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Future Vision

Guy awoke to the sound of his radio. He stayed lying in the bed a few minutes, whilst he listened to the news. Finding that the world had not changed overnight, and that there were still muggings, murders and people campaigning for the election, he got up. Today, he decided, was going to be one of his good days. He felt good. In fact, he felt very good. He would have thought this quite strange, if he had given it any thought, as he had lost his job not 24 hours ago.

He got dressed, thinking about what he was going to do about the telephone bill. Eventually he decided. Since the telephone company always sent final demands just after you had paid, then surely if he did not pay then they could not, by their own logic, send one of those dreaded letters.

What was he going to do today, he wondered as he enjoyed his repast of burnt beans on, similarly burnt toast. Possibly, some culinary lessons were in order. Unfortunately though, he had agreed to meet his ex-wife at two-twenty, and the lessons would have to wait.

At this moment in time he had more pressing things to do than even that, he had to watch the customary twenty-five minutes of television. That same twenty-five minutes, over the course of a few weeks, had caused him to lose his job yesterday.

He walked through to the lounge and sat down in an armchair. He pulled the remote control from out of its usual abode - down the side of the cushion. He turned the television on and it promptly exploded.

Somebody, he thought just before he passed out, has really got it in for me.

Guy was flying high above a road. Below him, on a small country lane, there was an accident. He swooped gracefully down to see what was had happened. The whole area was quite clear, perfect visibility on all sides. He hovered 10 feet above the crash, surveying it. One car had hit the other, going in the opposite direction, head on. He flew down to see if there was anyone he could help. As he dropped, he passed, disconcertingly, through a set of telephone pylons. He looked into one of the cars. There were only two passengers - a man and a women. Both were dead. The impact had sent the women, who had not been wearing a seatbelt, straight through the window. The man had a large piece of "unbreakable" glass sitting calmly in his chest as if that was where it belonged.

The other car was more fortunate. Not so its driver. He was slumped over the wheel. His head was in that disconcerting position which can only be reached by many years of practice, or by breaking ones neck. Unfortunately for the driver, his skill was in the latter area. As Guy moved in closer, his morbid curiosity overcoming him, he was thought that maybe this poor man was not having a good day.

There was something familiar about the mans face which he could not, quite, place. It was just on the edge of his mind. He played tag with it for a while, trying to catch it unawares, but to no avail.

Another car had pulled up now. After its owners had had a quick glance around - they needed no more - they left to call the emergency services. As they did so, his sight faded toward a murky blackness.

Guy groaned a feeble groan. This groan slowly grew up, passed adolescence, and began learning the tricks of its trade. Soon it had become a fully grown groan.

After a few minutes, Guy ceased his groaning, as it was getting him no sympathy what- so-ever. An eye opened and glanced round the room. After verifying that it was safe, the other eye came out tentatively. It looked first at its companion, then rolled around and inspected the room for itself. Guy's brain slowly kicked into gear and began to gibber quietly. In its experience, televisions did not just blow up when you turned them on. Down below the ankle, there was small dispute beginning, between the big toe and the three middle toe, as to who should wake up little toe.

An alarm went off in another part of the house. The two eyes looked at on another, sneered at the brain as it came out from hiding, and decided that they should work together as, the brain explained, it was to their mutual advantage.

Guy rose to his feet. The toes had not yet settled their argument, even though little toe was now awake and beginning to join in the excitement. Brain finally gained control, and told everybody to stop fooling around. Right hand protested, but gave in under duress.

Fully awake now, Guy took a good look around the house. Apart from the television being spread over one of the corners it looked all right. His eyes rested upon the window sill. The clock there said that the time was two o'clock. He distrusted this, so checked this with his watch. This also said two o'clock.

Time to go and meet his ex-wife. The television would have to wait.

He picked up his coat and left the house forgetting his wallet and car keys. He returned a few seconds later to collect his wallet, then ran out to the car. He went back into the house a second time for his car keys. He locked the house doors and jumped into the car.

He picked himself off the pavement, and this time unlocked the car door before getting in a bit more sedately. He turned the engine on, and reversed out of his drive. A classic handbrake turn solved the problem of facing the wrong way. It also solved the problem of next doors weeding. He slammed the car into second and managed to stall the car.

He started the car again and glanced at his watch. Now it said ten past two. Angry now, he punched a cassette into the player and drove out onto the main road. The sound of Queen soothingly poured out of the cars only remaining speaker. The other had been kicked in during a moment of frustration behind a Jaguar.

He pulled onto one of the long picturesque country road for which people came just to enjoy. He listened to the music and accelerated past sixty. He was just trying to work out why the last line of Queen's "One Vision" sounded like Fat Chicken when he saw the sheep on the corner.

It wasn't doing much. But, when you are travelling at over seventy miles per hour down a country lane, a stationary sheep in the middle of the road is a bit of a problem.

He swerved into the other lane to over take it. As he turned the corner though, he saw a car coming the other way. The car was travelling at a more comfortable forty miles per hour and it was quite surprised to see another car coming straight at it, doing seventy. The occupants of the car were slightly more than just surprised. Possibly, terrified was a better word.

There was a horrible screeching sound and a smell of burning rubber as Guy applied the brakes. Just before the impact he realised what had been nagging him about the dead man's face.

It had been his.

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This page is maintained by Justin Fletcher (gerph@gerph.org).
Last modified on 19 January, 2013.
This site is copyright . The accuracy of anything on this site is entirely limited by his belief system and memory at the time of publication - neither of which should be relied on. The opinions are entirely his, except where he's changed his mind. Quotations are copyright their respective authors and whereever possible attributions have been included.