Ah. Home.
I don’t have any work to do tonight, so the briefcase can sit by the door. It’s good to be home. The click of the self-locking door behind me is so comforting.
So why am I not at ease?
And why is everything in shades of sepia when I know the decor is supposed to be white?
Lemme hang up my hat, maybe I’ve been wearing it too long… No… On second thought, I’ll put the hat back on. Something is making me uncomfortable and the headcovering is soothing.
I don’t see anything different. A small studio apartment for a confirmed bachelor. As wide as a sitting room, and three times as long. My keys are on the phone table by the door. To the left is my slim bed. Across from that is my hotplate, my sink, and my mini-fridge. And at the window is my writing table.
My eyes must be tired. Everything is in shades of sepia. Like I’ve stepped into an old faded picture. Maybe if I look in the mirror over my bed…
…
That’s not me.
I’m not 6’4”. I’m not a thin, white male, with short-cropped balding hair. But the mirror is reflecting the revulsion on my face! No. That’s…
That’s someone else…
That looks really tired…
As tired as me…
I’m so tired.
Maybe if I take a nap.
Yes, just lay down and take a nap, and when I wake up, this will all be settled.
…
NO!
It’s suddenly stuffy and stifling in here. This tie is too tight, lemme loosen it as I open the window. As I reach for the…
I know where I’ve seen windows of that style before.
In a prison.
A self-contained room? With all I would ever want? A sudden urge to comply, to surrender, to allow the circumstances to embrace me?
Not even the Envoy and the City was this insistent.
The… City…
I know who I am.
But I don’t know where. And I’m not sure why.
I pick up my keys and my briefcase. Nothing here is what it seems to be. I need to make sure I leave with whatever I brought with me. The keys feel real to me, as does the briefcase, and my hat. I’ve removed nothing else, not even the tie. And I’m not going to take anything with me.
I try to turn the doorknob but it is locked. There is no way to unlock the door from the inside. The pressure to surrender to the scene increases. It doesn’t help I’m very tired already and slept very little last night. Physically, my captor has the advantage.
Except I’m pissed now. And I’ve learned how to use my rage as a weapon. I place my age-spotted hand on the door, and release my rage against it. It shatters into splinters, falling away into the void that lay just beyond it. As I suspected, there is nothing else to this world except the created room.
The mental pressure to submit increases dramatically. My captor will not concede that I am going to walk away. I laugh, allowing my rage to work freely. The room is devoured by the invasive darkness streaming from the void.
I wake up with a start.
…
I’m very tired. More tired now than when I laid down. I need to watch my step on either side of the line, right now. Physically, I’m pushing myself past safe limits. And over there…
Well…
We’ll see.