Knowrhythm.net

I was just talking to 8AM.  We were having a long discussion about the nature of time.  I couldn’t help but wonder why the hell he was wearing a chicken suit, or if 8AM is even a “he”.  At this point I think it would be awkward and a little impolite to ask.  Maybe Thursday knows.

I take a few moments and look around at the expanse of the factory.  Long since abandoned, it is not easily discernible what exactly its former use was.  Metal pipes of various sizes twist around the interior, stained over time by water leaks from the broken roof plates.  A grid of small, square panes of glass make up the windows lining the upper sections of the walls.  The thickness of the individual panes traps the outside light, reducing it to a dull glow.  The interior is lit only by shafts of light entering through chipped areas of the windows.  Accompanying the pipes, large chain and pulley systems hang almost touching the floor.  Some of these end with clasp hooks, some without.  Though the room is void of any airflow, the chains sway about as if caught in a breeze, sound like that of dense wind chimes.

I hear footsteps in the distance, faintly echoing about the room.  Almost hidden by the clinks of the chains, footfalls strike the metal catwalk resonating louder with each advance.  I can remember now.  I remember I am being chased, my pursuer now in fully audible, as well as visible range.  He is a young boy, similar age and size as myself.  We are playing a game.  I break from my fascination of the factory interior and turn my attention to the other boy.  I run in the opposite direction, down the walkway, through the door at its end.  This leads to an adjoining stairwell from the main factory floor.  Similar styling and lighting, the stairwell is quite large, perhaps the largest ive seen.  The stairs, though actually more ramp like,  split in an alternating inside to outside pattern, rather than a traditional spiral.  I stop for a moment after reaching the next landing below and wait patiently for the other boy.  He enters shortly after and immediately heads down to where I am.  In effort to complete the main objective of the game, he starts in to grab me.  Were he to touch me I would become temporarily unconscious, no sense of hearing, sight,  paralyzed from movement.  Imagine freeze tag being played between two fully capable energetic beings, in the bodies of two small children.

I keep my distance, running up and down the alternating levels.  Still chased by the other boy, I keep this up for a few minutes before turning to face him.  He continues reaching out as I stay just out of range.  Letting up briefly, for the moment things seem to be at a standstill.  We both take a second to catch our breath when I notice something unnerving.  I look into my companions eyes as they start to turn solid black.  All color and whites eclipsed by dark, reflective, convex mirrors.  The boy has no idea that this is happening to him and there is no visible change in his actions.  Only his eyes are altered, pools of shadow set in his face.  I start to see flashes in front of me, images flickering in and out of existence.  I see the dark eyed boy playing as before, lunging in to strike as I counter his move with one of my own.  On impact, he freezes, as goes with the rules, however something goes terribly wrong as his soul is forced out of his body.  Unable to return to the physical form he will never again regain his senses or consciousness.  The game took and unfortunate and fatal turn.  The images continue to flash as I see his lifeless body on the floor before me.  The visions were a premonition and I struggle briefly being presented with the two realities at once.  My sight eventually stabilizes, returning my attentions to the present game at hand.

The boy resumes his advance, this time slightly more aggressive, wild in his movements, eyes still void of any light.  I am inversely more cautious as I slip around dodging his offensive, unable to stop and explain to him of the danger as he becomes more determined towards his goal.  Tripping during my backwards retreat, I come lethally close to losing him.  The touch, contact from either of us, would lead to his end.  Thankfully I am able to quickly regain my balance and continue the erratic dance.  After what seemed like the longest minutes of my life, his eyes finally return to normal, darkness completely washing out.  Somewhat relieved, I take this as a sign that the threat has passed.  Though hesitant at first, I decide to end the game, sidestepping his now flailing arms and kicking him straight in his chest.  It is forceful enough to lift him off his feet and knock him on the floor.  The round of play ending, his body lies still, no movement of breath or eyes and soul still intact.  The boy had no idea how close he was to death, the entirety of his focus being in the game.  This game I dont want to play anymore.

Leaving my former opponent motionless in the stairwell, I step outside through the nearest exit door one flight down.  I enter into a spacious courtyard, matching the aging and unkept interior of the factory.  Broken concrete slabs form paths, weeds emerging from the cracks between.  Large stretches of lawn have overgrown to a dull green in some places, dry yellow patches in others.  The temperature is relatively cool and from the ambient light it seems just before dusk.  My eyes follow the pathways, leading off in no logical direction, shifting to new positions as they leave my periphery.  I take one of the paths for a couple of feet, eyes still following ahead, before looking up to see a woman walking in a convergent direction.  Closer now from the distance, I am able to discern more of her features.  She is middle aged and of average height, which with my proximity, I notice is now slightly shorter than me.  It seems on entry to the courtyard I am no longer embodied in that of a small child, returned to a more familiar and comfortable form.  The woman is dressed most notably in a knee length, white wool coat, with large brown buttons.  This is accompanied by a matching umbrella, open and resting gently on her shoulder.  Given a longer look, the umbrella does not appear as substantial as thought before.  Resembling more of a fashionable parasol, intricate floral designs lace and perforate its surface.  Tiny rays of light leak through the fabric, creating a miniature star field, dancing across her face and clothing covered in shade.

