This was no longer ‘a God awful small affair,’ whatever that meant, Abraham thought, as the truckBot, piloted by the silent, somber postBot, sped through the darkened streets of TrapCity.
His mind raced to catch up, searching for the purpose of this summons, for how he might’ve slipped up, searching for inspiration that could turn this dilemma to his advantage. The only problem was, he knew, since he had no answer for the first two questions, then there was none for the final question. ‘I’ll play it by ear,’ he thought, like he heard in the song on The Tablet.
He noticed the Truckbot didn’t pause or slow at ReAs and this gave him further cause for worry. He didn’t know where else he could be brought since he didn’t have the Unit designation to venture into TrapCity, any further than the ReAs to which he’d been assigned.
His question was soon answered. The truckBot swerved abruptly into an underground driveway beneath what appeared to be a towering, grey building. He only knew that because of the shadow it cast. The truckBot, steered by the postBot, ground to a halt beside an arched doorway. The hooded door on Abraham’s side opened with a faint hiss. He stepped out. As soon as he did, the truckBot door hissed and shut again, before speeding off. He looked at the arched doorway, before him. They opened, inward, before him, with a swish.
He stepped inside. The arched doorway swished, closed, behind him. He grabbed the wall to steady himself as the box into which he stepped, began to rise. For a second, there was no sound but his own breath and, he thought, his heartbeat. He was only adjusting to the ascending movement, when the music started.
What are we coming to
No room for me, no fun for you
I think about a world to come
Where the books were found by the golden ones
Startled and confused by this new development, he knew it was a Starman song and, in his head, he was singing along,
Written in pain, written in awe
By a puzzled man who questioned
What we were here for
He didn’t have time to finish. The ascending box stopped, as abruptly as it began. So did the music. The arched doors, swished again, and opened, inwards. He was greeted by a brilliant light and a voice, that said, “Unit 158, Welcome, we’ve been expecting you.”
Oh You Pretty Things lyrics © Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC, BMG RIGHTS MANAGEMENT US, LLC, TINTORETTO MUSIC
TO BE CONTINUED