Author: Alexander Fawn

He was hungry and he was close to a place he knew.

He saw what was on offer and thought about it for a bit. He looked around. The place was quiet.

He said, “I’d like to order a la carte, if that’s OK?”

The other smiled. “Not a problem, sir.”

“I’d like to start with the lasagne and some finely cut chips with a small salad of just lettuce and tomato.”

“Of course, sir.”

“To follow, the sticky date pudding topped with whipped cream.”

“Yes, we can do that.”

“Can I get a glass of chilled Sauvignon Blanc to follow?”

“Yes, sir. Will that be all?”

“Yes. Thank you.”

The man took the note and held out the frankfurter in a role.

With a smile and a wink, he said, “Tomato sauce over there.”

His eye operation had gone really well; the doctors were pleased.

He had been in for laser eye surgery. It would correct his astigmatism, which had resulted in him having blurred vision. It was time to be discharged from hospital and his wife would be picking him up. She arrived early, parked and walked in. She found him with his bag of night clothes and toiletries. He stood and they hugged. She stepped back and examined his eyes. She nodded slowly and squeezed his arm.

“How are you feeling, my love?”

He blinked his eyes hard a couple of times, and said, “Looking forward to getting home.”

She smiled. “Of course you are, we’ll get home and put the kettle on. How does that suit you?”

“Sounds like a grand idea.” He smiled. “Lead the way.”

“OK. The car’s in the car park; not far.”

They walked to the car, weaving through a couple of rows of vehicles. She was unlocking the car while he stood staring off into the distance. She followed his gaze. Across several rows she could see a woman, similarly waiting for a car door to be opened. She was blond, smartly dressed and wearing particularly nice makeup.

She said, “Eyes better now dear?”

He had never liked going to the dentist.

Over the years he’d tried a number of them. Some better than others, but not one of them were what he’d call nice. He guessed that was just the nature of the profession. The last one he’d been to, told him he needed to have root canal treatment. That dentist had given him a detailed description of the procedure, saying this would involve him drilling a hole down through his tooth so he could remove infected pulp that is made up of connective tissue, nerves and blood supply. He said this extends into the root of the tooth, where the root canal can be cleaned and shaped so that it could be filled and sealed. He felt the description was a bit too detailed. He made up his mind on the spot that he wouldn’t be going back!

That was nearly a year ago and his toothache had got a lot worse. He knew he had to get it fixed. Talking to people, he was told that there was a fairly new dentist in town who was very good. Apparently, he had the reputation of being a no-frills person who didn’t mess around with small talk. They said he didn’t spend time yakking about it, just got on and did the job.

On the day of his appointment he was ushered straight into the chair. He looked on as the dentist prepared instruments on a tray. Apart from saying ‘good morning’ as he entered, he was silent. Finally, he wheeled his trolley next to him and looked down.

He spoke. “I’m just letting you know, this is going to hurt.”

As he started the drill, he said, “A lot!”

She had been so happy with all her friends, despite the fact that none of them were real.

She had been told by everyone that they don’t actually exist. The doctor, the man her parents insisted she visit every week, just didn’t realise how important they were. One by one he had been making them go away. She missed them all terribly. He would sit her down and tell her to make herself comfortable; that was the nice part. He let her have a little sleep. The problem was, every time she visited him she would come away realising that one of her friends was no longer there. Naturally, she discussed what was happening to her at length with those that were left.

He smiled at her now, across his big desk. “Well then, how are you doing young lady?”

“I miss my friends,” she said, with a sad face.

He nodded. “Yes, no doubt you do, but we’ve talked about how they aren’t real and how you will be much better off without them.”

She pouted. “I know, you keep telling me that. My mummy and daddy do too. But my friends were good company. I love talking to them, but you have been making them go away! I only have one friend left.”

He smiled at her again. “It is for the best you know. Besides, I’m you friend now, aren’t I?”

The girl played with her fingers for a moment, then said, “Can I tell you something.”

His eyebrows went up. “Of course. Of course you can.”

“It‘s a secret.”

“That’s what I’m here for.”

She stood and put a finger to her lips as she approached. She made the move so stealthily that he hardly noticed the knife.

“Thank goodness I still have one friend,” she said, and giggled.

The feelings that swamped over him as he watched the item on the late night news defies description.

