Synchronicity (Novella part 1 of 2)

"I wont tell you to remember me, but I cant bear for you to forget me.."



1. THROUGH THE LOOKING GLASS.

It had worked.
I was alive, not quite kicking, but alive nonetheless. Bruised too.
But alive.
Not that I gave a shit about being alive.
But, here I was. So I looked around. Trees, bushes, vegetation, but no sign of humanity in any form. Where had I been bundled off to?
Make do with whatever situation you get yourself into, they had told me.
So I walked on. I’d have to look for food, maybe a weapon. Survival. But shouldn’t I want to survive first?
The vegetation seemed to be thinning at a certain point, so I made my way towards that point. The trees and bushes were surprisingly well kept. Hmmm....it sure didn’t seem like a wild outgrowth. But these trees, I had never seen their like ever before.
It hit me. If the garden was well kept, surely there would be keepers?
And sure as hell the vegetation cleared and I found myself on a stone path. Was this a park? Where the hell had I gotten myself to? Or more appropriately, where had I been sent? Surely monkeys don’t rule here, do they?! I smiled at the image of a giant ape, monkey-swinging across the trees towards me! Planet of the Apes this wasn’t. At least not yet.
So I walked on. My hand beeped. Or rather the device on my hand beeped, a small watch like device, which had some sort of timer. And it was counting down. Now what was the significance of this device? It seemed on the tip of my brain, yet I couldn’t quite place it.
Meanwhile I had come across a large glass door. And all of a sudden I knew where I was. The observatory deck of the Botanical Gardens. Hilarious. The idiots .. all their stupid machine could do was send me to the building opposite the Project Headquarters. Ha. And they said I could possibly die. Well, at least I could have my money now, the only tough question was what to do with the money. When all I wanted to do was to die, what good was money?

I made my way out of the Botanical Gardens and crossed the rather surprisingly empty road. Only a few cars parked here and there. That’s all that there was.
The Bachman Building stood in front of me. A massive monument of steel, glass, human design and wealth.
I sighed. It was about to end, and they had not even kept their promise of a ’suicidal mission’.
I entered the building. The old doorman, George sat on his desk next to the massive double doors.
- I guess you didn’t expect me back so soon , eh George?
The frizzled old man looked up and peered at me through his glasses.
- Pardon me sir?
Ahhh.... poor old George... getting hard of hearing in his old age.
- I said I’m back.
This time he seemed to be giving me the once over.
- Do I know you sir?
DO I KNOW YOU? This was hilarious! Old George was going senile on me. I liked him, but I didn’t have time for his blabbering. I ignored him and walked on.
The Bachman Building housed a number of firms, most of them owned by the wealthy Richard Bachman. The man who had backed the Project. I supposed they would be waiting for me on the fifth floor, wondering how far I had managed to travel. Or maybe they knew I was still here.
It didn’t matter. I had enough of this inane charade and the ’machine’ that didn’t work.
I waited for the elevator to become empty.
I had an idea all of a sudden, why not announce myself? Why not create a scene? Why not give the learned ’idiots’ something to think about? Now the elevator would not go to the 5th floor directly. You had to enter a combination of digits to get to the ultra secret offices of the Project. Officially, the 5th floor housed the offices of Universal Exports. Clichéd names as always.
I smiled inwardly. All I had to do was press 5 directly and a couple of warning lights would go on and an alarm would begin to sound in a large room somewhere from where they controlled the security protocols. They would know I had arrived.
I pressed 5.
DING. The elevator stopped. The doors opened. This was slightly odd, the button should not have worked. I should have been approached by security personnel on the ground floor.
Who cared.
I entered the floor. The familiar offices awaited me. It hit me how it had only been a month ago when I had read that advertisement in the Times. What had started it all.

’Travel the world for us!
Universal Exports require services of a man between 35- 45. Well paid. Contact 1232309293.’
I had really wanted a job then. I needed one.
And I passed the initial interview. And that same week my world collapsed around me. By the time the second interview arrived I was all that they wanted, because I had nothing to lose by then.

The voice of the secretary jolted me from my thoughts.
- Yes sir? How may I help you?
This woman wasn’t Claire. She was much more sophisticated than Claire. Smartly dressed, and very business like. Typical.
Maybe Claire was sick or something.
- Ummm... I think they might be expecting me. Here is my ID and my name, please tell Mr. Barker that I’m here.
I gave her my chit of paper. (Standard issue I had been told!)
And she looked at me like I was a monkey. A three headed monkey perhaps.
Actually she seemed surprised.
Genuinely surprised.
- I don’t understand sir. We dont have any Mr. Barker here.
Now it was my turn to be astonished.
- The head of the R&D Department? Mr. Barker? I was here this morning...
- I’m sorry sir. Bachman - King does not have a R&D department. Are you sure you are on the right floor?
- Of course. This is the fifth floor, Universal Exports. Isn’t it?
- I’m sorry sir. This is Bachman - King Advertising. Universal Exports went insolvent 4 years ago.
I must have gone white.
- Are you all right sir? Can I get you anything?
- No. Thank You. Must be my mistake then.
I forced myself to leave. But I had one more thing to ask her.
- By the way, you wouldn’t happen to know a Claire Redfield?
- Of course sir. She’s the famous actress, isn’t she?
- She is?
I corrected myself.
- Of course she is.
I turned to walk away, still unsure of what had come to take place.