The woman slows to a stop as our paths begin to cross.  I approach her, curious as to what she’s doing in this courtyard.  It should seem obvious that she is simply out for a leisurely stroll.  However the current state of the grounds and its location, in contrast to her attire give me enough pause to inquire further.  This then makes me think for a moment, since she was apparently outside first, might she have more reason to question my presence here.  I shake the idea from my mind and turn my attention back to the woman, now gazing off into the sky.  “Im waiting for it to rain”, she suddenly says to me.  I find this a little odd as I search the sky, unable to find a single cloud.  Strangely enough, the light quality does seem to resemble the minutes just before a storm.  I decide that at present I haven’t the patience, or adequate curiosity to wait around with her to find out what happens.

I return inside, again through the same stairwell door.  The unconscious body of the boy is now gone.  Perhaps he left, tiring of the game as I, or simply not having anyone to play with.  Retracing my prior egress, up the ramps, back into the main floor of the factory, I come to a new set of doors.  Directly across the catwalks from the stairwell doors, these lead me into a new section of building.  Structurally speaking, it is not “new” , though the space is definitely under heavy remodel.  A thick smell of fresh paint and plaster lingers in the air.  The room is void of any furnishings.  Much like the stairwell, there are large ramps leading from the upper level where I stand, to the ground floor.  Clerestory glass windows line the top walls in similar configuration and density to the ones in the main factory.  There is no dirt, rust or imperfections in the materials.  Everything looks to be recently purchased and installed.  Thin braided steel cables can be seen bolted from the ceiling to the floor of this upper level.  Stepping into the room further there is a faint sway to the flooring and it becomes apparent the cables actually suspend this level from the ground.  Blue masking tape traces the corners of the room geometry.  Most likely paint overspray, or extra cut material, a light colored powder collects along various edges of the dark gray interior.

I make my way over towards the closest ramp, jumping over a few gaps between the suspended sections, causing them to swing further.  Just before reaching it I step on a loose panel, hanging from its center rather than ends.  It immediately tilts on axis, dumping me to the ground below.  I am able to land on my feet initially, though the fall was from a height enough to leave me on my back.  Uninjured, I look up to see the panel slowly seesawing back into place, eventually balanced on center and flush with the neighboring flooring.  I think about what just happened and wonder for a moment if it was then result of poor engineering or intentional engineering.  Dusting myself off I get back to my feet and continue to the doors across from where I landed.  Bright green letters spell out “EXIT” above while next to the doors is a white plastic box housing a keypad and illuminated screen.  Seeing that this is an alarm system I hesitate before attempting to leave.  I take a deep breath, exhaling as I enter a series of five numbers, resetting the alarm with a four second delay.  Opening the right side of the pair, I step outside and allow the door to close behind me before the timer expires.

I look around again to see that I am on the porch of a small residential home.  This home is quite a bit smaller than the factory and grounds contained within.  At this point I dont bother tumbling around with the conundrum of physics and architecture ive just witnessed.  Its just the way things are sometimes and I have no interest in reentering to see if its all still in there.  The owners of the home sit directly to my left as I face towards the steps leading to the street.  Rocking back and forth in matching wooden chairs, they look over to me as if only to acknowledge my presence, then turn back to whatever had been captivating them before my arrival.  Stepping off the porch, I return them an informal hello and goodbye.  I venture off to explore rest of the neighborhood I find myself in, leaving the factory and its people behind me.

2009. 11. 17

“We are in the desert, you should come meet us here” my friend says.  “Im actually already on my way there”, I tell him as I turn off the phone.  I continue across the vast terrain to my destination.  It is midday, the sky is a bright, cloudless, even blue.  The ground is arid, in true desert fashion, and goes on past the horizon in every direction with no sign of vegetation of wildlife for miles.  I walk for some time in the hot sun, though I do not feel fatigued or thirsty from its heat.

