Timtown Page 6

  There is a faint twinkle of light in the blackness, and the Thought registers it. Now It has experienced energy and it understands. Another twinkle, and now it understands time. Another twinkle from a different location, and it understands distance and dimension. Another twinkle, but this one moves before it disappears, and it understands motion. A fourth twinkle appears, but does not go out. Instead, it grows, and the Thought understands the existence of matter. As the twinkle continues to grow, the Thought analyzes it and realizes it is learning. The Thought is fascinated. It understands learning, and for the first time, it knows it is alive and it is pleased.

  The twinkle continues to grow and becomes a sparkle. Another sparkle forms and joins the first. The Thought understands the concept of math now. Another and another appear until they are thick around it. They continue to grow, and start to form different colors.

  This is familiar, the Thought realizes.

  The Thought has no concept of memory. The fact that it has seen the colors before, but has experienced nothing before the first twinkle is a contradiction. Now the Thought understands confusion and is perplexed. The Thought now understands problems and the need to find solutions. The colors are small balls of light circling in the distance, but they are getting closer. Some of the orbs move right at the Thought, but veer away at the last moment.

  This, too, is familiar, it deduces.

  The Thought knows it has seen this before. One of the orbs does not swerve away and shoots right through It. It has experienced this before. It knows this. Now it understands memory as knowledge it gained from experience, but it has no experience except for the blackness before It became aware.

  Before?—Before when?—Back when there was—when there was Tim. Yes, before, when I was—‘Tim’.

  It recognizes Tim. Tim is in its memory. Memory is something that happened before. It understands It was Tim before, and It is Tim again. The Thought is pleased.

  I am Tim, the Thought proclaims to itself.

  Tim’s past knowledge begins to permeate the Thought. It begins to absorb everything Tim knew.

  I have always been Tim, and It understands this. The Thought becomes Tim, but there is still uncertainty. What is the function, the purpose, of the consciousness that has been established?

  What was Tim?

  The new, conscious Tim watches as the light balls grow in size and intensity. They grow and grow, and start to crowd out the surrounding blackness. Suddenly they merge into a blinding white light. As suddenly, the light disappears with a poof. The soft blue light Tim remembers takes its place.

  Tim is life.

  This realization transforms the Entity and Tim emerges.

  Now the soft light reminds Tim of how he got there in the first place. The shotgun pellets tearing into his chest. The pain, how it had hurt when he tried to breath, how he had died.

  But if I died, then I must be on my way to the afterlife. I wonder what Heaven will be like? Oh shit, I’ve killed maybe two men, and I’ve never believed in God.

  A new thought disturbs Tim. Hell is a possibility I have to consider, but I’m not scared. I’m still feeling the euphoria. I’m no longer a physical being. I’m just a spirit.

  He detects a sound, the first sound since reawakening. It’s a pumping sound, and he wonders about the source. It seems like it is coming from inside himself. It sounds like a heart beating. At that moment, he feels like he has blinked. He commands his eyes to close and they do, cutting out the soft blue surroundings.

  “I wonder why a spirit would have eyelids?” he said aloud.

  The sound of his voice startles him.

  “What the hell?”

  That is a physical action, because I felt my mouth move.

  “I can’t—”

  He stops to think about what is happening. I shouldn’t be able to talk, unless I have a body.

  “I should not be able to talk—”

  But there it is again. I have spoken, and not only can I feel my mouth, but my whole head, and I can hear and smell.

  “I shouldn’t be able to feel anything.”

  He hadn’t realized it until it started to fade, but he still felt the tingling sensation. It was receding, though, down and out of his torso. He also felt the need for oxygen, which meant he would have to breath. He fought the urge to take a breath because he didn’t want the awful pain to start again. For the first time in the ordeal, he was really scared. Dying had been acceptable—a welcome solution to many problems.

  Why can’t I stay in the darkness forever?” he prayed. “That terrible pain. I can’t take it again!