2. THE LOST WORLD.

The elevator doors opened up for me, like a doorway to some forbidden place. I walked in and tried to make sense of what I had been told. Universal Exports didn’t exist. The Project also supposedly didn’t exist, if Barker wasn’t here. The 5th floor most certainly existed. And it wasn’t the way it should have been. And most important, the pretty secretary I had said hello to in the morning was now apparently a world famous actress. Good on her.
But I didn’t believe a word of it. As the doors opened and I was let out into the ground floor lobby of the Bachman Building, I was sure of one thing. This was their sick idea of a joke. They were all in it together. All the recruitments, all those interviews, they were all to fulfill this sick joke perhaps. I thought of the final interview. I had lost everything by then.

- Do you understand what we are telling you? You will be paid handsomely, but the work we will ask from you will be very risky. Even life threatening. If you have someone who will ask questions about you if you disappear, please tell us. We will pay you now to leave.
Hearing that I had smiled sarcastically. I had no one who would have given a damn weather I existed or not. At least by then I had lost the only person who would have cared.
I had laughed at their faces and told them I didn’t need their money. (Not anymore I didn’t.) I would do what they wanted me to do out of spite. To see if this risk was really all that they made it out to be.
- You don’t understand. This isn’t a joke. We will be testing something, and you will be the subject. The work could very well be a suicide mission. We haven’t understood all the parameters yet. Heck, we don’t even know about most of them.
I had dared them to show me something that would kill me. I figured maybe the exhilaration of death would fill the emptiness inside me.
They had accepted. And it had begun.

One month later I was being played a prank upon. Those bastards. They will pay for this. But the surprising thing was that they had seemed genuinely scared. Must be good actors I supposed.
The grizzled old face of George looked up as I waved to him on my way out of the building. This was obviously a huge deception. Something like the Red Headed League! But where was the bank they wanted to rob? And was me walking around not knowing where to go their idea of a ruse?
I didn’t know where to go now. I supposed the next thing would be to get something to eat. At the thought my stomach growled, assuring me that I had not eaten for the past couple of days.
Walking on something caught my eye. And not only did it catch my eye, it kept my gaze transfixed! It was a newspaper headline. The Times.
’J.F. Kennedy endorses Kennedy Jr. in White House race’.
I could not believe what I was reading. JFK? Wasn’t he dead? He had been murdered a long time ago.... how then could he be behind his son’s presidential campaign? And Kennedy Jr. wasn’t even in the race last time I had heard the news. I bought the paper.
As I read it, for the first time I began to consider the possibility that maybe what had happened to me wasn’t a joke after all. Maybe it was all real. I went through the paper. The date was today’s, but a lot of the news was plain weird. Apparently while I was ’away’, Russia had entered the EU, Mandela had become the Secretary General of the UN, some Varelli guy had shot the DA, and of course, the ’beautiful’ Claire Redfield, had won another Oscar!
I felt like Rip Van Winkle. My mind went over what they had told me..

- We don’t know how it works. All we know is that it opens a Gateway. The probabilities of where it can lead to are varied. You have to be the test subject. Once you are there, you have to observe and record. And try to get as many objects and relics that you can lay your hand on. You must also remember, that the environment could be hostile. So you must be prepared. You will undergo basic survival training. Food and weapons, if needed, will be procured on the spot by whatever means you deem fit.
I didn’t care when Barker was briefing, and I didn’t care three days later after I had been put through a highly grueling, yet effective training regime. Then they told me why it was really dangerous, and why the most likely probability was that I would die.
- You see, the machine is an un-known quantity. We have only tested on objects and animals, and we have lost 85% of them. You must understand that the failure rate is very high. The reason why we believe that you could end up being killed is because the machine might have a different affect on a human. Possibly fatal. We want to know what the machine is capable of. And if possible, we want a living record of it.
Never during those days had I even once thought twice about what I was getting myself into. I didn’t care. I had felt that I needed the ’high’ of excitement, to drown my lost world in.

