Another Funny Thing Happened...

Oh, those college days. Who among us, the various alumni of higher learning institutions, does not have some crazy story highlighting the triumphs and terrors of that first taste of freedom mixed with responsibility? Maybe not everyone has such stories, but most do. Even so, I bet few have a story as crazy as this.

It was a Thursday, probably my favorite school day. Thursdays were great, first of all, because they were just before Friday, which was a pretty cool day in and of itself, being right before the weekend. Friday's only weakness was that, like Mondays and Wednesdays, they were likely to have the most hours of class if you were attending school full time. Tuesdays and Thursdays were great, though. Maybe one or two classes, usually electives if I had them on my schedule that semester.

Anyways, it was mid afternoon and I was taking a long detour off campus before heading back to my dorm. It was a moderate trek to the grocery store down the road, probably a half-hour each way, but it made for an invigorating stroll. The road took me by Professor Deepti's house. She was by far the best teacher in the whole university. Her house was modest, though I'm sure her salary wasn't. She lived there with her husband and her three young children, two girls and one boy.

Professor Deepti had a very generous open-door policy, even inviting students to her home for extra help. Her husband was also a professor and was just as brilliant, though in a different way. His explanations were always wordy and thorough, but his wife had a way of explaining things that was always simple and elegant. Whatever she said seemed to fool your brain into thinking it was relaxing rather than learning, so it soaked in the information until it was waterlogged with knowledge.

I hadn't visited in a while, seeing as how it had been two semesters since my last class with her, but we always greeted each other when we passed on campus. School must have just let out for the youngsters too because I saw those familiar three adorable faces bounding down the sidewalk toward the house.

"Mr. Jeff! Mr. Jeff!" they called out as they got close enough to recognize me.

"Hey, kiddos!" I yelled back cheerily.

The youngest, Anuj, got to me first and threw his arms around my legs. "Mr. Jeff, why haven't you been to visit?" he asked with a mild tone of accusation.

I laughed as the others caught up to their brother and joined the hug. They were a gregarious bunch, cute as buttons and sharp as tacks, all traits clearly inherited from their parents. I really felt bad for not coming to visit more often, but school usually kept me busy, and when it didn't, my social life did.

"I'm sorry, guys," I offered, kneeling down to be eye to eye with them. "I promise I'll come over more from now on." I really meant it.

"C'mon inside, Mr. Jeff!" Gita, the eldest, invited. "Dad will be happy to see you."

I doubted that. It's not that I thought Dr. Deepti disliked me. He just never seemed to show much emotion toward students. His passion was digital logic, and he only became animated and emotional when talking about it. The only reason he might have been happy to see me is because he would be able to shout binary and discrete math at me, rather than just at the air, which I often imagine he did when he was alone.

"I can't, guys, I'm sorry," I apologize again. "I'm expecting some guests tonight and I need to pick up a few things from the store." It was true. A couple of friends were going to come over around five and we were going to hang out for a while before going out.

"Aw!" the three kids shouted in unison.

"I'll be by soon, though, I promise."

"Ok," they said with more than a hint of disappointment.

"Really," I assured them with a grin. "Now, go do your homework!"

"Ok!" they laughed, bounding happily once again toward their house.

What a bunch of characters. I continued down the road, letting my mind wander back to Professor Deepti's class and how much fun it was. My thoughts meandered between that and all the other things going on in my life at the time. Two semesters ago didn't seem like a long time ago, and yet there were times when it seemed like an eternity. Lost in thought, I hardly noticed the rest of the walk to the end of the road.

I finally became aware of how far I'd come when the number of people on the sidewalk seemed to suddenly increase dramatically. As I turned the corner to continue on the last block before the store, I was suddenly in a crowd. People were everywhere, waiting on either side of the road like a parade was going to come pounding down the pavement at any moment. I heard no signs of a parade and wasn't aware of any holiday that usually justified a parade, so I just pressed on, walking in the bike lane to avoid pushing through the throng.

I made it to the store with no idea of what these people were hanging around for. I quickly got some drinks and chips and made my way to the register. I almost asked the cashier what was going on outside, but I figured I would figure it out sooner or later. As I stepped out of the store, I soon regretted not driving there. The drinks I bought weren't particularly heavy, but the handle on the plastic bag was cutting off the circulation in my fingers. It was rather uncomfortable.

