The man woke with a start. As he shook the haze of sleep
from his head, he dimly became aware of his surroundings. He looked around the
spotless apartment. Everything was neat, modern and ordered. He had a weird
metallic taste in his mouth. “It might be blood” he thought out loud though he
had no idea why he would be bleeding and it seemed to be slightly off from the
taste of blood. He swung his legs over the side and rolled out of bed. He
stumbled the short distance to the pristine white bathroom and stared into the
mirror above the basin. Pulling at his lips, he checked round his mouth and
along his gums but there was no blood. He brushed his teeth, checking his spit
for red which he didn’t see, but even with sparkling teeth and fresh breath the
metallic taste wouldn’t leave him. Anyway, the man had no time to ponder
unexplained tastes, he had to get to work. The bus would be arriving at the end
of the road in 20 minutes and he wasn’t changed yet. He threw on his clothes,
tossing the shirt he slept in onto the smooth, dust-free floor. Quickly
collecting together everything he needed for work (apple for lunch, wallet, watch,
keys, phone), the man fell out of the door and ambled down the street. He could
see someone already waiting at the stop. A blonde haired woman holding a
shopping bag was staring around the left hand corner of the street looking out for
the coming bus. The road was empty and the surrounding houses were quiet and
bland. The man reached the stop and stood waiting for the bus exchanging no
words with the blonde haired woman.
Some minutes past and the bus finally crawled its way around the corner. The man watched the bus come to a standstill and the door slid open but the blonde woman hadn’t moved. She continued to stare down the road and seemed oblivious to the bus that had just arrived. The man hesitated then slipped past her and onto the bus, fishing some change out of his pocket as he stepped up. The bus driver turned and fixed the man with a stare that wasn’t particularly warm but wasn’t really all that cold either. “Two fifty.” The bus driver’s voice was clipped and nasal. His stare never faltered. The man plonked his change down on the little tray (which came to exactly 2.50) and tried to avoid the bus driver’s eyes as he waited for the machine to spit out his ticket. He took it and hurried to a seat near the back of the bus. There was only one other person on the bus and he appeared to be talking to himself. He was a well-dressed businessman in a suit and tie and he seemed to be having a conversation with an invisible person. Trying to ignore the businessman, the man looked down at his watch but it seemed to be broken. The little LCD screen simply read 00:00. He thought this was strange but was soon distracted by the businessman who was still happily chatting away with the empty air. The businessman was sat 4 rows in front in an aisle seat, the seat next to him, by the window, was completely unoccupied which didn’t seem to have any effect on the flow of the conversation. “Really? For that long? That is unbelievable. He was never like that around me... Yeah I suppose you are right. So did you ever hear back from that place up in the North? Where was it again?... Oh yeah that was it…” and so it continued.
The man watched in fascination as this half conversation played out. He could still taste metal on his tongue and it seemed to be getting stronger. At this point something quite unexpected happened. The talking businessman changed seats. That is, he didn’t get up and walk to a new seat he simply… ‘jumped’. Moved. Phased. One moment he was 4 rows in front and suddenly he was only 3 rows ahead. The half-conversation continued with no interruption. The man’s jaw had dropped and his hands were clasping the seat in front of him. How was this possible? How had the businessman teleported like that? It was at this point the man realised the bus still hadn’t set off from the stop, the door was still open and the blonde woman was still looking out for the bus that had already arrived. The metallic taste stung his throat. Everything felt wrong. He looked out the window at the bland, identical houses. The man’s breathing came quick and shallow. Where was it that he worked again? The lights on the bus were too bright. The seat in front of him that he had been clutching felt like play-doh. His hands sunk into the material as the incessantly droning businessman jumped back another row of seats. The man tried to scream as the walls, floor and ceiling of the bus, including the houses and street outside began to distend, melt and distort but the metallic taste filled his mouth to choking. Everything was melting into blackness, into a void now except for the seats of the bus and the businessman. He jumped back another row. He was now only one row in front of the man. One more jump and he would be right next to him. The man was now gagging on the stinging burning metallic taste that refused to dissipate and instead was getting stronger and stronger. The seats of the bus melted away to nothingness and the man, eyes bulging, mouth frothing, felt a chill run up his spine as the businessman that wouldn’t stop talking despite the collapse of reality around him, appeared next to the man and said in pure, soft tones
“End of Test. Catastrophic Immersion Failure. End of Test.”
The man woke up in a blinding white room. He was strapped into an upright pod and was facing a large mirror that almost covered an entire wall. He had a large metal pipe in his mouth and down his throat which he could see was attached to the bottom of the pod. He tried to reach and pull it out or move his head away but he was strapped down tight. His throat burned. A man and woman wearing lab coats strolled into the room through double doors behind the pod. They were deep in conversation as the man tried desperately to call out to them.
