Entanglement: A Modern Frankenstein | Creation

5.1 Letting Go

Chicago, Illinois | June | Timothy

"Time to make this happen," Timothy told himself. 

He stopped in the middle of the parking lot, feeling his nerves sparkling. 

He was halfway between his new car and his old place of employment. "I'm going to go through with this. Today."

He turned to look at where he had parked his Mustang at the edge of the lot. It was not dealership new as he wasn't able to get credit, but the previous owner had taken good care of it. He looked back at the long, gray building which would soon be extruding its peons in their hurry to leave their dismal work. Other cars were filling in available spaces closer to the building as other newly arrived employees trundled their way toward the building. He figured he was separated enough that none of them would ding or scratch the shiny coat of the Mustang. He no longer envied these people like he had a month prior. He felt fresh pity for them along with a rising sense of pride in himself. He wished he could extend that pride to his former colleagues. He felt he had an obligation to them, somehow, and the need to do something swelled every day.

He was here, ostensibly to pick up Gail at the end of her shift, but with other things on his hyperactive mind. Among the unbelievable turn of events over the past month, a plan had formed as he desired to accomplish something greater than himself. Since he had woken from the unexplainable situation, he had experienced the most bizarre month of his life. He was about to conclude that chapter with one necessary action.

The parking lot was currently active because he had arrived during the changing of the shifts. Most of the people were still arriving. When he had been here a month ago, he had arrived during the middle of a shift. As such, even though this parking lot had been full of cars, it was devoid of people and lacking life—much like how his physical body felt back then.

"Almost exactly here—this same part of the parking lot," he said, nodding and rotating his head to validate that notion. He was a bit surprised at the coincidence. This spot was where the inspiration had last come to him, soon after he had woken from the dead. He gauged he had been at this same point between the building and the highway beyond the vast parking lot when he had his first inspiration.

He looked back to the road and imagined the two semis he had seen back then. Like a lot of things he had experienced over the past month, they didn't mean anything to anyone else. To the weak and emaciated Timothy, freshly reawakened, however, they had ignited a spark that had become a raging flame. The tinder had been the swarm of numbers buzzing around his head since he had been conscious enough to leave his apartment. A Triumpha Food trailer was passing a Shomey's Grocery trailer at that very moment. Such a view would have gone unnoticed in his past life, but the motion of the vehicles jarred against the numbers in his head.

"That's not right!" he had thought as he watched the Shomey's truck falling behind. "Triumpha was not doing as well as Shomey's. Numbers flowed between each word. Somehow he knew—truly knew from all that data—that Shomey's was the one catching up—at a different scale, for sure."

The words seemed true, but so foreign. The flurry of numbers in his head converted to a small storm. He felt a kick of adrenaline and enjoyment as he considered the value of these calculations he was performing. His mind seemed so powerful in contrast to his worn and gaunt body at that time. He had never been so intrigued with numbers before.

It was at that point, halfway between the smokers on a bench by the front door and the bus stop on the outer edge of the parking lot that he decided to make stock transactions. He had never imagined taking such a risky venture. He could feel his resolve faltering, but he told himself, "I just need to find out HOW to do that."