk-littered, was encircled by a graffiti-scarred wall topped with razor wire. Peering out vacantly, he reflected on Bradbury’s words echoing in his mind: This disease was called The Loneliness, because when you saw your home town dwindle… you felt you had never been born, there was no town, you were nowhere. Smoke billowed from passing cars as he stared down the desolate street. Through the gate, notices dangled: one from “Star-link” cable company—“Sorry we missed you, repaired corroded insulator.” Another from “Tesla Energy”—“Collection notice, 2nd attempt, shutoff notice. Committed to cleaner coal.” What if I’d fought back then? Musk pondered. Instead, I let the isolation define me. Now, dreams rust like this gate.

But in the needed timeline, Isen turned from the coaches, his instincts sharpening. “Break it up!” he shouted, trotting over as the bullies scattered. The coaches called mockingly, “Hey Isen, you’re the Silver Service Medal military man—go show those boys some discipline!”

Reaching the shaken boy, Isen helped gather the books, offering a hand to pull him up. With a wary smile, he spotted The Martian Chronicles. “We Earth men have a talent for ruining big, beautiful things,” he quoted Bradbury, his voice steady.

Young Musk, wiping his eyes, relaxed slightly. An adult… seeing me? Not laughing?

Isen continued, “Don’t let the uneducated, uninspired, and misdirected youth get to you, mate. You’ll be the one planting the oaks, the maples—every kind of tree that builds a future. They’ll be lucky to seed a few apples, and even those might bear inedible fruit. You’ve got fire in those eyes—ideas that could change worlds.”

Musk, finding his voice, smiled faintly. “Ignorance is fatal,” he replied, the words a quiet defiance.

Isen laughed knowingly, handing over the last papers. “Exactly, lad. Now get out of here and do some good work. Remember, it’s not the mockery that defines you—it’s what you build despite it.”

As Musk walked along the street lined with cinderblock-fenced homes, he reflected: For the first time, acceptance from someone like him—a coach, a hero. We’re all different, but our actions expose our true selves. This… this could pivot everything. No more hiding; I’ll persevere, spark to flame.

In the positive present, adult Musk stood before his modest modern desert home, a Tesla gleaming in the circular drive, a rocket launching in the distance. An Optimus robot extended a tray with an iced drink. Smoking a cigar in his Star Trek tee, phone clipped to his waist, Musk reflected: “I’ll always plant every kind of tree, nurture them weak or strong, seed the forest with my convictions.” Dreams of Mars flooded him—Bradbury’s words: To get away from wars and government control of art and science! In the sky, a Starship deployed Starlink satellites, Mars a distant promise. That small encounter… it ignited everything. Self-acceptance from the unlikeliest source.

Back in the present, Isen was roughly handled by police as adult coaches complained: “Creepy old guy hanging around the kids!” “He’s scaring them—who knows what he could do?”

A policewoman pushed him into the car. The cop called the parents: “We got him at the school. Keep better track—next time, we might lock him up. People are complaining.”

As the car pulled away, Isen reflected one last time: They see a lost old man. But I’ve mended the thread, preserved the present. In the silence of dementia, heroes endure.