Now We Drive the Night (869 hits)
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Submitted by UberMadness! (View user info) at 2005-07-26 00:50:02 EDT
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Entry 1
"But you promised!""Really? I did?"
"You did! You did! You promised!"
"Ok, ok. Let's see...have I ever told you about...the little boy who asked for too much and got turned into a rat? And how nobody noticed any difference? Hmmm?"
"You always tell that one Pa! I want another story! One with monsters and swords and skulls and - "
"You mean like the monster under your bed, the big scaly nasty monster that comes for little children that don't say their prayers and wash behind their ears?"
"......Pa......I'm too big to be scared by that. I'll be 6 in 11 days! I'm not scared."
"Yes you are."
"Am not!"
"Are too."
"NOT!"
"Ok son, I'll tell you the truth. There is no monster under your bed. It's on its holidays in the fiery pits of Hell, and it's going to get nice and tanned and rested, and then it's going to come back on the night of your birthday and it's going to - "
"PAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!"
"All right son, there really isn't any monster. I was just kidding. Just kidding...now how about that story, eh? How about I tell you the tall tale of Sol, Luna and the interloper."
"Is there fighting?"
"Kind of, kind of. Just listen, boy. Listen close.
Right now, we are all standing - or lying, as the case may be - on the planet Earth. All of humanity on one little rock. So many people in so little space, so crowded, so noisy. And - "
"How many people?"
"About 6 billion or so, son. Give or take a few hundred million. Know what a billion is?"
"More than a hun'red?"
"That's right son, more than six hundreds. And do you know where all those people came from?"
"Ummm....from doctors and nurses?"
"Ha, nice try. That's as good an answer as any, son, because no-one really knows. Some old book written by a dead man says one thing, and another old book written by some men who died long, long ago says another. People just won't agree. Over this, or anything else for that matter. The best I can say is that people appeared on or came from the Earth, and that was a long, long, long time ago."
"How long?"
"Reallllllly long. Even before I was born."
"Before Grandpa John was born?"
"Yes, even before that."
"Wow."
"I know boy, I know. So ask yourself this, where did the Earth come from?"
".......from the sky?"
"Maybe, maybe. That's another thing we really don't know. Who made the Earth and the Sun and the Moon?"
"Paaaaa, this is boring. Tell me a story!"
"Fine, fine. This is my idea of how the Solar System was formed, bit by bit. You know what the Solar System is, boy?"
"Yeeeeeeeeees, Pa. I'm not stupid."
"Are you sure?"
"Tell me the story!"
"Yes, sir! Right away, sir! Here we go!
In the beginning, there was only dust and gas, floating in space. There was no light and no heat. No life at all. Everywhere, every direction was the same, cold and dirty and bleak. And things remained this way for a long time, long enough to exhaust the patience of any number of little boys who should really have been sleeping snug in their beds.
So, after many days, even months, of boring nothing-at-all happening, stuff began to move. Dust began to fall together into little clumps of mutual friendliness. We humans, in our ignorance, call this wonderful attraction "gravity." And it truly is a wondrous thing. This invisible power permeates our world, it's the reason I'm sitting in this chair and you are stuck firmly to your bed. So the dust and dirt was all pulling together and - "
"Can it stop, Pa?"
"Gravity? Stop working? Can you imagine if it did, son? Everything on the Earth would be flung out into space, even cars and cows and mums and dads and grubby little boys who ask too many questions. We'd all rise up to join the stars, seeing them glare unblinking for the first time. And then everything would die, because the air would just fly away too, and much faster than everything else.
But there is no air in our story yet, and no cows and certainly no annoyingly inquisitive children. Shall we continue?"
"Yes!"
"So...the dust was falling together, the whole big cloud collapsing into itself. And at the centre of that cloud things were finally beginning to get hot and heavy. And interesting. You know when you slap your hands together too many times, and they start to burn and turn red and hurt? Well this was like that, but billions of times harder and much more often. You see how useful that word is, billions? You see how small everything seems now - this bed, you, me, your mother, all just specks. Tiny. Well, maybe not so much your mother.
But everything else is really as large as the tiniest insect seems to you. Remember that the next time you crush one under your heel. And don't deny it, I've seen you. We're always watching, your mother and I.
Anyway, everything was rushing into the centre of things - there was no centre before, but now there is. Just another wonder of gravity, that mindless pull giving everything meaning. And when enough stuff rushed into the centre, and things got hot and heavy enough - when enough grubby hands were slapped together - the whole thing lit up like a giant light bulb. And things stop rushing into the centre because it was so hot, and the heat began to push everything away.
Now there was just the big burning ball of gas, and some tiny bits of dust that hadn't gotten to the centre fast enough.
Have you worked out what I'm talking about yet?"
"The Sun. It's the Sun in the sky!"
"Right! So now there was a sun, and a sky for it to live in, and we are going to call it Sol. You have to remember that this happened a very long time ago, that Sol is very old nowadays. Not as old as your mother, but still OLD. And it, Sol, was all alone for all these years. It - she - was a big and lonely beast, and the furious fire burning within her made her a very, very angry star. And that anger festered, because young Sol had nothing to take it out on. Nobody to talk to.
