Friday, October 10, 2014
Chapter 2 - The Camellia Blossom
As the light speckled through the thin slice of forest that cuts through the front lawn of the university, a curious feeling came over him, as though an invisible force has wrapped themselves upon Davis' forehead, trying as it might to squeeze the life right out of him. A slight pain, a searing headache, an uncontrollable surge of lost energy that soon followed. Am i having a heart attack, thought Davis, as he felt the slight buckle of his kneecaps as they wobbled in such an imperceptible way as to hardly be noticed. Suddenly, the light became so bright as to wash out all other aspects of the surrounding area, no longer did the slight breeze of the wind tickle his throat, the imperceptible sounds of footsteps from such oncoming traffic, were no longer heard, just silence, an almost deafening sound of nothingness that pursed his lips in such a contorted fashion as to be almost painful in the slightest of senses. An that is when, most uncontrollably, his ex wife came to mind, like a stray dog bolting out into traffic at the last remaining second. Suddenly, he was back home, as his wife, Myles, curls up beside him on the living room couch, as her long messy black hair drapes over his cowering shoulders, while her beautiful brown eyes fixates on the t.v screen like a cat waiting for its dinner. Outside, lays an old apple tree sitting silently in the morning breeze, as the apples themselves seem to be sparkling in the sun that sits overhead. Even now, Davis can almost smell the aroma of tree leaves an apple sauce, from which they would make after picking said apples every Sunday morning. An as he turns his head towards the kitchen, he can see Myles steaming away while her sun stained apron sits snugly against her ample body, as though hugging every last drop of sweat from the searing heat of the oven. An as she herself turns her head towards him with that crooked smile that allows the slightest inkling of her beautiful white teeth breathe through, Davis has the sudden realization that it's been such a long time since he last saw her. As though she is but a memory that has been tucked away like fine China, only to be brought out for certain occasions. It's such a sudden realization that it's as though Davis can feel the very air suddenly being sucked from his lungs, as though his body is being deflated into an empty husk like the discarded remains of a macadamia nut. But as his eyes begin to slowly fade into darkness, he can suddenly hear the distant cries of what sounds like a man being muffled, as if his voice is being raked through a handkerchief by some would be captives." Davis, wake up, Davis!" The voice calls out.
Suddenly a small light begins to take form in the center of Davis' line of vision, at first acting as a small ember shining through the darkness like a single flame in a array of charcoal. But as Davis stares off into this seemingly formless speck of light, it begins to twitch ever so slightly as though it's starting to crawl its way back to life, like a man with little to no sleep trying to force his self out of bed for an early start. An as this small ember slowly begins it's dance, a funny thing begins to emerge from its sparkling madness. It's almost as though the belly of this embering beast is starting to glow, even more so than it is at this very moment. At first, it's subtle, an slight, like the reddening pupil of an over acting eye. Gradually though, it begins to burst open like a blooming flower in the midst of the summer sun, eventually taking over an washing out all darkness that previously resided in its place. An that is, once again, when Davis heard the muffled tones of a distant voice calling out." Davis.. wake up! Davis, Davis. ." An as his eyes began to adjust, the light started to focus, an there right before him stood a short stout man with short cropped brown hair, hazel eyes, an a white lab coat that appeared to fuse him in with the white washed walls of the room. "Davis, are you okay? How are you feeling?"
"A bit woozy," mumbles Davis, "where am I anyways doc!"
"You're in Quasi Corp! Don't you remember?"
"Not really doc, it's all a bit fuzzy at the moment."
"Well you just rest their for a bit, it will all come back. An when it does, I will explain everything than, okay."
"Sure doc! Whatever you say."
As Davis lies there, he can feel the slight breeze of the fans whir overhead, that only serves to ensure the fact that the beads of sweat that lie upon his forehead be momentarily cut off from the heat. Which in turn is helped in slight by the overhead lamp that bears down upon Davis like the searing sun. The room itself, Reminds Davis of a dentists, or even a doctors office, what with the white washed walls, an even the fact that the chair he lays upon seems ripped right from said office. Maybe so to give the so called patients the calm serenity one gets from going to each, or maybe it's just the fact that this very well may have been a dentists in a passed life, which would give certain aspects a more well defined reasoning behind them. In fact, one of the few things that seem to stand out is the wires that fall lazily from atop his chair, that hang down from a metal crane while in turn being birthed by a seemingly heavily armored computer console that sits serendipitously against the wall behind him.
