Wednesday, October 21, 2009

Dali's Egg ~ 16. Epilogue

You Are Here

He awoke with a start when the train jerked and slowed as it entered the station; the screech of steel against steel; the hissing release of pressurized steam. He dusted the crumbs of sleep from his chest and straightened his tie as the conductor thumped his way past in the corridor.
“Markov! Next stop Markov!”
Through the grimy window John gazed out at the passing platform awash with people; expectant faces; he was taken by the grey light which forced colours to strain their way through – the deep red in the paisley pattern on a woman’s scarf, the dark blue uniform of an overworked porter. The train had slowed to walking pace and he read the ornate sign as it passed the window of his compartment:

MARKOV - 53.4N 62.7W

He stood and lifted his jacket from the hook on the back of the sliding door. Standing before the mirror thus revealed, he shrugging into the jacket and lifting the hat from the wooden bench that had flattened his arse for what felt like a century, he placed it on his head.
His eye took in the man in the mirror – the suit was dark and the black eye patch hung from the brim of the hat, the grey goatee was neatly trimmed, each hair an individual. He adjusted the tiepin, rubbing a finger over the elongated fried egg wrought from silver and gold, and buttoning the jacket he turned to lift the heavy Gladstone bag down from the rack above the bench.
The train reached a surprisingly gentle halt as he slid the door open and joined the thronging corridor, the bag held up before him. The fat woman in the dark floral hat held the handle with one white-gloved hand as she descended the steps to the platform, giving him a sniffy look as she did so. John waited for her to move away before descending. He stepped out as the chill wind gusted down the platform carrying an orange leaf across the heads of the crowd. He could feel, through the leather soles of his shoes, the hum of the gravity machines.
The black uniformed policeman gave John the eye as he passed through the turnstiles and down the stairs to where the taxis swallowed passengers.

T E R M I N U S








15 comments:

Yodood said...

Perfection. I couldn't comment on the last installment because of the suspense. If all the ways I imagined this is mastery of the one I imagined least and therefore, the best it could be, for me. Thank you for a wonderful mund quake ;p

Yodood said...

as authoritis creeps up the tendon drawn digits typos creep into the copy. Of course you know I meant mond cake?

Jimmy Bastard said...

Bravo!

staceyjwarner said...

looking forward to more...

May said...

Markov! The birthplace of the Chains.

Pisces Iscariot said...

Yodood: I mow what chu meen :D

Jimmy: Thangu thangu

Stacy: sorry, but that is the last episode... :/

May: Yes, taken from Markov's chain theory that any predictions for the future made today are irrelevant tomorrow (or something to that effect)

Betty Manousos:cutand-dry.blogspot.com said...

Thank you.
Keep doing beautiful work

May said...

Usually the spam encourages to "keep up with the good work". I'd punch them in the face!

James Higham said...

What did the black eye patch cover?

Pisces Iscariot said...

James: a black eye? an ear?

Justin Russell said...

A gleaming and sound show, all in all. Thanks for the read.

Harlequin said...

I loved the image of the orange leaf... and the taxis swallowing ... great language. Well done!

Pisces Iscariot said...

Justin & Harlequin: Thank You :B

Confessions of a Temporal Lobe said...

I've been thinking about the crush of sun coloured leaves under my feet all week long and then you go and free one over the tops of cattle counted heads.

I like that about you!

Cheers to a fine ending of a brilliant begining!

Pisces Iscariot said...

CoaTL: it's funny how things work - I wrote those lines about 4 years ago and today they synch with your thoughts - glad you enjoyed :D