Sucked In
I’d tried all the other doors along the corridor, but they were all locked or wouldn’t open. I’d even left a shoe in the middle of the hallway and entered the door at the end, but my shoe was still waiting for me when I passed through. I didn’t know what to do. I sat down and retied my shoe, and thought through my options. The Shifter slid out of my pocket. Of course! I wasn’t thinking properly.
I took the time to really examine the thing. Black and sleek, its contoured edges screamed sophistication. Currently, “Without: 497” and “Within: 3” were blinking gently. It was still the 22nd of February, apparently, but now the Displacement was 2035. Suddenly, it clicked, and I realised that the “Displacement” showed what the time it would have taken for this level of technology to arise had I not taken the antiseptic and microscope back. I pulled the Shifter’s lever, and it shot back up. Not unexpectedly, nothing happened.
I paced up and down the corridor, Shifter in hand. My leg twinged, and I stumbled. I massaged a sore spot in my thigh, and while doing so, noticed the Shifter’s screen and how it now said “Without: 499” and “Within: 1”. I took a step back. “Without: 498”. “Within: 2”. I took two steps forward. “Without: 500” flashed red and “Within: 0” flickered violently between green and yellow. I pulled the lever. A mechanical hum arose, but was then suddenly cut off, whining back into silence. I got the feeling I was close to something. An error message flashed up: “Infinity Lock”. Damn. That didn’t sound promising.
Infinity, eh? I leant against a blanched white wall and tossed up what I knew. The doors at the end of the corridor seemed to loop into each other. It was like having a video camera feeding into a TV, and then filming the TV screen itself. I paused, midway through thought, and became excited. I ran to the end of the corridor, shut my eyes, and kicked open the door. It swung back and the handle embedded in the plasterboard wall. I turned around, felt my way slowly along the corridor to the far door, and kicked that one open too. A roaring, deafening, icy wind blew through the corridor. I inched along the wall, hugging the Shifter close and staring defiantly at the numbers as they dropped to zero. I took a deep breath, and then pulled the lever. The mechanical hum began again, and rose in pitch and volume until the room imploded.
I took the time to really examine the thing. Black and sleek, its contoured edges screamed sophistication. Currently, “Without: 497” and “Within: 3” were blinking gently. It was still the 22nd of February, apparently, but now the Displacement was 2035. Suddenly, it clicked, and I realised that the “Displacement” showed what the time it would have taken for this level of technology to arise had I not taken the antiseptic and microscope back. I pulled the Shifter’s lever, and it shot back up. Not unexpectedly, nothing happened.
I paced up and down the corridor, Shifter in hand. My leg twinged, and I stumbled. I massaged a sore spot in my thigh, and while doing so, noticed the Shifter’s screen and how it now said “Without: 499” and “Within: 1”. I took a step back. “Without: 498”. “Within: 2”. I took two steps forward. “Without: 500” flashed red and “Within: 0” flickered violently between green and yellow. I pulled the lever. A mechanical hum arose, but was then suddenly cut off, whining back into silence. I got the feeling I was close to something. An error message flashed up: “Infinity Lock”. Damn. That didn’t sound promising.
Infinity, eh? I leant against a blanched white wall and tossed up what I knew. The doors at the end of the corridor seemed to loop into each other. It was like having a video camera feeding into a TV, and then filming the TV screen itself. I paused, midway through thought, and became excited. I ran to the end of the corridor, shut my eyes, and kicked open the door. It swung back and the handle embedded in the plasterboard wall. I turned around, felt my way slowly along the corridor to the far door, and kicked that one open too. A roaring, deafening, icy wind blew through the corridor. I inched along the wall, hugging the Shifter close and staring defiantly at the numbers as they dropped to zero. I took a deep breath, and then pulled the lever. The mechanical hum began again, and rose in pitch and volume until the room imploded.
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6:57 PM
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