Now, now. No need to for tears, for this story has a happy ending. After all, am I not here to tell it and you lying there to hear it? Always remember that son, if you don't like a story just think about where it must end. It'll help you enjoy it, and to understand. And we always want to understand, don't we?"
"Ok, but what about the interloper? Tell me about the interloper!"
"So Sol was all alone, floating in space like a big angry torch, when something appeared in the distance. Really far away. And it was coming, coming for Sol.
Now, Sol was - is - very powerful. Huge, massive gravity. Just like your mother, I suppose. But until now there had been nothing but tiny wisps of dust for her to play with, and they were no fun. Now she had a great big ball of rock to play with.
The interloper was no weakling himself, but compared to the Sun he was like one of this little ants we talked about before. He fell towards Sol at a colossal speed, and his outer layers became so hot they melted and ran like hot chocolate. Only at the last minute did Sol realise she was destroying this new friend of hers, and using her tremendous forces of gravity she pulled the interloper so hard that it flew round her incredibly fast. Can you imagine all this? It must have been amazing to witness."
"Yes Pa, but I want to know what happened next! Did the interloper get away? Was the Sun all alone again?"
"Think about it son, would we be here if the interloper had escaped?"
"No."
"Then did it?"
"No, Pa."
"Good. Now where were we? Ah, yes....
The big ball of rock flew so fast past young Sol, but before it could get away Sol again exerted her massive powers of attraction, to pull the runaway back into her embrace. But the top of the rock, which was still totally melted, just flew away from the still-hard centre and kind of, well, trailed behind like a big sad glop of melted stuff.
Sol was horrified at what she had done to this new friend of hers, and she pulled the two masses no closer. Both bits of the interloper began to move around each other, and at the same time they began to move around the Sun itself. Though Sol had killed the interloper, part of it was still alive in the molten mass that had flown off. This piece was much smaller than the core, and as it cooled it took on a life of its own. And it said - are you still awake?"
"YES!"
"Are you bored with the story then?"
"NO!"
"Good. I'm sure you've worked it out already, my boy, but the melted part of the interloper is the Moon, but I like to call it Luna. The core of the interloper was lifeless before and after it met Sol, and now Luna was forced to orbit around this barren rock. Terra, we call it nowadays. Earth. Home."
"But what about us, Pa? Where were the doctors and nurses?"
"Well, as you can imagine - or perhaps not - Luna was changed by his fiery creation. He had been made old and tired, and could shine with no light of his own. Sol was horrified by what she had done to this first guest of hers, and her immense, gargantuan powers of gravity could not heal what she had done to Luna.
So she made an offering to Luna. She would lend some of her radiance - her light - to Luna, and they would shine together on the lifeless core, on our Terra...and why do this, you ask? Well, this is how I always imagine young Sol saying it. Remember she had never had anyone to talk to before, and she was a big, angry - and not very clever - sun.
So she shouted out loud across the Cosmos, just like your mother at the supermarket, this:
'RISE, FOR NOW WE DRIVE THE NIGHT INTO DAY! LET THERE BE LIGHT ON EARTH!'
And so the young Sol shone on young Terra, and old Luna helped with what little he could borrow.
Many dawns and dusks passed, and now we sit here together, all thanks to light of Sol and Luna. By that mysterious working none of us can explain, we came from that sunlight, and the Earth lived.
But now they are so, so old. Not as old as your mother, mind, but still old. And Luna still helps out, but now he's like your old Pa, really old with a little battered face. He's not there every night, but he tries. He tries. You understand, don't you? Son?"
"I do Pa. Terra was like a baby, and it grew up without the doctors and nurses, didn't it? Just from the light."
"That's right, son. It grew up big and strong, and even though old Luna isn't always there for it, it's always nearby. Even moons have to go away sometimes, and sometimes so do fathers. But it always comes back son, and so will I. You know that, don't you?"
"I'm tired, Pa."
"Of course you are, boy. Me and my stupid stories, keeping you up. Rest easy, little one. And don't worry...the Sun will be here for you, come the morning."
- VS -
Entry 2
"Why are you here?""I want to go," he said, his hands trembling. "I want to ... I'm ready to die sir, and I know you take care of people like us."
"You have no business being here, son." His head was bald, his face pushing eighty, and yet there was a strength to his voice, crisp as air and harder than the mahogany desk behind which he sat. A suit. He was dressed in a suit.
"Please. Please, I just don't ... I don't know what to do. Anymore. I don't know what to do anymore."
"Then why are you here? Why ask me the questions? I'm not your psychologist, and I won't be. Please go. Now."
Then the guards took him out. By morning next, the old man with the suit, the mahogany desk, the guards, the Oriental rugs and cedar trim, and anything else resembling the operation had vanished.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
He had never been married. He had hardly had relations with females. Blame it on his shyness, blame it on the fact that he smoked too much or that he was portly and slightly balding. Everyone can find a soul mate, can't they? Not this man. At 17 he was stood up for junior prom; at 19 (after failing senior year) he didn't even attend senior prom. He missed his college formals, then dropped out altogether. He tried to work out of college, but he couldn't hold a job. He always took too many sick days.