I was jolted back to the present by a humming noise. At first I was unable to locate it, but then I realized it was my ’device’. It showed 2400. Then just as suddenly as the humming had started, it stopped and the device started to countdown once more. I had 24 hours left.
I closed the paper. The pangs of hunger seemed to be gnawing at my stomach. I checked my pockets. The wallet, with quite a bit of money(enough for a good meal, and more!)and my papers, was still there.
* * *
I made my way towards the Cafe Neurosa. Another clichéd name, but wonderful food. I sat and prepared to order my ’usual’. By this time I had given up hoping to see the normal people at my normal haunts, and when instead of my usual waiter, I received a demure 20 year old girl,(easy on the eye!)I was not the least bit surprised. I assumed Steve was probably a lawyer here. I explained to her what my ’usual’ was, and sat to watch the T.V. There seemed to be a documentary on about Africa. A female reporter was talking excitedly with Nelson Mandela. The reporter who introduced herself as ’Fars Jay, from the National Geographic’ , seemed to be doing well, but apparently she had bored my 20 year old waitress, who expertly balanced the remote on a couple of fingers and changed the channel. Even more expertly, she placed my order on my table, smiled and left.
Well, at least the food should be good.
And it was. It was re-assuring to find something that hadn’t changed.
The more I ate, the more I realized how hungry I had been. It felt good. One of the few things that had felt that way, after all that had happened to me in that fateful week. But as I ate, one thought kept worrying me.. why hadn’t I met anyone who recognized me? Surely I existed in this reality. Surely!! Or could it be that I was dead? Hmmm.....
As I sat there, I couldn’t help but notice a young couple entering the Cafe. The young woman was animatedly explaining to her husband the fact that her name meant a cool elixir in Persian! Amusing... and they looked good together.

Meanwhile the weather had changed outside. Sunny clear skies had given way to a sudden thunderstorm. Typical. The weather is the same here too! People were taking shelter under the Cafe’s awning. All sorts of people.
And then I saw her. Simone. My Simone.
I was in complete and utter shock. My heart may even have stopped beating in that very second, in which I saw my one true love, Simone.












3. MAD SEASON.

One second can seem like an eternity. And it was a blissful eternity for me, as I sat and stared at my love. The same lovely hair, few strands falling on that soft nose...with her lips parted in the shock of the sudden rain. Her overcoat flapping as she stood under the canopy, the wind playing with her hair, as some of the rain droplets found a way to her angelic face. She stood there with a host of other people, but I only saw one person in that one second. Seeing her stand there I realized why I had loved her so much. And why even now, I loved her so. The world had stopped in that one second, and only she and I existed.
I had an un-controllable urge to walk up to her, drag her inside the Cafe, hug her and tell her how sorry I was to lose her. Tell her how much I loved her, and how much she had meant to me. To tell her I would never make the same mistakes to lose her again.
The moment was gone, and I continued to watch as she ran her hand through her hair, straightening herself, and taking me back to a memory of a bygone age...


It had been two years ago, and it was the most boring party I had ever been to. My ’date’, had ditched me rather un-ceremoniously for a shady looking Dj Immi and seemed to be having a ball. Ah well, at least now I had a reason to dump her.
I made my way towards the makeshift bar, I supposed to best thing to do would be to get a drink. Then maybe I could try to get away.... both thoughts seemed very inviting! I had ordered my drink, and turned around, only to bump into someone. Clumsy so and so, I thought, can’t they see in the damned half lit room?
And then I realized: *I* could see in the damned half lit room.
I was greeted by the most beautiful face I had ever seen. Meanwhile, the indomitable Dj had put on a new record....
"Lady, hear me tonight..."
I could not stop staring at that face, there was something so mesmerizing about it.
"..’cause my feeling is just so right..."
and then I realized it was the eyes that had me rapt in attention.
" As we dance, by the moon light...can’t you see, you are my daylight?"
I hadn’t realized that she had made me drop my drink, and quite frankly I didn’t care. She could have made me drop just about everything.. gladly!
"Lady.. I just feel like, I can’t get you out... of my mind..."
- I’m so sorry... let me buy you a new drink.
"I feel love for the first time..."
And I still couldn’t hear her!
- Uhhh... excuse me? I’m sorry...
"Can’t you see? Your my daylight?"
Luckily for me I realized she was talking to me right about then.
- No its all right...my fault I’m sure.
It turned out that she was sure it had been her fault, and as such she bought me a new drink.
Which I didn’t even sip as I had more important things to do, like look at her.
I had just met my beautiful Simone.
As we got talking, I found out that she was an aspiring psychologist, and was working for the renowned Dr. Mair. She was friendly, and easy to talk to.. and VERY likeable! Instantly I knew that being with her would become paramount for me.
Pretty soon, the most boring party I had ever been to, had become a turning point in my life.
We had got on famously after that, and everything seemed wonderful .....


But that had been then, and this was now. I had lost her. I was here. And she was here too, but not for long, for the rain had subsided, and she had just started to walk off.
I knew I had to go after her. Damn everything, I had to see her. I took out my wallet and left a more than sufficient amount of money on the table and followed her out.
I looked for her outside, but I couldn’t see her anywhere. I felt desperate, to come so close to her, and to lose her again? No...
And I hadn’t. There she was, coming out of the oSRo Design Culture outlet. I hurried towards her as she walked off. As I passed by the oSRo outlet, I couldn’t help but notice the huge poster of the English soccer captain in the shop window, it appeared as if he had endorsed yet another fashion related product. Quite a coup for oSRo.
But I had more important things in mind than fashion coups.
I tried to catch up to her, but she seemed as if she had a plane to catch.
She made her way into an underground parking area, and a couple of minutes later I was in there after her. Un-fortunately it seemed as if I had lost her again.
But I hadn’t, for a black BMW passed by me, on its way out of the parking. The driver was un-mistakably Simone.
I ran outside, knowing I had to find a car somewhere. And like a knight in shining armor, a Cab stood there next to the curb, about to pull away. I raced into the car, and gave him my orders..
- Follow that black BMW, Don’t worry about the money!
- Sure thing mister, I’ll have you where that black car goes.
And soon the cab was tailing the black sedan.

