"Did something cut through the rock and this metal plate at the same time? What could do that and be so clean all the way through?" I think, as I stare at the surface of the rock I was previously sat on. My attention turns back to the metal plate, before I quickly try to recenter my focus. "Hold on, this is all crazy, and more confirmation of the military experiment theory, but I was looking for something to help catch food. I only have so much daylight." I look at the curve in the metal plate, and the gash that stretches almost fully across it's length. "That's... not big enough for any animal to get out, I don't think. Definitely too small for the jackreature. And the curve... it might be deep enough to hold an animal within it." I theorize, flipping the metal plate over. There's definitely a bend to it, and from a first look over, it does seem like it would be able to hold a rabbit, or possibly a really small fox or something. Ironically, anything that could fit comfortably inside it also likely would be able to sneak out the gash, so whatever I caught would have to be pressed up against it quite uncomfortably.
"I think if this was pressed down on something, it could keep them there. At least for a minute or so, which should give me plenty of time to react, as long as I could get to it in time. I just need to figure out how to position it so that it will have that weight on top." As I scour the immediate area, I find a few sapling brown woods, and nearly 30 minutes of struggling and fighting later, I have the plating propped up, such that when a small branch was nudged, the whole thing snap down on top of it. The weight of the plating wasn't that much though, and the pressure of the sapling didn't fill me with confidence, so I spent the next 35 minutes looking for a perfectly sized rock; one that was heavy enough to provide some weight, but light enough that I could physically move it back to the trap. "No point in trapping it so successfully I can't get to it after," I think to myself, as I half drag, half roll a small boulder over to the trap. I realize pretty quickly though, that the weight of the boulder would throw everything off, and I needed to redesign the trap from nearly scratch. "Shit," I mutter, and I set about trying to bend physics to my will.
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Another hour flies by, as I do my best to position all the pieces of my trap efficiently. I know that my chances of this are going to be few and far between, and I wanted to make sure I capitalized as much as possible on every one I was given. Feeling confident about my setup, I look into the sky, and realize that I needed to get moving on finding materials for my lean to. I do an awkward half stretch, as I try to avoid aggravating my side, and take a deep breath. For some reason, I'm still feeling floaty, which I thought would have passed after getting a chance to catch my breath on the rock. Instead, not only had it not gone away, it felt like it was a bit stronger. It wasn't quite to the point of full on disassociation, but I didn't know what exactly was causing it. If I had to guess, it was the exertion, along with blood loss, along with lack of food? I wasn't really confident about the answer, but it was my current working theory, and regardless, I still had chores to do before I could lay down for the night. I make one last check of the trap, before heading a bit deeper into the forest to find the right sort of branches, leaves, and sticks I could use to form another lean-to. As I look around, I can feel my eyes struggling to adjust to the shade of the forest, as there were less trees near the river bank, and I could almost swear that some of the shadows were wobbling a bit. I rub my eyes, trying to get them to focus, and I start looking for material.
The shadows are definitely shorter? Longer? Than they were before? But I'm not sure of the exact length the shadows were? Short long maybe. "Short long shadows is so weird," I mutter, under my breath where the muttering goes. I can hardly believe it myself. Luckily, I found the stick, the one stick to rule them all for my hut one-two. "Hike!" I say, but I already did, for like 6 miles.
Something's wrong.
Some part of my brain can feel the other part of my brain isn't correct. It's space-y, a Voidtrip IPA, but I didn't have anything to drink but water. I don't know why I'm struggling to focus fully on the shitty present I got that wasn't even on my birthday, but I have to put a little roof over my head like a floor hat or I would really regret it when I was dead. "Like the rock got dead! Or whoever had that metal plate. That thing got fucked up," I say, and then I chuckle. I know it's not appropriate to laugh at tragedy like that, but you gotta take the BADBADNOTGOOD with the MF DOOM, ya know? I throw my stick into the pile where the sticks go, and I look around for another one, but as I spin around, the forest spins around me instead. I wasn't even aware that it could do that.
"I wasn't aware you could do that," I say out loud, because it's not good to think thoughts about people and not let them know the thoughts that you're thinking. I didn't want to be rude. "Is this cause I was rude maybe?" I ask the forest. I don't know if there's speakers, but maybe the invisible birds will use the camera's to let my kidnappers know I'm really really sorry that I made a joke on the internet or something. "Which one was it? I'm really funny, so that doesn't narrow it down," I claim, laughing at the idea of myself. Because I'm really funny, it said so. Wait, who said so?