The sadness became more prominent.
He was always naive. He did not have much street knowledge or common sense, and his erratic behavior and emotional swings made him an easy target. A young girl, Jolie Ayers, befriended the man, first in the park, then again at the corner store not too far from the water treatment plant where he worked at the time. At twenty-one, he was already pushing two hundred eighty pounds, and his hairline had noticeably receded at the temples. He looked old, and he smoked and acted like he was old, always worried about the things that older people worry about, yet he had none of those things to worry about. He just worried. He panicked when she approached him, panicked again when she came on stronger. He made excuses to leave - he had to clip coupons, he had to buy new shoes or a transit pass. He had to get more sleep. He had to get away from her.
She wouldn't budge. He finally let her in his apartment one day, a blazing hot summer day in July. He had no air conditioning , but she didn't mind. She undressed, not to her underwear and beyond but down to a tank top and short denim shorts, her thin body exposed enough to keep him interested. He didn't know how to react, and he panicked again, this time in a fit of rage and tears, but finally she comforted him, and befriended him. They didn't kiss that night, but she finally tucked him into bed nine hours later, his decrepit rotating fan the only source of coolness in the whole apartment.
She came back the next day, and the next. Coffee and bagels, idle chat, talk about the lottery and Hawaii. She was an aspiring actress looking for work. He was a foreman, even though he wasn't and didn't know anything about formanism. He pretended to know schematics and the logistics of staffing a construction site, pulled from the idle knowledge of working around a water treatment plant that sometimes utilized schematics and always utilized logistics, although at a level he would never understand. On the fourth day he kissed her, and they made love under the fan, the stars peeking through the open windows by the bed. He fell asleep with her in his arms, oblivious to the stifling heat as he finally tasted pleasure, comfort, victory.
The next morning he awoke alone. He put on his glasses and realized the apartment had been ransacked. Drawers were open, objects out of place. He checked the safe, but it was bolted shut. He checked his wallet. Empty. No money for coffee, no credit cards or Social Security card or even his license. He called the cops, then dressed quickly and bolted to the street level, searching for signs of Jolie. She had disappeared, and had taken his cash and credit cards. He tried to remember the numbers to the credit card companies, but couldn't. He didn't have a bill laying around. He had no record of the card numbers or any way to get a hold of the banks to put stops on his cards.
He glanced at the headline of the morning paper. Wednesday. He had slept for 37 hours. She must have drugged him.
The cops filled out the police report and took his description of the girl. He missed work on Wednesday, and on Thursday. When he called out on Friday, he was redirected via the phone system to human resources and then fired on the spot, the representative citing job abandonment. He had a thousand dollars in the safe, enough for one month's rent and some essentials. He was devastated.
The call came on Saturday. It was a man he had never spoken to.
"Charles, this is Andrew Fuego of Moorestown Bank and Loan."
"Sorry, but I don't know of your establishment."
"Incorrect, Charles. You borrowed three thousand dollars from us on Monday afternoon. It was supposed to have been paid by yesterday. We're calling to collect the remainder of the debt."
"Remainder? What debt? Jesus ... that's impossible! Listen, my wallet, Social Security card, and license were stolen on Monday. I even filed a police report. The person who borrowed ... STOLE the money from you is not me."
"Charles, or can I call you Charlie? Charlie, let me ask you a question. If your Social Security card, wallet, and state ID were stolen, wouldn't you have immediately notified the credit bureaus that something had happened? Wouldn't you have set up fraud alerts?"
"I didn't know to do that."
"I see. Well, how about your credit cards, Charlie? Wouldn't you have notified - "
"I didn't have a fucking BILL or ... whatever, I didn't have the numbers to the credit card companies. I couldn't - "
"Charlie, you know, I like your sincerity and honesty here, bud, but it's holding water as well as one-ply, get my drift? See, because on WEDNESDAY you came in and PAID an installment of the loan. With your credit card. Now explain that."
"It wasn't ME! God damn it - "
"Charlie, don't fuck with me. I got a photocopy of your ID right here on my desk. I have the picture taken by our security cameras right here on my laptop monitor. It's you, buddy. Everything matches up. Everything but your balance. Now, I'd take the remainder of my loan out of your credit line here, but your credit line's shit, and right now you're overdrawn. Not good times for you, huh, Charlie."
"Fuck ... fuck YOU. What kind of SHIT bank asks for their money back in under a week? Huh?"
"Charlie, Charlie, Charlie. See, our bank helps citizens in good standing get the cash they deserve when they need it in a pinch. Your story seemed plausible to us, as your record. Little business investment in ... let's see, lawncare products?"
"I live the fucking CITY! What lawns - "
"Charlie, listen to me. This is your first and last warning, then it goes to collections, and you don't want that. Pay, Charlie. Don't become a bad citizen and make banks like us look bad. You're the ones that fuck it up for all of us. Get down here now and resolve this." And then he hung up.