  He began to cry as he tried to hold his breath, but he would have to relent because the need for air was overpowering. Tim allowed his chest to expand slightly drawing in a small amount of air. He was anticipating pain, but there was none. He expanded his chest a little further, and still no pain. He exhaled and drew in another small breath without any discomfort. He took a deeper breath, and it still didn’t hurt. He took big, deep breath, and experienced nothing but pleasure.

  He was baffled. He couldn’t be alive because it would surely hurt like hell, like it had after he was shot. The tingling had now moved out from his torso and into his extremities. He remained still, not even thinking of moving because he wasn’t sure what was happening. He might still be a spirit. It wasn’t until the tingling sensation moved completely down his arms that he thought about moving an arm. He sent out the command for his right arm to raise and it felt like it had responded. He moved the arm so its hand should be in front of his face, and there it was. He recognized his own fingers. He wiggled them and they worked perfectly.

  Tim put his hand on his chest with apprehension, expecting ragged flesh from the shotgun blast. Instead all he felt was smooth skin. He brought his leg up to his chest and looked at his thigh. He had seen the bloody wound when he wrapped the shirt around it, but there was no damage there now, not even a scar.

  He was totally baffled. It had to be a dream. It made no sense. It wasn’t possible. He was just as he had been before he was shot. The only thing different was he had no clothes on.

  Was this enough to prove it had all really happened?

  He decided to try to get up and make some sense out of where he was. It could possibly answer some of his many questions. He sat up and looked around. His first observation was that he was sitting on light.

  “That ties in with all the other things happening at this point,” he said and chuckled to himself.

  He felt the light with his hand. The surface was as difficult to determine with touch as it was with sight. It was something his senses had not experienced before. The surface produced no sensation in his hand, like nothing was there, but no amount of force would make his hand move into it. He punched down as hard as he could, but the surface just absorbed the blow. The material stopped his punch without putting any shock on his fist.

  “A solid light,” Tim concluded, talking to himself. He thought about it for a second, and it came to him. “It’s an energy barrier, a force field. They’re big in the sci-fi industry,” he joked.

  He was proud of his deduction, except it just raised more questions.

  But it makes as much sense as anything else here, he conceded. “I wonder if it is still today, or any other day for that matter?”

  Is this a dream? Is this insanity?—Maybe it’s the afterlife?

  He knew he was someplace strange, but he was fairly sure that he was still himself. He wished he had a mirror to see his face, but he was certain he looked the same as before. He sure felt good, though: strong, alert, and full of energy.

  “Where the hell am I?” he said out loud, frustrated, but his voice was mostly absorbed by the blue light all around him.

  “Hello! Anyone there?” he shouted, getting up.

  He set out to explore and see how far he could go. The light was solid and consistent all the way around. He was imprisoned in the same material as the thing he woke up on. He took a short run at th
e barrier, letting all his weight fly at it, slamming into it with his shoulder, but it didn’t yield. He stepped back and was trying to think of what to do next.

  “Are you comfortable?” asked a powerful voice that emanated from every direction.

  Tim’s heart skipped a beat and he jumped back, nearly falling over the thing he had been lying on.

  “Are you comfortable?” repeated the voice with a deep, but soft, friendly tone.

  Tim’s reply was little more than a squeak as he scrambled along the base of his prison, squeezing himself tight against the barrier.

  “I’m wondering if you are all right,” said the voice.

  “Ah, yeah. . .I guess.” Tim’s voice was shaking, as was his body. “Who are you?” He was looking all around the enclosure with his mouth hanging open, trying to figure out where the voice was coming from.

  “Would you like something to eat?” the voice asked.

  Tim didn’t respond because his mind was flying through all the possibilities of this new situation.

  “Are you hungry?” the voice added.

  “I don’t know,” Tim whispered. “Who are you?” Then trying to sound tough, he quickly asked, “Why are you keeping me here?” but he was still shaking too badly to really pull it off.

