PITFALL ART

The Simplicity of Duplicity

Experiments in Creativity #3: Part 1

The plane skidded and crashed when it hit the runway. It always did when I was flying into Elux. No one was hurt, just delays.

The pilot was on the tarmac holding his head like someone had a grip around his optic nerve. That sounded a little specific, didn’t it?

It was a four-day walk to Semokta, largest city in the world, city of the octahedrons. With half the octahedrons being below the ground it looked like a city of pyramids.

The Semoktas had rules. Many rules. No mechanical transport for living things. No computers in the open. The Semokta robe must been worn by all. Choose your colour.

Almost everyone on the plane was headed there.

I knew which seat to book to avoid injury and I was first to head off.

Through villages full of agents, spies, hawkers and grifters, all with incredible secrets to offer and information to gather.

Only one secret, follow the rules.

On the horizon, a sea of small points took shape. One day to go.

Semokta always looked deserted. A neat trick for 80 million people.

Oh, they’re in my head. Like a feather stroking back and forth, the vanes rifled through my brain for news. They could never get the details, but that didn’t matter. Assume they knew.

The path into the city had changed. The greeting hadn’t.

“You are about to enter the realm of the…”

“Hello, Harmish.”

Harmish crossed his arms and winced.

“Show some respect.”

I reached into my robe and pulled out three photos.

“Optics. Numbers. And the last one, I’m sure you know.”

Harmish unfolded his arms and pointed into the city, meaning off you go, you’re on your own.

“No help? For me?”

“Some serious company you have their. Start with the Optic Man. That’ll show you how dangerous the other two are.”

He gestured to a nearby pyramid with an open hand. Some people appeared in the doorway.

"The one in blue will help you find the Optic Man.”

“Do you mean the guy wrapped up in a Nevada flag? And who’s the Optic Man? Don’t leave. You need to help me with this. Just a cryptic message and you launch your UFO. I NEED MORE!!”

“You’ll figure it out. You’ve time traveled for three of your earth years. You’ve done fine — — Preventing Thlump from becoming President — — your greatest achievement.”

Is he wearing anything under that flag? Isn’t he cold? It’s barely above freezing today. Pull yourself together, Stephanie. Just talk to him.

“Hello, I was wondering if you — — ”

He turned toward me. His striking blue eyes, the same color as the flag, but bulging like Jim Carrey’s in the Grinch movies.

“ — — What do you want from me?”

I took a step back in terror. “I’m sor-ry.” I stuttered. “I need to find the Optic Man.”

“I want to break free.”

“We all do.” He’s staring me down. Just admit it all, Stephanie. What have you got to loose?

“There are extra terrestrials who have been sending me back and forth in time. They’ve told me the man in blue will help me find the Optic Man.”

It seemed impossible, but his eyes grew even larger with excitement.

He held tight to the flag with one hand and with the other, he rummaged through a fish bowl on the bench that held strips of paper.

He picked up one, discarded it, then another and another. The third one he handed to me.

THE OPTIC MAN IS BLIND. THE DENTIST HAS NO TEETH.

“What? What am I supposed to do with this? It’s not making any sense.”

“Take a look around.”

I stood there. Defiant. “You’re answering me with song titles. Can’t you — ”

He lifted his free hand and pointed his finger to the ground moving it in a circle.

I turned. No one was on the sidewalk ahead of me. No cars or pedestrians in the street. And no one on the sidewalk behind me. Just me, alone, with this strange man.

I should be terrified and try to call for help. But I don’t. In my glacial years on this earth, I’ve found that people you know cause the most hurt. Paper cuts on your skin until you stop fearing death — or whatever comes after it.

“Are you associated with the Deep Learning program?”

I start with an obvious question because I like its simplicity. My brain pauses its slide show and I wait for an answer, icy breaths filling my space.

“What makes you think that?”

“You look familiar, or maybe I just dreamt it.”

I’m an unremarkable person. He is scrutinizing my expressions right now, and it’s taking astronomical willpower not to glance over my shoulder. I’d be vastly relieved to know he’s mistaken, that no one came looking for me.

“Okay, so what do you want from me?”

“This isn’t the internet, where impressions are formed in 30 seconds.”

He motions me to sit on the sidewalk and I wonder about the last time I did that. Much like the program, I wish I could decide which memories stayed.

We’re close to the tarmac, and airplanes whoosh by with inflating intensity. I imagine raising my arm and being able to graze its underside. Their roars envelop my senses and in those exquisite moments, I feel entirely nothing.

“Would you like to be on one right now?”

“What would I have to offer in return?”

I knew that participation was voluntary, but they engaged in recruitment from time to time. A lot of people joined looking for something different and got bored after week one. Not enough drama, too much staring at data.

“Ah, so I was right!”

“Must you always state the obvious?”

In my dreams, the scene starts fading to black at this point. Actions take effort, jittery motions weigh my body down and there’s always one item I can’t find, like my phone. And then I wake up, having missed my chance.

“I don’t care anymore. Sign me up.”

Duplicity.

Welcome to Experiments in Creativity Part 3, featuring myself, Ann James and Debdutta Pal. Discover what this month’s experiment is about here, including links to previous experiments.