He had always been an avid collector. He was immensely proud of what he had manage to gather over time. It had taken the best part of his adult years to get it all together. It was a fine collection, there could be no doubt about that. He’d been living with the fact that it was just one piece short for some time. He had poured hours into combing the internet for traces of it. He had read countless articles about the thing, together with numerous items where people claimed to have actually seen it. Of course, there were those who even doubted its existence. This single, missing item was out there somewhere and he knew it.

Now, here she was, holding it up to the camera.

A fourteen year old, on holiday with her parents. The family was on an overseas holiday when it was found. It was their last day before flying home and they decided to use their hired car to make a last minute dash to see the nearby rapids. The woman in the tourist office had said it was a ‘must see’. They were on the track leading to the river when the girl found it.

He switched the television off and made his way to bed, where he was destined to spend the first of many sleepless nights…

I can explain.

It’s quite simple really, it was only a matter of timing, I suppose. I didn’t want to keep it from anyone. I’ve been meaning to tell you about it. I certainly wanted to. I honestly did. I don’t know why I didn’t explain it at the time, it doesn’t make sense that I would put it off. It’s not as though I would have difficulty clarifying things. It was all pretty straight forward. I feel that I should get it all out of the way. I’ve no idea why it happened the way it did. I had no intention of deceiving anyone, it just looked that way at the time. I guess it all got out of hand, somehow. I guess it was just one of those things. Believe me, I didn’t want any of this to happen this way. The sooner it’s over and done with, the better. I want to be completely honest about it. I’d do it now, but I’m a bit pushed for time.

Would sometime next week be OK?

He would be going home on the late train, exhausted from a long day in the city.

There were only a few people waiting when he entered the chilly platform. When the train pulled in, the sprinkling of passengers spread out along the carriages. He considered the fact that each of them could probably find a compartment to themselves. He did; it would be perfect for him to set the time on his phone and get at least twenty minutes of much needed sleep. He had just finished setting it when a young woman entered and took the window seat opposite. He smiled and nodded politely, not showing his disappointment. Apart from the strong lemon scented perfume, he couldn’t help noticing the sadness in her eyes. He could see them becoming moist. He guessed that she was reacting to some recent incident that left her weepy. Probably a tiff with the boyfriend, he thought, as he felt the tiredness well up again.

His drifting off was interrupted by a loud rustling noise. She was scrabbling inside her bag for something. She took a sweet out and began unwrapping it. He watched as she found another, and with the closest thing she could muster to a smile, held it out to him. He grimaced and shook his head. He was tired, but he didn’t want to be impolite. He raised the palm of his hand towards her and closed his eyes.

It was the howling wind and the rush of cold air that woke him. The window was completely pulled down. He got up and closed it. Slumping back down and coming out of his sleep, he looked around.

The woman was gone, leaving just half-a-dozen wrappers and a strong lemon fragrance…

Their conversation came round to one of their old school friends.

The man sitting with his friend in the café was saying, “I really didn’t know much about computers. They’re not for everybody, you know.”

The other said, “I lost touch with him. Didn’t know him well; he was two years ahead of me at school. You kept in touch then?

“Sort of; on and off.”

“You were saying, about computers?”

“Yes, although most people would laugh if they knew, it seems that he’d been tapping away on his grandfather’s ancient typewriter for ages before he decided to get one. That’s when he rang me to tell me about it. He reckoned his pc was going to open up a whole new world for him. He told me he spent many long nights, and some days when he could, using the word processor to transfer just about everything from hard copy to electronic format. He said he found the machine in a second-hand shop, but soon discovered that it had very little memory. He told me his files were slowing it down. Apparently, he had intermittent internet capability that allowed him to research the problem.”

The man drank more coffee, looked up shaking his head and went on.

“He said that it came as a surprise to him that an ideal application existed that would clean up his drive and give him more space and more speed. The site said ‘Clean up your documents. Remove the clutter. Allow your machine to run faster.’ Well, he saw this to be exactly what he needed. He was so excited, he reckoned it was a fantastic app that he’d found quite by chance.”

“So, he used it?”

“He did. He had three draft documents that he wanted to get rid of and he figured getting rid of these would be a good place to start. The computer program guaranteed that it would search out any other unwanted files that were associated with them. So, he selected the unwanted documents and started the program. It was at this point that his computer started to make a violent buzzing noise.”