Lab coat man: Well at least we got the mirror perfect. Remember that time the subject woke up screaming because his face was all mangled?
Lab coat woman: Oh yeah that was test 15 right?
The woman in the lab coat delicately pulled the metal tube out of the man’s mouth and took a small torch out of her top pocket and shone it down the end.
Lab coat woman: No blockages. Looks like the antiemetic is working finally. Did you hear what happened in Copenhagen by the way?
Lab coat man: Oh yeah the cock-up with the cat. I told them they were crazy trying to put animals in but they never listen. I dread to think how much time they wasted on that code. Anyway I’ll check the report.
The man blearily watched the guy in the lab coat walk over to a small panel on the wall and press a few buttons. A screen appeared in the wall and various numbers and statistics flickered up.
Lab coat man: Yeah it was definitely Talking Man 2 that set him off with his jumping again. Talking Man 1 failed to render completely! Still can’t get rid of that metallic taste. Ok, well, we really need to sort out the bugs with the Talking Men and… maybe add a few animations to Blonde Woman just so she doesn’t look so creepy? I mean we can if we have time.
The lab coat woman popped her torch into her top pocket, pressed a few buttons on the side of the pod and then turned to leave.
Lab coat woman: Sounds good to me. Do you know where Jerry’s been all week?
Lab coat man: Flu I heard…
The pair continued talking as they left the room, completely oblivious to the wheezing, choking man in the pod struggling to call for help. He heard the click of the door, locking as it closed and, after a few seconds of silence, a soft whirring sound started up. He felt something slither against his leg which turned his blood cold. He saw in the mirror that the metal pipe was working its way up to his head. It hovered in front of him like a striking cobra. The man was still disorientated and confused but he guessed what was coming next and shut his mouth tight. A sudden strike to the back of his ribs, a short pipe firing out, jabbing him and then retracting back into the pod, made the man cry out. The serpent-like pipe had been waiting for this and shot forwards into the man’s mouth and down his throat with surgical precision. The same soft, pure voice of the talking businessman that had informed him of the catastrophic immersion failure now echoed around the room.
“Run Memory Wipe. Begin Test Forty-Two”
The man woke up with a start. He looked around the spotless apartment. He had a weird metallic taste in his mouth.
------------------------------------------------------------------
More creative writing! I wrote this ages ago but then forgot about it then remembered it and thought I had posted it on a social media site already. Turns out I wrote it the old fashioned way with paper and one of those things with the grey stick in it? One of those things. Anyway I finally typed it up and here it is!
I really like the way this turned out and I do hope you found it as creepy as I did while I was writing it. I hope that creepiness came across. With the rise of VR (virtual reality) games and the way modern media is designed to suck people in and hold them there for as long as possible I thought it would be interesting to revisit the old philosophical question of how you really know you are experiencing true reality? Are you in the Matrix right now? Would you notice mistakes like our protagonist and what would be the consequences of knowing the world was fake?
Some minutes past and the bus finally crawled its way around the corner. The man watched the bus come to a standstill and the door slid open but the blonde woman hadn’t moved. She continued to stare down the road and seemed oblivious to the bus that had just arrived. The man hesitated then slipped past her and onto the bus, fishing some change out of his pocket as he stepped up. The bus driver turned and fixed the man with a stare that wasn’t particularly warm but wasn’t really all that cold either. “Two fifty.” The bus driver’s voice was clipped and nasal. His stare never faltered. The man plonked his change down on the little tray (which came to exactly 2.50) and tried to avoid the bus driver’s eyes as he waited for the machine to spit out his ticket. He took it and hurried to a seat near the back of the bus. There was only one other person on the bus and he appeared to be talking to himself. He was a well-dressed businessman in a suit and tie and he seemed to be having a conversation with an invisible person. Trying to ignore the businessman, the man looked down at his watch but it seemed to be broken. The little LCD screen simply read 00:00. He thought this was strange but was soon distracted by the businessman who was still happily chatting away with the empty air. The businessman was sat 4 rows in front in an aisle seat, the seat next to him, by the window, was completely unoccupied which didn’t seem to have any effect on the flow of the conversation. “Really? For that long? That is unbelievable. He was never like that around me... Yeah I suppose you are right. So did you ever hear back from that place up in the North? Where was it again?... Oh yeah that was it…” and so it continued.
