“All things are simply patterns in complexity, design and chance.”
||: (1 through x)
The voice jolts Dale awake. He’s alone; his bedroom is dark. The room is cool; air from the autumn night has gradually crept through the open window and filled his condo. The cityscape illuminates the dark sky outside.
Dale reaches to his nightstand, flips his phone over, taps on the screen to check the time. 3:48am. Great, he thinks. Guess it’s going to be a long night.
The quiet hubbub of city life nearby is like a lullaby. He rolls over to look out the window and take it in.
A figure is silhouetted against the nighttime glow.
Dale tries to bolt upright in panic and finds he is no longer in control of his body.
“Who lies to you?” The words inside Dale’s head are different from the sound he hears, but both clearly come from the shadow in the window. It seems to watch him, although he cannot see eyes, features, movement. After a few moments, as if nodding in acquiescence, it says, “You may ask.”
Dale finds he can move again, at least a little, and pushes himself up into a sitting position. “Where did you come from?” he manages.
(when y, go to z)
“Not us, them. Far. Soon. You have already seen the answer.”
Dale glances up at the page header. “That doesn’t make any sense.”
“Of course not. This is a dream.”
“This is impossible.”
The grin is audible in the voice inside his head. “Improbable. But the gulfs reality crosses cannot be beyond thought.”
Dale closes his eyes.
“You may ask.”
“What are you?”
(1 through x)
“All things are simply patterns in complexity, design and chance.” :||
(x + 1 through y)
“All things are simply patterns in complexity, design and chance. How many repetitions before you understand?” :||
(z) “Not us, them. Far. Soon.”
The voice jolts Dale awake. He’s alone; his bedroom is dark. The room is cool; air from the autumn night has gradually crept through the open window and filled his condo. The cityscape illuminates the dark sky outside. He thinks of a name he has not thought of for a long time.
Dale reaches to his nightstand, flips his phone over, taps on the screen to check the time. 3:47. He wonders if he’s been dreaming.
Hello hello!
We’re back in the present! Sorry for the awkwardness in formatting; if you need a refresher on musical notation and repeat signs, head here.
I do need to acknowledge that thiss sstory is heavily inspired by an experience featured in this Wartime Stories video (strongly recommend the whole episode, second link). I started writing about the things in the interstice because of the patterns I began to see in experiences shared by normal people, and I wanted to connect back to that.
No bad photoshop this week because I didn’t even realize today would be Thursday until it was very Thursday.
I hope you enjoyed this short story! If you did, it’d be awesome if you told a friend (or enemy, I’m not picky) about it. And if your friend subscribes, I might just might put both of you in a story. For realsies.
Thanks as always for reading! You did a great job reading! I appreciate you!
:: Jaer