As I sat there chasing the love of my life through to her destination, my mind mused over the irony that I had found Simone again. She was well here, and she seemed happy. It would be interesting to see where she would go to. Maybe her parents place? But then we would be going the wrong way, unless this topsy turvy world had taken care of that too. I wondered weather she knew me in this world, what did I mean to her? Did she care about me? Or did I simply not exist? I supposed that she must not know me, for surely she must have at least gotten a glimpse of me, and surely if she knew me, she would have recognized me. Or then maybe she was too busy to look at me. Maybe the weather and the throng of people had made her not notice me. It was idiotic to think about the things for which I had no answer to. I didn’t know all the facts, so how could I work on conjecture? But one thing was assured, I was happier than I had been for a while. I had seen Simone again after what had seemed like an age. An age of despair.
- Hey mister, why you following that broad? Is she cheating on you or something?
Ah.. the taxi driver.
- That would not be any of your business. I suggest you drive and take your money, and don’t worry about the ’why’ of the situation.
- Relax mister, its just that I get a lot of jealous husbands following their wives...
- I’m sure you do.
He turned on the radio, having understood the fact that the last thing I wanted to do was to have a conversation with him.
The news was on. Apparently a deadly computer virus was hurting corporations the world over. The Bandit virus, named after its creator.
I didn’t care. I had bigger fish to fry. My mind went back to my musings.
I remembered something that Barker had stressed upon greatly..

- Now you must remember, where you might wind up may or may not be someplace that you recognize. You might meet people whom you may or may not know. You don’t know how these other places may have developed, and even if the people over there have the same parameters of existence that your life might have. You might see someone you know, but remember one thing, DO NOT MAKE CONTACT. Do not be seen. If you do, you could either be changing their life parameters, or changing that life which exists in your place. That life may be you, or it may not. Whatever you do, do not get involved. Your mission is to simply observe, and record. And stay alive if that’s possible.

And yet, here I was tailing Simone. Oblivious of what the result of my futile endeavor would be, oblivious of my instructions. All that mattered to me was Simone.

I had been sitting in the Cab for a while now, and we appeared to be moving towards the suburbs of the city. Interesting.
Where were you going, Simone?
I had to figure one rather important plan. What was I going to do when she eventually stopped? Assuming of course that she would...
What was I supposed to say to her? What was I supposed to do? Just keep looking at the love of my life? At the sole reason I had for living? At the Simone I had lost?
And what of Barker’s warnings? Should I interfere? Should I just go away? I wondered again if I existed in this world, and if I existed in any form in her life. Maybe I was just her friend, maybe a co-worker.. or maybe she didn’t even know me.
I had so many questions. And I didn’t appear to be anywhere near the answers when her car finally pulled into an apartment block building, Midwich Housing.
I told the driver to park the car near the entrance and decided to follow her on foot.
The driver seemed less worried after I had given him a large amount of remuneration, and asked him to wait.
I made my way inside the compound, covering my face inside my wind breaker. The last thing I wanted to happen now was to be seen. Even though I figured no one knew me.
I had lost her again, but then I realized she must be in the parking. And sure enough she appeared out of the parking area and entered the B4 apartment block.
I had just stood... frozen. I supposed it was best that I hadn’t spoken to her.
But I had to know where she lived. As I made my way towards B4, she looked through the mailbox for her apartment. I would never forget the number. 3128.
As she entered the lift, I reached the entrance of B4. A huge board greeted me, with the names of the owners and the number of their house apartment.
I looked up 3128. (Why 3128? Surely there weren’t that many houses here? Strange..)
"3128 Mr. & Mrs. Michael Henson."
There was a bell button next to the legend.
But I didn’t care about the bell. I had eyes only for the name.
Michael Henson. She was married. Good Lord. I knew Michael Henson.
Quite well in fact.
My name, was Michael Henson. She was married to me.




























4. ZEN & THE ART OF MOTORCYCLE MAINTENANCE.

Numb. That’s how I felt. Complete utter numbness. Shock too.
I stood there, mouth open, staring at the legend on the large board next to number 3128.
I still couldn’t understand what was going on. How could this be? She was married to me here.. why? How had I managed to survive my fall from grace? How had I saved her?
I just could not fathom.
Complete utter numbness.
And then I almost had a heart attack, because a hand had crept on to my shoulder.
- Can I help you sir?
I turned around and was greeted by an old man in a guard’s uniform. A very old guard’s uniform.
- Umm.. no. I don’t think so.. thanks.
- Eh?
I turned to leave, but he grabbed me with both hands.
- Mr. Henson? I almost didn’t recognize you Mr. Henson! Old man like me.. but I can’t forget the people I know, now can I? Eh, Mr. Henson?
At exactly that point, my feet decided to turn into jelly. I grabbed hold of him so I wouldn’t fall.
He knew me.
- Eh? What’s wrong with you now? Why are you down here? I just saw the Mrs. go up. And you look so different, eh? Hang on, son, let me get my glasses.. I can’t see you really, you know an old man like me.... eyes are gone almost.
I would have laughed at the old man had I not been numb, shocked and unable to stand. But in all honesty, he HAD been squinting throughout, and yet he had recognized me.
He turned towards a cupboard next to the door, and stumbled around for his glasses.
I never found out weather he found them or not, for before the feeble old man could turn around, I had made like the wind, and blown.

