Fujiology Archive/fujiology_archive_v1_0.iso/!MAGS/MEGA_4/MEGAFOUR.ZIP/MEGAFOUR.MSA/DOCS/07.DOC

Text File | 1985-11-20 | 13KB | 203 lines

ORM STORY: REALITY?
===================

    The darkness crept towards him from the corner of his eyes, soon it
would engulf him whole, take his soul into the reaches of the un-reachable,
steal his mind from his body. It would appear to him as though he were
rushing down a tunnel towards a bright white light, but the light never
seemed to get any closer, and then just as he seemed to make some progress,
the light turned from white to red and it would rush towards him, startling
him into submission to whatever the light could be. Then he would blink,
and the darkness would disappear without a trace, leaving things certain
again, solid and real.
    The 'attacks' were getting worse. Before he would be lucky if this
happened to him once a year, but now they happening with alarming
frequency. Four or five a day were becoming commonplace. He was getting
very worried. Before he could dismiss the 'attacks' as tiredness, but to be
tired for virtually every waking hour of the day? He used to get them in
his sleep, but to daydream to such an extent?
    Tomas Hetfield stood back from his latest sculpture and smiled. It
wasn't a smile of pleasure or enjoyment, it was more likened towards a
grimace. Tomas never smiled in public, it was a private enjoyment, to
reveal his teeth to other people seemed insane to him. Why? Was there some
written law that states that people must show each other their teeth? Tomas
stood and looked and his creation. As always it was good, but it was still
missing something, after a while something fell into place and he set to
work. Sometimes when he worked it was as if his mind had been taken over by
someone else and he was just an empty vessel willed into action by
something larger than comprehension itself. Today was one of those times.
His mind went blank, his pulse raced and his body moved on a will of its
own.
    The world became solid again and Markus stood up from his slouched
position and ran towards his office door. It was locked. He didn't lock it.
Just what the hell was going on here? Office doors don't lock themselves!
Who would want to lock him in his office? Why would they?  He fumbled for
the office keys in his trouser pocket. Where were his keys? Where were his
godamned keys?? He tried his other pocket. Still no luck. Then he noticed
that his keys were in the door. He must have locked the door when he first
came into the office. He fumbled with the keys and after a while managed to
unlock the door. He burst through the partially opened door and ran towards
the toilets. He was going to be sick, he was going to be violently sick. He
could feel his stomach muscles clench together, he could feel his throat
start to work the contents of his stomach upwards towards his gradually
opening mouth, and in a vain attempt to stop it he slapped a hand over it.
It was no good. He could feel the first wave of nausea hit him as he
slammed into the toilet door. Where was the bowl? He looked down, saw the
bowl, crouched down over it and started to splutter vomit through the small
gaps in between his slightly open fingers. He moved his hand away and it
was as if the flood gates had been opened.
    When he was sure that he would be ill no more, he slowly stood up
and walked away from the bowl towards the sink. He washed his hands and wet
his face. The cool, clean water feeling amazing after the dark and corrupt
nature of his earlier attack. He splashed in the water, feeling like a
child must feel when it first see's the ocean, astounded by its vastness,
all the rivers of the world combining to form a lake of clean, crystalline
water.
There was a knock at the door.
'Markus?' there was a slight pause ',Markus? You OK in there?'
Markus snapped his head up from the sink, interrupted from something
magical and private,
'Yeah, I'm OK. Just some dodgy food getting back at me.'
The door opened slowly.
'You sure? You don't sound too good.'
It was Maxine, Markus' secretary and lover for the past three months.
'Yeah, I'm OK Max, don't worry about me.'
'But I do, you know I do.'
'A big softy at heart, eh Max?'
'Aww, shut up. You'll get me excited with all your smooth talk.'
Maxine laughed. It was a laugh that could cheer up any person. Whatever
their personal situation. That was one of the reason Markus had ended up
asking Maxine for that date. It was her laugh, it was the laugh that drove
him wild on the night when the two were alone in his apartment.
'You sure you're ok then?'
'Yeah, I'm fine, come on, lets get back to work.'
Maxine made a face at Markus and wandered off down the corridor, leaving
him alone again in the toilet. He paused for a while and left the room,
following Maxine down the corridor towards his office.
    The sculpture was finished. Yes, it was definitely finished,
everything was in place, nothing was missing and the customer who he would
eventually sell it to would be addicted to the sculpture in a way that they
would not understand. It wasn't anything to do with the fact that it was
beautiful, even though it was, but it was something of a more primeval
attraction, the shape stirring memories that had been locked away for
eternities in the human brain. Reverting the mind back into its ape like
existence every time the person saw the sculpture, it gave pleasure to the
mind as it slowly remembered more and more of its pre-intelligent days. The
customer wouldn't realise this, but would feel a great desire to have, hold
and keep the sculpture for itself. Tomas had learnt this over a period of
time and though he didn't fully understand why, he had realised that this
could be very profitable, extremely profitable to be more precise. As a
consequence of this, Tomas had amassed a great deal of wealth, but didn't
have the time to investigate this idea.
    There was a small tinkle of glass behind him and he turned slowly,
fully expecting a brick on the floor surrounded with shards of glass from
the broken window. Instead there was a small pool of water in the middle of
his kitchen floor and as he watched a small minuscule droplet of water
formed in mid air and landed in the pool, causing minute ripples to emanate
from the centre towards the outside where the promptly stopped. Tomas
blinked and the pool of water disappeared. It was an illusion, a warning
bell, he had been doing too much work, it had payed its toll on him, or so
he thought. But what if he had just seen wasn't an illusion? Could it be
true? Things like that were not an everyday occurrence, maybe they were but
people are too scared to tell others what they had seen for fear of being
laughed at, being made a freak of society. That was it, it wasn't an
illusion at all, it had happened before his very eyes. But what if his mind
had been playing tricks on him? What if it wasn't there at all?  Tomas just
stood there and rubbed his eyes for a short while.
    Markus sat up straight, put on his glasses and relaxed for a while,
it was good to be out of his little dream world and back in reality for
once, he was spending far too much time dreaming. The attacks were
gradually getting less, only 3 attacks a day now, it must mean he was
getting better at controlling his subconscious or whatever it was that
caused them. As usual, Maxine was by his side, comforting and helpful, and
she was always laughing at something or another, Maxine, Maxine, Ah, my
dear Maxine. Markus stood up and walked away from his desk and opened his
office door, fully expecting the corridor he walked down everyday to be
there. It wasn't, he was greeted into what looked like the bowels of hell,
the sky was a deep mottled red, the colour of blood left to dry in the open
air. As far as the eye could see it was just sand, nothing but sand, it
looked like a surreal painting gone wrong, except that it wasn't, it was
real. But how real? Markus stooped down and grabbed a handful of sand,
letting it trickle through his fingers.
    He awoke in his office with Maxine looking at him closely, as if
examining him for broken bones,
'You sure you're ok? You've done this twice now.'
'What?'
'You were screaming as if the devil had hold of you by the balls.'
'I was?'
'Yeah, people in accounts heard you.'
'Oh no, not accounts.'
'Stop trying to make a joke out of it, you need help.'
'Maxine, I..'
'Don't Maxine me, you need help, and I'm going to see you get it.'
'Maxine.'
'Forget it, you're going to see someone.', and with that she stood up from
her crouched position and walked towards the office door.
'Maxine.'
'What!?'
'Thanks..'
    Markus looked at his feet, then he noticed small amounts of sand
stuck to his shoes. Where the hell was that place? Was it real? Did places
like that really exist? He took off his glasses and rested his eyes, things
were getting too deep to comprehend, he needed a break.
    Tomas sat down in his only chair and laughed insanely, the water
was gone, but now there was sand falling from his lampshade. He wasn't
drunk, so what could it be? Was his flat haunted? Or was there an easier
explanation? He took off his body suit and immediately the sand stopped
falling.
'Thank you, oh dear lord, thank you.'