A month later a collections notice was sent to Charlie. He disregarded it.
Three months later a correspondence letter from the collections lawfirm was sent to Charlie's former address. He never got it. He had been evicted, and neglected to forward his mail to the boarding house.
Four months later, the FBI showed up at the boarding house and questioned Charlie about numerous bounced checks that had been drafted in his name. His identification, his signature, even his photo, were pristine. Again, the feds mentioned surveillance footage of him passing some of the checks for cash. They named places he had never been, people he had never seen or talked to.
A week after the Feds visited, a Friday, he opened his paycheck and found, to his utter dismay, that the Moorestown Bank and Loan had successfully set up wage garnishes to pay off the loan he never received. Twenty-five percent of his wages. He was never notified of the judgment or the execution of the judgment by the sheriff, but then again, he never knew he had to be notified.
Because of the wage garnish, Charlie didn't make his boarding room rent on Monday and was thrown out in the street. The boarding house had no tolerance for deadbeats.
While living in a halfway house only a few hundred feet from the boarding house, starving from lack of food and bitterly cold from the onslaught of winter, five federal agents in heavy wool coats came to arrest Charlie and charged him with check fraud and tax evasion.
Charlie was given a public defender who was incompetent. He pleaded not guilty to the charges. He was astonished by the swiftness of the trial, the guilty verdict, and the sentencing. Four years in a non-violent minimum security federal prison. He entered jail owning only the clothes on his back and a Timex pocket watch.
A year into prison Charlie had lost seventy pounds. On his second New Year's Eve in the camp, he was beaten mercilessly by a fellow inmate with a metal tray. The fight had started when the inmate stole Charlie's fruit cup. Charlie lost most of the vision in his right eye and all feeling in his right forearm and hand.
Unable to work out, crippled to the point where he couldn't read or wipe his ass or eat without enduring agonizing pain in his face and jaw, Charlie rotted away in federal prison. He was released almost four years after he entered. He walked out of federal prison with the same clothes he had on when he walked in. The Timex had not stopped ticking.
That's the short version.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Charlie stumbled upon the old man by accident, four months after his release. He was depressed, homeless and looking desperately for work. He carried a gun in his old dirty pants, an illegal 22 Army issue mock Luger that was always loaded. He had tried, with much success, to completely avoid his parole officer and the terms of his release. He hardly existed, and it was quite difficult to find a man on the run who hardly existed.
The ad in the paper was for a part-time labor intensive position ripping apart old warehouses. Charlie knew he couldn't rip apart an old warehouse with one functional hand, but he had to try for something. He found the address, a shell of a building in a semi-nice part of town. He climbed the steps to the second level, but only found empty floors, ripped down cable runs, gypsum powder. He climbed again, to the third level, but again there was nothing, only a cool breeze that penetrated Charlie's ragged clothing.
In frustration, he put the gun in his mouth, screamed out an inhuman scream, and passed out.
When he awoke, some time later, he heard noises, bustling noises, like the gears of the huge water treatment machines he once serviced. He turned, and could not believe his one good eye. In front of him, at the back support wall, there was an elevator, a pristine one, stainless steel, with a state-of-the-art digital display. How could he have missed it? Was his remaining vision that bad now? Were the narcotics really rotting his brains? He squinted to check the large green digital display. It read "4". Charlie was reasonably sure he was on the third floor.
He pressed the button by the shaft with the UP arrow. It lit up. Charlie could hear the elevator humming in its shaft. When it arrived, it opened with scarcely a noise. Faint symphonic music emanated from the car.
Charlie wanted to scream, but he couldn't. He waited for the elevator to close, for the car to go back to "4" where it came from. His eyes darted around the room, searching for the stairwell. It had somehow disappeared. He pressed the DOWN arrow to the right of the shaft, and that lit up too, but the car remained in place, waiting for Charlie. He moved to the left, out of the view of the car, pressing himself against the old bricks. Maybe the car had an electric eye and was waiting for him to enter. If it didn't see him, it would move along.
The car remained in place.
Charlie took the Luger off its rust-laden safety and entered the car.
The inside of the car did not look unusual. Overhead lighting, a safety phone, a red emergency STOP button. Two floor buttons, 1 and 4. No DOOR OPEN or DOOR CLOSE.
He placed the gun on the ground and pressed both 1 and 4 with his good hand. They lit up. The car doors shut. He was going up.
He picked the gun back up off the carpeted floor, chambered the first bullet and waited.
When the car doors opened again, he was greeted by two monstrous guards who in one fell swoop took his gun and escorted him directly to the old man.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Charlie had heard of the old man in the halfway house. His bunkmate, Rufus, was out after serving nine years for assault with a deadly weapon.
"So you want to die, huh?" It came out "dah".
"Yes, Rufus. I can't take this anymore. I can't take this life."
"Well, heah," he said, and he had handed him the Luger. "See, dere's two ways to die. One's with that gun. But if you looks hard enough, youse a find yourself in the presence of a man that can take care of that for you, da easy way."
