You are inexplicable. | ONC 2021

ii - ARRIVAL.

You stumble forth into blackness.

Past the threshold, there is nothing solid beneath your feet; you plummet into the oblivion below, clutching wildly at the emptiness around you. There is no sensation but the terror of freefall in the pit of your stomach and the freezing rush of air against your skin. Impenetrable darkness presses on your eyes. You fear that it will swallow you.

You take solace in the fact that there is still air to breathe, even though every gasp seems to turn your lungs to ice. Distantly, you recall that hell is supposed to be firey and painful. In your desperation, you accept this comfort that you must be headed elsewhere.

Without warning, your feet connect with something solid, and the impact shudders through your bones, leaving an agonizing ache in your knees as you collapse in a heap.

You roll over, eyes meeting the sky. It's hazy and more grey than blue, but its wispy clouds provide the same relief as spotting a familiar face in a crowd of strangers.

Death leans over you, obstructing your view. His empty sockets pull your thoughts back to the abyss, shattering all comfort. "Come on, I haven't got all day."

You scramble upright as he drifts swiftly away, not looking back.

You're in a large city square, lain with cobblestone and bordered by imposing old buildings. The sun is just peering over the horizon, casting a faint orange glow through the early morning mist. Two women pass by, speaking in a language you don't understand. It dawns on you that the architecture looks distinctly European.

You tread across the square to catch up with Death. Except, when you try to gaze in his direction, your eyes unwillingly skip over the point where you thought he was. As you jog closer, it becomes impossible to even turn in his direction.

"Are you there?" you ask hesitantly. It occurs to you that you could run off in the other direction, as far as you could get from him.

But he answers, "Yes. This is the form I take to do my job. No one can look at me—no witnesses."

So you walk beside Death, an invisible force repelling your eyes from him like the wrong ends of two magnets.

The more you examine your surroundings, the more an alarming sense of wrongness permeates your mind. All around the streets lay vast lines of pipe. You wonder what they are for—perhaps some sort of above-ground water or sewage line to avoid digging up the ancient stone path? But then you notice that they move, undulating and pulsing like massive veins. Pins and needles slide down your spine, and you stop dead in your tracks.

Is the city alive?

You swallow, but Death continues on unfazed. You rush to keep up with him as he nears a line of buildings.

Still unseen, he pushes you, and you stumble through a suddenly-open doorway. Inside is a quaint, lived-in apartment.

"We're in former Germany," he says, his tone entirely impassive. "Your new name is Kai Wagner. Welcome to your new life."

"Wait," you protest. You can almost feel him staring at you in annoyance. "Former Germany? Something isn't right here...what are the...tubes on the street? I've never seen anything like—"

"They've been here since the invasion. How could you not—" He stops, and you can sense he's staring at your dumbstruck face. "You really don't know?"

The door behind Death slams shut, and now you can look at him again, standing there in his tailored suit. He's balled up his fists and somehow managed to bare his exposed teeth wider.

"If this is simply an issue of time displacement, why did you not seek out Father Time? Instead, I'm going to all this trouble, for what?" He looks you up and down. "The most ordinary of humans. As disrespectful and entitled as any other." His voice echoes through the apartment, assaulting your ears from all angles, and you find yourself unwittingly shrinking back against a wall.

"I...have no idea what you're talking about," you manage. "There's been an invasion? Is a war happening?"

"You could say that," Death drawls.

He produces a black cloak and a sharp scythe, then throws the cloak over his shoulders. When he notices your gaze, he stops. "What? I know it's ridiculous, but it's mandated. Tradition and all. Need to keep up appearances." He throws the cloak's hood up, shadowing his face completely. "I need to take Kai with me. You stay here." There is an air of finality to his words.

"Hold on!" You never thought you'd be wishing Death would stick around longer, but you have more questions. "What am I supposed to—"

"I'm sure you'll figure everything out," he says flatly, gliding up the stairs. You jog after him, but your movements are slow and clumsy by comparison.

By the time you reach the upstairs rooms, the apartment is empty. In the bedroom, an unmade bed is still warm with human heat.

Death, at least, took the body with him, rather than leaving it for you to deal with. Of course, no one could be allowed to know that the real Kai had died and been replaced.

As the minutes float by, the absolute loneliness of being a stranger in a strange land takes hold of you. The worst part is that your apparent amnesia means nowhere is not strange. You have no home; the most familiar location is the office of Death.

Moreover, this idea of taking on the life of another does not warm itself to you; rather, it looks increasingly awful as time marches on.

The logistics of it begin to perplex you—did Kai have a family? A partner? Certainly some friends?

All of whom will be stricken with grief when they notice you are not their loved one. The lonely despair tightens its grip, squeezing the life out of you.

Kai would have died anyway, you remind yourself. Right?

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I have written more words!
1000 of them.
idk, y'all know where this is headed about as much as I do.
;)

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