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A Man of His Time

By NFalc


3
The Guest


"Adam?" Someone's calling me. I look around, trying to find out who it is.

"Adam!" I can't see through the throngs of people. Then, the voice starts booming. I can tell it's the woman above, the one whose red shoe hangs over us, preparing to wipe us all out. I can't hear what she says, her voice is so loud and there's so much screaming. I suddenly feel oddly detached, and numb. All the drama is gone from the situation. I'm just there, in the middle of it all, waiting.

A little voice in the back of my head is yelling at me to do something.

"ADAM!" A man battles his way out of the crowds to my right, and I turn serenely to look at him. "Adam, you can't be out here! You have to get away -" He continues talking but I can't hear what he says. The woman is talking again, her voice loud and angry. She drowns everything else out.

I stand and stare, mezmerized. "You're in shock," says the man to my right.

The man grabs my hand and forces me to start running. I don't follow him so much as I am dragged by him, not moving but not resisting either. I can tell he's running out of energy as we push through the crowds. The voice in the back of my head is worried about this, but I am calm, and passive. I watch the people move around us in their useless attempt to escape. It doesn't matter. We're all doomed, and it just doesn't matter.

The man's finally stopped dragging me, and I can tell we're right near the basement where I was left before, but there are people pushing all around us and he can't get through. The crowds force their way around us, then through us, and I lose his hand. We're no longer connected, and I'm still in shock. The flood of people sweeps me away, and I find myself near the basement. "Get in there!" the man who helped me yells over the noise. "He wanted you to be in there!"

Now I recover my wits, and head back into the entrance way. I turn and watch my savior's progress. The man is battling through the mob, but he seems to be losing the struggle. He's too tired. But he tries to force his way through anyway. He's getting closer, just a few feet away...

There's a sound like a bomb exploding, and all the screams stop at once. Everyone stops running and watches, and the dust cloud spills over them and the shockwaves knock me down and I can't see anymore.


Awake again. The dreams are, if anything, more vivid now than they were when I was in the junkyard.

I put them out of my mind however. There are noises coming from outside my makeshift bedroom. Cautiously, I creep out. I remember now that I fell asleep in the crack under Kyra's bed. About a hundred feet away from the bed are Kyra's feet. I'm guessing they're what caused the noise that woke me up.

She looks like she's standing up, so I figure that if I find a good hiding spot, I'll be able to spy on her without her seeing me. As I crawl over to one of the bed's legs, I think about how creepy what I just thought sounds, even to myself. Spying on her. I feel vaguely ashamed, even though I know it's for safety's sake.

She's in front of the nightstand, her back to me.. I run my eyes over her, starting with her pretty feet and moving up over her strong legs, the glorious curves of her butt, up through the trim waist and back. She's working with something in her hands, then she crouches down. She turns a little, and I can see that she's writing something with a pencil on a piece of paper. Then she snaps off the end of the pencil, and uses long, light blue fingernails to tear a chunk out of the eraser. She places both on the nightstand, then looks about the room, like she knows I'm watching her.

And it occurs to me that she does. This whole charade was for my benefit. She's written something on the paper, and the pencil stub and eraser are for me to write her back.

"I'll be back in five minutes," Kyra says to the middle of the room. Then she stands up and walks out, her footsteps echoing behind her. As soon as she's gone, I start running towards the lamp then abruptly stop. What if this is just a trap? I'll climb up to her nightstand, start writing, and she'll burst in and catch me unawares. Is this really worth risking my freedom for? But if she really is just trying to communicate, and I don't respond, she'll think I was just some strange dream. I remember her last night, saying that she wouldn't force me to come out. She didn't sound like the kind of person who would trap me.

The choice is simple: either be a coward and be assured of your safety and anonymity, or be brash and declare your existence. I can't stand the first one, so my choice is already made. I'll simply have to put my trust in Kyra.

I run out to the nightstand, and am glad to find that the lamp cord still hangs loose enough to drag on the floor. I clamber up, and walk over to the paper Kyra had written on. There, in letters the size of my hand, is her note.

"Dear Little One,

"I hope you can read this. I regret scaring you last night. I'd like to learn about you, even if you don't want us to meet face to face. Please write me back on this paper, so I know you're out there.

