Come again… I have to remember which guy asked to go there in the first place… is it that short fellow with unusual skull size, or that similarly short fellow with darker skin?
Its the third time you used the bridge and still you don’t get it? Asked the Imp rhetorically. It does not matter WHO the request came from, what matter is where that particular being wants to go!
And this omnipresent instrument finally showed its quality, Replied Dalmin sarcastically.
Its not the instrument, its the destination! That ‘place’ that those duo wanted to go is NOT a place.
It is not.
Well, define it then…
It is a place with the absence of anything, nothing, and everything.
It is a place where there is no longer a place. A sarcastic endorsement.
Then the Imp hit him in the head, screamed “screw that absurdity!” and by the time Dalmin completed his retaliating gesture of throwing the rest of his unfinished hot coffee towards its face, the Imp is no longer there.
About three days ago, Dalmin met an interesting young fellows, said to be in an “around the world expedition”. They said that they are now half way from their home, and as spirited as ever to complete the other half. But still, they are human. Such law of diminishing return strucked them softly but surely. The amazement of visiting new place, tasting new cultures, experiencing new rituals, shouting in new language, has finally been decreased siginificantly for them. The slightly taller guy said that that in the last village they visited, they chose a regular fried chicken instead of a portion of steamed peacock liver; a traditional and rather rare dish that being served only once in every four years.
It was quite a horror for them when they realized how far they have gone from joyfully joining albino-bear hunt with local natives, to eating a regular fried chicken… with fries….
“… With fries..!.” The skinnier guy trembled as he restated his partner’s words…
So Dalmin thought they need something new, and he told them about the bridge.
And as every normal human being that find a teleportation device, they begin fantasizing. When Dalmin told them about they can only go somewhere offworld, they even got more creative. They say they need a few days to decide, as they are very excited about their vast destination options. So does Dalmin. He is quite happy to finally meet someone who does not trying to use his bridge for solving some grieve psychological illness, but a mere pleasure of exploration.
Until they decide where they want to go.
…O… Oblivion? Dalmin asked.
What is that even mean?
Well… A direct translation from the dictionary would say: “the state of being unaware or unconscious of what is happening around one, such as being extinct from any reality of the world”
Intriguingly amazing right?!!!
We are going to a place that is both immaterial and inexist.
I doubt that it is actually a place.
Well if it is not a place, then the bridge cannot take us there, and we will figure something else out.
So it could not. And that bugged Dalmin so much because he actually thought that the bridge can take anyone to anywhere.
Thus he called the Imp, had a long yet pointless argument, and got dissapointed even more.
There must be a way! Dalmin thought. There must a way.
And after thinking for as long as 4 cups of free coffee refill, he pulled out his bridge. It is now in the shape of a boomerang like flower. Its vibrance making it looks like a blue diamond being cut in an impossible rate of thinness.
Instinctively, he throw that bridge, and it flew, so smoothly, so gently, as if the breezeless air around him is enough to make it float for hours. And then someone caught it. He smiled so wide to Dalmin, making his huge head looked even bigger.
You’re still here.
Because I need to tell you something that we just found out.
Is it about the bridge?
It is about where we are.
We’re in a coffee diner.
How long have you been in this diner?
Its only been like… Dalmin looked up the time in his phone, and what follows is not a direct answer, but a confused and shocked reaction.
12 days, 7 hours, and 23 minutes.
But…. I was just….
You were just finishing your 112th cup of coffee.
We found ourselves started thinking about 6 days ago, and we somehow just finished that thought sometime within the last 3 hours. We didn’t know. Until the guy in our motel hit us with a full pail of iced water, saying that we have not even changed our position since his birthday, which is last week.
Then Dalmin realized, that he is not alone. He is sorrounded by an orange police line, complete with every single cops in town. There are also reporters from different television and paper, and they are either writing, recording, or giving a live report.
WHA… What is happening?!!
Dalmin can hear one of the reporting giving his report.
