The Permutation

Trial Run

Vergil

The credits trickled off the screen until the last line of text sunk from view. The light from the projector still lingered long after the machine ran out of film. The still lit, black screen illuminated an empty lot where families, friends, and neighbors used to gather in bonds of community and fellowship. Dregs of memories were all that remained. The faint smell of popcorn in the air, or a hint of laughter carried on the wind. The small rods sticking out of the ground to mark parking spots now just looked like headstones. The gargantuan blank screen was the last to go. The light clicked off with an anti-climax. The Nueva Vista Drive-In died to an audience of one.

Vergil Wilson sat in the darkness and mourned. He raised his glass of Morgan in a toast to the death of his old friend. He drained the glass in a single swallow; his sixth of the night. He mused on just how depressing it was that his best friends were the glass in his hand and a graveyard of past entertainment, both of which were now gone. He'd always viewed the drive-in as a time machine of sorts, a vehicle to days gone by. The Morgan made his mind more susceptible to the journey. Some nights, it was the back of Lisa's jeep; he could still feel the stifling heat and see the fogged up windows. Other nights, it took him to any number of beat-up, barely running cars of old friends; Danny, Chris, Luke, and Quinn. Rarely, he found himself curled up in the lap of his mom with her hand gently running through his hair.

Time travelling always made him thirsty. Vergil moved to pour another glass and found  the bottle empty. He contemplated the merits of just never getting up. All the reasons he had for getting up and braving through the day had dwindled away to nothing. He imagined how easy it would be to close his eyes and just cease being. He didn't know where he'd end up, but it'd surely be better than where he was. He closed his eyes and waited for sleep to overtake him.

A flash of light erupted behind his eyelids, jolting him awake. The screen was lit once more, but not by the light of the projector. It glowed a brilliant color that defied the visible spectrum. The closest thing it resembled was the most intense, vibrant shade of violet he had ever seen. The light pulsed on the screen, each one increasing its intensity. Vergil closed his eyes and threw himself to the floor, burying his face in his arms. Even through the numbness of alcohol, he could feel the burn in his retinas. The violet light still pulsed inside his head behind closed eyes. A high keening sound rose into the air. It was reminiscent of a guitar string oscillating back and forth. With each cycle, it increased in amplitude building towards an unknown climax. Vergil tried covering his ears, but the sound was inside him. It felt like piece of him vibrated along with it. The whirring felt like it was approaching the resonant frequency of his being, and he would shatter just as easily as a plate glass window. The feeling transcended pain. It didn't feel like his body was tearing apart, it felt like he was separating at an atomic level. It was at that moment the keening reached a fever pitch. It carried on at that frequency, and he could feel the violet light start to solidify and fall over him like a blanket. It seeped into his skin until he became saturated with it, each individual molecule soaking it up like a sponge. Energy beyond comprehension stored inside every particle, and yet, Vergil clung to consciousness.

He had no idea how long he lay there. He existed in a timeless, violet void. Any attempt to observe the world around him was an exercise in futility. It may as well have been a sensory deprivation chamber. He let go of conscious thought and drifted away.

Jordan

A furious yapping jolted Jordan from her dreams of Derek. She wiped sleep from her eyes and squinted towards the source of the dog's distress: her bedroom window. Jordan quickly reached for her glasses, fearing the worst. At twelve years of age, Albert, her  miniature schnauzer rarely barked at anything, especially with this much ferocity. Could someone be trying to get into her room? Her mother had assured her things like this didn't happen in Idaho, but she remained skeptical. People are the same everywhere, sometimes they just wore different clothes.