Author: Alexander Fawn

She was looking down at her newborn.

He was such a beautiful baby. She was filled with the sense that she knew so much about his future; what he would do, what he would accomplish. Although only a short time into his life, she knew that he was destined for really great things. He would have a way of making those around him happy. His wisdom would know no bounds. He would be a peacemaker. He will have the knack of bringing people together. He may even become a leader in society; possibly the world! She knew these things because they are things that only a mother is given to know.

She looked up to see the surgeon enter the room.

He smiled and said, “Good morning, Mrs T. Everything went well. How are you feeling, now?”

“Perfectly well, thank you, doctor.” Looking back down, she whispered, “I think I’ll call him Donald.”

Her computer was giving her problems.

Searches on the internet were coming up with strange results. She had tried to fix it herself, but this hadn’t helped. Then, asking questions on the internet, she was given a great number of solutions, many by users with the same problem. Regardless of this, nothing worked. As time went by and the problem grew worse by the day, she considered simply buying a new one. That, she figured, would be the simple answer. It wasn’t as though she couldn’t afford it. Only one other avenue was open to her, although she didn’t like to dwell on the idea. She could contact her internet provider.

She had never actually done this before and was extremely reluctant to do it now. The idea of somebody poking about in your computer while you sit and watch had never been something she felt she could tolerate.

Eventually, she decided to contact the provider as a final attempt to put the computer right.

She is speaking to a woman who seems keen to fix things for her.

The woman is saying, “OK. I’m pretty sure I can fix this for you.”

“That would be good.”

“I just need your password.”

“Pardon?”

“Your password; I need it.”

“But… you don’t give out your password. I mean, you just never divulge it, do you?”

“Well, in this case, yes.”

“Are you sure.”

Silence for a few beats. “I am sure, yes. I need to use it to gain access to your computer’s connection to the internet.”

“I’m sure what you are saying makes sense, but I thought it was a given that computer users should never share their password with anyone.”

“Generally, that is true, yes, but not in this case.”

“Are you sure?”

“I am, yes.”

“It’s a matter of trust, I suppose.”

A sigh, followed by, “If you like, yes.”

“Can I trust you?”

A groan, then, “Look madam…”

Click!

In the evenings he made sure he spent time surfing the internet, despite the ads cluttering up his screen.

He knew that all this nonstop advertising on the internet, the stuff that was continually popping up every time he went online to look something up, was targeted at him. It appeared as a result of his past searches. It came about through the information he had previously provided during his explorations on his computer. Because he was used to this, he normally didn’t stop to look at any of it. That was the case before he saw an ad show up for a rather expensive bottle of perfume, several times. This was something he’d never looked for. Why would he? That’s when he started taking notice of them when they popped up on his screen. Apart from the perfume, there were ads for flower shop delivery services, the latest movie reviews, and shops that sell expensive boxes of chocolates.

This unexpected situation remained a mystery to him until he remembered a conversation he’d had with his latest girlfriend. They had just come out of the cinema and were in a café drinking coffee and talking about the film. They both agreed that it was one of their favourite pastimes, along with other hobbies. After parting for their home they had agreed to catch up again soon.

It was then, that he remembered that one of her hobbies was computer hacking!

It seems that the whole of humankind is constantly going in and coming out.

An ongoing transition from one to the other; a smooth and unstoppable segway of there and back. He is going into the bathroom to shave. She is coming out of the laundry to hang clothes. They are going into the changing rooms to shower after the game. He is coming out of the study to answer the doorbell. She is going into the bedroom to change the sheets. They are coming out of the stadium after watching a match. He is getting on a train to go to work. She is getting off a bus having done her shopping. They are going into the booth to take photos. He is coming out of the bus station to walk to work. She is going into the phone box to make a call. They are coming out of the courthouse after an adjournment.

He is going into hospital for a hip replacement. She is coming out of the library with a new book. They are going into the church to be married. He is going out to the garden to prune bushes. She is going into the kitchen to toast bread. They are coming out of the fire station at the end of their shift. He is going into his classroom at school. She is coming out of the post office with a package. They are going into the hotel with their luggage. He is coming out of the club rooms after playing golf. She is going into the clinic to get a blood test. They are coming out of the temple after prayers.

To and fro we go, seemingly without end.

When she was a little girl, she had her likes and wants.

