“Eye-shades. The lights cannot be extinguished, so you will need those if you favour the dark.”
“Thanks. I won’t need them,” replied Ed as he put them back down.
“It’s actually quite comfortable,” remarked Thomas, pointing to the seemingly uninviting bed.
“Really,” replied Ed as he sat down on the edge.
“You’re right. It’s not bad,” he remarked as he lay down putting his head on the pillow.
“Better than the twigs and leaves I had last night,” he joked ironically as he prodded the material, which appeared to be some sort of soft spongy rubber.
Thomas sat opposite him on the stool, a metre or so away.
“You are informed, I assume, of those we call Transients then?”
“Yes, to a point, although I’m still a little reluctant to believe in this whole scenario.”
“You have plenty of time to help your belief. How many times have you been through?”
“Well, once I suppose. I was a tortoise and I just committed suicide.”
“A tortoise? T’is a toilsome one indeed. Well, whether you die naturally or kill yourself, you still become transient and you either find yourself in the tunnels or else propelled into another creature. Your first time and only one completed cycle. We call this the death cycle.”
“Fine! I’ll remember that.”
“Were you fortunate enough to be in contact with another Transient?”
“Yes, a guy called Sam. Well it would be more accurate to say, a fox that had been a guy called Sam, if you get my drift?”
“And he spoke English?”
“Yes, luckily. I hadn’t thought about that. What if he was a Chinese fox? It might have been that much more surreal. Not sure really. After all, here I am, chatting with a four-hundred-year old man in Tudor clobber who appears to have been beamed up into the modern age. How is it that you're dressed like that?”
“T'is easily explained, Ed. Most people don't get the opportunity to stop off in here. Generally they get whisked straight past us through the windswept tunnels towards the light and on to their next transience.
However, some seem to get swept to the side of the flow and become stranded towards the edge in the slower part. When you get paused there then your human form is temporarily restored and you're reunited with the very same garments you died in, no difference whatsoever. T’is fortunate indeed that any scars, cuts, bruises or the like, are not apparent, thus we appear in good health. Anne Boleyn herself is here – complete with her head. I know not how this was achieved.”
“Christ, man, I don’t know whether you are ridiculing me or not. It seems so absurd. How can you keep the same clothes on for ever? What about your underpants?”
“T’is true, by my troth. You must bethink we are not verily alive anymore, at least when we are here. We are like phantoms in a sense and have no bodily indulgences such as eating, drinking, sweating, pissing or farting. You name it, you have it not. We often feel tired though, and even succumb to the odd ache and pain.”
“But what about when I was a tortoise. I ate and drank and… well… everything else…”
“Yes, t’was when you have completed a transient contract and rejoined the physical realm. At the moment, you are caught in the middle. A ‘paused Transient’, as we call it,” stated Thomas, as he turned to his left, whilst crossing his left leg up onto his right.
“If we can’t drink and don’t need to wash, then why the sink and tap?”
“T’is well said. I am of the mind that people simply take pleasure in drenching their faces with water. I cannot forsooth imagine any other reason. If you try to drink it then it does not go down at all. Anyway, you will not suffer from thirst so it matters not. Give not yourself the trouble.”
“I won’t. Tell me again about being ‘paused’. What do you mean exactly?”
“T'is not I fancy myself an oracle, but I will readily impart my small knowings to you. The place I pulled you from was the jet stream of light and time that one travels down as a Transient. T’is the doorway between lives and different physical forms. It is an exceedingly speedy highway for souls. However, once in a while, a person, spirit or soul is knocked off-course in the main flow, drifting out to the edges into the very slow flowing outer part of the stream. T’is then they pass the contrary air flow from tunnel systems such as these and are stuck. Paused. Floating helplessly. If you are fortunate enough to be spotted, you might get pulled in and saved from the purposeless floating. Some manage to clamber out themselves but otherwise you could just drift downstream forever. In truth, we know not.”
“How long do you think I would’ve floated there for?”
“Tis hard to determine. I do know though, that one needs to be in the main central flow to be carried through into the next ‘mortal’ reincarnation. Floating down the edges all the way to the end is a path of great uncertainty, although you may have been rescued by one of the other communities along the way. We believe there may be many such.”
“How could you know?”
“We can only surmise, but certainly some I have rescued have been subjected to failed rescue attempts further back along the tunnel. T’is suggesting to me that there may be more communities in both directions. Many Transients that are stranded here seem to be first-timers, so t’is hard to know too much.”
“Stuck? Will I be here forever like you?” queried Ed nervously.
“Verily the choices presented to you are many, even though they not reveal themselves with haste. Of course, you could tarry here. Ageless and timeless. A strange idea indeed, but t’is truly a very peaceful and calm place, with no particular demands or rivalries. Everyone is relaxed and reflective. Some state it resembles a large sensory deprivation tank of existence - not that I have ever seen such a tank.”
“Mmm, not sure I would want to live like that. I need hope and objectives.”
