Wednesday, August 7, 2013

The Device

They knew.  He knew they knew.  And worse, there was nothing he could do to stop them now.  Was there? No way he could think of.  He slumped down onto his sofa and waited for them to come for him.  Or the other thing.


It was a perfectly normal looking car, but the bomb squad donned their vestments and a sole agent slowly approached the vehicle.  When he reached the side window, the agent peeked in and his eyes widened. 

“That’s it,” he reported through his comm.  “It’s the real McCoy.”

He opened the door slowly and felt a bead of sweat roll slowly down his brow.  He cursed his inability to brush it away.  He blinked and looked at the device again.

“Careful,” he heard through the comm.

“I know that, goddammit.  If you had any idea what I was looking at right now, your pants would be so full of shit they’d fall off your ass, so please shut up and let me do my job.”

The agent pulled his helmet off and wiped his soaked forehead.  He reached inside and pulled out the box that housed the device.  He stared at the thing, no wires, no count down.  How was he supposed to shut it off?

He was the only one who knew how this thing worked and he didn’t even know how it worked.  Not exactly.  The agent pushed the first button, it set off a sequence of lights.  The sequence.  He went with his gut and trepidatiously punched in its opposite.

The device did nothing.


When they broke in to the house, he was silent.  They hauled him off for questioning.

The agent asked the man, “How did you design it?  Why?”

The man remained silent.  His lips traced a vague smile.

“Is it off?” the agent asked.

The smile grew, “That’s the question, isn’t it?  How can you turn off destiny?”

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