Stoically, I shifted my grip on the bag and strode back toward the road. As I made my way through the store parking lot, I heard an odd buzzing sound approaching from the left. The crowd, which started just to my right, began to murmur. I looked left down the road.

Bicyclists. A large number of bicyclists, more than I had ever seen before or since, were speeding down the blacktop, their legs pumping as they advanced. The crowd started to cheer. It would have been cool, if only I weren't trying to get back to my dorm. I'm sure I wouldn't have had to wait very long for the bikes to pass, but I really didn't feel like navigating the crowd. Instead, I turned around and took the longer way back to the school down the next street over.

My detour didn't add that much time to the return trip, but I was bit tired by the time I got back to campus. I trudged up the few front steps to my dorm, plastic bags slung over my shoulder, and crossed the lobby to the hall that lead to my room. At least I was on the first floor.

The hall was pretty empty, which was unusual for this time of day. Usually residents had their doors open and a few people were coming and going. Most of the doors, though, were closed today and just one person was walking down the hall aside from me. She seemed to be a little older than most of the students here, but I couldn't be sure since her back was to me. I'm not sure if she came from another room, but it didn't really strike me as odd. It didn't strike me as odd, that is, until she reached the end of the hall, turned left, opened a certain door and walked in.

"What the..." I trailed off as I stared down the hall at the now closed door of the room she entered. It was mine.

I hurried down the hall, never taking my eyes off the door. When I got there, I dropped the bags and tried the knob. It was locked, just as I left it. I didn't see that the woman had used a key. It looked like she just opened the door and walked in. I fumbled through my pockets for my keys, unlocked the door and threw it open. I hurried into the room.

Empty. Everything just as I left it. I knelt down and looked under the bed. Nothing. There was only one more place to check. I ran over to the storage closet and whipped open the door. I looked around suspiciously.

Normally in a dorm room, checking out your closet wouldn't be much of an effort. In my case, I was what some of the students in my building called "lucky". I'm not exactly sure how it happened, but this building apparently underwent a major overhaul back in the 70's. It somehow worked out that there was a large shaft in one corner that went straight up to the roof of the building. The entryway to this shaft was my closet door. The dorm was only three stories, so it's not like it went all that high, but it was pretty deep from front to back, and when you were using the bottom of the shaft as your closet, it seemed fairly cavernous.

Like I said, I'm not sure how it worked out this way. We all guessed that they screwed up and had this corner that they weren't sure what to do with left over. On the upper two floors, everyone else's closet was on the other side of the room. I don't know why they didn't just put a ceiling in the space on the first floor to make it just like a big walk-in closet. I didn't complain. It was pretty cool. There was a little ledge at the back of the closet, at about the height that my ceiling would have been, that opened into some kind of duct, like for a massive AC unit. Up around the level of the third floor there was another ledge on the left wall, toward the inside of the building. The ledge couldn't have been more than a foot or two wide before it was walled off. There was also a large window against the back wall at about third-floor level that kept it pretty well lit during the day.

Normally, this was the most awesome closet ever. Right now, its size made it seem insanely dangerous. Granted, the only places to hide were the "ledge of death" and the "duct of doom", but seeing as how I just saw someone walk into my room, I had to check all the possibilities. I didn't have enough stuff in here to create any hiding places on my level, so I peered up at the ledge on the third floor. The sun hadn't set yet, and this side of the building faced west, so it was pretty bright.

As I looked at the empty recess in the wall, I suddenly felt foolish. There is no way anybody could get up there without a ladder, and it would have taken significantly longer than I had taken to run down the hall and into my room. The only other option was the duct.

At first, I only stepped back toward the front of the closet and craned my neck to try to get more perspective on it, but I could only see the wide metal tube curving downward behind my wall. I had to try to climb up there.

The shelf in my closet was off to the right, and a pole ran the length of the wall right underneath for me to hang my clothes. The back wall was pretty bare. My bike was leaning there, as well as some tennis rackets and a life size cardboard cutout of Angelina Jolie from a movie theater display. I moved the bike and jumped up, grabbing onto the ledge. It was a little slippery from all the dust up there. I pulled myself up, trying to get my foot against the side wall for leverage. Dust flew into the air and went up my nose.

