Duality;Solaris Vol. 1

Chapter 2-2: Hindsight

A pause was needed as confusion plastered the straggler's expression from cheek-to-cheek. It taking a moment to sprout from the deep soil suffocating his tired, filled brain, John's immediate reaction becoming nothing more than instinct. From said instinct, John diverts the best he can, "Wow! The light's taking forever. Has this light always been this long?"

"Answer. The. Question." Rayst coldly demands with a calming precision.

With his brain being more useless than sand in a desert and unable to pad out the time anymore, John confesses, "Honestly, I don't remember which topic this is about. What do you mean by 'who am I' again?"

    Irritable, if not frustrated, by this back-step that he perceives it to be, Rayst inaptly turns to refresh John's foggy memories. Twisted around looking at John with his own eyes, Rayst tries his best to conjure up something out of the straggler. "Listen, friend, we were discussing what makes a person, well, that person a week or so ago. We all call ourselves 'me', but rarely ever know what that means. Really means. Told you to think about it, least a lil'. Anything?"

Slowly nodding his head side-to-side, John struggles to come up with anything definitive. The tiniest blotches trickling midst the fuzziest parts of his sleep-deprived mind, yet there's nothing notable enough to put a stop to his nodding notion. John can only reply with the little bit his hampered mind allows, "Sorry, man. I recall thinking about it a little yesterday, but nothing solid is coming to mind."

    A slither of disappointment sucks through Rayst's teeth at the news. A topic apparent too tantalizing to let fade, Rayst pushes deeper in baseless hope, "Tsk. Ok, نعم. Albeit, most use experiences or the past to—".

*Honk! Honk!*

Cut off by a cavalcade of exhausted or restless vehicles and their audible frustrations, John motions to something behind Rayst. Pointing to something outside the cab's front windshield, John clarifies, "It's green now".

    Taking a deep breath of agitations in, Rayst turns back around properly in the driver's seat and drives on. As reality barges back into the forefront of their lives, the curtains close on the more dream-like discussions of the self— for what little it may have been. With a right turn onto Florence St, they surprisingly find themselves far less congested than from 4th. Either by the leisure of this newfound openness or the solace from the supposed festivities, it is all music to John's ears. Relaxation at last.

    Gas fumes race through the taxi's exhaust pipe as the speedometer reflects what their eyes can see. The acceleration necessary as Rayst transitions the cab into the one-way lanes— through the formerly bustling evening traffic—down on, and through, the rest of the 'Fountain of Joys'. The uproars once erupting throughout 4th Street's rambunctious escapisms have all since muffled by the decree brought down from the four mechanical walls of Florence that now shield our relaxed straggler. From the end of the carpool lane of 4th St and onto the sparse Florence St, a pleasant vibration of peace erodes from the engine— engrossing the cabin of the cab. A lullaby to any that feel the numbness of extensive fatigue, this engine's hum only coaxing the drooping of the straggler's eyes.

*Skkrrrt!*

The car sharply turns, drifting violently around. John's eyes fling wide open at once. The inertia of everything slamming into the cab's left doors from the ferocious swing as the twisting wheel pushes in deeper into the drift. Levitating ever so slightly; first the briefcase, and then the messenger bag, fly towards John like meteors with a fiery mission. A nasty, satisfied grin basking across Rayst's face, the turn clears out of the hundred-and-eighty degree turn with the same delight as he. Met with applause of shouts and honks from his peers, the cab heads back the opposite way and turns back onto 4th St.