The man telling the story fell silent.

The listener said, “And?”

“Dunno.”

“I mean, what happened?”

“Like I said, dunno. He was on the phone telling me about it when the phone went dead.”

He sighed. “Haven’t heard from him since. Did hear that he’d gone recluse. Probably went back to the typewriter.”

The nightclub was in a state of complete chaos.

There had been so much shooting that people out in the street heard it. Someone had phoned the police and within minutes two detectives turned up. Nobody was allowed to leave until everybody’s statements were taken. There were so many that they called in a couple of uniforms to help out. They all had to be questioned; all two hundred and eleven of them! The wounded, seventeen of them, were ambulanced away. The four people shot, three men and one woman, were left were they fell and would be examined when the path team arrived. Meanwhile, everyone was corralled into a corner of the dancefloor and called forward one at a time. All twelve firearms were collected and tagged; which of these had been fired would be determined later.

While this was going on, the pathology people were doing their thing, examining the bodies and taking pictures. Four sets of tables and chairs were arranged away from the other patrons enabling the four officers to get names, addresses and brief statements. Although it wasn’t clear at the time, but would become clear later, the whole thing had started with two of the club’s attendees getting into an argument. Regardless of this, it was only necessary to get statements without trying to work out how such a horrible scene of bedlam and loss of life had come about. The statements being gathered were however showing up a general pattern of discord among the people in the club.

Certainly, the flashing lights and the loud music didn’t help. There had been a few moments of complete darkness between the dance lights being turned off and normal lighting coming on. Detectives were there for hours taking statements. There seemed to be a common thread of dissatisfaction with just about everything running through what the officers were being told. Although it was not apparent what particular issue had started it all off. It may have been gender equality, but it’s hard to tell.

It seemed to kick off with heated arguments about gender equality and transgender rights, but this got taken over by more people joining in, voicing issues about union corruption, capital punishment, corruption in politics and gay rights. Then abortion issues came into it, along with animal rights, religious freedom, the right to privacy, human trafficking and the legalization of marijuana. As far as anyone could tell, a quite separate group began fiercely debating capitalism, the behaviour of the banks, the student debt crisis, minimum wage, and universal healthcare. There were quarrels about police brutality and terrorism. It was probably the shouting matches on the subjects of immigration, gun control, global climate change, genetic cloning, the right to die and the pharmaceutical industry that led to guns being drawn. It all seemed to go downhill very fast from that point. From the various accounts of what happened, it could be seen that things quietened down when COVID-19 was mentioned. This was soon followed by someone mentioning the US presidents name.

That’s when the shooting started.

When her condition was diagnosed, it was all about coming and going.

She seemed to have had problems with doors all her life. Well, portals really. She would go through a door in order to get somewhere, either inside or out, but returning through the same door she would often wind up somewhere else! It was confusing, and often really inconvenient. When it first started, at a very young age, she and her parents put it down to her having a poor memory. Now, approaching twenty, she was taking the whole thing much more seriously and she was determined to get to the bottom of it.

The recent experience of getting on a bus just across the street from where she worked, and then moments later getting off a train, not far from where she lived, was the final straw. She knew she had to do something about it. The door thing was bad enough, but the buses and trains fiasco was definitely not on. The incident had certainly frightened her. From the point of view of her leaving work and arriving home at around her regular time, it was not an actual problem. However, beyond that, it was a nightmare!

That evening she opened her laptop and searched for psychology services. She found what she considered to be the best. He was one of the top psychologists in the city, and probably the most expensive. The next morning she made the earliest possible appointment.

The early morning session went well. The man certainly gave the impression that he knew what he was about. At the end of the hour she felt more confident about the whole thing than ever before, throughout all the dreadful years she had suffered from the condition. His diagnosis was based on the idea that she was simply having hallucinations. The drug he prescribed would sharpen up her senses. She filled the prescription on the way to work. As soon as she arrived in the office she took a tablet. For the remainder of the day she felt amazingly relaxed. Just before leaving work she used the ladies room.

When she came out of the cubicle, she found herself somewhere else. She looked around, it was somewhere else entirely! She followed the passage until she emerged into a huge, high vaulted hall with odd-looking figures moving around slowly at the far end. She looked up at the strangely illuminated sign.

It read, ‘Magnasia 7 Space Port’.