5. Old Polaroid #3
People were scanned for viral agents automatically when going in and out of public transport – which was almost all transport; this was another area where only a few holdouts kept the automotive industry alive with their large bin-shaped trucks.
“Bird flu. Popped off in Manchester, apparently. It was controlled in four hours, though, so” – Mira waved energetically at the dozens of cubicles in the room – “everyone’s safe.” Her smile almost touched her ears.
Dylan smiled back. “Good. It didn’t even leave the city?”
Mira’s eyes narrowed slightly beneath her knitted, microbladed brows. “It did leave Manchester, yes. But everywhere in the Kingdom is fitted with scanners, so… they’ve been able to declare the virus extinct.”
“Already? Wow.” Dylan might have pretended to be impressed but she couldn’t even muster the energy for it. She raised her eyebrows and wheeled back to her computer. “Well, I’d better get back to it.”
Her boss gave an excited wave, saying, “Sure. Be seeing you,” and returned to her office rounds.
She was surprised at how cool Mira had been about her handling of the call.
But whatever. Dylan had done enough odd jobs to know it wasn’t worth getting familiar and friendly with people.
You’d only get burned. She could feel the push to close in on herself as a self-defence mechanism. Mira being nice didn’t help.
That night, Dylan lay on the bed, lights turned down to a tolerable near darkness, her feet on the pillow and head at the foot of it.
She stared up at the ceiling. In her hands was the roll of tape Isaak had given her. She looked again at the instructions printed on the inside of it. “Tear a piece off, and glue it to your temple,” she mouthed, by way of translation.
Her day had been frustrating, and boring, and difficult.
Doing the work of post-revolution was hard.
It should have been something she loved, something she was practically raised to do.
But it was draining. And it didn’t fulfil her.
Not in the same way getting themselves glued to the PM’s car must have fulfilled her parents desire for justice.
She searched the tape’s edge, digging into it with her nail, the leftover flakes of black nail polish contrasting with the shininess of the golden roll, and finally pulled a piece out.
Her eyes fixated on the rim wire constellations that hung from her bedroom ceiling, she took the tape to the skin just in front of her right ear, following the instructions.
She took a deep breath. Let’s see what the hell Isaak gave me.
Then she stuck the golden piece of tape to the side of her head.
Her vision went slightly blurry, the hanging rose-gold ornament shining even brighter.
Uh-oh. Maybe this was a mistake…
Her mouth hung open as her sight shifted concentrically,
black
to
colour,
like an old Polaroid, but slower.
And then she wasn’t sitting in her pastel-pink room anymore. She got up, let out a gasp.
Around her, the bedroom walls, desk, and wardrobe were gone. Only the bed remained. But now it was surrounded by the dark blue of a night sky, scattered with shimmering stars.
Having trouble making sense of what she was looking at, she fumbled around for her phone. It was still there on the bed, next to where she was lying.
Holding it in her hand made her slightly less anxious.
She was still physically here. It must just be a hallucination, she told herself, trying to stay calm, desperately trying to hold on to her senses.
She opened and closed her eyes multiple times, but the rest of the bedroom didn’t come back.
All she could see were stars and darkness, just outside the range of her bed.
Her dad was no longer at her place, so there was no one to help pull her out of this.
Though, even if he was still there, she knew he'd only give another one of his speeches about drugs, despite the fact that he and her mum were definitely getting high on the regular when planning for the Apocalypse Revolt marches back in his day.
Sod it, she tutted, then grabbed the vidphone and called him.
It rang three times.
“Hello?” Isaak. He looked half asleep, just like she remembered him.
“Dude, what the hell? I just tried your tape. What kind of drug—”
“Whoa, whoa, calm down. I can explain—”
“You’d better explain what the hell I’m hallucinating right now.
” Her voice wavered, unable to describe exactly what was happening to her.
She looked in the direction of where the door used to be, wondering if she'd still be able to open it if she tried.
But that way was just darkness, pitch black.
An omnipresent light source kept her immediate surroundings lit, slightly stronger than moonlight.
Isaak still hadn’t answered.
This was all too much, and as she looked around in a daze, she dropped her phone on her bed.
“It’s okay, Dylan. Take the tape—”
Panic rising, she forced her eyes shut, taking a deep breath and opening them after a short countdown. And again. And again. Nothing changed.
What is this?