Trying to hold back a sneeze, I squinted into the duct. It was dark. I looked along the ledge. There was a thick layer of dust all the way across, except for where my fingers had disturbed it. I didn't see any way somebody could have hoisted themselves into this duct without kicking up most of the dust that was there. Maybe I was just going a little crazy. Or maybe I was just tired. It could be that this woman didn't go into my room after all. Maybe she went in the door just before mine. I could have sworn...

"What the hell are you doing?"

The voice scared the living hell out of me. I lost my grip on the ledge and fell to the floor. I hit my head, but not hard. It was mostly my pride that was hurt.

"Oh my god! Are you ok?" Stephie asked, running into the closet to help me up.

Stephie was one of the friends I was expecting tonight. She was an almost-too-thin blonde girl, a little ditzy, but cute and sweet just the same. She wasn't my typical type, but I liked her anyways. I don't think she ever noticed, but she never treated me like I wasn't good enough for her either. I had just never made a move on her for some reason.

"I'm fine, I'm fine," I insisted as I accepted her hand and stood, my ears burning with embarrassment.

"what were you doing up there?" she reiterated, shaking her head in confusion.

I briefly considered telling her the truth. "Ah, I don't know," I shrugged. "I was just checkin' it out."

"Oh," Stephie said. "See anything?"

"Nah."

She looked around the closet. "I never got how you could stand this place. If this was my room I would be creeped out all the time."

A chill went through me, but I played it off. "Are you kidding, this is the most awesome closet ever!"

She shook her head again. "If you say so."

We walked out of the closet and I went out to the hallway to get the bags with the soda and chips.

Stephie gave me a funny look. "Why'd you leave that stuff out there?"

"O-oh," I stuttered. "I, uh, was just tired from carrying them from the store. I walked. I put them down when I went to unlock my door," I explained. It was all technically true.

Over the course of the next hour, Stephie and I just chatted while waiting for the others to arrive. The memory of the weirdness earlier faded a bit until I was sure that had just been mistaken about which room I saw that woman walk into. Pretty soon, Wendy and Eric showed up.

"Ok, time to get this party started!" Eric bellowed as he walked in the door, handing me a bottle in a paper bag.

Eric was a trip. Very boisterous, but always funny. He had short brown hair like mine, but he was a little bit taller than me and was definitely way cockier. I pulled the bottle out of the paper bag he handed me, already knowing full well what it would be. Grey Goose. Eric drank the stuff like water. I was sure he was an alcoholic, but he always bought the good stuff and brought it to parties, so nobody complained. College is pretty messed up like that.

Wendy was Eric's girlfriend, and as usual, she was hauling the bag of ice. She was practically Stephie's exact opposite, which made it so funny that they were best friends. She was a tall redhead, very sharp. She could be a little snooty sometimes, but once you got to know her, she wasn't that bad. You could tell she was probably picked on when she was a kid for being so smart and maybe not so attractive, but I bet anyone who picked on her then would be shocked now; she was a knockout.

I went into the closet and dragged out my cooler, which was pretty small, but it served its purpose. Wendy dumped in her ice and Eric put in the drinks I had bought. Stephie was regaling them with the story of my closet wall climbing and subsequent tumble. We all had a good laugh. The minutes flew and it started to get pretty dark out. Eric and Wendy were lounging on the bed, Stephie was in my desk chair and I was leaning against the wall.

Suddenly, Stephie leaned over and peered into my still-open closet.

"What is it, Steph?" Wendy asked.

Stephie shook her head and laughed a little nervously. "I don't know. Jeff's clothes are freaking me out over there. It looked like something was standing there in bandages, but I can see now that they're just t-shirts all bunched together on the hangers. Go shut the door, will ya?" she explained, aiming the last part at me.

Wendy and Eric laughed while I walked over to close the door. Stephie was always creeped out by the closet, but this time it was rubbing off on me. I had shrugged off my earlier experience, but now I felt a little uneasy. As I reached the door, I looked around inside the closet just to make sure everything was still normal. My eyes trailed up the wall to the third story ledge.

