The house was glass. I could see mountains covered
in snow; I could think I was in the Himalayans, if
the snow was white. But it had the putrid green
tinge. Fungus world. Fungus folk.
The floor of the house was wood or like wood, with rugs
of strange properties and feel.
The bed was a ten by ten cushion on the floor. There was
a shiny/spongy comforter upon it of changing colours.
While I watched, it went from shades of yellow to orange
to red to purple to blue to green, to yellow, mixing and
swirling, hypnotising.
There were no closets or
dressers or bureaus. Just the bed.
The bed in the middle of barrenness. Frozen barrenness.
I came to the door, stepped out hesitantly, began to notice
the house was moving, staircases were becoming hallways,
corridors becoming staircases, moving slowly. The floor I
stood on didn't move. As I walked I could see parts of other
rooms. I went down a stair case, moving through nothing.
How to describe...
How to describe an unearthly house, which has rooms that
disappear, windows that become walls, first transparent,
then mirrors, then opaque...
It made me so dizzy, I put a hand on a wall, closed my
eyes. Concentrated on breathing. The air around my body
was the temperature of my body, making me feel dressed
in the air.
As I walked, I began to believe the house was making
rooms for me, creating segregated spaces which existed
only so long as I was inside.
I didn't know if the bedroom I had occupied was up or
down or even with my position, and when I looked to
find it, I only saw glass panels, wood panels, the
wood becoming floors, and as the panels moved, breaking
the light, rainbows arced.
Maybe it was beautiful, but in a hideously terrifying
way.
The last thing I wanted to do was call Jane, but being
lost had lost its novelty. I felt to scream, changed it
to a shout and called her. Called her as if I wasn't
lost and afraid.
"Come to the kitchen..." her voice was all around me.
"Follow the pink ball."
There in front of me was a pink sphere. I could put my hand
through it. It was a hologram. It bounced in the air, and I
followed it, along a corridor, up a stair case, and there was
Jane in her kitchen. I didn't enter, I didn't want to be
naked in front of her.
"Please give me my clothing..."
She spoke in her language, a ledge holding my clothing moved
to me. I took my things, began to dress where I was, then
entered, angry. Angry at how she would leave me to get lost
in her house, take my clothes, treat me this way...
I made a fist as if I'd punch her in her face. She caught
my arm. I can bench press three hundred pounds, yet her
thin fingers held my forearm like a steel vise. I couldn't
move my arm, she was that strong.
She looked at me, took a breath, softly;
"Tomorrow, when the first appointee comes and you fail, we
will both be outside. In your Fahrenheit scale, let's say
it is fifty below zero."
It would be cold out there, sure...that cold?
Carefully she explained how everything I'd seen belongs to
the Agency she worked for.
I shook my head. No. She wouldn't leave herself without
a Plan B. I assumed.
She came from where she had been preparing food, walked past
me with two plates, one in each hand, using one to gesture to
a chair. I sat, a table appeared, she put down the plate,
went to another chair, I watched to see if I could catch when
the table was and when it wasn't, but I couldn't. It happened
too fast, too smoothly.
I began to eat. The food was different but excellent.
As her dinner conversation, she explained how Scouts, (I
assume her job description), were allowed two mistakes,
but as her boss hated her, she would get one.
Not that she was so obnoxious, but I understood what
happens when there are "artistic" differences. When
someone has the power to fire you, and uses it, not
because you can't do the job, but because they don't
like having you around.
I got to the point, the point I'd been making for
two days;
"I can't do it, Jane. I can't," and asked the
most important question; "What will happen to me?"
"You don't exist, Simon."
"You'll let them put me outside, in the cold? To die?"
"Let them?" She exclaimed.
Everything has to make sense on some level. Even insanity.
I was abducted, brought to this world to have sex with
females. Why should I be killed? Why shouldn't I be returned
to Earth?
Surely a species that has space flight would be civilised.
I'm the victim here. Someone should apologise to me! Not
kill me. Not tell me I don't exist!
Even illegal aliens...
illegal aliens.
Illegal.
