Well that might slow me down

I suppose that the darkness we've been plunged into is intended to scare us. There are things in the darkness to fear, for sure, but the darkness itself won't slow me down.

I pause and listen down the hallway.

Now I'll just have to use my other senses.

I'll continue creeping along the hallway, with one hand on the wall.

THE COLOR PURPLE

At first, your mind is blank. You don’t remember anything about your past but you know that you don’t know about your past. It is as if you are aware of something you cannot comprehend. It feels like you are being reborn from the womb of some alien mother. You know nothing of this new world save a vague feeling of familiarity. Everything has a surreal quality to it now as your eyes begin to function.

It is as if you were the chrysalis and now you cannot remember ever being the catapiller. You feel rather like something forged from previous material. Yet in all this you feel brand new. There is nothing beyond your base material assigning you as who you are other than the ever elusive situations of here and now. Both of these you are certain are happening for the first time and thus through some intuitive thinking you conclude, that you must be conscious for the first time. Like aroused from some fictitious dream, the sleeper awakens.

From a milky white wet-eyed blur you begin to pull your visual surroundings into focus. You can hear hissing all around you and you know that you are enclosed in cold metal. You can only tilt your head a few degrees in each direction and your arms and legs are strapped into place as if you were standing up straight. You feel as though you are vertical but that you had been horizontal for a long duration previous.

A small television screen sits uncomfortably close to your face. It is about half-a-foot squared with rounded edges and it is jammed up so close to your face it takes up nearly all of your immediate view. It has the intrusive quality of an aggravating conversationalist yet displays the simple phrase: “Please Stand By …”

A light static of elevator music is barely audible from its single speaker. You practically have to hold your breath to hear it. The melody is strangely recognizable and almost primordial as if it were the tune your mother would hum when you were a child. You know you were a child, but again as you try and recall your childhood, you draw a blank. There were words to this song, you remember that much. The part coming up, this is the part that you remember. The words come hauntingly each one the harbinger of the next.

“Last thing I remember, I was
Running for the door
I had to find the passage back
To the place I was before
'Relax,' said the night man,
'We are programmed to receive.
You can check-out any time you like,
But you can never leave!”

The speaker is playing musack of The Eagles song Hotel California. How odd, you think but the truth is you really have no idea why.

"LET THERE BE NO LIGHT!!!"

... AND WITH THAT THE LIGHTS FROM THE DIODES ON THE PNEUMATIC TUBES ALL AROUND YOU SHUT-OFF. THERE IS A LOUD ECHOING CLICK WHEN THIS HAPPENS. ALL OF YOUR EYES TAKE A MOMENT TO ADJUST IN THE INTERRUPTING SILENCE.

Beginning to Crawl

As I soak in my surroundings, I pay close attention to the tube behind me. The last words of that deranged clown have made me understandably nervous.

Once finished with the tube, I search the pockets of my coveralls, discovering the scavenger list. An odd assortment of things to look for; I search my mind for any clue as to what use these things would be together. A thought that Strange Tales No. 5 is probably going to be interesting to read crosses my mind briefly, before I remember where I am, and who is sending me after these things.

Satisfied with the list, I put it back in my pocket and begin to cautiously move down the hallway, moving slowly and as quietly as I can. I want to hear whatever I might encounter before it hears me.

This is going to be interesting.

Darkness falls...

Finally managed to smash my way out of that tube.
Door stuck while opening.
Limited oxygen exposure.
Need time to catch my breath.

Old Danish Focus technique.
Niflheim crushes Muspellheim.

I regain my head, and SEARCH straight ahead.
Short narrow hall that turns left.
I WALK down the dark path using my hands as a guide FEELING the dark dirty walls for any clues as to my whereabouts. I notice a mirror hanging slanted on the wall in front of me.
Glancing at myself in those green coveralls the name "Luigi" comes to mind and I chuckle a bit to myself.

I come to the end of the hall and stare into a large dark room...

WHITE'S WELCOME

An ostentatious sigh of relief is presented by the clown upon your answer.

“LET THE FUCKING GAMES BEGIN!!!”

The overzealous screams of the children fills your tubular confines with sound forcing your face to squint. You flex at what is strapping you in with great strength and there is not the slightest of a bend. There was, how-ever, a brief pause before your answer gets response. It was difficult to notice but you are going to gather that this ‘broadcast’ is not without delay but all must contained relatively close in proximity. Again you wonder how it is you know any of this.

The face of the clown presses close to the screen which imposes a forced closeness to you.

“HAHHAHAH HA ... YER A FUCKING DEAD MAN!!! A DEAD MAN WHITE, YOU HEAR ME!?!? DEAD!”

And with that you feel your encasement shudder and you feel of a sickly light weight as you feel your blood shift upward.

The T.V. switches back to ‘please stand by…’ and in this moment you feel a great come-down. Like the removal of some awakening force from your body. Perhaps it’s that the clown is gone, maybe those god-awful children, or maybe it’s because for this moment you feel like you are back in some sort of limbo between two worlds.

The quiet returns but this time your mind races with thoughts. It’s as if each moment is the only to cling to so your mind is actively sweeping it till the point of familiarity. The tube around you still shuddering and hissing your ears can barely pick up new music on the radio of this small but imposing television.

Anticipation rises again as you feel new sounds coming from ahead of you and with the television lifting upwards you feel as if you are about be brought out of your confines. There is an instantaneous and overwhelming excitement for the return of your free-will that builds up in your stomach until the rest of your body tingles.

The door ahead of you comes into form with the auto-mechanical rearrangement of objects ahead of you and with a hiss this door too begins to open. And with a sudden violent motion the tube shifts forward slightly and drops you onto the marble floor that stands before you. Lumbering up from your newly assumed fetal position you begin to feel a sudden newness to your being.

The large tube embedded into the wall behind you looks not unlike the décor, which surrounds it. Faded wallpaper and plastered ceiling imply that you are in some sort of building, maybe even a house. Although the stank stale air and general feeling of unease would suggest that this house is not intended for comfortable living.

The hall that lies before you seems very cramped and its wallpaper hangs kind of crooked. The walls are not but five feet apart and its immediate appearance is that of an apartment. But what apartment has marble floors? The hall before you turns sharply to your right and continues fifteen or so feet before breaking off left and into the darkness. The lights of the diodes in your pneumatic tube flash a silhouette of your figure on the wall before you. You are a shadow on the wall. You sort of shrug looking at the average nature of your silhouette and begin to wonder again about the hall.

You are pretty sure you are underground and have been tubed down in that direction for some time. Marble floors, tacky out-dated wallpaper, stale air getting pumped in through somewhere you hear it and almost feel it. The lights of the tube, its gargling hiss and small cramped nature of this hall obscure too many clues but you are sure this is a built representation of a house, a large one possibly a mansion. You are not quite sure where you are but it is certain that you feel a long way from home

A brief moment passes before you realize there may have been a foreign sound bouncing off the walls ahead of you. It sounded like it could have been a voice, but definitely not directed at you for it was too incoherent and distant. Gathered with considerable information you decide your next move.

RED, RED FACED, YET READY

You step around the corner and you face the man in the yellow coveralls who you see is poised in a defensive stance. He looks like he actually might be as tough as you while the ugly smug-grin upon his face makes him look menacing. Your body tenses with readiness for any sudden action and your eyes examine his hands to see they carry nothing. Furthermore he is wearing a pair of coveralls much like yours. With a calming look upon your face you wait for his response.