I made my way to the taxi, and quite literally fell into it.
- You all right mister? You look sick..
- Yeah.. Just park the car near those trees.
- Ok, mister... its your money. You sure your ok? You look absolutely whacked...
And I felt absolutely whacked, but I wasn’t about to tell him that.

Soon the car was near the trees, hidden from view, but the Midwich Housing was still in my sights.
I needed to think. Clearly too. What had happened in this world? My Simone was with me. Not with me technically, but with the ’me’ of this world.
How had I managed to survive? How had I saved her?
Most importantly, why hadn’t she recognized me? I supposed I could answer that... she probably had more important things on her mind than look at people who were stalking her.
And that WAS what I had been doing. Stalking my Simone.
An amusing thought. If someone else had been stalking her, I would have killed him.
I wondered what Michael did in this world. Where was he?
But even more importantly, how had Michael saved himself, and his love?

My mind seemed to be a maelstrom of emotions and questions. I felt dizzy, everything spinning around me. Psychedelic lights all around my eyes... I wished for me to pass out, to be released from this misery, but my mind couldn’t quite let go of the memories. Faces and places were played for me in the cinematic landscape of my head...

She had been sitting on the hammock, reading. Looking at her, I couldn’t help but smile. She seemed lovely, completely oblivious of the world, totally into the book. Her blue eyes, wide open, reading the words. Her lips, slightly parted, in awe of what must have been in those pages.
She WAS lovely.
- Hey, what are you reading?
- Hey! I didn’t hear you coming.. its called ’Zen & the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance’.
- Come again?!
She had smiled..
- Yes, you heard me right the first time!
- Interesting title!
- Why? What’s wrong with it?
That being said in the most sweet tone that only she could have had, keeping a serious face throughout.
- What WRONG with it?! I don’t know, Zen and motorcycles don’t seem to go together!
- Its about life philosophy.
- Oh..
- The motorcycle, of course being the metaphor for life.
- Now I see!
- Consider yourself enlightened!
And she had laughed!
And I had never forgotten that laughter.

- You should be enlightened..
- C’mon.. you should learn...
- Wake up damn you... I can’t have you overdose in my car.
I felt hands slapping me. That didn’t seem to be in my memory..
The hands didn’t bother to stop their assault, and so my eyes snapped open.
The cab driver was the one pounding me.
- You are awake. I better take you to a hospital mister. What drugs have you been taking?
I supposed I must have passed out.
- None. Don’t worry about hospitals. Just stop beating the hell out of me, and do the job your supposed to be doing. I’m paying you damnit.
- I have half a mind to drop you off here and leave you to yourself, mister, but I can see its the drugs. You are one difficult so and so.
He moved back to the driver’s seat.
I sighed. I remembered that laughter. She was here, and she was with Michael. Me.
The questions remained unanswered. I still had to decide upon my next course of action. Simone seemed well and happy here, and I was painfully aware, that I didn’t belong here with her. Any further interference would only lead to more pain. For me... and maybe even for her. But how could I leave her and go back to my hell? It seemed like a no-brainer. I had to leave.
For her sake.
I was brought out of my reverie by another timely vibration by the device on my wrist. I looked at it. The dial simply stated ’18.00’.
18 hours left.
I had to go back. Complete my mission.
Screw the God damned mission. Why hadn’t I been killed by the bloody machine? Why had I been giving this ridiculous choice? Why?
Nonetheless I had to return. It was the only right thing that I could have done.
- Take me to Cafe Neurosa.
- Eh? You done here mister?
- Quite.
The car was put into ignition and I was on my way back to my own life. The hell, where I was but a zombie. I was leaving her behind again.
Why me?
Why?
* * *
Forty minutes later, I had amply paid the driver and was back to where it had started. The Cafe Neurosa. I sighed. I felt like crying. It was ridiculous really. I was back where I had started from almost a month ago. My loss was haunting me more than ever now. I only wanted to die.
I was pathetic. And so was my life.
And I was still stuck here.
The same young waitress who had served me earlier had returned to my table by this time. I ordered coffee and sighed. It seemed as if all I could was simply sigh.
I had to get my mind off my life.
The news seemed to be on the T.V.
The newscaster seemed to be droning on and on about a sensational trial being conducted by an up and coming young lawyer. Andrew Frisk, from the Arvin, Henson and Jack law firm. A drug lord seemed to be under trial, for murder.
Hang on. Had I heard correctly? Arvin, Henson & Jack?
My waitress had brought the coffee by this time.
- Thanks. Listen, can you tell me something?
- Yes sir?
- This trial? The defense is being prepared by which firm?
- You mean the Victor Varelli murder trial?
- Uhh... the one on the news.
- Yes. That’s the one. They say Varelli shot the DA. Its a huge case. ’Arvin, Henson and Jack’ have the case, I think.
- Henson? Would that be Michael Henson?
Suddenly I was aware that if she knew, she would have recognized me.
- I wouldn’t know sir, I don’t really care for these trials. It should be in the paper, why don’t you get the latest paper?
- Yes. I think that would be wise. Would you be kind enough to get it for me? I really don’t want to leave my coffee!
- You don’t need to go out mister. Its on the table over there, we keep all the latest magazines and papers, you know! Helps the customers relax. And that’s what we always want, ’Come to Neurosa, feel relaxed!’
- Yes, of course. Thank you so much.
She smiled and left me with my coffee.



