I eventually come across what looks like a small campsite, set between two small mountain ranges.  This creates a valley which the camp sits at the mouth of.  As I get closer the camp starts to resemble more of a carnival, patchwork tents and structures.  They show no apparent sign of uniformity and each are quite unique from the other.  I finally arrive to the mouth of the valley, standing in front of the gates of the midway.  The carnival is apparently not open yet.  There is no ticket booth set up, no crowd in queue, no attendants.  I walk in uncontested.

Once inside, people start to appear from various places.  Directly to the left is the majority of the tents seen from outside the gates.  These are mostly comprised of food stalls, primarily to feed staff and other early arrivals wandering about.  Just ahead of this is a long, sectioned off area of the valley.  It is separated from the rest of the space by an orange plastic fencing about five feet in height.  Its line follows a natural marker of sorts, indicating where a river once ran through.  On the other side of this fence people can be seen gliding around alone and in groups of two.  Closer inspection reveals that they are roller skating on the bed of the long since dried up waterway.  I take note again of the dry atmosphere and can now feel the heat of the sun.  Though it is the desert, it is particularly hot and dry today.  Wiping a bit of sweat from my head I continue along the fence further into the encampment.  To the right,  is a similarly long dirt slope running parallel the dried river.  This creates a visible pathway, almost a smaller valley, within the confines of the larger.  A ways down, the slope can be seen leading up to an outcropping of rocks.  Standing from the top of this would most certainly give someone a complete view of the valley.  I decide to check it out for myself and begin the climb.  About halfway up my phone starts to ring.  It is my friend again, this time telling me that he and some others are at the top of a hill by some rocks.  I think it convenient that yet again, I am already on my way there.  What is not convenient is that just before telling him this I drop the phone and watch it tumble back down to the path.  I guess its going to be a little longer before I am able to meet with him.

I reach the bottom again and find the phone partially buried in the dirt.  Nothing appears to be broken.  The shell has come apart slightly though it easily snaps back into place.  I dust it off and turn it on to make sure it still works.  As soon as the screen lights up a man approaches by way of the entrance.  “Hey, can I use your phone?” he asks hurriedly.  I explain to him what had just happened and was not entirely sure if the phone was operational.  The man stands there silent, a look of anxiousness on his face.  I glance back to the screen and see that it is indeed working as normal.  Unfortunately the battery is almost all used up.  “Lemme use your phone man”, he asks again.  I try to explain about the battery and how I need to save it until I can get it charged again.  “Ill give you a hundred dollars”, he says, sweat now forming on his face, shivering like a junkie.  “You can buy a brand new phone with that kind of money”, I tell him, now annoyed by his persistence.  “Come on man, I wont be on long”.  Finally fed up I tell him kindly to “fuck off”.  He seems to understand finally and leaves off in a tantrum, most likely to proposition someone else.

Though my friends are still just over the ridge, I decide to make my way back towards the entrance in search of a charger for my phone.  Passing by the dirt skaters, along the orange fence, I see smoke billowing ahead.  The food stalls now in full swing, thick steam and vapors rising from the grills.  Suddenly I hear the sound of rumbling thunder in the distance.  This is odd as the sky is clear of any clouds, sun still blazing overhead.  Shortly after the sound, the rumble is now felt, like a tiny earthquake shaking the valley floor.  There is still a faint vibration left to the ground as this initial quake subsides.  I glance around my immediate surroundings quickly, expecting to see some physical indication of what just happened, but nothing is amiss.  I figure it is a common occurrence in this valley and continue towards the entrance.  A few steps later I notice the ground has a different feel than before.  Where was once hard baked clay, now has a softer composition.  It feels like I am walking in mud.  Inspecting the pathway at my feet, I find to no big surprise, that it is quite wet and muddy.  I look around and see that I am the only person to observe what is happening.  Everyone around is still preoccupied within their tasks, business as usual.  A hot breeze forcefully hits my back as it rushes past, out of the mouth of the valley.  Turning to face it I am then greeted with an intense smell of chocolate.  As I try to figure out the source of the smell, I see a dark brown liquid trickling down from atop the slope where my friend awaits.  This quickly increases to a steadier flow and in the distance a large mudslide materializes from over the ridges of the valley.  Within seconds the sludge washes up around my feet and minutes later I am standing in about half a foot of brown, swampy mess.  It is at that point that I come to the realization as to the composition of the mud and its smell.  It is in fact chocolate pudding, though a bit watery by pudding standards, rich fragrance saturating the air.  Chocolate pudding has now flooded the entire valley.

So here I am, standing ankle deep in the aftermath of the pudding apocalypse, and all I can manage to think about is cake mix.  I wonder, with the air so hot and dry, what would happen if tons of cake mix was airdropped into the valley, stirred in, and left to bake in the sun.

2009.11.04