274 lines
14 KiB
Plaintext
274 lines
14 KiB
Plaintext
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Underground eXperts United
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Presents...
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[ Last Flight To Keflavik ] [ By The GNN ]
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____________________________________________________________________
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____________________________________________________________________
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LAST FLIGHT TO KEFLAVIK
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by THE GNN/DCS/uXu
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will you destroy your fears
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or will your fears destroy you?
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They needed three people to carry me off the plane. Two by the arms, one by
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the legs. A fourth steward went in advance and repeated with a servile tone
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that "we are so sorry, so sorry, so sorry...", while I kept on singing (or
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whatever that wicked noise that streamed out of my mouth deserved to be
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called)...
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boys boys boys
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I'm looking for the action
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... pissed beyond belief, courtesy of the free drinks offered by British
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Airways on transatlantic flights. I did not remember any of that. But I got
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to read all about it in the morning paper the next day.
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"Your paper, SIR!" someone screamed and threw the paper right into my
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face. I instantaneously regained my consciousness, and found my self
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sitting/lying on a comfortable chair in the first class lounge of the
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airport. The paper woman, a member of the lounge staff, gave me a look that
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could kill on the spot. I smiled and nodded a thank, while she resumed
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handing out papers to the other travelers.
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"Your paper, sir..." she said with a sweet voice to the man beside me,
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and continued in the same manner around the lounge.
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Everyone in the salon eyed me as if I was a criminal and murderer. I
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wondered where I was. And for how long I had been there. Judging from the
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number of empty glasses on the table in front of me, I had been here for
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quite a while. What had been in the glasses was not hard to determine; oh
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damn, what a hangover.
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I dared not interrogate the people around me concerning my present
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whereabouts. I knew what such a desperate manoeuvre would lead to. The
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stiff upper-lip suits would not answer, merely grunt and tell me to be
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quiet. If I pushed them, they would explode and clarify what a filthy swine
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I were. Oh yes. I had experiences.
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So, instead I opened up and hid behind the paper, and the first thing
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that caught my eye was a huge photo on the front page which neatly pictured
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me being dragged off the plane, pissed beyond belief as said, singing some
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old hit from the golden eighties. Unfortunately, the adherent article
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explained, I traveled first class, so they could not just dump me on the
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street; no no - they had to carry me into the lounge on the airport, where
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I at once had ordered the whole bar and consumed it in less time than it
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takes to blink your eyes.
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Maybe they exaggerated. But I am not sure.
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Yes, dear reader, I am back; the alcoholic courier, who have been all
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over the world but merely seen airports. Yes, dear reader, I am back. And
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moreover, it turned out that I was back on the Keflavik airport on Iceland,
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the place where everything started going wrong for me many years ago. You
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might think it was nothing special, that dark night when I sat by the huge
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panoramic window and watched the planes come and go, drinking (at those
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days, I merely sipped) a cheap bottle of booze, and suddenly encountered
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this man who did not use his mouth for communication, merely little white
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cards, six of them to be exact... (well, if you happen to have forgotten it
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all, consider "The Strangest Thing Happened in Keflavik", uXu file #434.)
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... and the things that happened afterwards. The man gave me his sixth
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card, and it actually said nothing at all, and I was ordered to return to
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the United States by my sneaky boss, who conspired to fire me. But hey, I
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got away pretty neat, right? (Okay, if you do not remember this either,
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consult uXu file #455: "After Keflavik".)
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Yes, dear reader, I am back.
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For the last time.
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I stared at the photo for several minutes. A strange experience, to see
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yourself like that. Sure, I look myself in the mirror ever morning (if I
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happen to snooze at a place that actually have one). But the face I see
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there is always the same; it is always the same expression, in the same
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kind of hard bathroom light. I have never noticed how my face has changed
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through the years. Once upon a time it was fresh and clean and carried that
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rosy glow on the cheeks that signaled strength and health, youth and
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future. Now, when I saw myself on the photo, I realized that I was old.
