OVER THE SILVER SKY TO THE WORLD OF NEVER : Part 2 - You're Giving Away Free Sarcasm With Your Weed This Week Then

in #story6 years ago

I don't know about you but my day is never complete unless some multimillionaire celebrity has told me how over privileged and entitled I am. I need Emma Watson to let me know exactly where I've gone wrong all my life. Explaining how lucky I was to be born into a dirt poor family of 8. What a privilege it was to sleep 3 to a bed in a bedroom where ice formed on the inside of the windows every winter. Then going to school in my older brother's clothes, and sometimes I even got to wear my sisters hand me downs as well. If only I'd known back then, just how privileged I was to go to a university when only 4% of the population did so at that time. It was also pure privilege that I went from a state school to a college where 95% of the intake came from private schools. I've never had to struggle for anything in my life so thank you multimillionaire celebrities for pointing that out. All those people who repeatedly told me I couldn't do any of those things were entirely a product of my entitled, privileged imagination. So let's spare a thought for all those One Percenter's who know what it is to struggle through life not being appreciated or remunerated sufficiently to buy that second mansion and the Lear Jet they need so desperately. God bless their selfless generosity.


(The copyright for this image is the property of Shutterstock.)

Jake exited the corridor into the reception when it suddenly started to snow. Flakes settled onto his naked skin. They were pretty warm to. He brushed at them knowing it wouldn't affect them in the least. They weren't there. They always weren't there these days. He stopped dead, the receptionist was different to the one who'd sent him through to see the consultant. Was this Janine or Julie or someone entirely different? Time to box clever. He'd also need to hide the fact he still didn't know whether to call his consultant a doctor or a mister. With a brain tumor it paid to keep the social gaff's to a minimum.

"Uhh I think I need to sign something. Sorry I didn't get your name earlier."
The pretty fortyish blonde woman smiled at him.
"I'm Sasquahelenatch Mr Halliday. Please take a seat."
It would be wrong to say his head spun, as it was already spinning. It increased its pace essentially.
"That's an unusual name." And one he'd be making no attempt to repeat.
Sasquatch, or whatever, gave him a strange look.
"Do you think? There were three of us with the same name at school and one of them is now the well known star of a Netflix serial. Surely you've heard of her."
"It's possible, what was it called?"
"Potato Hunter. Really popular."
Right that didn't get him any further forward.
"It's not ringing a bell. What is it about?"
Another queer look.
"She hunts potatoes. Out in the wilds of Alaskahaska. Traveling from oasis to oasis never knowing what she might find. Each time hoping the next jump is the jump home."
Right. There was a bit of Quantum Leap in there, but other than that he was lost. Best to back out of this part of the conversation.
"Do you know I think I have heard of it. Never seen it though. Seems pointless watching a serial when I might die at any time. I'm in danger of missing the ending. I have to be careful about which books I read as well. Anything too long I avoid. If I can't finish it in a day or less it's not on my Kindle. Now what do I need to sign?"
She started moving paperwork.
"It's a bit more than that Mr Halliday. There's the permission form to sign and we'll also need you to keep a record of any symptoms as and when they occur. You must put down times though. That's essential. When the episode starts. What happens during the episode. How you feel physically. What you see and hear. How long each episode lasts and what time it finishes."
Jake balked at this.
"That sounds like a lot of work. Why didn't.... he tell me this?"
"Because he thought you'd say no I'd imagine."
"That sounds about right. How accurate do I have to be with all this?"
"Anything less than 100% is out of the question I'm afraid. We need certainty here. It's for your benefit after all."
"In what way will it be to my benefit given I'll be dead?"
"You'll be famous."
Well there was that. Although he was currently patient zero. With a unique condition which if it became a pandemic might affect 3 people out of seven billion. So he'd be famous among a small group of world renowned neurologists at best. He really should read the small print before agreeing to anything in future. Jake was a man of his word though so he signed.
"How do you want me to record the details of my episodes and seizures?"
"In this." She held up a large, thick hardback notebook. "Start as soon as you get up in the morning and make notes throughout the day. About moods and feelings. Anything out of the ordinary. If you split it up into ten minute periods throughout the day it will make things easier for us."
"I bet it would."
She held it out to him. He grasped it firmly and tugged. He tugged again. The receptionist wasn't letting go.
"Give it to me. I'd like to check it." He released his hold and she flipped it pen. That was either a very deep frown or a scowl. "You haven't written anything in it." She stated accusingly.
"You only just gave it to me."
"A week ago Mr Halliday. We were expecting much more from you. You did promise to write up each and every day in detail. This isn't helping you at all. You have to make a little bit of effort here. Otherwise this is all pointless. It doesn't even look like you've opened it. Why you bothered bringing it back is beyond me. Completely pointless. Now take it back and do at least try to comply."
He started muttering as it was handed to him a second time. He held it gingerly until he was sure she'd let go
"All I did was touch the damn thing. Or did I? Surely I can't have lost an entire week. I hardly ever forget things. Not seven whole days. At least it's stopped snowing I suppose."
Whatever her name was either ignored him or didn't hear.
"All that remains is the bill. It's £750."
That rocked him to the core.
"Wait. I've never had to pay before."
"Yes you have. It's all here on the computer. Every session. This isn't a charity you know."
Hold on he thought he had it.
"I think it must be the NHS who pay for my treatment."
"Who?"
"The NHS. The National Health Service, free at the point of delivery."
"I've never heard of them. It's not an insurance firm we've had any dealings with."
"You must have heard of the NHS."
"Must I? Says the man who's never even seen Potato Hunter. It's mostly CGI but you can tell they've cut in genuine footage of wild potatoes. They look so majestic as they gallop across the steaming tundra. Beautiful creatures. And as a result of Potato Hunter increased efforts are being made to protect their natural habitat. There's even a breeding program and there are hopes it can be crossed with the domesticated potato to. So how would you like to pay?"