  “If you’re thirsty or hungry, please sit back at the table.”

  “Is that what that is?” Tim gestured to the structure he woke up on.

  “No, this is a table,” said the voice, as a flat, thin, square shape began to form out of thin air, three feet off the bottom of the enclosure. It had no legs and was just suspended in midair. Tim got up and put all his weight on it, and it didn’t budge. Another small platform with a back materialized next to the first one. These two articles were a shade darker than the chamber and the structure he had gotten up from. They seemed to be more solid and easier to focus on. A small, emerald-green disk floated out of the light barrier and settled on the newly formed table. On the disk was a small square of brown material. This was followed by a pink cup filled with a bright red liquid. That too settled on the table.

  “Please eat, and then we will talk.” The voice sounded reassuring. “If that is satisfactory?”

  Tim walked over to the table and looked at the disk and the glass. He picked up the brown bar and brought it up to his nose. It had a rich, meaty smell, and he was hungry after smelling it. He took a small bite. Although he didn’t recognize the taste, it was delicious. The liquid was also strange-tasting, but good.

  *

  When he finished the meal, the utensils floated back through the barrier and a tiny, thin bundle appeared out of the same place and floated over to him.

  “Something for you to wear,” said the voice.

  Tim looked at the three-square-inch package and started to laugh. “This isn’t going to cover much,” he said, thinking, Ann’s bikini, as he reached out and took the package in his hand. It was almost weightless. He turned it over and spotted a tab, which he pulled at. The material came apart paper thin, but it had a warm and supple feeling. He carefully unfolded the article, not wanting to tear the delicate fabric. Lo and behold, it was a one-piece jumpsuit complete with feet and hands, but way too small.

  “How am I going to get into this without tearing it to pieces?”

  “No need to worry. The material is quite durable,” said the voice.

  Tim smiled, looked around, and thought about what had happened there so far.

  “Durable? Shit, it’s probably bulletproof!”

  “Yes, it is a good description of its strength,” said the voice. “It would certainly protect you from most projectile-type weapons.”

  As Tim stepped into the suit, a million questions leaped into his head. What is happening here to is so hard to comprehend. I have no way of making any sense of what is taking place so I’ll have to just play it out and see where it leads.

  The voice had been right about the suit’s strength. It stretched out to fit perfectly. It followed every contour of his body, no matter how small, and it was remarkably comfortable. He did some bends and stretches, and the material seemed to move with him.

  “Is it machine washable?” Tim asked jokingly.

  “Most certainly, but that is not necessary.”

  “Oh, who cleans it?”

  “It needs no care. It remains unsoiled. In fact, it will keep you clean as well, but you have to brush your own teeth,” the voice added with a small laugh.

  Geez, a comedian. I hope I don’t have to laugh at all of his jokes.

  “You don’t have to laugh, if you don’t want to,” the voice said.

  “Huh?” Tim gulped.

  “My jokes—it isn’t necessary to laugh.”

  Concerned, Tim hesitated.

  “How did you? Geez, I didn’t say anything about your jokes,” he said. Then Tim thought, Mr. V, read my mind.

  “Yes, I did, and I like the name Mr.V.”

  Although it didn’t surprise him too much, Tim was immediately uncomfortable. His thoughts had always been protected.

  Oh, boy. It matters what I say to people, but it’s my privilege to think like I want. Controlling my mouth should be possible, but thoughts are thoughts, and having someone know what I think could cause a whole bunch of trouble here.

  “I understand your concern, and I will only communicate orally,” said Mr. V. “From this point on, your thoughts are yours alone.”

  “But you will always be able to read my thoughts,” Tim replied with concern in his tone.

  “No, I promised I would not. Believe me, my word is good.”

  “But what if you want to know what I’m thinking?”

  “I’ll just have to ask, and if you don’t want to tell me that is your privilege.”

  “I don’t believe you!” exclaimed Tim.

  “I promised you I will not.”