"Kevorkian?" Charlie had said. He had heard about Dr. Kevorkian. Maybe he would be sympathetic to a crippled, pitiful man like himself.
"Even bettuh. This man, youse don't need to look for im. He find you, you want to dah bad enough. He find you, and you tell him ya reasons fa dahing, then he show you the laght."
Charlie had dreamed of the day when he would find the man. But he had never, ever dreamed he would find him and be rejected.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
It took him a year to find the man again, the one that had seemingly vanished a day after Charlie had taken the elevator car back down to "1" and back onto the streets of Chicago. A year of walking, living on the street, shooting every drug known to man in his body. Charlie tried to end it, but couldn't. He didn't want to bite the bullet. He wanted to find the man again, to ask him why he had not been graced with the bliss of death that Rufus had promised.
He had walked some one hundred miles to Milwaukee and was squatting at a crackhouse alone, when it happened again. He awoke to the familiar sounds of ringing in his ears, of rats scurrying, drowning in a pit of dopesickness. He rolled over old cardboard and newspaper, and there it was. In the middle of the night, it was hard to see, but it was evident nonetheless, even for a half-blind man. An elevator shaft placed at the back of the crackhouse, open. The same symphonic tune escaped the car. A green digital display read "1". To the right of the shaft, an UP arrow, already illuminated.
He crawled to the car and laid on the floor. Inside, the same familiar overhead light, the bright red emergency STOP button. Two buttons, for floors 1 and 4. No DOOR OPEN button. No DOOR CLOSE.
The doors closed around him.
Charlie leapt to his feet and started for the STOP button, but instead picked up the emergency phone. A female voice announced "We're sorry, but all circuits are busy now. Please check the number - " He slammed down the receiver and picked it up again. The same voice, but this time she was sorry that the call could not be completed as dialed.
The doors opened. The same monstrous guards dragged him out of the car and swept him to the back of the room. The old man sat, behind what looked like the same daunting desk.
"Why are you here?" he announced.
"I don't know, and most likely you're a dope dream," he said from a sitting position on the Oriental rug.
"Never mind. I know why you are here. But I ask: Do you?"
Charlie did not answer. His dopesickness kept him on the rug.
"Your friend Rufus is a wise man. He knew of me. Did he tell you I would show you the light? Did he tell you I would make sense of it all?"
The words barely made it out of Charlie. "He said you would help me die."
"Oh did he? Are you sure that's what he said. Well, we'll see about that. For now, please pay attention to the screen on your right, Charlie." To his right, Charlie saw the cedar trim panels separate. In their place a flat-panel display appeared, the size of the entire wall.
An image appeared, that of a woman, a heavy woman, dragging along a toddler as she shopped for groceries.
"This, Charlie, is Jolie as she exists right now. The boy is your son."
Charlie stared at the screen with a single wide eye as the image changed again. A man appeared, in a suit, sitting in a courtroom. The man on the screen was smiling and looked confident.
"This, Charlie, is Rakim Abdul-Sharif. He is a genius by this world's standards. He was the one that stole your identity some time ago. Do you remember him? Probably not, huh? You've never met him in your life, have you, Charlie?"
"Bastard," Charlie whispered, laying on the floor. His body began to shake from shock. Drool foamed at the corner of his mouth. "Why?"
"All is not as it may seem, life is little but a dream, Charlie. Jolie never stole your money. Rakim did. He prays on people like you. He's going to be acquitted in court of similar crimes. That's why he's smiling." The old man began to laugh, and so did the guards. "They never caught him for what he did to you, you know."
Charlie shook on the floor. "What is all this?"
"Never you mind, Charlie. You'll find out soon enough. Ah, here it is."
The image changed. This time, it was Charlie kneeling on a warehouse floor, a steel Luger in his mouth. "Do you remember this day, Charlie?"
Charlie could not respond.
"Now watch," the old man said, and the Charlie on the wall-sized display shot himself in the head. His face exploded across the room, and his body dropped lifelessly to the floor.
Charlie was startled, then he started to moan. His dopesickness disappared.
"That was you, Charlie, in Chicago, a little over one year ago. See? See now? Who said you needed my help?"
"Huh ... "
"Do you see now Charlie?" the old man said, smiling. "As Rufus would say, 'Have ya seen da laaaaght yet?'"
"It can't be ... "
"All is not as it may seem, Charlie. I was hoping you wouldn't find me, Charlie, but you did. Now that you've found me again, you're going to stay here."
"No," Charlie tried, but he was almost too weak to talk. "Who are you? Old man, who are you?"
"I am the be-all and end-all for folk like you, Charlie. There's very few ways to find me, and once you've taken the lift to my office enough times, there'll be no DOWN button for you to press again."
Charlie wheeled around to the shaft. The familiar stainless steel doors stared back. To the right, where a button should have existed, there was only the cedar trim. The digital display that may have at one time read "4" was now nowhere to be found.
Charlie crawled to the doors and attempted to pry them open with his one good hand. He listened for the symphony, but found only the guards' laughter.