"Love, Kyra"

I trace the word 'love' with a finger, and wonder if she meant it. Then I think a while about how to respond. Finally, I pick up the piece of graphite she left for me, and write carefully, in letters as large as I can manage: "I'm here, and I'm listening." It seemed to be the best thing to write, brief and reassuring, without seeming overly creepy.

I'm startled by a huge booming sound. A single knock on the door. In a flash of realization, I know it's Kyra's signal that she's coming back into the room. I quickly slide back down the lamp cord, and dash back over to my spot behind the bed. The door swings open, and Kyra walks in, biting her lip, her eyes closed. It's so she doesn't accidentally spot me and scare me, but as I watch those immense feet cross the floor I think it could be very dangerous for me as well. If I'd left the nightstand just a minute later, I'd be in serious trouble right now.

She picks up the paper, then turns as she's reading it so she's facing me. When she's finished, she folds the paper up neatly. There's a big, bright smile on her face, and it makes me happy just to see it. "I'll write you again tomorrow," she says, putting the paper back on the nightstand.

I silently rejoice as she climbs onto the bed above me and lies down. She knows me! Even though she doesn't even know my name, she knows I'm here! And I've got a way of talking with her, without any way of being caught. It all works so well, and I'm grateful to her for thinking of it. She's so considerate...

There's a series of knocks on the door, and Kyra swings upright in bed, one of her bare feet coming down with a great pounding sound as she sits at the edge of the bed. "Come in," I hear her say.

Sable walks in, dressed in a somewhat formal black dress and stiletto high heels. There's a necklace made of bright gems around her graceful neck. I wonder what she's so dressed up for. "Well, are you getting ready?" she asks impatiently.

"Ready for what?" Kyra replies.

Sable lets out an exasperated sigh. "I swear, you forget anything that isn't centered around you. My boss is coming over for lunch. You need to wear NICE clothes, as opposed to that stuff you have on."

Kyra gasps, plucking at the simple yet beautifully form-fitting white t-shirt and jeans she's wearing . "This isn't nice?"

"Okay, calm down, I was only joking," Sable says quickly , cracking a small smile. "You know, you've got to wear formal clothes."

"Ugh," says Kyra simply.

"I know, it's a drag, but we've got to. I really want to make a good impression on her."

"Okay, okay, I'll get changed." Now that was something everyone could be happy about.

Sable closes the door behind her, and Kyra quickly tugs off her clothes. Watching her change is as amazing as the first time, if less unexpected. She then slips into what is sort of like fancified office attire, with a clean, white, collared shirt and a short black dress. She looks gorgeous in it, but then again she looks gorgeous in pretty much anything.

She's starting to head out the door when I realize that it could be useful to know other giants than my two housemates. This guest could be a useful ride out of the house when I'm ready to leave. I quickly scurry out from my hiding spot and follow her out of the room. She closes the door behind me, the noise probably small to her but huge and frightening to me.

I follow Kyra to the stairs, not really worrying about keeping up. I know there's no chance of my keeping pace with her, and it's less easy for her to spot me if I lag behind. She's out of sight by the time I reach the stairs.

Luckily, the stairs in this house are carpeted, making it easier for me to make my way down. It still takes a bit of effort, as I have to make my way over the small ledge on every step, then grab handfuls of carpet fibers and slowly, carefully make my way down. My muscles are burning by the time I get to the bottom, and I figure it's taken me a good half hour to get all the way down.

I hear the tremendous noise of the door opening behind me. Turning, I see a pair of business-like high heels, colored a deep scarlet. They don't resemble the shoes that have haunted me, those were a far brighter red. There are some very nice feet within these, though, by the looks of the instep. I look up to find a woman wearing well-cut office attire. Her clothing suggests wealth and power, and I now know why Sable was so anxious to make a good impression. I can't see much of her face from where I stand, but I can see that she has long red hair.

I run to an area next to the banister as she walks towards me, Sable right behind her. Sable never struck me as being short, but she's dwarfed by her boss. I get the feeling that even if our heights were proportionate, this woman would still be taller than me. She walks forward confidently, heels clicking on the wood floor. "Lovely place you have, Sable," she says idly. Her tone is different from what I'm used to, arrogant but not without warmth. It's hard to place, but it sounds unmistakably like the voice of a person who is used to commanding a situation.