The man watched in fascination as this half conversation played out. He could still taste metal on his tongue and it seemed to be getting stronger. At this point something quite unexpected happened. The talking businessman changed seats. That is, he didn’t get up and walk to a new seat he simply… ‘jumped’. Moved. Phased. One moment he was 4 rows in front and suddenly he was only 3 rows ahead. The half-conversation continued with no interruption. The man’s jaw had dropped and his hands were clasping the seat in front of him. How was this possible? How had the businessman teleported like that? It was at this point the man realised the bus still hadn’t set off from the stop, the door was still open and the blonde woman was still looking out for the bus that had already arrived. The metallic taste stung his throat. Everything felt wrong. He looked out the window at the bland, identical houses. The man’s breathing came quick and shallow. Where was it that he worked again? The lights on the bus were too bright. The seat in front of him that he had been clutching felt like play-doh. His hands sunk into the material as the incessantly droning businessman jumped back another row of seats. The man tried to scream as the walls, floor and ceiling of the bus, including the houses and street outside began to distend, melt and distort but the metallic taste filled his mouth to choking. Everything was melting into blackness, into a void now except for the seats of the bus and the businessman. He jumped back another row. He was now only one row in front of the man. One more jump and he would be right next to him. The man was now gagging on the stinging burning metallic taste that refused to dissipate and instead was getting stronger and stronger. The seats of the bus melted away to nothingness and the man, eyes bulging, mouth frothing, felt a chill run up his spine as the businessman that wouldn’t stop talking despite the collapse of reality around him, appeared next to the man and said in pure, soft tones
“End of Test. Catastrophic Immersion Failure. End of Test.”
The man woke up in a blinding white room. He was strapped into an upright pod and was facing a large mirror that almost covered an entire wall. He had a large metal pipe in his mouth and down his throat which he could see was attached to the bottom of the pod. He tried to reach and pull it out or move his head away but he was strapped down tight. His throat burned. A man and woman wearing lab coats strolled into the room through double doors behind the pod. They were deep in conversation as the man tried desperately to call out to them.
Lab coat man: Well at least we got the mirror perfect. Remember that time the subject woke up screaming because his face was all mangled?
Lab coat woman: Oh yeah that was test 15 right?
The woman in the lab coat delicately pulled the metal tube out of the man’s mouth and took a small torch out of her top pocket and shone it down the end.
Lab coat woman: No blockages. Looks like the antiemetic is working finally. Did you hear what happened in Copenhagen by the way?
Lab coat man: Oh yeah the cock-up with the cat. I told them they were crazy trying to put animals in but they never listen. I dread to think how much time they wasted on that code. Anyway I’ll check the report.
The man blearily watched the guy in the lab coat walk over to a small panel on the wall and press a few buttons. A screen appeared in the wall and various numbers and statistics flickered up.
Lab coat man: Yeah it was definitely Talking Man 2 that set him off with his jumping again. Talking Man 1 failed to render completely! Still can’t get rid of that metallic taste. Ok, well, we really need to sort out the bugs with the Talking Men and… maybe add a few animations to Blonde Woman just so she doesn’t look so creepy? I mean we can if we have time.
The lab coat woman popped her torch into her top pocket, pressed a few buttons on the side of the pod and then turned to leave.
Lab coat woman: Sounds good to me. Do you know where Jerry’s been all week?
Lab coat man: Flu I heard…
The pair continued talking as they left the room, completely oblivious to the wheezing, choking man in the pod struggling to call for help. He heard the click of the door, locking as it closed and, after a few seconds of silence, a soft whirring sound started up. He felt something slither against his leg which turned his blood cold. He saw in the mirror that the metal pipe was working its way up to his head. It hovered in front of him like a striking cobra. The man was still disorientated and confused but he guessed what was coming next and shut his mouth tight. A sudden strike to the back of his ribs, a short pipe firing out, jabbing him and then retracting back into the pod, made the man cry out. The serpent-like pipe had been waiting for this and shot forwards into the man’s mouth and down his throat with surgical precision. The same soft, pure voice of the talking businessman that had informed him of the catastrophic immersion failure now echoed around the room.
“Run Memory Wipe. Begin Test Forty-Two”
The man woke up with a start. He looked around the spotless apartment. He had a weird metallic taste in his mouth.
------------------------------------------------------------------
More creative writing! I wrote this ages ago but then forgot about it then remembered it and thought I had posted it on a social media site already. Turns out I wrote it the old fashioned way with paper and one of those things with the grey stick in it? One of those things. Anyway I finally typed it up and here it is!
I really like the way this turned out and I do hope you found it as creepy as I did while I was writing it. I hope that creepiness came across. With the rise of VR (virtual reality) games and the way modern media is designed to suck people in and hold them there for as long as possible I thought it would be interesting to revisit the old philosophical question of how you really know you are experiencing true reality? Are you in the Matrix right now? Would you notice mistakes like our protagonist and what would be the consequences of knowing the world was fake?