I make my way over to the pile of sticks on the ground, but all I can think is how I'm supposed to be under the sticks, not above them. I lay down on the ground and start covering my thicky body with the sticky sticks, and twiggy brits like the podcast I was listening to and ciggy fits like the Tik Tok I watched and I figure that's enough. I just need to cover my face so the jackrabbit from hell doesn't kill me, because I imagine he has a grudge. "I don't see a TV though?" I ask, looking around. But I don't see anything, except for what I see; a beautiful woman clad in purple, both turning away from me, and offering me her hand. I go to reach for it, but then it's my hand, and I'm pumping it up and down with a rictus grin on my face. "You've got yourself a deal!" I say, and laugh like I just told the funniest joke in the world. I let myself go, and I fall backwards even though I'm already on the ground, and it's like my Alice In Wonderland syndrome from when I was a kid has decided to make a reappearance, as I fall through the gray and green and blue and white and and black AND BLACK AND BLACK
The room is empty.
There's four walls and a floor, and a ceiling made of space only a few feet out of reach. I can see things in the ceiling, like glow in the dark stars for a child's bedroom. Bone like spaceships; a flying ribcage orbiting in a million shattered pieces around a planet. I go to touch it and all the pieces slowly coalesce towards my hand, until it snaps together in perfect harmony, but I still can't reach the ceiling.
The walls have picture frames with faces I don't recognize, like one with dour children with eyes that have shades that of color that don't exist; they stand in perfect attendance barely smiling as though part of the world's most depressing school graduation photo.
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The walls have pictures frames with faces I don't recognize, like one with a woman who has a scar that stretches across the bridge of her nose, and short dark purple hair; her shoulders telling me that she doesn't want to be where she is.
The walls have picture frames with faces I don't recognize, like a man with a metal covering over his eyes, and a blue kevlar like jumpsuit; the smile on his mouth looking all the more sinister because I can't see if there's one in his eyes.
The walls have nothing but windows, and I can see a beautiful and terrifying cityscape; a picture perfect cyberpunk city buried entirely underground, with screens for fake suns and ads for everything I never knew I wanted.
The walls have nothing but windows, and I can see a grass plain at night, with the echoing roar of some sort of digital creature echo across it. The air tastes like rust, and although I can't see them, I know there are a thousand thousand thousand dead bodies feeding the plants with their blood.
The walls have nothing but windows, and I can see a rendering glitch in reality; a tear that is both black and blue and white, that is somehow visually on top all the things coming out of it. It stretches and twists and pulls like a fractal that is what it is, a self similar crack on the scale of the fabric of the universe.
The wall has a door, and on the other side of the door is power. I know that if I cross the door, I can protect myself. I know that if I cross the door, I can survive whatever is attacking my central nervous system. I fear that when I cross the door, I won't be able to cross back.
I knock on the door, but I'm the one who answers. "Come on in, come on in! You've already got the job, I just need to make sure you're fully equipped for everything we're going to need from you," I say, looking at myself. "What are you talking about, what job? I didn't apply to anything," I ask, confused. I don't enter the room. "I had a lot of candidates, and a lot of positions to fill, but some have been open for a while now. You're exactly what I've been waiting for," I answer, looking impatient, even with the grin splitting my face. "Why did you apply if you didn't want the position? Don't play coy," I say, the grin somehow getting even wider. I touch my jaw, the image itself causing a phantom pain in my cheeks. "I'm not playing coy, I promise. I just don't remember applying. Can I look over some documentation or something? I need to think about it," I say, feeling somehow both more and less focused than I was immediately prior. I still don't enter the room.
"I already know you'll accept," I say, looking pleased with myself. "You just aren't there yet. But that's okay, we've got nothing but time," I say, and before I get the chance to ask what that means, the door is slammed shut in my face. The force of it blows me backwards, and keeps blowing; blowing me into the ground even though I never fell over, my mind and thoughts getting blown away with it. I go to wipe my face, but only touch sticks instead. I knock the sticks away from my face and open my eyes, but something is wrong with the sky. The stars are brighter than I've ever seen them, but they shine with no competition. No matter where I cast my gaze, I see no moon. "I saw the moon last night!" I think to myself, frozen in fear of the power of those who've taken me from my home. "How could they have stolen the moon?"