5 . THE IMPORTANCE OF BEING EARNEST.

Soon I was engrossed in the paper. Victor Varelli had been an Italian industrialist, and so called drug boss. The DA had been after him for quite a while, and apparently Varelli had been about to be put away, when the DA was found dead in his apartment. He had apparently hung himself. But no one could understand why the man would want to kill himself, when he was so near his goal. Hence it was widely accepted that it had been a murder. An investigation had been launched, and certain evidence had come to fore which implicated Victor Varelli. And he WAS the man who appeared to have the biggest motive. But in certain circles it was widely believed that Varelli was simply a ruse. Apparently elections were to be held soon and the DA’s office was to be re-elected. It was believed that the DA had simply gone after Varelli to win the elections. And the same circles believed that the DA’s opponent for his seat, who also happened to be the current interim DA, was involved in the murder to further his own political ambitions.
Quite a soap opera of a story, but I was more interested in the law firm who were defending Varelli. They were indeed Arvin, Henson and Jack. But there was no mention off the partners of the firm. All the spotlight seemed to be devoted to Andrew Frisk, who had been put in charge of the case by the firm. Frisk was being touted by many as a future DA.
It seemed as if I had reached a dead end. How was I to find out about the firm?

Meanwhile the TV blared out the latest fashion accessory being modeled by the oSRo model, the English soccer captain. Even in this world, he was a fashion icon.

But seeing the man score the goal wearing the particularly idiotic fashion accessory had given me an idea. Surely the firm must have an Ad in the paper?
Why hadn’t I thought of that before?

10 frustrating minutes later I was staring at an Ad for the firm.

’Arvin, Henson & Jack.
Contact us at 12390390923.
WE NEED INFORMATION: Anything which you know pertaining to the ongoing Varelli trial would be greatly welcomed. Rewards depending upon the usefulness of the information.
Associates: Arvin Sloane, Michael Henson, Vaughn Jack. ’

It was a request for information. Obviously they needed all the witnesses and evidence to be brought to light.
But my question had been answered. Indeed, I was a lawyer here. A partner in a law firm. Michael had done well for himself, hadn’t he?
Simone, and a law firm as well.
He was me, after all. But not quite me. He was smarter than me.

So now I knew about Michael Henson. The success. Michael Henson. He seemed to have everything, including the most important. I wondered how much he loved her. More than I loved her? Did he even deserve her?
It didn’t matter. The bottom line was that this Michael Henson had saved himself and Simone as well. He had not made the mistakes I had made.
I sighed.

The Device vibrated again. A timely reminder of the hell that awaited me. ’1600’.
16 hours to go. The words of Barker echoed in my head..

- So you see, all you have to do is to be the living proof that the machine works.
- If you aren’t sure that I will even make it, how do you expect me to return *if* I do make it?
- Ah yes. Good question. You know, you do have a useful brain in that head of yours, Mike.
- Don’t... call me Mike.
- I can call you whatever I want to call you, Mike. Anyhow, how you will come back is another test we must perform, another result we hope to obtain. We will try to mimic the settings of the machine, and open the gateway in the exact same location where it will initially drop you off. Its obviously not fool proof, but we can be certain with two things. Firstly, as soon as you have reached where ever it is that you will reach, a 24 hour timer will start. You must be back at the exact region where you were dropped off, before the timer reaches zero. At zero hour, the machine will open the gateway, will try to lock on to the signal given out by the timer, and hence transport you back.
- What if the timer is damaged during my *transportation*? Or what if for some reason the signal is cut off?
- Like I said, Mike, we don’t know. This is the first flight of the machine, into the Great Beyond. We hope to receive the signal from the timer here, even though the timer itself won’t be here. If we fail to do so, or the machine fails to receive the signal, or if the timer fails, or for whatever reason we lose the signal, we will assume the mission to be a failure. We won’t be able to recover you, assuming that you have even survived whatever caused the signal to die.
- I see.
- I think you are beginning to understand why we think this is a suicide mission. We are simply moving via trial and error. But their *is* a probability that everything will work. We have after all tested the instruments via simulations.
- Really.
And then I had signed the contract. My so called death warrant, or death wish. I was to get a substantial amount of money if I returned, but I would not hold them responsible if I was ’damaged’ in anyway, neither would anyone later on, supposing they were to find out about me. After all, it was my decision, my free will. I had wondered what the goverment would make of this operation, but I hadn’t cared.