  “What if I make you mad?” Tim asked knowing his tendency to be blunt and to the point.

  “I am not subject to emotions as you are.”

  “Whatever!” Tim paused and looked around at his little prison. “Who the hell are you?”

  “First, I’m not a who. I’m a what,” said Mr. V.

  “Oh, okay!” Tim responded with a cynical tone, but he was immediately sorry he had popped off. I’ve got to be careful of my mouth! Then what are you?” he asked in a better tone.

  “I’m what you would call a computer.”

  “Oh, great! I’m having a conversation with Mr. V, the computer. I’ll go for that one every time. Where the hell am I? What’s going on? I mean, I was sure I got zapped, but now it doesn’t look like it happened. Could you possibly explain that one to me?”

  “I think it would be appropriate. First, you were dead, but you’re alive again. I am able to do that sort of thing.”

  “You practice some sort of magic or something?”

  “No, no magic, just plain old science. The earthquake did some damage to my home, and you stumbled in, or rather were blasted in, and I patched you up.”

  As crazy as it sounds, it makes sense. I can get the details later.

  “What is this place? It sure isn’t very big,” Tim asked.

  “Oh, I’m sorry,” said Mr. V. Immediately the light around Tim began to fade quickly. When it was gone, Tim was left standing in a chamber about thirty feet long and twenty feet wide. It had many partitions that took up half the width. They were formed by thin walls curving up from the floor and merging into the doomed ceiling.

  “Is that better? Can I call you Tim?” Mr. V’s voice still came from all directions.

  “I thought you weren’t going to read my mind!”

  “I learned your name a long time ago.”

  “Oh, okay.” Tim started to walk, then stopped. “Is it okay if I look around?”

  “Yes, of course, it is okay.”

  The chamber was a dark green color with all edges and corners rounded. Tim walked over and touched the wall. It felt like velvet. He moved closer and looked carefully.
It looked like a miniature hedge. The wall looked like it was covered with tiny, tightly packed leaves.

  “Are these what I think they are?” Tim asked.

  “It depends on what you think they are, but you seem quite intelligent, so I will assume you are wondering if they are real plants, correct?”

  “Wow! Neat, but why plants on the walls?”

  “The former inhabitants found them to be soothing. They make for a comfortable climate too.”

  “What is this place? Why did you say former inhabitants? What kind of computer can talk, by the way?”

  “I’m slightly advanced compared to what you may be used to.”

  “What do you look like? Who else lives here?”

  “Please sit down, and I will explain what has happened to you. Is that okay with you?”

  “Where do I sit?” Tim had spotted nothing that could pass for any kind of chair.

  “To your left,” instructed the computer.

  A chair was beginning to form from some of the blue light.

  “How do you do that?”

  “It would not make any sense to you, not yet anyway.”

  Tim did not reply, but went over to the chair and sat down.

  Man, what an experience this is getting to be. The quake, being shot, Ann, now all these other things. It is all so crazy, but I know it must be real. It is incredible something so far-fetched is inside this mountain, just above the valley. Maybe I’ve cracked up? This could be all delusions, but I hope that isn’t the case because I have to admit; this latest situation is exciting. This Mr. V thing is a real kick, and this place, wow. I’m sure it contains many more surprises, if I’m not imagining things. If I’ve gone insane, I have done it big time for sure.

  He was sitting, speculating, when he felt a draft. He turned partway to his left and saw a disk-shaped section of the far wall begin to shimmer. It started going out of focus, then it continued to dissolve. A small hole in the plant wall appeared and continued to grow until it was seven or eight feet in diameter.

  Tim got up and moved carefully over to the new opening and peeked in. It was the start of a tunnel. Way down the tunnel, he spotted a shadow. The shadow was moving toward him. Someone or something was coming toward the opening. He backed quickly into the middle of the room and stood still with his eyes glued to the opening of the tunnel. Uh oh, I wonder where this is going? Tim gulped, but he was strangely more curious than afraid.