The Journey. Part 1:

 

Sweat builds on the immobile man’s forehead.

     He remembers nothing, other than waking up in near darkness moments ago. His grey-green eyes swivel frantically.

     He has no feeling below his neck.

     As his vision adapts to the dim red light he makes out a cylindrical space around himself: Ten feet across, fifteen long, like the chamber of a huge gun. By the faint red light he makes out the edges of something - a sleeping bag maybe - cocooning him. Straps around the bag hold him down.

     He feels like he’s falling.

     “W…?” Frightened tears break from his eyes, building oddly on his face. He blinks them away, and tries again to make sense of what he’s seeing: These bizzare surroundings don’t trigger any memories.

     “Hello? Hello! Help!” His voice barely rises above a whisper. Even that small effort leaves him dizzy.

     The light is coming from a steady red spark. The spark is set into a half seen rectangular shape, on the far side of the cylindrical space. Suddenly recognition clicks: It’s a computer screen, on standby.

     He pushes his voice as hard as he can: “On! ON!”

     The light stays red. “For crying out loud, ON!ON!ON!….” Something gurgles in his throat, and his voice collapses into a strained wheeze. Head pounding, he gives it up. Maybe it’s an old design, he thinks, without voice command. Maybe it’s damaged. Makes no bloody difference.

     The screen clicks on. 

     He doesn’t have the strength to exult while it boots.

The ‘What would you like to do?’ menu blips up. “Emergency call!” He gasps. Instead ‘Video diary’ highlights itself. For a moment he sees the screen cameras view: The lower two thirds of a face, presumably his. He looks skeletal in the screen light, with a growth of  patchy blonde beard. Then the view changes to a still shot: A warmly lit, clean shaven, face. It takes him a few moments to realise that this is him again, but looking infinitely healthier. His diary, waiting to play.

     The bloody software’s corrupted, he realises. He gives in to an irrational urge to curse the stupid device, but only manages “F’k’n’ p’ck,” followed by a long hiss of breath. The room spins around him, his strength sapped by even the effort of raising his voice. 

     ‘Playback’ flashes up, and the image starts to move.....

 

End of Part 1.