I came back to the present as the waitress re-filled my coffee jug. I had never drank so much coffee ever in my life. My insides must have been burning with black coffee by now, I figured.. but I didn’t really care. For all I wanted, I would have wished that my insides would REALLY burn. A torturous end, to a torturous life. Rather apt.
- Are you new in town, mister?
It was the waitress.
- Yes. Actually I am.
- I could show you around if you want, you know, I get off in ten minutes.
She was blushing slightly, and I had heard right. It appeared as if she fancied me.
For a second I thought, why not. She was quite the looker.
I smiled.
I looked at her again. Young girl, with a future ahead of her.
I had no right to interfere in her life. Sense prevailed.
- I’m flattered. But thank you. I have business.
- Are you sure?
- Yes. Thank you for the invitation. Maybe I’ll see you when I’m back here again.
- Yes. I’m here at these times almost every day. Here is my name and number. Call me.
She dropped me a piece of paper, smiled and left.
I looked at the paper, then tore it and threw it away.
I wasn’t about to ruin her life.

15 hours to go. Time seemed to be crawling for me. I had made my decision, I was going back to my own destiny. I decided to get some air and walk to the Botanical Gardens. It would be a long walk. Suddenly I realized, the Gardens would be open to the public only for two more hours. Then they would be closed for the evening. To be there at the exact time, I would have two options. Spend the night somewhere, and come back in the morning, or stay there for the night. I decided to take the former option.
I had to find a place to spend the night. I decided against a hotel. I was running low on cash. I decided to find an all night bar. That would do nicely.
How I missed her then. How I wished I could have simply walked in to 3128 Midwich House. What I wouldn’t have given just to simply hear her voice then.
And then I had an idea. It could be arranged.
I found myself a phone booth and like a hungry man grabbing food, grabbed myself the directory. It took me ten more minutes to locate their number.
I called it. I would hear her voice, some joy at least for me.
- Hello?
It wasn’t her.
They say when you hear your own voice, you hate it. And that particular adage seemed oddly appropriate then.
It was me. On the phone. Michael had answered. I hated me.
- Hello? Anyone there?
I clicked the phone shut.
Michael was home. With my Simone. And he didn’t even have the decency to let her answer the phone.
For the first time in a long while I was angry. Enraged in fact. I tore the directory into as many shreds as I could, and stormed out of the booth.
Bloody HELL. I can’t even hear her for the last time. WHY ME? Why?
And just like that, my mind became clear all of a sudden. I had to be happy. I had to hear her.
I had to be happy. Suddenly I knew what I had to do to fix my motorcycle.
I had to be happy.


































6. THE GREAT BEYOND.

Zero Hour. It was almost here. I looked at my new watch, synchronized with the Device. Ten more minutes to go. I peered from behind the tree I had been hiding. Luckily this area was a region less frequented by the visitors. It was secluded, and away from the glare. No guards too, after all, who would want to steal something from the observation deck of the botanical gardens? And this wasn’t even the deck proper. It was the area behind it. I had been very lucky the machine had dropped me where it had dropped me. I looked at the limp wrists wearing the Device. It would be over soon. My mind went back to the events of the last evening.

I had suddenly known what had to be done. It was strange, but my mind seemed calm. It was perhaps appropriate, that, for in reality I had nothing left to lose, and all to gain. I had found another phone booth, and called the number again.
- Hello?
It had been Michael again. I had smiled and used my wind breaker to muffle my voice.
- Hello? Henson?
I was surprised I had been able to voice act so well. I was literally wheezing on the phone.
- Yes. This is Michael Henson. Who’s this?
- Henson... You... I need you Henson. I need you...
- Who’s this?
- They’ll kill me Henson.. I need you .. you must come Henson.. quickly
- Who’ll kill you? Who are you?
- I don’t have time Henson... you must come quickly ... its about Varelli... I have information ... come quickly.. and come alone ... or you won’t get it from me.
- Who are you? What information?
- I can’t tell you on the phone. Just come...
He had bought it. I relayed the address I wanted him to be at.
Having shut the phone, I had permitted myself another smile.
All I had to do was wait for him, and hope he was on time.

I sighed, and looked around. Slivers of light were beginning to break through the foliage of the trees. I was amused slightly. I had been in this place twice on two days now, and I had hardly seen any security or any visitors. Then again, there wasn’t much to be seen here except some singular trees and birds. Thankfully there had been no nature enthusiasts near my vicinity. I went back to what had come to pass...