"What the..."

Since the sun had set, it was fairly dark up there, but the lights out in the courtyard shined almost right on the nook in the wall. I could have sworn I saw an arm pull back from the ledge and into the shadows.

"What is it?" Stephie called.

I stepped to the left to try to get a better angle on the ledge. It was too dark to make out a definite shape, but it seemed like there was something lying still in the far corner, about human sized, perhaps wrapped in bandages.

"Hello?" I called, reaching for the light switch.

Before my fingers could find it, another shape popped out from the other corner of the third-floor ledge. The eerie light provided by the lamps outside illuminated the pale visage of someone or something staring down at me. Thin, wisps of white hair clung to a nearly bald head glistening with sweat. It leaned unnaturally far over the ledge to get a closer look at me, its wide eyes unblinking, its head leaning from side to side as it considered me like a predator considers its prey. It looked only vaguely human, and it looked angry.

*     *     *     *     *

I know this sounds like the beginning of a really bad horror movie. It was actually a dream I had the other night, and it scared the crap out of me. It loses something in the translation I think. I wish I could tell it in a way that would terrify you as much as it terrified me. Hope you enjoyed it either way.

Letters from the Lost Man, Part 19

4:26 AM.

The numbers shine through the darkness and sear onto my retina. Even when I blink, I see the green hour floating in nothingness, contrasting the dim red light that floods my bedroom. It's an ungodly hour, but strangely familiar. Who would be calling so early?

"Richard," the faint voice on the other end says.

"Mmm?" I mumble.

"Meet me again tonight. I think I have an idea."

There's a click followed by the dial tone. Sleepily, I hang up the phone. I hate when dreams filter through to reality. It isn't long before sleep claims me again; the green numbers superimposed on my retina fade to blackness.

6:30 AM.

Once again, I'm awakened by noise. The alarm clock blares its monotone Reveille, dragging me unceremoniously from the depths of unconsciousness. I walk across the room and turn the damned thing off. Once more, my day has begun.

All-in-all, the day seems pretty normal. People at work don't seem to be that bad today. Even the events of that day three months ago seem more distant. The pain seems dulled. I almost feel...happy. Crazy dreams from the night before fade away until I no longer remember why they seemed so important. I went to bed really early. Must've slept thirteen hours or so. This must be what it feels like to be well rested. Maybe I'll try it again tonight.

The hours at work don't necessarily fly by, but at least they don't drag. When five o'clock arrives, I'm pleasantly surprised. I wish Tom a good night and head home, eager to find the comfort of the bedcovers waiting to envelope me once again. As I get closer to home, I start feeling pretty tired. I don't know how that's possible, given how much I slept last night. I barely notice pulling into the driveway and stumbling through the door. My head hitting the pillow is not an event I can recall.

*     *     *     *     *

What is this place? It gives the impression of a white hallway. It is so brightly lit that all the corners blend in with the walls, floor and ceiling. As I walk its length, I get the impression of doors passing on either side of me. Straight ahead, a black rectangle marks an open door at the end of the hallway. I step toward it through a silence so pervasive, not even my feet make a sound as they hit the floor. The doorway looms before me.

Inside, the room is dark. A single light shines on a long metal table. The figure of a woman lay beneath a white sheet upon the table. Holding my breath, I step up to it. The silence is unnerving. I almost can't work up the courage to pull back the sheet.

Linda's face, a very pale blue, stares lifelessly up at me as I take away the covering. There is a large opening in the side of her skull that is caked with dried blood. Fear and sadness well up within me.

The milky eyes snap to me with surreal speed. The mouth of Linda's corpse moves sickeningly, her jaw locked in rigor mortis, but her lips squirming over her white teeth. Her neck snaps and jerks as she turns her head toward me.

"Richard," she says with a deep, guttural whisper.

It takes some time for the screams in my bedroom to die down. It takes some time for me to realize they're coming from me. Being in a waking state takes some time to provide me with comfort.

*     *     *     *     *

11:20 PM.