…This 32 years old attorney, stayed immovable despite 10 grown man pulling him out from his chair…
….The fact that he does not look dying, despite 12 days of nothing but coffee is unbelievable….
….The police department decided that if he does not move during the next 3 hours, they will try to lift him with the whole restaurant, as lifting his chair is proven to be also impossible…
….People are speculating that this is a publicity stunt by some local coffee maker, a marketing experiment if i must say…
….Papa Addams… This is….?
…This is witchery!… An act of cursing the very town…. We cannot let this happen anymore… I have to pray… I have to pray…
In his confusion, Dalmin didn’t notice the flying Imp beside his right shoulder.
What? You think you can make all this mess silently and unnoticed?
What is this?
This is what happened when you call upon oblivion.
But you said it does not exist.
No, I said it is not a place. I never said that it does not exist. Nothing is inexist, even things that you cannot think of is exist.
But oblivion itself is being inexist.
And even being inexist, exist!
You said you hate absurdity.
I was just kidding, I love the absurdity, my very appearance is meant to make you feel uneasy!
The Imp then changed into a pale, long haired man, wearing the best suit mankind can ever tailored.
Curse me, Indeed.
So, this people, can they see you?
Nah… You are now back in oblivion. Actually, you have been here, the first time we met. Remember how you didn’t check your watch while you usually check it in almost every 15 minutes? That’s your body telling you not to.
Oblivion does not want you to know its presence.
So… What should I do now?
By now, those people will already found out that moving the restaurant is also impossible, so they will try to incinerate it, out of fear, ofcourse. But then as you expect…
…The restaurant will be completely destroyed but…
…But you and the table will not….
…How about the coffee?
AH! That is why I chose you, that attention to detail… Well, since you weren’t drinking your coffee by the time you got into Mrs. O, it will also be destroyed.
…Too bad, that was actually a good coffee..
You are either mad or truly is the son of bridge?
Son of bridge?
We’ll talk about it later… What we have now are two options. You can either start a global scale religious war, or you can go where these things never happened.
You mean back through time.
Time is a pseudo space that humans create to describe what happened and what is going to happen. There is no such thing as time, everything happens now.
You see, you are living in a circle of materials, right. Those spaces, one that you drank an aspirin in the morning, went to work and met your boss and then probably call your parents by lunch time and they hear what you said exactly the way you are meant to said it, is a space group. It has the same order of occurence because you are in it . But the order can be very different for the janitor you passed by without even smiling. Your today’s might be Monday, but the janitor’s today definitely different.
What if I asked him the date?
That’s the beauty of it! Interaction would create collision. That single act of asking makes his today is Monday, while without he actually noticed, his today’s was always undecided before you or himself asked.
What if he asked himself, I mean in his mind can try to figure out the time, I mean.. The occurence pattern.
No… You see.. everything is happening, so it cannot be wrong, the order is always right, the collision, gazillions of it, is happening, always happening.
I am guessing that you are now thinking?
I am wondering about who are you actually…
Well, You could have just asked.
You will answer it complicatedly.
No I won’t.
I am who created.
Hell, no! I ain’t no bookworm like him.. He created everything. The exist, the inexist, the supposed to be exist, the once existed, even time. I created this world. Only this.
You said there is no such thing as time.
Not in my world… So… Ready to choose?
Don’t play with me, you knew what I’d chose.
Good boy, let’s go!
Then Dalmin went. Using his own bridge that this time drawn by the Imp that is now a wicked looking man himself. It shaped like a simple hole in the space and they went in.
He found himself in a crowd, and the two travelers approached him, looked interested by the way he looked, and said Hey, we’re halfway around the world, can you tell me where this is? while pointing to a dot in a map.
I’m sorry, I’m busy
Then he can hear the couple whispered I never knew that people in this city could be so rude… Lame!
Dalmin left. Slowly, thinking what kind of people he met before, what kind of questions he ever asked to some strangers, and how much alteration he made to this world just by a single “hello”