"Thanks," Sable replies nervously. She gestures about the apartment, and says, "It's our home."

I suddenly hear a noise from behind me, and turn to see Kyra walking right down the hallway I'm hiding in. I crouch and shield myself with my hands, worried that she'll spot me, but her high heels pass right by.

"Kyra, this is my boss, Cheryl," says Sable. Kyra politely introduces herself and offers her hand, which Cheryl gives a brief shake. Then the three of them walk towards the kitchen. I follow at a distance.

The three women have already sat down by the time I'm there. They're all chatting at once, and their voices are so loud that it's hard to make out who's saying what. I figure I'll have to get a better vantage point in order to eavesdrop on their conversation. Something's telling me that I need to hear what they have to say.

I choose the table leg closest to me as my entrance. It also happens to be the one directly next to Cheryl. I quickly grab onto the large, round pole and begin to shimmy up. I'm lucky this table has thin legs. Cheryl, however, does not. As I climb by her pantyhosed calves I see that they're well formed but large and somewhat muscular, befitting a woman of her stature. I continue upwards and the noise of the conversation gets louder. I'm beginning to wonder if I'll understand anything they say, whether I see their faces or not.

With a bit of tricky maneuvering, I manage to swing myself up onto the ledge of the tabletop. I almost slip and fall, nearly frightening myself to death, but manage to just pull myself over. And there they are. Three women surrounding me, their sheer size completely overwhelming. I stay prone, hoping it makes me fairly well hidden. As long as I don't move too much, they shouldn't see me, but I'm nervous as all hell. It feels like they're all right on top of me, their eyes boring into me right behind my back.

Directly at my right is Cheryl's enormous pale hand, the nails painted a deep scarlet that catches my eye. The hand looks like it's a foot or so wider than I am tall, and much longer than that. With a casual swat it could wipe out my existence. I look up to see that she has a face that has a sort of detached, aristocratic beauty. Her eyes are a piercing green. I force myself to stop looking at her and start watching their conversation.

"...heard about the recent surge in Truthseeker attacks?" Sable was saying.

"Heard? I've been working on cleanup and prevention," Cheryl replies. She made a small gesture with her hand which scared the living daylights out of me. "It's terrible. These extremists don't think it's enough to spread lies and propaganda. They have to directly attack us as well. Two civilians were killed in that attack."

"That's horrible," says Kyra, her tone not sympathetic but simply bored.

"I hope we crush them," says Cheryl, in a tone of quiet but concentrated rage. It sounds like she wants to behead each of these Truthseekers this very minute. "They stand against everything modern women have created. Those fools, they even believe men still exist." My heart leaps at this. If some women still believed, then there was a chance...

Sable laughed loudly at that, but the laughter rang false. I turned slowly to look at Kyra, and saw a sullen expression on her face. "Right, men still exist," chortles Sable.

"What if they do?" mutters Kyra.

There's a long, awkward silence. Sable glares at Kyra, and Kyra glares back. Cheryl finally breaks the silence to say, "Dear, there's no way there are any left. We'd know. We did place tracking devices on them, towards the ending."

"What if they broke?" Kyra questions fiercely. "What if there were some who never got traced? You don't know there aren't any left." I admire the glare in her eyes, the belief in her voice. It's almost like Kyra's fighting for my right to exist.

"I understand that you'd like to believe -"

"You can't prove anything!" Kyra says loudly.

Sable, who up until this point had been sitting in shocked silence, says sharply, "Be quiet, Kyra."

"If she wants to argue, let her," Cheryl says calmly. "Words don't change the truth."

"What do you know about the truth? I know who you are, you're part of the Establishment!" Kyra hurled this last remark with such venom that I wondered what, exactly, the Establishment was.

"So, you've been listening to the propaganda," says Cheryl coldly. "Well, those lunatics do tend to be wrong. There is no Establishment. It is all a lie made up to try and bring down what is an orderly system." Cheryl's voice stays perfectly level as she says this.

"An orderly system of oppression!" shouts Kyra, and startles me by getting up out of her seat. If she's looking from above, she'll be able to see me...

I quickly try to move to the left, to hide near Cheryl's water glass. I look straight up to Cheryl's hand on the glass, but it is quickly removed.

Then I look to my right and see Cheryl's green eyes locked on mine. And there's a lot less surprise in them than I would have expected.
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