I sip my water slowly and wonder what the hell happened to my life. More immediately, what happened to my day? Now that I'm here, sitting awake in my bed, the whole day seemed like a dream. Last night was the first time I've felt like things have been real for a long time. I remember during the day thinking that everything that happened last night was a dream, and I gladly forgot about it. Now, as I struggle with myself about whether I'm going to drive out to the church again, it all seems like crystal clear memory.

I have to go. One thing's for sure, I can't sleep now. Every time I think my dreams can't get any worse, I wake up in more terror than I've ever felt. I don't know how my brain can possibly manufacture such twisted imagery. If this is all a side effect of memory programming, I need to get away. I'll try anything.

The poorly-lit streets of the city outskirts seem even scarier than last night. More streetlamps are out. The various boarded up, chained or otherwise barred windows and doors look more disheveled and creepy. Suspicious characters hiding back in the shadows seem to watch me, the whites of their eyes reflecting more of my headlights than I seem to think they should. I know it's just my paranoia, but I feel like everyone and everything is focused squarely on me tonight.

When I finally pull up in front of the church, I quickly jump out of the car and hurry to the back. The moon is obscured by clouds, so my footing isn't nearly as sure as it was before. Still, I manage to make my way to the door that once again stands open to receive me.

I take another glance around before venturing into the shadows with a, "Hello?"

As it did last night, another door opens inside the church and I hurry over to Loretta, who's waving me over nervously.

"Hi again," I greet her, my casual tone belying my own anxiety.

She offers me a quick smile and indicates the chair, closing the door behind her. "Let's get right to it," she says, moving quickly to her own seat.

"Why, what's up?" I ask, sensing a hint of concern in her voice.

She sighs. "I'm not sure if we have much longer. I expected you a little sooner."

"I'm sorry, I..." I begin apologizing.

Loretta holds up her hand. "No time for that," she says. She reaches over to a little table beside her and picks up something wrapped in a handkerchief. She unfolds it and pulls out a vial and two syringes.

"What's that?" I ask apprehensively.

"It's an anesthetic," she says simply.

I swallow. "What for?"

She looks at the floor for a moment, seemingly gathering her thoughts. "Richard, we are not going to hack our way out of here," she says.

"Oh?" I ask, eyeing the needles.

She shakes her head. "I've been thinking and thinking and I can't come up with a way that we're going to do it without them figuring out what we're up to first. I think it might already be too late for that. Given what I felt about today, I think they may already suspect that something is up. They're changing the treatment."

"Uh-huh," I nod distractedly. Then, I realize what she just said. "Wait, why wouldn't they just separate our link or pull one or both of us out?"

Loretta shrugs. "I don't know. The thing you have to remember is that time for us in here isn't the same as it is in the real world. If all these memories were written in real-time, this treatment would be useless. We can write an entire lifetime up to middle-age in a matter of six months or so in most cases, even less in a few others."

"So, it might have been only minutes or even seconds since the last time we saw each other?" I ask.

"Yes," she answers.

My eyes travel back to the needles. "So, what's with the anesthetic?"

"It's called bupivicaine. It's usually given in an epidural, but I'd like to administer it to both of us intravenously..." she explains quietly, trailing at the end.

"Right, and you make that sound bad," I say, my concern growing every second.

She nods. "It isn't good. Intravenous administration can lead to hypoxemia and cardiac arrest, as well as a host of other effec-."

"Wait, I don't get it," I interrupt her, my tone rising. "Are you saying you want to commit suicide? How is that possible, isn't this all fake?"

"Richard, calm down," she orders, her own voice unnaturally serene. "I'm not talking about suicide, though the risk of death might be as high as in the real world. The thing is, what happens to us in here often has an effect on us out there. The first time you woke up and spoke to me, you told me you thought you had been shot in the side. Well, a short time before that you had started bleeding internally. That's what happened before Dr. Spector had me start you on the new program. Something caused you to believe that you were suddenly shot, which caused you to hemorrhage in the place you perceived the bullet hit."

I blink silently for a moment. "So, how is this not suicide again?"