“Alternatively, you could get back into the flow and become Transient again.”
“Really! How would that work?”
“Well, there is a small stairway which cuts through the rock around and above the main tunnel. There is an opening and you can jump down and get abruptly swept into the flow.”
“Really? Does it work?”
“Not always, in truth. There are occasions when ‘jumpers’ plummet all the way through the main flow into the lesser flow at the bottom of the tunnel. They drift off downstream, as when you were floating.”
“Well if there are further communities along the way, wouldn’t they get rescued by them?”
“There is not really any way to reach them at the bottom of the tunnel. Your good self was floating along at the side of the stream at the same height as the entrance. That was just lucky. Many more float past on the other side or too low or too high. T’is random. Maybe they get into a better position to be rescued further along.”
“Heavy duty. I wonder what happens to all those souls?”
“I too. Another thing you need to bear in mind is that your choice is limited by time. Just like as a Transient you have just a few days to die, once you are here, you have a similar limitation. You have four days to decide. I can tell thee, after that, t’is final. You either attempt to continue onto your next transience or else stay here peacefully forever.”
“Really? That’s intense. Why only four days?” replied Ed, as they made their way past the hub and back along the adjoining tunnel to the opening.
“Goodness knows. They say God works in mysterious ways but it seems that everything works in mysterious ways.”
“What’s to stop me jumping back into the stream after the four days have expired?”
“Nothing at all, the only thing is you will end up here again. Do you not imagine that people would have tried it already?”
“I suppose so. Can we go back and see the stream again please? What did you call it? The Transience tunnel? I’m intrigued and I want to know a little more.”
“Most certainly, whatever you wish,” replied Thomas as they got up, separated the silky curtain and moved out into the tunnel and back towards the place they first met. It was only a short distance back through the tunnels and the two men walked at a calm but assured pace, proceeding past the complex intersection and onwards to the tunnel of souls.
As they approached the opening they came across a third man dressed in an American football kit, brightly coloured and complete with shoulder pads. In one hand was a long crook similar to the one used to save Ed whilst the other clutched onto his enormous cage like helmet. American footballers looked ridiculous to Ed at the best of times. The huge brightly coloured padded costumes, crazy knee pads, testicle protectors and eye makeup that made them look like they’d sold their cheeks as advertising spaces. This gent was no less ridiculous, his fat head and crew-cut hair looking more like a thin layer of Astroturf.
“Yo, Bro,” he drawled, looking at the approaching duo before adding, “Yaw scooped one from the tunnel, Dude?”
“Greetings, Bob, yes, this morning. Bob, meet Ed, Ed, meet Bob.”
Bob put his caged helmet down onto the ground at the side of the tunnel, and after a round of customary handshakes, rested the crook against the wall and headed back into the tunnels towards the rooms.
“Yeah, Man, thought I saw one myself but then lost sight of ‘em. Maybe they’ll get them further down,” bemoaned the sportsman as he continued on his way.
“We shall readily continue our endeavours though, Bob, think you not?”
“For sure, Bro, locked and loaded,” replied Bob over his shoulder as he walked into the distance.
“Most certainly, lock and loadeth with haste.”
Ed couldn’t help a smirk, entertained by the clash of modern
America
with Shakespeare’s
Britain
. Thomas turned to impart more detail on the individual as he disappeared into the distance, encumbered by the large shoulder reinforce-ments and excessive padding.
“He broke his neck in a football match.”
“That’s gotta hurt, Thomas.”
“I assume it might well involve a degree of discomfort. Anyway, he is a permanent resident now. Have you ever seen it? Football, I mean.”
“Yeah, ridiculous game. Like a load of over-testosteroned apes chasing an ostrich egg around. You didn’t miss anything there, Thomas.”
By this time, the duo had reached the opening and stared into the fast rushing motion of the stream.
“Where’s the opening?” queried Ed.
“You cannot behold from here, t’is above the flow.”
The tunnel looked like a fast-gushing river of air, an undefined blur in the middle which got clearer, closer to the edges. It looked ferocious and fearsome; a mighty power to be approached with utmost caution.
“It’s phenomenal! You must stare at it in awe every day, Thomas?”
“By my troth, t’is a miracle. I find myself often here, at the ready with the crook just in case. T’is worst when someone floats by, too low or high to be saved.”
“I can imagine. Anyway, how many times were you transient?”
“Not many, just two or three. So long ago, I cannot recall much about it. I was a dog twice and a hen once. T’was not easy to be a dog in those days. Each time I got transported directly from animal to animal and never met another Transient to tell me what was happening. With a fair degree of fortune, I died within the allotted time on both occasions before ending up here. T’was my choice to stay - an easy decision to make.”
“I can see that, Thomas. Are you happy here though? Doesn’t it get boring?”
“Well, I know not whether I be truly happy, but I feel settled. I’m certain I’m not the only one whose need for security dominates their need for freedom.”