After about five to ten minutes, Davis realizes that his previous bewilderment has subsided, an now for the first time he can once again think clearly. He remembers this very morning, in his apartment up town getting ready for the day ahead. He remembers his appointment for Quasi Corp that he had made a few weeks prior, an even the reasoning for said appointment. The gloriously debilitating fact that his wife had passed just over a year ago, the very woman that he dreamt about here mere moments before. As before he came here, which was insisted upon by a friend of his that went through the same type of experience, he was unable to do many things that he had once so enjoyed. But coming here has made Davis get over certain facts, an instances that he had regretted before she left this world for a better place.
It's been a long year for Davis, but now with all the help he has gotten from Quasi Corp, he feels as though he has gone through a rebirth of sorts, as if his step once more has a slight hop to it that it had lost not to long before. It's as though he has lost all negative feelings he had garnered towards life, and it's occupants, an can finally see a brighter future within his very grasp. An just as a small inkling of a grin begins to wrap itself upon him, in walks the doc once more, with his face momentarily buried in a chart of sorts.
"Davis!" He cheerfully calls out. "How are you feeling, all systems are a go I would hope!"
"Yeah doc," He says," everything seems to have cleared up, thanks."
"That's great, that's great." He says, once more burying his face upon the chart." I have to apologize for the sudden pull out there, but we sensed you might have been going a bit too deep, so we had to take precautionary measures. You know, just in case."
"Precautionary measures doc! What do you mean by that?"
"I mean you were beginning to believe it my boy! Now we can't have that, now can we!"
"No!" Says Davis. "We definitely can't."
Outside, the clouds have begun it's slow descent into overcast skies, as the city itself has turned into a dull grayish tone with the few lights that hover high over head being the only swath of color that happens to break through the drab. Davis' apartment, being uptown as it is, has him taking the A train, which lies just around the corner at Belmont station, which normally at this time would be chock full of people trying to squeeze into the tightest of places, all in the hopes of getting home in time. Oddly enough, when Davis walks up to the platform that lies in wait, he finds very few people standing before him. But as Davis stands there in a trifling bout of confusion, he quickly shakes it off putting this good fortune to impeccable timing.
The A train was built when Davis was but a boy, he remembers his childhood days when they would walk down to see the construction take place, as the whole street would be dug up into a colossal cavern, in which Davis always imagined as a huge grave for some giant grotesque monster that had just attacked this fair city. He remembers how his dad used to play along on their drive home, bouncing around chaotically as if said Giants were just moments from being upon them. Even, at times, going as far as to make up certain stories, about specific areas, as to keep him quiet, like these are the plains of the mud men, or aquatic sea monsters, an if Davis were unable to keep quiet, they would rise up out of the earth to see that only silence would permeate the air. But when Davis looks around the train now, his childhood is no longer in view, as his memories of such events are very much like the windows on the train, glossed over with years of use, to be eventually shaded over with the grime an dirt of years passed. But Davis has always been more in the past than the present, always a little more inclined to the days of yesterday than what may come.
The one thing, in particular, that seems to stick out, is how the A train has developed a sort of multiple personality syndrome as the years passed it by. No longer is it the glossed over, shining example of modern tech that it once was. Now it sits in moderate solitude in the minds of many, as the population takes it for granted as they in turn stomp there way back an forth to work each an every day of their respective adult life. Even the once glossy finish, on the most part, is now covered over in graffiti of differentiating types an magnitudes. Some are small insignificant specks, mostly names an what not. While others are glorious opuses of hand painted fields that once so prominently danced upon this earth. While others, have been oddly untouched, as though they have been deemed sacred ground by the people an the punks of this fine metropolis. Overall though, it has always seemed to give it a sort of whimsical feel to it, a feeling that Davis imagines is his, an his alone. Which may just be why he loves taking it whenever he must, as its stark contrast to the city above makes it appear as though he is being transported to an all together different plain of existence. Which, in turn, is one of the most prominent reasons for him to be going so regularly to the therapist, an a most unconventional one at that. But as Davis realizes, an all too well at that, is that he has been living in a sort of dream state ever since Myles died, but seeing that it has not yet distracted him from his societal duties, he has not yet subsided his quest on that behalf.
