Monday 9 April 2012

PART THREE SHORT STORY: Trial of the Free man


“Curiouser and curiouser…” The advisory took notes.
“What is going on?” Asked Drake, itching to remember or at least scratch the surface of his current mystery. “They said I was non - fictional.”
“Indeed,” said the Advisory.
“Isn’t that a good thing? Doesn’t that mean I’m real?”
The Advisory paused in shock. “Wherever did you get that idea?”
“I don’t remember. It just seems logical that a non-fictional being would be real.”
“Mr Drake, what part of reality is real? Think about it…the truth, or reality, is a story.”
“We have a non-fictional being with us.” Said Grover, pounding on the door.  Thunder rolled from out of the heavens. The storm was spreading. The rain fell in drops the size of gumballs, catapulted from the clouds upon their victims below. There was no shelter for the men as the doorkeeper hesitated further.
“Do you want us to drown?” Grover shouted at the closed door. “What are you going to tell the Admirals? Eh? That the only non-fictional being that ever existed was here, but, he was swept away by a monsoon before we had the chance to tell you?”
 “This had better not be a rouse!” Said the doorkeeper.
“For all that is holy, LET US IN!”
“I will need a password.” Persisted the doorkeeper, “however, if what you say is true, I am prepared to give you a clue. What is black and white a red all over.”
“Newspaper.” Said Drake without hesitation. Grover and Ackerman stared at him as if he was the last miracle of Christ, and the door was opened. They all sloshed in passing the doorkeeper, trouping in a line like a group of extra absorbent ducks, dripping water by the pint in their wake.
Puddles quickly amassed at their feet on the lobby floor of the Manor, which was laid out like an enormous chequers board, tiled with over 10’000 Onyx and Ivory squares, making it clear to any visitor that whoever owned a house like this, probably also owned a money-printing factory. No expense needed to be spared.
A spiral staircase swept majestically up to the next floor, while two enormous corridors, as wide as sewer tunnels, lead left and right. All of the furniture was red, including the telephone placed on the red table left of the doors. Drake did not know this. He could see nothing behind his blindfold.
“He doesn’t look non-fictional.” Said the doorkeeper, pinching Drakes arm.
“Believe us,” said Ackerman shaking with cold, “this man is as plotless as the ocean. Call the Admirals.”
“But what is your evidence?” Asked the doorkeeper, prodding Drakes ribcage.
“If he were fictional, would he be as calm as he is? He hasn’t freaked out at all. If he were fictional, the first thing he would have realised is that he had lost his plot when we kidnapped him.” Said Grover, “Do you have a towel?”
“You could have sedated him.”
“Does he look sedated?” Grover lost his patience. “Towel? Please? I’m becoming a water feature!”
Ackerman diplomatically stepped forward. “I think what Grover is trying to say is this – we found this being on Earth, only, he is not human. Nor is he one of the other thousands of species, sentient or otherwise, that belong on that planet or any of the other planets within a travelling distance. A quick check of the database told us immediately that this being should not be in existence at all. No story matches his; he does not have a story. This is why we brought him here at once.”
“And can I have a towel.” Added Grover.
The doorkeeper stepped back, once more ignoring Grover’s request. “What is his title?”
“Drake.” Said Ackerman.
“Hmmm. Do you know why you are here?” Said the doorkeeper, prodding Drake.
“No.” Drake answered.
“Are you concerned?”
“No.”
“You have just been picked up by two strange men, on a planet you had no right to be on, and you are not alarmed?”
Drake thought about it honestly. “Nope.”
“I shall wake the Admirals.” Said the doorkeeper as he shuffled to the telephone to make the call. He was an ancient man, far beyond the age of sudden movement. It took him minutes to shuffle 3 yards, and a further minute to lift the telephone receiver. His call connected.  The conversation was mumbled, but over in three seconds. Hanging up the phone he pointed at Grover. “Take the person to meet the advisory. The Admirals shall see to it forthwith.”
Drake was grabbed by his left arm, and escorted to the right wing.
“Hmmm…”The Advisory scribbled more notes, “you had better read your contract before we go in.”
Drake lifted the sheet of paper he had struggled to read earlier. “What is it for?”
Before the advisory could explain, there were three knocks on the door, followed by the short command ”the Admirals will see him now!”
The advisory closed the ledger and slotted it back into his briefcase. “It’s time Drake, just be yourself and all will be well.”
“But I can’t remember who I am.”
“Good point. Oh well, let’s just give it our best shot then.”

No comments:

Post a Comment