Archeia's Atheneum (The First Shift)

Episode Twenty-One: Cherry Crushed

73 AA3

And the lights came to him again. He was surprised to feel that he was him again. He'd been so many different people, seen so many things--but now it was time to return to his now. The lights spun and whirled, sparked and crackled. Lights turned to colors and colors turned to images, fluid as they were. Like watching something moving beneath clear waters until it emerges out into its own clarity. Then the sounds came, the one he thought he'd never hear again.

Soon Douglas Friday perceived a wall on his right side, an actual real wall. To his left was an incomprehensible something that he felt was politely watching him, letting him know he could return if he wished. But going from fourth density to back to third is...difficult, especially for Douglas in this case; it was the first time he could remember doing so. He reacted to this unknown something with fear. He gasped and clawed ravenously at the wall, just to touch it and feel that it was there. Friday needed to know he was in his reality and as the ether called to him, he endeavored with increasing intensity to stay where he was. What to him felt like a life and death struggle, to the security cameras looked like someone on salvia. On that note: those watching the feed were not so much concerned with how a "respectable" division head was writhing and wriggling on the floor, as they'd already seen the man materialize in the room from thin air.

When the ordeal had concluded, Douglas sat against his beloved wall, his arms wide and hands feverously feeling the solidity of what he called real. He was sweating profusely, panting like a dog and eyeing all he could see. Holy fuck! I'm back. I'm back! he repeatedly thought. The reptilian being was no longer there, though in his mind's eye Douglas could see Cel-Cseba smiling at him. Then he tried to move, but while his depth and directional perception were realigning, this common task triggered a volatile reaction. Friday lurched forward and spewed bile on the floor. He let out a gasp and slurred out the words "Oh god..." before heaving again. Douglas purged, again and again, meekly pleading for help throughout the episode. And after all, he lay exhausted in his mess.

Eventually, he got to his feet. Friday staggered from the room where he'd met the reptilian being, calculating (without success) how long he'd been gone, and what he'd seen and now knew. He wrestled with the vaulted door for a time before opening it, stumbling out like a drunk. People walked speedily or ran around him. There'd been a significant happening. Douglas cambered up the hallway handrail and used it to pull himself along. He got some disgusted looks from a passerby or two, but the majority were too concerned with whatever's going on to care. Friday certainly didn't give a shit; in his state, all the panic and rushing seemed meaningless. His main focus was finding a washroom.

***

Dietrich had yet to be seen and no one stopped Douglas from leaving via the tunnel system, so he did. He took the luxury pod. During the short trip, Friday took his tie off and had a double scotch. When he'd returned to Ontario, his next objective was to find a pub. Somewhere to just sit, relax, and clear his head. Yes, that was what he needs most of all, a moment to cognize his mind. Friday's consciousness had been expanded, and his splitting headache confirmed it. Only time would tell what he'd been through.

He parked the Jag round back and walked lethargically into the establishment. Douglas hadn't been here before, it was just closest to him. He didn't even know what the pub was called, not that it mattered; excessive naming was a very human trait and not one that was terribly necessary. What a strange thing to think, Douglas thought. He settled on the bar's corner seat and saw his reflection in the mirror facing him. Friday found he didn't quite recognize himself. Was the ragged tired being really him?

"What'll ya have?" asked the bartender from seemingly nowhere.

Douglas looked up at him slowly, watched the man's facial expression with the curiosity of a child. "Um...I'll have a...pint of Canadian. And a shot too...spiced rum, any kind."