Fantasy and Fiction

Days of the Weak #2

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Days Of the Weak #1

 

There are days,

When the sun grieves,

When the moon can’t speak,

When all creation,

Men like me,

Stand still to think,

But find,

Nothing good in all they see.

 

I must have fallen asleep but somewhere deep, the words of the poet Teng Chi who was born in 2020 ricocheted in my sleep. There were mares, fears, none of which I’d not passed through but all in all I woke up in a room. The air was damp, there were no windows, a tiny fluorescent green bulb was the only source of light and a broken table the only piece of furniture. The floor was wet and the rooms door made of steel. A few rats skippered past me.

My head ached and my eyelids felt heavy. I sat up my back to the wall and replayed the scenes from my previous encounter bit by bit. Quite ironically, I thought, the room was more colder than the streets. My hands were freezing so I placed them in my dusty brown jacket. I knew there was something bad out there but quite the contrary, I had not an ounce of fear. I did not fear dying, the life I’d lived was way worser. Perhaps those who’d picked me up were just punks who had nothing to do but to see a man die, killing after all was the new game.

 

I sat up, thinking of nothing, staring at the blank walls. Everything was silent then a thought erupted, I had reached the buddhistic Nirvana. It seemed quite funny that way back in the past the only way people found confidence to face life was in forming tiny stories about their encounters with what they deemed supernatural and it had worked. Those tiny stories erupted into the greatest myths to explain our origin, where we came from, who we were…Nirvana was the ultimate destination. I laughed, didn’t care after all I was crazy, I had to be.

Somebody opened the door amidst my sporadic burst of madness. I didn’t care who he or she was, I continued staring at the floor, laughing. Then the big guy who’d blocked my path stood in front of me, his boots shiny. He touched my hair so that I could face up but I didn’t like it. I pushed his hands away and the corner of my eye caught the leathered lady and another man, tall, white, soft chinned, clean shaven with a goatee designed to impress. His hair was long just like they showed in all those portraits of Jesus only that he had tied it up with a hairband.

“Let him be.” The man motioned. He walked towards me, his boots making an impression on the floor around them his long coat swaying then he squatted and stared at me. I stared at him and laughed and for a while he looked confused, but there was something about those eyes, keen, trustworthy, calming, qualities that I had longed to see. Something stirred must have been anger, fear or confusion but just then I began talking.

” If its killing, kill me fast, I don’t care.”

I stared at his face and watched him form a half smile half smirk.

“You think its what am here for?”

“Maybe, you look unnerving.”

He laughed.

“Sorry, must have started on the wrong foot. I’m Dyson.” He extended his hands for a shake.

“You already know mine, just speak dude.” I tried to imitate my tough younger brother who’d died in an earthquake a few years ago as the world fell to pieces. According to reports, he and his team had been working late night when

“You know the problem with you? You always see things at face value, you’d never know if something spectacular hit you in the face.”

“So they say.” I muttered.

“Am not your enemy, am the closest thing you have to a friend.”

Silence

“You won’t even look at me?” I wanted to laugh but I couldn’t. Any fool could tell he was desperate to win my trust but why I didn’t know so I let his little game continue, I was in control, I thought.

“Your brother’s work, he’s the reason the whole world’s dead.”

I laughed, nobody had a clue why the whole world died, right?” I thought.

“I’ve got a theory with lots of evidence that the Mind Trek program your brother began…”

“Don’t pull Elias into the world’s problems. He’s dead!” I shouted, I wanted to punch his face but I was weak, tired and hungry.

“No he’s not.”

I laughed, sounded like Dyson was way crazier than I thought.

“Shane, show him.”

The young lady removed a remote, touch advanced and pressed on a key at the centre. The wall behind my back moved and I rose up to see a wall of glass. There was a patient, in a bed to the far end. Dyson tapped the screen and pressed a few buttons and the glass wall opened.

Scared, we stepped inside. Fear and silence merged to become one and together we stepped forward. At that moment, many emotions came to play. I knew it was him even if his face was all purple, swelly and ugly like a toads back. I wanted to laugh, I wanted to cry but I just stood there foddling his head with my dirty hands.

Dyson placed his hand on my back and muttered, “Something tells me you and I are going to be the worst of friends.”

I smiled and gave him a hug, I still didn’t know what he wanted, I was going to find out anyway.

About the author

Titus Daudi

titus Daudi

Writing is that one thing that keeps me awake every night but I love to science too, together we make a great couple... at least that's what I think.

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