Short Story Number 1 Part 11

Welcome to the Agglomeration

The Transcriber Part 11

The first steps were especially difficult. Adapting to his new surroundings was made especially difficult by the fact that Syro didn’t have a lot of time. The immediate problem was that he had no idea where the so-called Transcriber was. Secondly he had no effective means of communication with anyone, due to the fact that he had been in that cell all his life and language was one of the luxuries that simply weren’t presented to him during his captivity. But all that was about to change.

Syro examined his surroundings. He was in some sort of facility; more educated people might correlate the visuals to resemble something like a ward or wing of a hospital. Not bearing the necessary skills to read a map, and indeed lacking a map in the first place, Syro decided to be guided by pure intuition. He walked down the corridor and at the first intersection decided to turn right. Then immediately he ducked back at the sound of footsteps in the distance. Breathing heavily and struggling not to make a sound, he waited and sighed with relief as the footsteps subsided. Once silence had been restored he cautiously walked out into the open and proceeded down the corridor. He took the next left, the next two rights, and then another left, with every corridor he walked through looking the same as the ones he had previously travelled through. The only thing that convinced him he was wandering around in circles or squares was the names that were printed on each door he passed. They had always been different so far, leading him to the obvious conclusion that he had indeed not traversed that particular corridor before. The names of course, he couldn’t read, but he had developed a form of photographic memory, and he remembered them, making sure that the same combination of symbols had not recurred.

Walking past REYKJA, DUBROV and CHISIN, he arrived at a T Junction. To the left was another long corridor similar to those he’d pass through before. But to the right, there was simply a black door. Syro shivered, not because he was cold or experiencing any sort of muscular or physical spasm, but rather due to his experiencing of a phenomena scientists have attributed the term ‘déjà vu’. This was of course impossible for Syro, seeing as he’d never left his cell in his life. However, Syro quite logically rationalized this feeling as due to some inconsistent clarity in the remembering of his dream. It was quite easy for his subconscious to have recognised a similar or perhaps that very door as part of his dream, therefore accounting for that nervous sense of foreboding yet familiarity that déjà vu would cause.

What mattered was that this was a starting point. Something that he felt was different, something that might just be the answer he was looking for. He approached the door and knocked. There was no response. He tried again. He was met again with silence. So Syro tried the only option left to him. He tried the door handle, hoping that it would yield. The laws of probability were in his favour. The door was unlocked and it opened, revealing someone already inside, concealed in the darkness. Syro had no choice but to enter and close the door behind him, but only have taking a few seconds to locate and activate the light switch, dispelling the shroud of mystery that the figure had hidden himself under. He looked at the man, now illuminated, and wondered if he was who he sought. Was he the Transcriber?

What was more disturbing was that he recognised the place somehow. It was refurbished differently, but the shape of the room, the height of the ceiling, and something else that he couldn’t quite place his finger on. Syro wished he could remember his dream more clearly. But now was not the time for that.

The man stepped toward Syro, and said something. Syro, of course, could not understand what he said, but you, the reader, may find it of immense value.

“Hello Syro.”

Syro did recognise his name, and so knew that the man was speaking to him.

“There is not much time, Syro, and I must get back to the others. But first, I would like you to know that you have an ally and that someone believes in your cause. I’m sorry that we did this to you, but you are the only person who can undo our great mistake. Take this.”

He gave Syro a rolled up piece of paper, a keychain and a headset. Puzzled, Syro felt frustrated because he couldn’t ask him what they were for.

“These will help you, Syro, but the greatest gift of all I can give you is this.”

He took out a syringe from his pocket. Inside was a black aqueous substance.

“I’m sorry, Syro. This is going to hurt.”

The man lunged forward, grabbed Syro’s arm and stabbed his arm, inserting the contents of the syringe into his bloodstream. Syro immediately fell limp, and the man placed him gently on the floor.

When Syro came to, he had a headache but he remembered what had just happened with alarming clarity. He got up quickly and looked around the room. The man was gone. He diverted his attention to the objects that he had left behind. The keys were obviously to let him out of the room he was in and perhaps others in the complex, but he did not know what the headset was for yet. Lastly he unrolled the piece of paper and found that one side was a schematic of the complex he was in. The other side was filled with text, and was addressed to him.

It took him five seconds to realise that he could understand everything on the page. He could read! And so he did, deciphering the meaning behind the text, word by word, sentence by sentence, paragraph by paragraph. When he reached the end, the first words that Syro Ganderton had uttered in his entire life, were let out into the world.

‘Now I understand everything”.

To be continued...

A note to my readers. This post does not signify the end of my hiatus. I have simply decided against writing the remaining parts then publishing them at a rate of 1 part a day. Instead I will publish each part as I write it.

Till next time, may you agglomerate all your unpremeditated contemplations.