Day 319 – Meditation in the Backwaters of Outer Space – Part 11

One of these days I’ll remember the series order…and perhaps character names!

Word count: 659

There was yet to be invented a word to describe the moment when one’s last memories are of being chased by his narcissistic relatives through his local woods whilst suffering from injuries caused by a deranged man named Tony and when one’s current waking scenario from apparent state of unconsciousness involves being utterly bewildered by being in what appears to be a giant metallic box. However, it was that precise combination of strange circumstances that had brought Jack to this aforementioned giant metallic box.
He jumped up from his unconscious mess on the floor. By all appearances, he had just slept on the most rectangular bed in the entire world. The first thing that struck him about the room was not the sheer amount of metal everywhere – though that he supposed in retrospect was the first thing that struck him – was the fact that everything was so bloody shiny. The walls exuded cleanliness – no amount of dirt or grime could combat this hygiene standard. It was odd. It was severely odd.

The fourth thing that struck him, after the metal, the shininess and the headache that had just come home from work on a Friday afternoon, stumbling in a drunken state all over the place, was how on earth he had come to be here.
It felt to him like mere minutes since he had been in the forest. How could he have gotten here in this time? It was simply not possible. Who had brought him here too, that was another worrying question that had come to join the party. It sipped a Vesper Martini and hung in the shroud of the underground of the party, smouldering in its forbidden cigarette smoke.

“Hello?” he foolishly called out, assuming no answer would return.
“Oh shit, he’s awake! Jokuku, weren’t you going to drug him until we left this system?”
A haze of noise washed against his ears after the silence had been broken by the bodiless voice. Jack guessed some form of intercom, but there were no obvious vents for a loudspeaker: the walls were too immaculate. The scratching noise of a radio kicked in.
“Please remain calm, sir. Please remain calm.”
The instruction was clearly directed at Jack who, despite all logic and reasoning, was being quite calm and was readjusting the comfortableness of his bottom on the remarkably rectangular bed. This was weird, but comfort was needed in order for his brain to have a good ponder on the situation.
Positives he had noted: no sign of any relatives. Rib cage seems less painful, if not at all.
Negatives: He had no idea where he was or who had taken him here.
Thus far the he concluded the positives outweighed the negatives.
Jack’s next decision was to try verbal communication. If the shiny metal displayed no loudspeaker, even though there blatantly was one, then it might be hiding a microphone too.
“Er, hello? Can you hear me?”
“Please remain calm. Please digest this cheerful snack.”
From behind him there was a noise like a door opening and a drawer from the middle of the shiny wall opened up, revealing a strange plate of something green and something independently brown. It was independently brown as it was a shade of brown that Jack could not quite put his finger on and did not want to group it with any other band of shades such as the pinewood collection, the mahogany and the chipboard.
“What is it?”
“A cheerful nutritional snack. Please consume quickly. Current room temperature may trigger combustion.”
“What?!” Jack yelped.
“Of the food, sir. Please remain calm.”
Jack didn’t want to touch the food. It looked almost entirely like something he would have cooked – and that was something that should be avoided until starvation-driven madness.
“Please remain calm,” the voice said one more, unprompted.
The little brain cells in the back of Jack’s mind began to stir the pot: there was something strange afoot here.

~ by S.G. Mark on August 21, 2012.