Ointment on a wisdom tooth
Dan could barely react. Clumsily tottering a few steps forward, he ended collapsing flat on the ground. Roundly half-conscious.
At such an happy hour, it was customary for Dan to meet with his good buddy, Germa Nicman, that crazy curly haired fellow, to grab a getaway grubby meal to dine, at a 24/7 small restaurant. Other times, they'd just hang out in bars. It was always entertaining, and full of an offbeat humour.
These seemed, now, the reminiscences of another life, hallucinations disjointed in pieces of a whole another past lifetime.......
Wet gravel. Bit by bit, Dan was coming to his senses. and beginning to notice his own lethargy, as his body seemed like it didn't belong to him.
A strange, and nasty, taste discomforting as an offense in his mouth. An acute ache swelling on the back of his head, as it was arching around from the occiput to the temporal lobes and the front. What was that?
What a struck down....
It felt as if it was some punishment act for any wanton less-than-gracious actions Dan had carried over the years.
His eyes, so heavy!
- You're..... not one of them - a trembling, cackling old man's voice gasped - Oh, thank goodness!
The last sentence was followed by a relieved sigh. Then, in a more hesitating tone, the voice resumed:
- My, I'm most sorry - Dan felt a hand touching his right arm, and then his back - What I've done is unbearable.
It was then that Dan turned his head with effort, trying to get a grasp of who (or what) was this entity that had struck him down such in a kabbalistic manner. Only a blur, for now.
The man helped Dan getting on to his feet, and in doing so, he keenly observed his features, right down to the small magenta italicized "w", engraved on the lab coat's left chest, over the heart area.
- Here you are - the stranger hoarsed, pleasantly - back on your feet.
As soon as Dan found himself standing, he gazed on the little man from top to bottom. This was a man in, most likely, his early 60's, short (about 1,64 m [5,3 feet]), carrying an impertinent nose and small eyes, muffled with his spectacles of rectangular lenses and transparent frames, and with a certain melancholic bearing. He was glaringly bald (almost shiny), although with quite some tufts of clear grey hair protruding from the sides of the head.
Head, which, by the way, was very much oval-shaped -- in fact it had almost the perfect form of an egg. Kind of like an aged Hercule Poirot.
Completing the attire was his pleated trousers, with a matching lounge waistcoat with an handkerchief on the left pocket located in the abdominal area, all in burgundy tweed, and a long sleeve dress shirt in a prussian blue.
His shoes were moccasins, made of some animal skin. On his hands, something so unnatural for a person with such appearance, he was totting, sportingly, a weapon -- with a small smoothbore barrel of aluminum alloy, seemed a sawed off shotgun designed for short range. Its stock was the likely responsible for Dan's headache.
- A survivor of the W wing... - speaking in a wistful tone (which, as Dan'd learn, was pretty much his trademark), the man continued, never taking his eyes off the «w» in Dan's chest - And you don't exhibit any visible signs of pleiotropic changes, or any epistatic movements, to offset. Also, no immediate effects indicating the catalytic presence of telomerase.
So, this was the man who had knocked Dan out, by accident.
- For me it's more like the hangover effect - Dan clutched his head - Look, I'm......
The man interrupted him:
- It's not good if we stay here for too long; this area is practically reeking of activity - he said - it's better for we to move along discreetly to more secure lodgings, until everything works out.
He started walking at a fast pace:
- Come, we can find some painkillers for your needs along - the man informed - we'll go through the scrap.
And Dan darted behind him, perplexed:
- Works out? - Dan was now astonished - I don't think that's possible anymore.
- They did say that all should be eventually taken care soon. In a few hours, in fact. - then his expression altered slightly - But they're also after my head, so... Regardless, Shunya Sagi won't sink down with such an ease! - he protested, indignant.
Dan held his breath for an instant. That man was him.
At such an happy hour, it was customary for Dan to meet with his good buddy, Germa Nicman, that crazy curly haired fellow, to grab a getaway grubby meal to dine, at a 24/7 small restaurant. Other times, they'd just hang out in bars. It was always entertaining, and full of an offbeat humour.
These seemed, now, the reminiscences of another life, hallucinations disjointed in pieces of a whole another past lifetime.......
Wet gravel. Bit by bit, Dan was coming to his senses. and beginning to notice his own lethargy, as his body seemed like it didn't belong to him.
A strange, and nasty, taste discomforting as an offense in his mouth. An acute ache swelling on the back of his head, as it was arching around from the occiput to the temporal lobes and the front. What was that?
What a struck down....
It felt as if it was some punishment act for any wanton less-than-gracious actions Dan had carried over the years.
His eyes, so heavy!
- You're..... not one of them - a trembling, cackling old man's voice gasped - Oh, thank goodness!
The last sentence was followed by a relieved sigh. Then, in a more hesitating tone, the voice resumed:
- My, I'm most sorry - Dan felt a hand touching his right arm, and then his back - What I've done is unbearable.
It was then that Dan turned his head with effort, trying to get a grasp of who (or what) was this entity that had struck him down such in a kabbalistic manner. Only a blur, for now.
The man helped Dan getting on to his feet, and in doing so, he keenly observed his features, right down to the small magenta italicized "w", engraved on the lab coat's left chest, over the heart area.
- Here you are - the stranger hoarsed, pleasantly - back on your feet.
As soon as Dan found himself standing, he gazed on the little man from top to bottom. This was a man in, most likely, his early 60's, short (about 1,64 m [5,3 feet]), carrying an impertinent nose and small eyes, muffled with his spectacles of rectangular lenses and transparent frames, and with a certain melancholic bearing. He was glaringly bald (almost shiny), although with quite some tufts of clear grey hair protruding from the sides of the head.
Head, which, by the way, was very much oval-shaped -- in fact it had almost the perfect form of an egg. Kind of like an aged Hercule Poirot.
Completing the attire was his pleated trousers, with a matching lounge waistcoat with an handkerchief on the left pocket located in the abdominal area, all in burgundy tweed, and a long sleeve dress shirt in a prussian blue.
His shoes were moccasins, made of some animal skin. On his hands, something so unnatural for a person with such appearance, he was totting, sportingly, a weapon -- with a small smoothbore barrel of aluminum alloy, seemed a sawed off shotgun designed for short range. Its stock was the likely responsible for Dan's headache.
- A survivor of the W wing... - speaking in a wistful tone (which, as Dan'd learn, was pretty much his trademark), the man continued, never taking his eyes off the «w» in Dan's chest - And you don't exhibit any visible signs of pleiotropic changes, or any epistatic movements, to offset. Also, no immediate effects indicating the catalytic presence of telomerase.
So, this was the man who had knocked Dan out, by accident.
- For me it's more like the hangover effect - Dan clutched his head - Look, I'm......
The man interrupted him:
- It's not good if we stay here for too long; this area is practically reeking of activity - he said - it's better for we to move along discreetly to more secure lodgings, until everything works out.
He started walking at a fast pace:
- Come, we can find some painkillers for your needs along - the man informed - we'll go through the scrap.
And Dan darted behind him, perplexed:
- Works out? - Dan was now astonished - I don't think that's possible anymore.
- They did say that all should be eventually taken care soon. In a few hours, in fact. - then his expression altered slightly - But they're also after my head, so... Regardless, Shunya Sagi won't sink down with such an ease! - he protested, indignant.
Dan held his breath for an instant. That man was him.
posted by tensayoki @ 23:39