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Very old. Not in years, not in experiences, not in education, not in life.
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In some other way. I was like a piece of metal that once upon a time had
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been told that it was forever unbreakable, but after years of unhurried
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bending had wore down to a lethal fatigue. I was about to crack, any day.
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I sighed heavily, let out a series of coughs from the deepest realm of my
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torso, and put the paper down on my lap. I wondered what I should do, my
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head was a mess. The answer came quicker than I thought. Two huge airport
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guards emerged in front of me from nowhere.
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"Sir..." one of them said, rough European accent.
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"Whiskey! A double!" I replied.
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"Uh, well, of course. But not here. You have been here for thirteen
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hours and you must..."
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I felt no urge to converse.
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"Right! I got it! Thank you!" I interrupted.
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I rose from the chair. My head entered a spin, and I fell backwards onto
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the chair, coughing like a victim of TBC (again). The guards helped me to
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my feet.
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"You okay, sir?"
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"Yeah, yeah..."
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I walked right through between them and headed for the exit of the
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lounge. Two glass doors opened as I wandered around, and I concluded that I
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had found the way out. As I was about to leave, one of the guards yelled:
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"Sir! Your luggage! Sir!"
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I turned around and saw the guard trying to pick up my suitcase for me.
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His face became red, then blue, but he never got it off the floor. It was
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far above the approved weight for air travel, but I had got it on board by
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claiming that it was light hand baggage. (I wonder how they got it off?) I
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went over to the guard, and picked the suitcase up with one hand. They gave
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me some mighty stares as I carried it away, out of the lounge, and into the
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great hall of the airport.
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Damn right, I got balls.
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Messages echoed through the hall, telling travelers where to go next.
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People rushed around, trying to find the correct gate. From distant places
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somewhere outside the building, the sound of jet engines boosting to
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maximum effect could be vaguely heard. It was as usual. I had experienced
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all this before, many times. Too many times. It was always the same. I was
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sent somewhere, waited at the airport, dropped a package, and took the
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first flight to some other destination - where I waited, dropped and left.
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I went over to a row of seats and put the suitcase down. Then I looked out
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through the huge panoramic window. It was dark outside, and I saw nothing
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of interest, mostly because the bright lamps in the ceiling just made
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everything in the hall behind me reflect back. I put the nose to the
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window, and the hands to the sides of my head. It rained heavily outside,
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and a strong wind made the drops fall horizontally.
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"Hekla", a weak voice said behind me.
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An elderly stocky lady swept the floor with a broom. She looked at me,
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and repeated: "Hekla". There was not a sign of feelings in her voice. She
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had probably worked for too long and too hard, like me.
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I looked out again. But now: far away, somewhere by the horizon, I saw
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an gigantic fountain of fire rise to the sky. Earth had once again
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exploded. Hekla, the majestic volcano, it was a marvelous sight, even from
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here. This was truly the land of fire and ice.
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"Fantastic..." I whispered, and turned around to share this moment with
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the informative cleaning lady.
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But she was gone.
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And he was there.
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He stood very close to me, too close for comfort. His appearance was
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just as I remembered. Dressed in black. An unchanging smile on a mild face
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that seemed seriously interested in everything I did. I gasped.
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He did of course not say anything.
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It took a while before I managed to communicate: "It's you, again."
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Guess what? He put his hand down the coat pocket and picked up a little
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white card. He held it up, so I could see it.
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It said
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YES
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Oh, great. Yet another turn on the scene of craziness in progress. I
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carefully stepped to the side and slid down on the seat, right next to my
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suitcase. He also sat down, in front of me, slowly, never letting his eyes
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leave mine.
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I patted my hands nervously on the knees.
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"Eh... it has been a while."
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YES
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"What have you been up to? Anything special?"
