Lungs 4

I am back, or I have come again, or was I dreaming, the reality of where I am stopped mattering to me, where is this place, and where is that place with Hemix, all I can do is figure out the moment. I tried by asking, “What just happened?” not that the old orange-haired man would know, nor that I was expecting the answer I wanted to hear to clear everything up. Everything, too much to take anyway. “You try to steal-us, that ‘What just happened’!” the old man explained as if I would know. “You think you with dust pants can just come in and get the food of free?!” the old man’s momentum started to build, but before it grew into anger, even though his voice was monotoned, I said “I am new here, I have no idea what you are talking about!” “HAH!” the old man exploded with understanding, or so he thought, “That explains your strangeness of hair, where is the hand that carries the Nampolize token?” What? I asked to all his statements and question, what strange hair, what token? “By Nemesis, did you sneak the city?” I realized his talk was very poetic to my ears, “I didn’t, well… I kind of just woke up here…” I looked at my pants “With dust on my pants.”

Here we go again, that same bright dust, this is where I figured to stop realizing it and accepting it would always there whenever I came back to consciousness, or un- consciousness, or maybe it is neither, hell I don’t know. The fact that I am here now, doesn’t matter physically or mentally, means that I just need to concentrate on solving what is here, and leave whatever I saw before to another time, until it “comes back”. “Well, words you create are of unfamiliarity to me, but you seem of innocence, you better transform the hair to Nampol or you will be exterminated to the Nampoliks Green Waters.”

Too many terms, un-understandable terms, what are you talking about, I asked, he laughed, I am more confused, he offered his hand to help me up, a robotic hand I realized, “Well then…” his faced turned into a thinking phase, looking to his upper right, “Drifter, your name is, I have no cares of your previous ‘life’, you have no needs of past when working under my hands.” He explained with a smile. “Working under your hands?” I asked in confusion, when did I volunteer to do so? “Well of course, you need the hand that carries the Nampolize token for the soul to seek survival.”

“Right…” I brushed my black pants with a flick of the hand showing a hint of “I am ready for anything” through my body language, and stood with a straight back, it seemed I have done that many times, but couldn’t remember when and why, I almost saluted intuitively, but stopped my hand before it was visibly seen creating movement. Nevertheless, I asked what was on my mind “So, what with the Nampolize token? Do I need to carry one in my hand so I can pay for the food?” the man gave out an half mocking, half “you innocent ignorant man” laugh, “Metaphorically indeed, amongst other things. Follow me.”

I walked with him through a entrance on the right of the “ordering” counter that lead us into a colourful hallway, mostly purple and orange lines and shapes, creating intense chrome of un-identifiable shapes, but they seemed sensible shapes nevertheless, I thought of asking the old man of their story, but resolved in not doing so, I already had many things on my mind to think of, there is no sense in adding more water to an over-flowing cup, it won’t provide more water to drink. I switched my attention to the old man in front of me, still following him through a corridor that lead to an opened room, with no door, like a line with a square at the end of it, come to think of it, at both ends. The old man was normal in size, long dark orange hair, no trace of white hairs, wearing a white overall with a purple shirt, black shoes, and a strange orange shaded circler “symbol” on his non-robotic hand. He seemed like a healthy and peaceful man by the way he talked and the way he walked.

“What is your name, sir?” I asked while we were turning into the room, where he produced, from a desk drawer, a computerized stamp, with a medium sized needle coming out from the centre of the bottom side of it, where the stamping has its effect. He took my right hand, faced the palm upwards, “The name you search his Hemex. Now this might provide a painful, maybe darkening, experience, but none to worry, tis safe.”

Before I could exhale my surprise, confusion, and fear, the stamp struck my right hand’s palm. My breath held in mid-moment, a feeling of numbness started travelling through my body, starting from my hand. I felt it creeping into eyes, and my vision was coloured by the colour I love the most, and fear the most, black.