DRIFTING THROUGH ETERNITY
By Mark Slade
Love loss eyes burned into the minds of the heartless living in the blood stained streets. Streets that harbor synthetic bodies that prey on humans who have nowhere else to go but live in the camps. The nights are hard, rigid behind a sheet of glass. Walls of concrete surround them keeping them separated from the rich that abuse their power. Once in awhile the rich make their way to the camps and purchase a disgraced human for pure entertainment.
Such as the case with Archel and his wife Frema. They've bought everything from fruit from an actual farm(punishable by death if caught eating natural foods) to buying a human slave.
What they next purchased was a Zeitigo ball. A silver round funnel kept in one's pocket, and at any given moment at parties, it captures the person's DNA matter and transports them across three universes before sputtering out and transporting them back to their previous location.
And Calder Lewis was a man who drifted.
Nothing more. Nothing less.
He started drifting a few months ago, on August eighteenth, 1908.
Calder had been speaking with his friend on that faithful day in his house at tea time, when Dr. Gallow had informed Calder he had invented a pill that could take him through different dimensions.
Of course Calder didn't believe him. So his friend took one such pill from a snuff box and gave it to Calder. Gallow did admit a problem could arise as being splintered off into different selves through time, even as completely different people.
“Take it,” Dr. Gallow said. “Go on. Don't be afraid.”
“I'm not afraid,” Calder looked at him, scouring. “I'm just cautious.”
“Well, Calder, my good man. Swallow the pill. If nothing happens, you've lost nothing.”
“If anything happens?” Calder smiled slightly. “I'll take exact and precious revenge upon you.”
“If you wish.” Dr. Gallow shrugged.
So, Calder swallowed the pill.
Archel and Frema nearly jumped out of their skins. A strange man in Victorian garb just appeared. Out of thin air. Calder looked around. Freema was holding a silver ball in her hands and the thing was spinning in circles in the palm of her hand. The slave girl standing beside Calder was blond and completely naked. He wasn't just amused, he was uproariously beside himself. Calder liked what he saw.
Archel on the other hand, thought he was having a flashback from a root disease a friend of his persuaded him to digest years ago while at DNA sculpting school. So Archel jumped to his feet, growling like a mad dog and rushed toward Calder with a very large machete he'd used on the last human he'd purchased.
Calder grabbed the slave girl's hand and squeezed it hard. Both of them screamed and disappeared
“Just as I said,” Dr. Gallow sipping from his cup. “Nothing happened at all.”
“If nothing happened, Gallow. Then who is this naked girl standing beside me?” Calder had a Cheshire cat grin on his face.
Dr. Gallow dropped his cup, the china splintered in several pieces. He stood up, mumbled under his breath. He cleared his throat, straightened his clothes. “Well, young lady,” Dr. Gallow sat back down. “As my colleague asked, Who are you?”
It took her a few seconds, but she managed to speak. Quietly. “My name is Calder Lewis.”
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I live in Williamsburg, VA with my wife and daughter.
Thursday, December 20, 2012
12/20/12
Posted by E.S. Wynn at 12:00 AM
Labels: Mark Slade
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1 comments:
Now THAT should be a novel.
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