Loretta sighs heavily. "Again, there is a risk involved, but here's what I think will happen. I'll administer the shot in a dosage that will, hopefully, not kill us. We'll simultaneously go into cardiac arrest. Out there, they may think it's due to what they're doing to Mnemosyne. Either way, they'll have to disconnect us from the machine to treat us. They'll probably inject us with epinephrine and defibrillate our hearts and, well, you get the idea."

I nod skeptically. "Right, and if we're not dead by then?" I ask.

"Well, if we're not dead, we should be ok. Maybe a bit weakened by the treatment. I don't really know. I've never done this before. The most important thing is, though, that they will have to keep us disconnected from Mnemosyne for a little while, and I suspect they will probably refrain from administering sedatives until they can figure out what happened or until they decide what to do with us," she explained.

"And in the meanwhile we..." I prompt, still not really sure what this will buy us.

"It will buy us time, Richard," she says, reading my mind. She leans across the space between us and puts her hand on mine. "This is the only option I think we realistically have. As long as we don't let on that we know anything's up, there's no reason we can't fool them while we look for an opening."

"Unless they already know about..." I wave my hands at the room around us. "This."

She shakes her head. "About this specifically, they don't. And even if they do, it doesn't do us any good to think that way."

I sigh. "Do you really think we have a shot with this?"

Loretta shrugs. "I don't think we have a shot without it."

I lean back in my chair. As much as I'd like to think there's another way, I have to agree with her. I don't see how we could figure anything else out that wouldn't alert the outside to what we were doing. Clenching my jaw, I nod and roll up my sleeve.

"Ok," she says with a hint of relief. "We might not be in the same room. If you manage to get out, don't wait for me. We'll meet here."

"Wait, here?" I ask, confused.

She nods. "This address actually exists. I believe it really is an abandoned church," she says.

"Yeah, but what if they-" I begin to ask.

"If they know about this place, then they'll know about any other place we agree to meet. At least this place is outside their facility. We'll have an easier time getting away if we meet up somewhere else. Just be careful when you try to get here. I have the feeling that won't be a problem for you."

I think about that for a moment. Sounds awfully risky to me, but she's right. What other choice is there? I offer her my arm. "This better work," I muse.

"I think it will," she reassures me.

She takes my wrist and pulls my arm a little closer so she can look for a vein. She pushes a likely suspect on my upper forearm with her finger, feeling its contour under my skin. With a satisfied nod, she pulls the cap off the needle and pushes the tip into the vial, drawing out the liquid slowly as she peers at the graduated marks on the side of the syringe.

"Ready?" she asks as she pulls the needle out of the bottle and ensures there are no air bubbles.

I nod. "As I'll ever be."

With an almost apologetic smile, she takes my arm again and gives one last preliminary probe for my vein before sticking in the needle. It's a slight sting followed by a vaguely cool sensation creeping up my arm. Loretta's smile widens and she steps back and promptly disappears. The room goes black.

What is this? I spin around in the darkness, stumbling across a creaky wood floor. A chill descends through my whole body and I start to shiver. I need to get out of here. I feel my way through the darkness and bump into a wall. It feels like peeling paint on drywall. Continuing along the wall, my fingers reach what seems to be a doorway.

Throwing open the door, I trip into the next room. My body feels so cold. I'm starting to feel a bit like the world is spinning. I can vaguely see a door in the darkness leading to the outside. I move toward it shakily. The edges of the door seem to keep wavering. My head starts pounding. Why can't I breathe?

Gasping for air, I tumble through the door and onto the dried grass outside. Wheezing sounds escape between my lips as my racing heart keeps pumping blood to my head. I think I'm going to explode...or suffocate...or freeze to death. Blackness creeps in. I think I'm dead. I'm dead...

*     *     *     *     *

The world beyond the darkness is a flurry of activity. Beeps and voices send ripples through the void, showing me the way. The sound is muffled, but it's getting louder. Where am I?

"Charging."

"Wait...we have sinus rhythm. He's back."

I'm back. Good, there's something I'm supposed to do. What was it? The sounds are getting muffled again. Maybe I'm not back. I'm so cold. It feels like I'm lying on a bed of ice. People are talking still. What are they saying? I hear the steady beep of a machine. A steady beep, that's a good thing, right? I don't know. All I want to do right now is sleep. Blackness creeps in. I think I'm alive...