"You bastard. You. YOU!" Charlie ran towards the man in a frenzy, with every intent to topple his old bald head off his suit. But, as he ran, the man seemed to move away ever so slowly, the room inching bigger and bigger with his effort. He stopped and glanced back. The stainless steel doors were as far away as he had left them before. The guards remained where they were. The giant wall-sized display had gone dark.
"Oh my God. Who are you? WHAT are you?"
"Welcome to my office, the only one in your life where you won't get kicked out. You won't because you can't. You've purchased your ticket to Limbo, and in Limbo, Charlie, everything stays put. Me, you, the guards, the elevator, even the view. Get used to it, son. Things don't change much up here."
"NO!" Charlie said, and ran towards the man again, but he never got closer. It was like the Oriental rug he stood on was a treadmill, an eternal treadmill, and no matter what direction he took, the treadmill always ended up in the same place.
It was then that Charlie let out a scream. But, of course, no one ever heard him.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
"... but ... of course ... no one, ever ... heard him." He let the words ring out among the small room. They all stared at him intently as he finished the story, allowing sufficient silence time for his final words to sink in.
"Limbo is real, boys and girls. Charlie is proof of this awful, dreadful place. There is no mercy in Limbo, no ups, no downs, no repentance. You will WANT to burn in the fires of Hell if you dare enter this place. But there will be no exit. For Charlie, the room is all there is, for now and forever."
"The devil is everywhere. He may be wearing a suit, he may be living in a halfway house or shooting drugs. He may be influencing you. Do NOT let him influence you. Ask for God's help when you are down. Pain is Satan's fire used against you. Rejoice that you are at the right hand of the Lord. Say your prayers, pray hard to Jesus for forgiveness of sins. Suicide is not an option in the eyes of the Lord. That is all, boys and girls. You may go now." And they did.
Later, while the parents picked their kids up from their lesson, a young Sister approached the reverend and thanked him for his time.
"What can we offer you in return for this visit?" she asked. "We have a special fund set up - "
"No money, ma'am. Just a bite to eat, something sugary, and some coffee for the ride will do." He smiled.
"Margaret, please pour the reverend some coffee and find him some fresh danish," she ordered. "Where to now, Reverend?"
"Now, Sister, we drive the night. First to Oklahoma to help with the prayer vigil of the missing teen, then onto Nevada for some more lessons. I hope to arrive in the panhandle by two morning's daybreak at the latest to start with the vigil preparation."
"Gosh," she blushed, "when do you sleep?"
"Sleep is for the weak, they say, but I do have a driver, and we'll take turns getting our beauty rest. May God be with you Sister. Now if I could get my goodies, I'll be on my way."
The black Towncar pulled up just as the reverend finished stirring in his sugar, the headlights illuminating his silk suit pants. He kissed the Sister on the hand and entered the rear end of the car.
"Good evening, Charles," laughed the driver. He was an utterly old man, at least eighty years old. His bald head complimented his dark navy suit.
"Heh, good evening kind sir."
"Who was I tonight, Charles? Jesus perhaps."
The reverend sighed. "No, unfortunately, you were an agent of Satan again, this time living in Limbo. But you did have one heck of a nice mahogany desk."
"Oh, pity. I'd trade that desk anytime for a desk in heaven. Maybe in Nevada at the sermon you could give me a beard and a golden staff for once."
The reverend sighed and sipped his coffee. He held it with his good hand. "Maybe, maybe. Any word on Rufus?"
"Dead as a doornail, reverend. Refused last rights, as expected."
"The world will never learn, will they? A life of crime doesn't pay." He closed his eyes and said a prayer for Rufus. "Ah, but service. Service clears the mind and keeps us on the right side of the fence."
"Service," the old man affirmed, crisply. "Get some sleep, reverend. It's a long way to Oklahoma. But first, try to finish your coffee. I'll wake you when the sun comes up so we can switch places."
He didn't answer. His mind was in other places, namely the warehouse. He had little memory of the day, other than the basics - the cold Chicago wind ripping through his tattered clothes, the scream ... and the digital display on the elevator as they carried him out of the building. "1", it read, in green, and somehow he knew he was on his way to being saved. It would only be a matter of time before he had found the bald man that would show him the laght, as old Rufus had once claimed.
He placed the coffee in the Towncar's cup holder, and with the same hand pulled the Timex out of his pocket. Eleven o'clock at night. The Timex found its way back into his pocket before he drifted off, his last thought being that, in all those years, he had never had to replace that darn thing's battery.
