The Elapsed Eventuality is the first long story that I am beginning to write. I will publish chapters as soon as I am done writing them, which may take from a couple of days to maybe a little longer, but I shall try my best. I won’t disclose too much about the plot here, just the essentials, stuff that won’t ruin the suspense.
The Elapsed Eventuality is about a man, who doesn’t know who he is, where he is, and why he is there. All he knows is that he doesn’t know anything about what is going on in his life and how he woke up in the hall that he woke up in. What happens after he wakes up just confuses him further. He sets out to do his best at reconciling with the fact that the world he now faces is one that he has never seen before in spite of it being the world he was born and raised on. He sets out to get back to his senses and find out why he – a man clearly out of time – is where he is.
Join our struggling hero on his journey of self – discovery and also one of discovering the secrets of the new world he finds himself in – the secrets he was always meant to discover.
The blues and the purples filled up his entire field of vision. It was all he could see. It was all he had been seeing for the past… the past… He didn’t know how long this had been going on. He didn’t even know what it was. It felt like eternity. It felt like heaven. Or was it hell? He couldn’t tell. Nobody can tell. And then he woke up.
He didn’t know he had been sleeping. He woke up on a rickety metal bed with nothing but a rusty old bed frame painted in a blue that was now fading. Blue. Blue everywhere. Hundreds of such beds in the same room. He woke up in a huge hall full of beds such as his. Hundreds of people scampered about. He could see policemen in the corners and some walking between the rows of beds, inspecting. Was he in a a homeless shelter? He was homeless? He did not know anything. He sat up straight and took a few deep breaths. He looked around and found a green jacket hung over the bed frame behind him. He looked under the bed and there was a bag overflowing with clothes. They were all his size. So was the jacket.
“Hey man! You’re late! Y’know what’s going down at Next right? We’re going to see it for ourselves. This shit’s gon’ be good,” said a dark complexioned youth who wore his shorts disturbingly low. Apparently he was speaking to our friend in the bed.
“What? What’s going down at Next?”
“Goddamn time machines man! That dude at the laboratory uptown invented them, y’know? Displayin’ them today! Selling them to the goddamn uptown people.”
“Wait, what? Time machines? Where am I? Who are you? What?”
“What’s up with you Jack? You high bro?” Mr. Low Shorts broke into a fit of laughter and walked away with his group.
At least he knew his name now. Jack. He put on his jacket and saw that both the front pockets were full. One had chocolate wrappers in it. The other had a business card from a certain ‘Generation Technologies’. The card contained the phone number and a QF ID of a person named Phillipo Lazewich. He put the card back into his pocket.
A blinding light streaked across his eyes as soon as he stood up. He lost his balance and fell back onto the bed. His head ached severely. He lay back down and felt a little better. He noticed the fans hanging from the ceiling. In fact, they weren’t hanging at all. All he saw were blue coloured circles rotating at amazingly high speeds. That was the only sign of any ‘fans’. He was dazed and confused. The feeling of not knowing anything about what was going on was very overwhelming for him.
He sat back up again and tried standing up. This time the light was dimmer and the headache did not return. He managed to keep his balance. He took his right hand and ran it down from the top of his head to the back of his neck. He felt a bump in his skin. He realised he had stitches at the back of his neck at the point where the neck ended and the back began. Stitches in the form of a circle. A big circle.
He started walking slowly towards what he thought was the exit. He passed by rows and rows of beds before he thought he was getting somewhere. A policeman walked by him and Jack noticed a very weird looking badge on his left pocket. Just as he walked past him, the policeman said, “You okay Tom? You look kinda…dizzy.”
“Talking to me?” inquired Jack.
“You’re the only Tom here, Tom!” the guard was laughing lightly.
“My name’s Jack.”
“You are dizzy! You’ll come around.” the guard walked away, laughing even louder.
Jack was even more befuddled now. He looked around in utter confusion. A fellow on a nearby bed asked him, “You okay? You do look dizzy, you know?”
“Wh-where can I get water?” asked Jack, starting to lose sensibility.
“There’s lots of bottles in that room there,” said the fellow, pointing to a small wooden door about fifteen bed rows away.
Jack stumbled over to the door and leaned heavily onto the doorknob before turning it. What he walked into was a humongous storeroom. Supplies of all kinds filled it. A guard who stood a few steps away from him angrily asked him what he wanted.
The guard tossed a bottle at him and shooed him away. Jack opened it hastily. As if he had never had a sip of this divine substance before. As if it was the myrrh to his woes. Thirst can sometimes get the better of you if not quenched in time.
He felt a little better now. Tossing the bottle in a nearby dustbin, Jack started walking back towards what he had earlier perceived to be the exit. He saw light streaming in through there, around that corner. It was the exit and a huge door stood there. A door partly made of glass near the ceiling, from where the light Jack saw earlier was streaming in, and partly made of wood near the floor, from where people were coming in and going out. A guard who saw him leaving yelled at him.
“We’ll throw your bag in the street if you’re not back here by nightfall. There’s a lot of people who need the bed. You hear me Tom?”
“Yeah. Heard you,” Jack replied.
Jack opened the door, with his heart thumping in his chest. This was all he had wanted to do since he woke up a while back. What he saw once he did open the door, was something he had not expected at all. An exclamation involuntarily escaped his lips.