    In the shadows, somebody moved away from a computer terminal, the
glow of the V.D.U. just highlighting his features in a way that made the
person look evil incarnate.
'Got em.', the figure muttered to itself, it seemed pleased with something.
'That'll serve the bastards right.'

    Tomas looked towards his door. Where did she appear from? Did he
let her in? If he did he couldn't remember doing so. Why was she wearing
only a dressing gown? The woman disappeared and reappeared next to him. She
opened her arms, beckoning Tomas into them. He could feel himself move
towards her. Stop it! Who was she? She turned round and started walking
towards the bedroom, she paused in the bedroom doorway and dropped the gown
to her waist. Tomas was horrified to see that she had a huge burn on her
back. He blinked and the burn had changed shape. He blinked again. The burn
had again changed shape, he blinked again and again, rapidly, as if trying
to make a small movie. The burn kept changing shape, into nothing
definable, but something about the shape seemed to be inviting him into its
lair. Tomas ran towards her, arms outstretched. The woman disappeared, only
to be replaced by the bedroom door. Tomas screamed and slammed into the
door. The pain was intense, surely that must have broken a bone or two.
    The figure in the shadows seemed to be very pleased, it chuckled to
itself in a manner that, if done in public, people would fall over
themselves to avoid.
    Markus took off his glasses and reentered reality, another attack,
but this time it wasn't as bad as the others, maybe he was finally getting
over it. It? As if these attacks were a disease. He had been fooling
himself, the attack was the worst yet, but at least he didn't scream.
Maxine had booked him to see the company psychiatrist later on in the day,
and he fully expected to go.
    Tomas was in pain, he was writing around on the floor, regardless
of any broken bones or punctured lungs, he must get to his phone, he must.
It was a matter of life or death, his life, his death. If he didn't reach
the phone he would die, if he did reach the phone he would live. It was
simple. After what seemed like years, he reached the phone, dialled a
number with his nose and shouted down the phone. Immediately the pain
disappeared and he was able to stand up without nursing his arms.
    Markus picked up the phone, let the headpiece rest on his shoulder
as he dialled a number, he waiting whilst the number connected,
'Markus Constain, User 19325df. Disconnect.'
He waited whilst his commands were recognised,
'Time credited, account details updated, user disconnected. Call again
soon.', a voice at the other end of the phone replied.
    Markus hung up the phone and looked around him, he was back home,
where he had always been. He was hooked. He must have spent at least 12
hours in VirtualWorld just then. Soon he would have no money left at all.
But he didn't care, it was a pure addiction, better than any drug companies
could manufacture, better than anything the nature could come up with. This
was the addiction of today.
    The figure in the shadows leaned back on its chair.
'Time credited, account details updated, user disconnected. Call again
soon.'

(C) Ormolu of Digi Tallis 1993