Entry 1:
antluvdog
Berty
bob
Coyote
DanielH
darko
Davros
DonkeyOnTheEdge
ess-arr
Jack_McCallum
jgreening
JonnyX
Kracka
loki
munkeypants
Natsukau
polyamorousaj
Snark
stevie_says
Stin
The_Yellow_Dart
21 eligible votes (21 total) *
Entry 2:
absolutes
Adamdidit2u
b_badger
badassmofo
Bellebrown
Bigmike
BillsSBChamps
blank_mind
BLITZKREIG_BOB
BobLobla
BuckeyesTHEGAME
c1ndy
CaptainThorns
comicbookguy
congo
doctorj24
dodahdave
DonovanMD
FunnyAsCancer
intellismartness
jack11058
JMG114
joedaddy
Magicaddict
Merlina
Method
rad1101
satchel
sebcharrot
Slovin
spedmonkey
thecaes
ThineJericho
thorpe
TimeCop
Tom
Viciousriffs
William_Q_Percy
youarsoghey
zakalwe
39 eligible votes (40 total) *
* Eligible votes are those made by users who had either (A) posted 3+ messages OR (B) written 100+ [lowered from 750+] reviews as of the beginning of the UberMadness! competition.
User Reviews
Submitted by intellismartness (user info) at 2005-07-28 10:00:14 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
Number 1 didn't catch my interest, but number 2 was something else.
Submitted by CaptainThorns (user info) at 2005-07-28 09:41:13 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
No Comment
Submitted by thorpe (user info) at 2005-07-28 09:24:54 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
No Comment
Submitted by dodahdave (user info) at 2005-07-28 01:37:24 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
Interesting.
Submitted by Viciousriffs (user info) at 2005-07-28 01:13:29 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
No Comment
Submitted by The_Yellow_Dart (user info) at 2005-07-27 23:47:41 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
No Comment
Submitted by thecaes (user info) at 2005-07-27 21:21:59 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
I don't know what just happened here.
I found the kid's enthusiasm to be pretty unbelievable, but the dad was pretty funny.
Number 2 was interesting.
Submitted by sebcharrot (user info) at 2005-07-27 19:18:00 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
No Comment
Submitted by munkeypants (user info) at 2005-07-27 13:34:19 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Entry #1 was magnificent. I love how it all ties at the end.
I can't give you enough compliments.
Submitted by William_Q_Percy (user info) at 2005-07-27 13:29:27 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
This was a really awesome match-up.
Good work, both of you, I am extremely impressed.
Submitted by ess-arr (user info) at 2005-07-27 12:10:00 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
No Comment
Submitted by Snark (user info) at 2005-07-26 22:10:28 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
Two Awesome stories!
I'm voting for one because I love the dialogue between father and son.
Submitted by satchel (user info) at 2005-07-26 17:02:50 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
No Comment
Submitted by loki (user info) at 2005-07-26 15:39:10 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
No Comment
Submitted by Jack_McCallum (user info) at 2005-07-26 15:33:10 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
Holy shat, entry #2 is winning?
!?!??!?!?!?!??!?!?!?!?!?!?!??!
Submitted by Jack_McCallum (user info) at 2005-07-26 15:31:51 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
#1. Earthy, homespun fable, with a snarky dad. Man, I felt eight years old. Very good.
#2. The literary equivalent of the American dad/husband who steps out for a pack of smokes and is last reported being seen in Beijing or Wellington twenty years later.
Some nice touches, #2, but next time tighten things up.
Submitted by BobLobla (user info) at 2005-07-26 14:51:38 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
No Comment
Submitted by comicbookguy (user info) at 2005-07-26 14:11:38 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
two best stories so far. BY FAR.
Submitted by Berty (user info) at 2005-07-26 13:17:24 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
That was the hardest one yet (as the actress said to the preist). I'm going to have to go with numero 1.
Submitted by jack11058 (user info) at 2005-07-26 13:13:40 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
both were well written, though neither did a particularly strong job incorporating the title. i enjoyed 2 more, though i felt it went on a little long.
Submitted by BLITZKREIG_BOB (user info) at 2005-07-26 12:38:16 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
#1 was cute in a Princess Bride kind of way.
#2 blew me away.
Submitted by zakalwe (user info) at 2005-07-26 12:33:42 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
No Comment
Submitted by Adamdidit2u (user info) at 2005-07-26 12:08:29 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
No Comment
Submitted by doctorj24 (user info) at 2005-07-26 11:55:22 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
What a contrast.
Anything could have beat entry one. I was convinced that whatever #2 was, it was better.
Nothing could have beat entry two. Good thing I read it. Quite possibly the best entry this round.
Submitted by BillsSBChamps (user info) at 2005-07-26 11:06:23 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
No Comment
Submitted by congo (user info) at 2005-07-26 11:02:43 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
Confused, but good.
Submitted by b_badger (user info) at 2005-07-26 09:47:42 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
#2 all the way, a little confusing but one hell of a good read
Submitted by DonkeyOnTheEdge (user info) at 2005-07-26 09:31:02 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
What can I say, number two just didn't do it for me. Neither of them really did, but really, not like I can do any better.
Submitted by blank_mind (user info) at 2005-07-26 08:57:52 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
Meh..
Submitted by jgreening (user info) at 2005-07-26 08:55:32 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
I just REALLY liked #1.
#2 was good, but the ending kind of tanked, a SMALL bit.
But I really liked boht, overall...