I knew that it would take him forty minutes or so to reach the area, and another twenty to find me. Give or take ten minutes. So I had made my way to the area where I had called him to. The Botanical Gardens. I made it with an hour or so still to go before the end of the visitors time. I had to hope he would make it inside too. I had proceeded to find myself a hiding place, of sorts. It really wasn’t much, but since it was dark, it would do. ’It’ was simply a dark barked tree, and it was doing a good job of hiding me.
Time had crawled. It had seemed for a while that Michael wouldn’t make it. I began to resign myself to that fact. Tired of standing, I sat down. And that was when I had heard footsteps. The treads of a man who was walking carefully, and yet with purpose.
- Hello?
An attempt by Michael to bring out the caller into the open. I had smiled.
This was it.
I proceeded to make my way out of my hiding place.
- Hello Michael.
That second, I would never forget. Even in the dark, I could clearly see the surprise and horror on his face. It was as if he’d seen a ghost. And in some way, he had. He was looking at a mirror. But in all reality, that second had also told me that there were differences between me and him appearance wise. He was slightly over weight, and well shaven. And his eyes seemed as if he had been getting more than enough sleep. Sweet, fulfilling, satisfying sweet. Ah... I had wondered how long it would be before I would be able to get rid of my insomnia.
And his mouth was open.
It was still open when I had rushed to him the next second and struck him with a rock on his temple. He made to scream, but I had covered his mouth long before he could make a sound. He fell to the ground. Blood flowing freely from his head. The last thing I wanted was blood, so I tore out a piece of my shirt, and covered his wound with it. The remainder of my shirt went below his head, so as to absorb any further blood loss, instead of letting it trickle to the ground.
It has been surprisingly easy. Michael was smart, successful and intelligent, but wasn’t very fit. He hadn’t taken that preparatory survival course I had. I had known exactly where to strike him, to be fully effective. And then, I had also possessed the element of surprise, which had completely de-commissioned him. I wanted to smile, but it wouldn’t come.

Five minutes. Zero Hour was still some way away. After the blow, the rest wasn’t much of a problem. I had taken his watch and his belongings. And dragged him to my hiding place. He and I would be spending the night together. His watch was synchronized with the Device. I looked at his face. *My* face. I wondered what Simone would be thinking. She would be quite worried. And she had good reason to be. She had in fact called. His cell phone had rang a couple of hours into the night. It had rung in my pocket. I realized it wasn’t his anymore, it was now mine.

- Hello..
- Mikey? Where are you? Are you all right?
- Yes. I’m fine.
- Where are you? Its the middle of the night.. when are you coming back?
- I.. really don’t know honey. Its the client. It could be a while. You don’t worry and don’t wait up.
- Mikey..somethings wrong. Your voice ... what’s wrong?
- Nothing. It’s just that I’m a little tense about the case and all. It’s nothing really.
- Mikey... don’t worry. It’ll be ok.
- Yes... I really have to go right now, I’ll call you as soon as I can, ok?
- Ok. Take care Mikey.. I don’t like those people. And come home.
- Yes of course. Bye.
- Bye.

I sighed again. I had wanted to tell her that I loved her. But I couldn’t. Something’s never do change. I looked at him again. Lying completely still. He had been breathing up till around twenty minutes ago. By the time I had dragged him to the spot of my arrival, I couldn’t feel his pulse anymore. I looked at the watch. Just a couple of minutes now. The device gleamed in the early sunlight. It was on his wrists now, with him wearing my clothes and carrying my papers. He was me now. And I was him.
I was me.
Zero Hour. It was time. I wondered if anything would happen. I wondered what would happen if a guard was to find me now. I wondered...
And the Device beeped.
And he turned blue.
Actually a blue light seemed to envelope him. And there was a tiny flash of white light which was originating from the Device. Without warning, the tiny light grew into a brilliant blinding flash of white light. I shielded my eyes. A second later it was gone.
I opened my eyes.
Where Michael was lying a while ago, now there was empty space. He was gone.
And it was then, when for the first time the reality of what I had done hit me. I wanted to throw up. I wanted to cry. I wanted to die. Somehow I made my way to the rest rooms, and I wept, like never before. I threw up till there was nothing left to be thrown out. And I cried some more. Tears. Ironically I remembered the last time when I had wept like this was when I had lost her.





7. YOU, OR SOMEONE LIKE YOU.

My eyes would go dry before my sadness and my anger would subside. Nothing, it seemed could assuage my guilt.
And then the cell phone rang.
His cell.
My cell.
It was her.
- Yeah..
- Mikey?? What’s wrong?
She obviously could tell that all wasn’t well.
- Its nothing Sweets, I’m just tired. Don’t worry, I’m coming home.
- Are you sure? You are ok?
- Yes. I’ll see you in a while, ok?
- Ok Mikey.
- Simone..
- Yes?
- I love you, Simone.
- I know Mikey. Come home, ok?
- Yes.
I shut the phone. It seemed as if I could see again. I felt like a bird who had escaped from the despairs of a cage, free to soar the wild skies. It was as if as a huge weight had been lifted off my shoulders.
I made my way out of the Gardens. A beep of his key chain and I knew which car was ’mine’. I drove myself towards my destination. The world was mine once more. I had to get ’home’.
I had a motorcycle to get to.


(to be continued in part 2)