Discovery I
Once in front of his apartment door, Sam struggled slightly with the keys. Though mostly sober now, his inability to place his own key in its slot would not have convinced any onlookers. He did, however, manage to open the door in the end, entering his humble abode and being and being greeted with its…plainness. It was a simple complex, and Sam had the basics. A couch, complete with an end table he never placed anything on and a television he barely watched. It had a kitchen he occasionally cooked in, a fridge he used religiously, and a microwave he used even more so. His bathroom and bedroom were perhaps the most useful and personalized parts of the house, yet still managed to scream ‘new apartment owner.’ The walls of his bedroom were bare and his bed was made with simple grey blankets, pillows, and bed sheets. The desk in his bedroom was perhaps the liveliest part of his shelter, as sat squarely in the middle of it was his personal laptop.
It was covered in various stickers ranging from jokes and memes to college memorabilia and symbology to little political statements and affirmations. Seeing the laptop occasionally tempted Sam to personalize his apartment as he did his device, but the rooms didn’t feel as permanent as his laptop did. His little personal-computer-that-could had been with him through high school to college and beyond. It was his livelihood as much as his job in the city was. More than that, it was almost a part of himself. An information synthesizer—one which was as much a processor of his mental state as was his own mind. Once Sam walked into his room, however, he completely overlooked the device.
Sam was, at the moment, concerned only with the preparation of his planned morning exploits. Sam quickly walked to his small half-walk-in closet and inspected what clothing he had. His eyes first went towards his shirts and pants, quickly looking for any thick work-shirt and jeans he might have. Though he couldn’t find a shirt that wasn’t a short-sleeve t-shirt, he did manage to scavenge a pair of jeans and a thick hoodie. His next problem, however, laid within his footwear. He had hoped to magically find a pair of boots within his closet, but alas, he only found a pair of worn tennis shoes. For a brief moment, Sam considered postponing his excursion, yet something pushed him against stopping. His initial fervor from the train continued to burn in his chest and his heart still had yet to rest. So, Sam took out the clothing and shoes he had prepared and, folding and stacking them, he placed them on top of his desk before disrobing, setting an alarm, and falling asleep the instant his head touched his pillow.
Once asleep, Sam found himself in the center of a pitch-black room. He looked around only to see various shapes darting in and out from the void surrounding him. Tendrils made of long, bent scraps of metal extended from the walls and scraped against each other, causing an unsettling sound that sent shivers down Sam’s spine. Sam, in an effort to avoid the walls of his confinement, attempted to take a step forward. However, his movement was met with a specter of rust gripping his shirt and pulling him back to where he started. Once he felt the grip upon his person, he pushed against it with all his might, hoping to break free. Yet the more he struggled, the more tendrils joined in the capture of Sam, dragging him down towards the floor. He felt the ground bellow him melt, encompassing his form as the spined, decaying arms of iron wrapped around him. He watched as the shadowed metal turned into flesh, becoming the arms and hands of people. He saw faces staring down at him from above, all formed from the void’s ceiling, all wearing wicked smiles on their faces, and all laughing at his misery. Slowly, the faces descended upon him, encompassing the whole of his form. Then, as he struggled for an escape from the wriggling mass of darkness, a light seeped into his vision. Slowly, it grew. A golden dot in a vast see of black expanded on and on until, before him, stood a large figure of light. It was in the form of a person draped in a long, flowing cloth similar to what a god or goddess in art might wear. As they came into being, Sam felt the tendrils release his form, receding back into the dark. Once the figure saw the shadows had gone, they shrank down to the height of Sam and—placing their hand on his check—sent him back into reality.
When Sam awoke to the sound of his alarm blaring accusatorially at him, he felt oddly… clear-minded. He wasn’t certain why, but it was as if he never truly stopped thinking about his plans for the morning. Throughout his time asleep, it felt like his mind had never stopped processing what was going to happen as soon as Sam started his morning. Although his nightly preparation was only a few hours prior to the time he woke up, so it was possible that he was never truly in a deep enough sleep to have forgotten his resolve.
After turning off his alarm, Sam sat up sharply in his bed, stood, and walked towards his bathroom. The small, plain, bright space didn’t help with Sam’s hangover—an element which he was surprised hadn’t stopped him from getting this far and had nearly forgotten of. With enough haste to just avoid making his rolling headaches worse, he took a few pain relievers, did his business, and quickly took a shower. After he was at the very least clean, he exited the bathroom and dressed. His hoodie was a size larger than he expected and his shoes weren’t as large as he would have preferred, but overall it would work have to do for his plan in mind. Before he left, Sam took his wallet, keys, and tried to search for a flashlight but—after not finding one—he resolved himself to take his phone and hope its light would do. With everything he could think he would need in tow, he exited his apartment and entered the dark morning day.
It was broaching five thirty when Sam locked his door and left his apartment complex. The sun was still below the horizon and the streetlights were still on. Sam lived on the part of the outskirts that were newer compared to the oldest sections of the outer-city. Long ago, the areas which first made up the outskirts had been the city. As times moved forward, however, the need for a new area dedicated strictly to business and government was desperate. The town had first thought to place it just outside its border—but as it grew further and further? The need for an entirely new entity, a new district, a new…city…increased exponentially. It needed to be something entirely separate from—yet connected to—the existing town. And so, The City was born. While on paper it was still listed under the town’s name, its existence was entirely sovereign. It was its own self-sustaining system, and why wouldn’t it be? It became the central hub of both bureaucracy and business—it was built as a replacing foundation for what the old city first had. It was, quite literally, the shining city on a hill. Yet as Sam came closer to the fence separating the scrapyard from the outskirts, he saw a completely different shining symbol from the night prior in his mind. Once he stood before the tall scrapyard fence, that image burned even brighter.
However, the trek to that position had been no easy feat. The only way he knew of how to reach the scrapyard was by an area next to the train station, yet the station itself was elevated—effectively blocking off all direct ways to the scrapyard. From his vantage point, however, Sam was able to see a large building—what may have formerly been a warehouse—in the distance. Beside it, he could see a small road leading from a gate in the fence towards the street, but he couldn’t see where they met. With only the knowledge that a path existed, Sam jogged from the station to where he thought the road could have ended. When he did find the road, he was swiftly stopped by a tall fence gate. He was lucky that it had been unlocked, but he found no such luck with the fence he presently stood before.
Comments (0)
See all