Submitted by Magicaddict (user info) at 2005-07-26 08:34:31 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
No Comment
Submitted by BuckeyesTHEGAME (user info) at 2005-07-26 08:22:37 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
No Comment
Submitted by Natsukau (user info) at 2005-07-26 07:30:56 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
No Comment
Submitted by badassmofo (user info) at 2005-07-26 07:01:34 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
No Comment
Submitted by Method (user info) at 2005-07-26 06:58:13 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
No Comment
Submitted by Kracka (user info) at 2005-07-26 05:54:21 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
No Comment
Submitted by Bellebrown (user info) at 2005-07-26 05:17:25 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
No Comment
Submitted by c1ndy (user info) at 2005-07-26 04:55:24 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
No Comment
Submitted by Coyote (user info) at 2005-07-26 04:36:22 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
No Comment
Submitted by Davros (user info) at 2005-07-26 04:29:30 EDT (#)
Ranking: 1
This was a genuine coin toss for me.
Both had some good and bad points, but both were enjoyable.
-Dave
Submitted by Merlina (user info) at 2005-07-26 03:28:55 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
No Comment
Submitted by DanielH (user info) at 2005-07-26 02:41:40 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Beauty.
Submitted by TimeCop (user info) at 2005-07-26 02:30:33 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
Tough call.
Submitted by darko (user info) at 2005-07-26 02:15:37 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Me an rad are in cahoots to always vote for different entries than eachother. This way neither of us has any real effect on this competition. We're like the 2 independent voters in the senate. One votes republican, one votes democrat, and at the end of the day we can sleep at night knowing niether of us can be blamed for the outcome.
Submitted by darko (user info) at 2005-07-26 02:12:43 EDT (#)
Ranking: 1
I liked it.
Submitted by rad1101 (user info) at 2005-07-26 02:10:56 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
i VOTED RANDOMLY BECAUSE THIS IS ALL SHIT.
Submitted by rad1101 (user info) at 2005-07-26 02:10:24 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
No Comment
Submitted by Tom (user info) at 2005-07-26 02:09:36 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
It took my poor little ADD brain forever to get through it and I still couldn't decide which one was better. Fuck long ubermadness entries.
Submitted by joedaddy (user info) at 2005-07-26 02:05:35 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
So......the kid understood the word; interloper, from the start.
Submitted by Stin (user info) at 2005-07-26 02:03:48 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
I really liked the twist in number two, I just prefered number one. Sorry Author 2.
Submitted by Bigmike (user info) at 2005-07-26 02:03:43 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
I changed my mind three times before going with two. I don't know, it just seems I've heard that story told in number one before. I am not saying it was plagiarized. Not at all. It just seemed familiar to me.
Two was fresh and I enjoyed it very much.
My apologies one, you tols a great story.
Submitted by Slovin (user info) at 2005-07-26 01:55:17 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
No Comment
Submitted by ThineJericho (user info) at 2005-07-26 01:43:35 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
No Comment
Submitted by DonovanMD (user info) at 2005-07-26 01:31:52 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
No Comment
Submitted by absolutes (user info) at 2005-07-26 01:25:33 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
No Comment
Submitted by JonnyX (user info) at 2005-07-26 01:22:18 EDT (#)
Ranking: -2
well, apparently I can't see the comments without voting, so i'll give it to #1, who only told one crappy story, as opposed to #2, who told THREE stories.
Submitted by JMG114 (user info) at 2005-07-26 01:20:02 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
No comment.
Submitted by JonnyX (user info) at 2005-07-26 01:16:56 EDT (#)
Ranking: -2
Amazing - both of these entries are such utter CRAP that I can honestly say, I can't vote for either one. Seriously.
#1 had the ridiculous Gaian/secular creation myth, and dude, 5-year-olds don't talk that way - if you had one, you'd know.
As for you, #2 - let JonnyX give you a tip - less is more.
You had 3 separate stories in there, any one would have been fine, BUT NOOOO, you had to ram all 3 down our throats.
Anybody can type adjectives and adverbs, son, the trick is to EDIT them in a cohesive fashion.
Plus both of you would consistently shove in the wrong homonym, all over the damn place.
Remember, pick a main theme, then PLOT - CHARACTER (PROTAGONIST/ANTAGONIST)- RESOLUTION.
YEESH.
Submitted by polyamorousaj (user info) at 2005-07-26 01:14:48 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
No Comment
Submitted by spedmonkey (user info) at 2005-07-26 01:07:30 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
1 was promising, but the ending just plain sucked. 2 was kind of cool, but borrowed a bit from a bunch of other stuff.
Submitted by youarsoghey (user info) at 2005-07-26 01:05:26 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
No Comment
Submitted by antluvdog (user info) at 2005-07-26 00:59:17 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
No Comment
Submitted by antluvdog (user info) at 2005-07-26 00:59:04 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
Fuck, I ain't reading all that.
Submitted by FunnyAsCancer (user info) at 2005-07-26 00:59:00 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Oh c'mon, how could I not?
Submitted by stevie_says (user info) at 2005-07-26 00:56:08 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
No Comment
Submitted by bob (user info) at 2005-07-26 00:50:49 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
No Comment