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I do not know why I kept on talking. I knew what the man was about to
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say. He had six cards (YES, NO, SOMEWHERE, SIX, NOTHING - and that sixth
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card that had a comprehensible statement printed on it, but really said
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nothing at all).
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NO
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No! No! Enough, I thought. Not one more time! My life had become a
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living hell after I had met this maniac the first time, and I did not fancy
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a rerun. Okay, so my life could hardly get any worse, but you never knew
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with this blockhead around.
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I flew off the seat, grabbed the suitcase, and planned to bail out as
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soon as possible.
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"Nice to meet you, but now I must..."
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The man gently put his hand over mine on the suitcase. Before I had the
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chance to punch him in the face, he pointed at the suitcase with his other
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hand. And then at himself.
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I sank down on the seat again.
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"Don't tell me the package is for you?"
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YES
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Right. Down to business. Strictly business. Get this over with. Quickly.
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Then leave. Never return. Demand to be sent to Asia. Follow the approved
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procedure: hand him the invoice together with a pen and instructions.
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"Sign there, and there and there."
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And so he did. Then I overturned the suitcase so it fell flat on the
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floor. I opened it up for him. The brown paper package inside filled it
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completely. I pushed it over to him with my foot.
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"There you go. Keep the case."
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Now leave. Quickly. But I did not. I remained in the seat. Yes, I should
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have left. I should have just walked away. But the thing is - I died to
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know what was in the package.
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The man did not keep me on tenterhooks. He immediately tore it open.
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Guess what? The package contained cards. Thousands of them. Maybe millions.
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"Of course" I concluded. "Of course. What else?"
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The man gently picked up a bunch of white cards and scrabbled through
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them, put them down, picked up another bunch and did the same thing. It was
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as if he counted money. Then he suddenly found a card which he apparently
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liked. He did not show it to me. He put it up side down on the seat beside
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him. Then he continued to examine the cards. After a while, he found
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another card that he liked.
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He replaced the stack and held up the card he now had in his hand.
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I HAVE WAITED FOR THIS DAY TO COME
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Then he reached for the card on the seat.
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I HAVE WAITED SO VERY LONG
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I nodded, but did not mean anything with it.
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"Yeah, right. So - now you got a million more cards to play with. What
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will be your first move? To turn some other poor bastard insane?"
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NO
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Emotions overwhelmed me from nowhere. Life poured out of my body. I
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buried my hands in my face.
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"What is the damn point!" I yelled. "Why don't you just speak! I know
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you can! You have told me so. Well, you used a card to tell me that but...
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anyway. What is the POINT? WHAT IS THE DAMN POINT?!"
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My words bounced back and forth in the building. Everyone must have
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heard me. I did not care. I did not care about anything, any more. As I
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realized that, I understood that I had not cared about anything for a long
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time.
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The man patted me on the shoulder, as if he tried to comfort me.
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"Is there any sensible explanation..." I mumbled. "Any truth...
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something... anything... "
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His hand left my shoulder. When it had been gone for a while I raised my
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head. Through my fingers, guess what, I saw the man hold up a card.
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YES
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"There is?"
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YES
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"Tell me! Please, tell me! I can't stand this any more!"
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The man raised a finger and bent down to pick up yet another stack of
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cards from the brown package. He cautiously examined them, one by one.
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Minutes passed. He did not find what he was looking for, so he put the
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stack back and brought up another one. One by one, he studied them. Minutes
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passed, then hours. As there were thousands, maybe millions, of cards in
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the package, this would certainly take some time. Days, maybe months.
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Years? Who knew.
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But I would wait. I had all the time in the world. I had also waited for
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this day to come. For so very long. But you, dear reader, have other things
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to do. Let me not waste your time. Rush out in the real world of yours. If
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you want me, you know where to find me. I will not leave this place for
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quite some time, maybe never.
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---------------------------------------------------------------------------
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uXu #499 Underground eXperts United 1999 uXu #499
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http://www.uXu.org/ - info@uxu.org
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