If he ever got out of here he'd have a lot to write in his death diary. So far this had a lot of the hallmarks of another hallucination. Apart from the extended dialogue and almost every other part of his current experience. There was also a possibility this was reality and he'd forgotten how it worked. Maybe he was having auditory hallucinations like Henderson suggested. This was either imaginary or real. To be on the safe side he'd assume it was real in parts at least. Paying his bill was something he'd best avoid for now. He patted himself down.

"Sorry. I forgot my wallet."
"No you didn't I can see the edge of it sticking out of your trouser pocket."
Damn. He wasn't fully committed yet though. He should back down and pay up. That would be best as far as the rapidly rising level of awkwardness was concerned. But he couldn't have hallucinated the concept of the NHS, he wasn't that imaginative. And if this had been private healthcare he'd have told them to shove it.
"Oh this?" He patted his pocket. "This is my.. other wallet. I don't put any cash in it and all my credit cards are in my wallet, wallet. The one I generally use."
"What do you use that wallet for then?"
That was a near unanswerable question he hadn't even thought he'd be asked. It was time to either retreat or throw caution to the wind. It couldn't be photo's as she might want to know what they were of. Then she could ask to look at them.
"I put clippings from papers and magazines, I find interesting, in it." He saw her head rotate until she was looking at the pile of aged periodicals in the waiting room. "Haven't found any today though and I always ask permission before cutting or tearing. Don't know why I brought it today." He tapped his head firmly. "I must remember my wallet, wallet next time. I promise I won't forget."
Crap. He could have said he'd picked up the wrong wallet by mistake. He really did need to practice lying a lot more. Especially if his condition was going to continue in this new manner.

Ultimately he managed to escape without parting with any payment, physical or electronic. Jake stepped out into the tree lined street. Carrying the thick notebook he'd eventually been given. It was a bit of a walk to the bus stop, and today it felt further than ever. Which was hardly surprising. He'd taken the wrong turn at some point, because he was now in a street he didn't recognize. The absence of the park he had to cross should have been his first clue. Tucking the book under his arm he fished out his phone. That would show him where he'd gone wrong. There was a message from Toby. Must have come while he was distracted. He had some new green. Right now getting stoned had enormous attractions. Instead of going home he could stop off at Toby's flat on the way and catch the 187 to his own door, so to speak. All he had to do was find out where he was and how to get back to familiar territory. The satnav on his phone wasn't working. The little wheel was there and it wasn't going round. He turned around holding it up in the air. Being 18 inches closer to the satellite might be the solution. As he revolved he noticed the bus stop he was standing next to. The one he hadn't been standing next to when he got his smartphone out. Holy cow his tumor was really doing the business on him right now. As luck would have it the sign showed that the 187 went from here.

Checking the timetable showed he was on the wrong side of the road. Jake crossed over and made sure by checking the timetable that side. It went to Shore Avenue sure enough. He did like finding a good pun. It brightened up his day. One of the many huge perks you got in Britain, when you were old or terminally ill, was a bus pass. Limitless free travel between the hours of ten and four on weekdays. Then from six to midnight. Theoretically you could travel all day on weekends. Either on the reduced Saturday services or the nonexistent Sunday services. They really loved to spoil anyone speeding rapidly towards their grave. The bus itself was pretty empty then very full. Standing room only. That was when people would stare at him for daring to occupy a seat intended for the infirm. You couldn't see a brain tumor so you weren't in need of a suitable seat. That was why he never used them anymore. It saved on dirty looks and snide comments from people who had the right to an opinion on everything they knew nothing about. It had started to fill up again as he got off only a short walk from Toby's place.