I close my eyes again, or open them, and see myself laying haphazardly beneath a bunch of sticks, half covered and looking like death was about to make a house call. The air speaks.
"Who are you?" asks the air.
"Antimony," I state. I don't know how to make eye contact with the air, so I just keep looking at my prone form below. I don't often get a chance to view myself from this angle, and it's a bummer I'm looking so ill, because it's very neat.
"Who are you?" asks the air, again.
"I feel like I was pretty clear the first time," I tell the air. "I'm Antimony. Nova. Security guard. Person who plays video games. Micro micro niche internet celebrity, and I can say that because I got recognized one time in public like 12 years ago. Do you need more?" I say, frustrated. I let out a puff of air, and wonder if that breath was now also going to start asking me questions.
"You aren't from here," says the air.
"I could've told you that," I say. "I'm from Portland. Oregon. United States. Earth. Solar System. Milky Way. Arguably, we are also there. At least the Earth part, I'm not so confident on the Oregon. Maybe the US," I ramble, trying to think about the specific route I took to get me to this exact spot. Unfortunately there were a number of gaps in my memory, so I just couldn't be 100% confident, and it's rude to lie to people.
"...", says the air. It was a normal thing for air to say, but it had been so inquisitive before, I wondered if something was wrong. "Is something wrong?" I ask, doing my best not to scare the air off. I needed it to breathe, after all.
"You are old," says the air. Well, that's not fair. I'm 26, I don't feel old. Although I guess I'm a few generations behind now, depending on who you ask, so it's all subjective. "I guess," I tell the air. "I don't feel old though. I try to keep up with slang, ya know? Stay on top of the memes and what not. I don't want people thinking I just fell out of a coconut tree," I joke, and pause for a response. "That was a good one", I think. "Very topical, and this air doesn't taste like it's been hanging out under a rock, so they'll probably get it, unless they aren't big into politics."
"Beware your Desire," says the air, and I don't know how to respond to that. I think maybe desire is one of the seven deadly sins? Or maybe I'm thinking of envy. I honestly can't remember, but I don't know why it would be giving me theology lessons right now. "What, like... don't envy your neighbor or something? I don't really know what you're saying," I say to the air.
"Beware Indifference," says the air, and I'm even more confused than I was before. "I'm... sorry, I really don't know what you're trying to tell me. Are you just letting me know to keep an eye on my vices? As in, be mindful, don't want beyond your means, that sort of thing? I already try to do that sort of thing anyways, so... like, I appreciate the concern and all but I think I'm good," I say, giving a wave to no one in particular. Although, if I was talking to the air, then it was more like I was petting it? I might be sending mixed messages. I decide to stop waving/petting the air, and put my hand back down at my side.
"Your mind is fractured. Less than it was, but more than it should be. You will not understand until the future. When we meet again, I will reach out to you," says the air, and then it leaves. I momentarily panic, but I can still breathe, so maybe this whole time I wasn't talking to the air itself, but something in and around the air, or maybe I was just losing my mind. They did say my mind was fractured. "I should be more worried about this," I mutter out loud. Through a brief moment of lucidity, whether due to the out of body experience or something else, I can feel what is going inside my head, and I'm able to parse out the different feelings.
The feeling of confusion, ever since my thoughts started slipping through my fingers and out of my direct control.
The feeling of wonder, at all the strange and beautiful and terrifying and awesome things that had been happening to me and were still happening to me.
The feeling of anger, at myself, for not making sure the water was clean. For not doing better in the fight. For every perceived moment of failure I've made since I woke up in the forest.
The feeling of fear, of what has been happening and of what will happen. Of death, from my wounds, of things greater than myself, of failed understanding and incorrectly made choices.
The feeling of recognition. I know that something about this entire situation is familiar. Not because I've experienced it before, but because the elements are ones I've encountered. By I can't open my mind to pull out the words of whatever it is that I've remembered, and I know that after the poison had passed from my system (whenever that may be) that I will lose the memories I've made here tonight, like trying to recall a dream upon waking.
But regardless of those feelings, I'm currently here, in the moment, thinking and knowing and seeing and feeling. So, I keep myself company and watch myself sleep, and when I get bored, I turn my eyes to the sky and enjoy the stars, doing my best to ignore our planet's missing celestial companion.