An as Davis sits their, with a quiet, stern look upon his face, watching the chaotic images of the city, the suburbs, and an occasional tunnel pass him by, he remembers a conversation he had with his mom just a few days prior, as she finally let loose her thoughts on her sons whereabouts, from a mental, an physical standpoint. Like the sudden clash of clouds right before a torrential downpour.
"Davis!" She would say." I don't think you should be doing this!"
"Doing what exactly!"
"You know what I mean, this whole Queasy core deal you got going on."
"Quasi Corp mom, it's called Quasi Corp, an I don't see why you're so against it, it's fine, it has been helping hasn't it?"
"Well I don't know about that, it just sounds like an escape to me, you need to come back to reality honey, that's all I am saying."
"I am in reality, see.. look, this is me in reality. What more do you want. Besides, that had nothing to do with it, it's just a form of therapy, that's all. You know," Davis pauses,"to help me with a few issues, is that so bad."
"No, of course not, of course not. I just worry about you, ever since Myles passed, you just haven't been the same."
"Well I don't feel any different." Responds Davis.
This, to be honest, is a statement heard in an increasing amount of recurrences, if not by his family, an friends, but also coworkers an such. It's a statement he is not readily able to understand on a whole just yet. As Davis is well aware, troublingly enough, that we as humans aren't really as self aware as we made ourselves to believe. Which in itself is quite the odd thing to state. But the idea of such an incomprehensible change of one's being does make Davis wonder, if in fact it is possible for this newly developed state to change back to the prior one that seems so decisively welcomed. In the kinetic theory, it says that to change a state of certain solids or gases one needs only to apply heat, but what of an object of a vastly superior complexity. As a human, any human, will inevitably go through certain changes throughout its life span, which in consideration of a reversal of said changes is a fairly easy event to bring about. But, as was said, it would be seemingly impossible to go back to a certain frame of mind when one has no idea that he left to begin with.
But as Davis ponders, in his opinion, such inveracities, he fails to notice not only that his particular car has now been filled to the brim, like a swelling river that rises up to eventually swallow up its surrounding area, but also that he has just passed his terminal. An as he eventually awakens to that fact, he acts upon a sudden rush of hormones an stress as he hurriedly pushes his way out the car door an onto the emptying platform of the next stop. An as his body finally begins to idle back to its normal levels, he realizes that he is standing on the street corner a few blocks from his apartment, as the rain pelts down making the usually dull city shimmer in the oncoming moonlight. An after a minute of silent pondering towards his next move, Davis decides to walk the rest of the way, seeing that it's only a few blocks, an for that matter, it gives him a chance to stop by one of his favourite coffee houses that sits a mere two blocks up from where he now stands. This street itself, used to be chock full of neon lights lining every street corner as though some yearly festival that happened to overstay it's welcome. Which is one of the main reasons those signs have been long extinct, as the busier it got here the more the people complained, until finally the city said 'enough!' An banned all forms of neon signs, which now leaves an empty husk in its waste, as the city is now a dull grayish version of its former self. Eventually the idea spread, like a cancerous spore that mutates to ultimately take over its host, with the end result being the mostly colorless constructs of our fine city. But as Davis strolls quietly through the city streets, he notices something that stands quite precariously on one of the store front windows, as opposed to its more subdued neighbors that only try to act as attention grabbers for the passers by, that only appear to scream out in desperation. At first glance, it appears to be nothing more than a mannequin, but upon closer inspection, Davis realizes that it is, in fact, one of those new An-D's, the ones he has heard so much about, as they have conveyed the fact of the more life like models than the older versions that have become so popular among the many citizens of this city.