There. It had done it again. This was something he should put in his tumor diary. Not having the words to describe it was a barrier. It happened infrequently. It happened too quickly to fully comprehend most of the time. If pressed, and now he certainly would be, Jake would have said it concerned corners and edges. He'd be walking along when his peripheral vision would pick up a flash of something. Often it was an actual flash. A thin vertical line of light that appeared to emanate from corners or edges. Once, and only once, he'd caught it when passing someone in the street. It was like a crack in reality. Those few times he'd managed to catch more than a glimpse were more confusing than illuminating. Jake hadn't seen anything. The crack, if that's what it was, wasn't wide enough. The only thing he could say for sure was that when he did get a look it was across a great distance. How he gained that impression was anybodies guess. Yet it was the only certainty he had. The edge of that street sign on the wall, only a few feet away, could be looked through and on the other side was something enormous. Huge but indistinct. Like a subliminal image of a thin slice cut out of a picture. Another thing was that it happened most often precisely here. Then only when he wasn't thinking about it. If the illusion was on his mind he never saw it. Not surprising as it wasn't there.

Yesterday, upon the stair,
I met a man who wasn’t there
He wasn’t there again today
I wish, I wish he’d go away...

Now why had that arrived in his thoughts? Were they his thoughts though, or were they an artifact of the tendrils drilling their way into every part of his brain? That couldn't possibly be. Whatever it was up to it would have to use his mind and memories. It couldn't pull information from elsewhere. It was a rhyme from his childhood, only back then he'd learned it thus: As I was walking down the stair, I met a man who wasn't there. It concluded with the line I wish that man would go away. Those were the lines he'd learned as a child. Now he was remembering the original poem. Jake didn't know how he knew that either. At some point in his life he must have come across that verse by Hughes Mearns. That was the only rational explanation. Jake entered the run down building that Toby called his office. Toby himself had a lovely detached house in a desirable neighborhood on the outskirts of the city. Dealing drugs was obviously a lucrative business for some. Toby at least plus several South American drug barons, who had enough money to bribe politicians to keep drugs illegal. The last thing any dealer wanted was decriminalization. It would adversely affect the bottom line.

Unfortunately Toby lived on the fourth floor. Jake had to climb six flights of stairs, because the lift only went up to the third floor. Now to Jake that felt like the utmost stupidity. Until he worked out that he could have been taking the lift to the third floor then going up from there. Today he did precisely that. Only the lift was out of order. It was as if fate had determined he needed the exercise. The worst part of the climb came at the third floor landing when he heard the lift operating. Somebody had fixed it then but forgotten to remove the out of order sign. Ah well he was here at last. Jake did the special knock. After a few seconds the heavily chained door opened a crack. A bloodshot eye peered at him.

"Glad your here. Thanks for the text telling me you were on the way."
"I didn't... oh I see. You're giving away free sarcasm with your weed this week then."
"Shut up you tart. Look now you're here I need you to stay for a bit."
He unchained the door so Jake could enter.
"Why?"
"Pretty sure I'm under surveillance. If they see you only popping in for a minute then leaving that's going to make them suspicious. So get your ass sat down. I'm skinning up and this stuff is from another plane of existence I promise you. There's nothing else like this on planet earth."
"How would you know. You've rarely set foot on planet earth since the day I met you. Listen if it's that special is it a good idea for me to get mashed on it? I might not be able to find my way home?"
"Believe me, getting home won't be a problem after this batch. It'll be like stepping from one room into another. We'll do a bong afterwards if you like. I promise you it will be mellow yellow all the way."

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Oh man, I loved the part with the notebook so much - that pulled delay as she goes to hand it over, and he looses a whole week - that addled my brain brilliantly! You have a real skill with storytelling as a tale like this could so easily loose the reader- especially as the MC is so lost all the way through- but this was excellent, I was there with him all the way through, feeling his confusion and enjoying his rather dry sense of humour.

Really excellent writing- I look forward to more!
E x

Excellent story - you drew me right in and kept my attention all the way through then left me wanting more. I hope there will be more that you will be sharing. Thanks for sharing this part.

Hi spunkpuppet,

This post has been upvoted by the Curie community curation project and associated vote trail as exceptional content (human curated and reviewed). Have a great day :)

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I was sucked in from the first sentence and am curious to the following up part ... but feeling on forehand very "mellow yellow" today.

Woah! That was trippy but very followable! I find that it is often difficult to do both at the same time, but I really like the impossibility points of the notebook, the flashes and cracks in reality, the sarcasm with the phone (hmm, maybe 18 inches closer to the satellite....LOL!).

Lets of good stuff in here, thank you for sharing this with us on Steem!

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