She had liked ice-cream, marzipan cake, and she had really liked family trips to the seaside. She wanted to be a doctor, like her mother. Three likes and a want. All perfectly natural. When she was a young woman she had liked spending quiet evenings with her friends in the bar at the tennis club, she had liked the medical student that would occasionally take her to the cinema, and she had liked studying at the university. She wanted to marry the student, have a family and practice medicine. Three likes and a want. All perfectly natural. When she was a mother of three she had liked being a mother and a doctor, had liked the family trips to Spain each year, and had liked the visits from her favourite uncle after his wife had passed away. She wanted to eventually retire from her practice and concentrate on gardening. Three likes and a want. All perfectly natural.

Then, when the children had all left home, she had liked spending time enjoying her own company, she had liked it when he went away on overseas medical conferences and seminars, and she had liked discussing her husband’s adulterous affairs with the private detective she had engaged. She wanted sufficient proof to be found to make the divorce quick and easy. Three likes and a want. All perfectly natural. When settlement had been made, she had liked the life-changing event of selling her house, she had liked moving in with her elderly uncle who had become gravely ill, to look after him, and she had liked the grand house with its lovely gardens. She wanted her uncle to die peacefully of old age and to leave her the lion’s share of his considerable fortune. Three likes and a want.

Now, she had liked nursing the old man and seeing that his final days were spent as comfortable as she could possibly make them, she had liked the simple funeral service and the appreciation she had received from those who had known him, and she liked spending six months each year in the sun. She wanted the Spanish hotel waiter to bring her another Blue Lagoon cocktail with an extra ounce of vodka.

Three likes and a want.

All perfectly natural.

The monorail was a recent addition to the theme park.

It had become very popular. It ran along steadily, slow and comfortably smooth. Twelve cars, six seats in each. Three occupants faced three. It travelled across the entire entertainment venue, from one end to the other. It passed high above the attractions scattered below. The track was a straight run. The day was sunny. The ride took about ten minutes. With a jolt it moved off.
The couple sat facing one another, both with a window view. They smiled at each other. They were strangers, each travelling alone.
The young girl was slim.
The young man was stocky
Her hair was fair.
His hair was brown.
She was holding a bottle of water.
He was holding a map.
She wore a yellow dress.
He wore jeans and a blue tee-shirt.
She watched as the Ferris wheel turned.
He watched the paddle boats on the lake.
She saw that his socks had tiny dots.
He saw that her sandals had silver buckles.
She noticed he had a thin silver chain around his neck.
He noticed she had orange nail varnish.
She wondered if he lived locally.
He wondered if she was there for the day.
She imagined he had a friend somewhere down there.
He imagined she was here with her parents.
She thought about how she used to come here with her partner.
He thought about the guy he shared his flat with.
She wished her partner would move out of her place and come and live with her.
He wished his flat mate hadn’t had to work today.
She planned to buy her something from the stalls.
He planned to win a teddy-bear for him.
She missed her.
He missed him.
They smiled at each other again when it came to a stop.

Genius was the only word that could properly describe him.

He was single, in his mid-thirties and totally bored with his present occupation and lifestyle. This was despite the fact that he’d written several brilliant papers on quantum mechanics, radioactivity, nuclear fusion and fission, his research concerning subatomic particles, together with his ground-breaking work on the grand unification solution. All of this stood as testimony to his elevated standing in the scientific community. He was aware of the fact that none of his contemporaries had ever observed the reality that his skills came so easily to him, but meant so little in the way of satisfaction. Furthermore, nobody would have suspected that the society dinners, the press coverage and the celebrity status that his work in the field had brought into his life, was in any way to his liking. He had managed to maintain a grin-and-bare-it posture for his immediate colleagues, but something inside him was moving towards some sort of breaking point.

He knew that a person’s decision to change careers can be seen as a weird turnaround by others. Such a choice that so often cannot be understood by those around them. Whereas, in the case of a bus driver going through an intensive course of training before moving to a specialist bulk carrying truck on a mine site may not raise many eyebrows, other career changes do. In his case, to walk away from such a well-established, highly paid position would be hard to comprehend for most.

Foreseeing that making known his desire to make a complete change in the way his future life was heading would attract even greater exposure to the world around him, he made plans. He realised that to actually slip away without being hounded by the press or pestered by those who thought he should remain in his line of work, he would need to put his highly advanced intellect to work towards his own interests.

When the time came, he quickly settled his affairs, wrote a simple letter of termination, bought a false passport, made modest changes to his appearance, purchased an airline ticket and flew out of the country.

There have been many rumours concerning his whereabouts, the latest being that he now owns and operates a small laundromat in Winnipeg.

A random mix of man’s desires,
Through every race and nation.
They vary wide from soul to soul,
No matter what their station.

So many seething motivations,
Pushing man around,
Some a peaceful sanctuary,
Some a battleground.

A striving for a peaceful world,
An innocence, devoid of blame,
A need to be in control,
A burning yearn for fame.

Some lean towards creation,
Others tending to destroy.
Some revel in cacophony,
Others to silence cloy.

Some, like a lighthouse beam,
Others hardly glow.
Some gallop at a pace,
Others take it slow.

Some want to share with all,
Some more circumspect.
Some stoop with the weight of life,
Others remain erect.

Some are screaming in their minds,
While others whisper gently.
Some to wickedness are bent,
While others do good intently.

Some glow with demonic pride,
Others are humble and pure,
While conquering others drives the strong,
Servitude spurs the demure.

A plethora of inbuilt drives,
To which each is bound,
And growing in each aging heart,
Is where the variances are found.

They were sitting in a small room, eating dinner prepared from their stock of cans.

He wasn’t happy, it was mushrooms again. He didn’t like mushrooms. He looked along the shelves, hoping to spot something better for their next meal. The cans, packets and bottles were all dusty and hard to read. She again wondered just how well he was coping with the situation. She had always been the strong one in their partnership. The last thing she wanted was to have to cope with him becoming completely unhinged. Things were bad enough, without that. She remembered the incident that had occurred when the first flash came. Maybe recounting this would help him take his mind off things.

She said, “I forgot to tell you, we had a caller, the night of the first flash.”

“We did?”

“Yes. He was dressed in an expensive-looking suit. I must say, he was very polite. You were in the shower at the time.”

“What did he want?”

“You, apparently. He said that some uncle of yours in Canada had passed away leaving you what he said was a generous inheritance, apparently including a large amount of money!”

“Wow! I know who that is… a large inheritance, you say?”

“That’s what he said.”

“What did you say?”

“Nothing, really. I was asking myself whether this was a scam, when we saw the first almighty flash. He just turned and ran off without another word. Not that I blame him for that, it was pretty scary. Of course, that was just the first of many flashes to come.” She pulled a face. “You know the rest.”

“Why didn’t you tell me this earlier?

“Well, a lot’s been going on, you know!” She shook her head. “Anyway, he gave me his card; I’ve still got it.”

His eyes widened. “OK. OK. Let’s have it.”

She looked exasperated for a moment, before digging into her bag, which never left her side, then into her purse for the business card.

Handing it to him, his eyes lit up. “If I can find a telephone that’s still working, I’ll give them a call.”

She looked around at the tiny fallout shelter. What were the experts saying: the nuclear winter could last for anything up to a decade? She looked back at him still gleefully fingering the card.

She sighed.

Good luck with that, she thought.

Boredom was setting in when he remembered the old chemistry set.

Dad was at work, Mum was out shopping, school was out and he’d caught the earlier bus. He had at least an hour to kill. For once he didn’t want to sit in front of the television or play computer games. He wasn’t in the mood to do things that were mindless. He felt the need for something more challenging; some kind of activity that would test him in some way. He was thinking along these lines when he remembered the old chemistry set. That had all sorts of experiments that you could carry out. Would it still be around? It must be years old, but as long as the lid was on properly there was no reason to think that the stuff inside wasn’t as they left it. Where would it be, if it were kept? The attic had to be a good bet. He started there.

He released the access ladder and climbed up. Pushing the ceiling door open was a dusty business. He figured no one had been up there for ages. Once through the door he squatted, looking around. He’d thrown the light switch, but the globe was really dim. The place was a mess. There were boxes and stuff scattered around and it was difficult to move across to where the cupboards were without tripping over things. One by one, he opened doors and drawers without finding the set. Maybe it had been thrown out. He was still searching when he stumbled over something. Falling against a side panel, he was amazed to discover that it popped open with a squeaky hinge. Pulling what was obviously a hidden door open, he peered into the blackness.

He looked around the attic trying to imagine where the void could lead. It didn’t make sense! Could it be some additional loft space? He made his way in slowly. After a few paces he tripped and fell. The light was blinding. Slowly, as his eyes adjusted, he saw that he was sprawled out on the house’s back lawn! In an instant he had gone from the top of the house to the back garden. Of course, this made no sense at all.

Back inside, he climbed the stairs and the ladder until he stood in front of the door again, staring into the dark. It couldn’t happen again, could it? He had certainly found the challenge he was looking for.

Once again, he made his way in, and seconds later, he tripped. Again, he was laying on the back lawn. This time he lay still for a while, thinking. This was certainly something to battle with. It was a conundrum that had him thinking outside of the box. It was time to try some experimentation.

He made his way back up to the top of the house with purpose. At the door he paused for a while, then he slowly turned around to face the attic.

He very carefully began to walk, backwards…