The Apocalypse Contract

CHAPTER 8 - ROGER

"Do you have any progress to report?"

"Bloody hell I wish you would stop doing that!" Roger grabbed the table to steady himself, fearing he might fall from his chair. He had not yet grown used to inhuman apparitions appearing from nowhere.

The figure on the right tilted its head. Roger assumed that meant it was the one speaking. "It was our understanding you moved your desk away from the wall specifically so we could appear in front of you instead of behind, since you objected to us 'sneaking up on you'."

"Yes, well, that's all fine and good, but it's hardly any use when you still pop in from nowhere like some damnable spirits. I should hang bloody bells on you."

"An auditory cue before materializing might be advisable," the other apparition agreed.

"In answer to your question, no, I don't have any new progress to report, not anything significant at least." He stood and strode to the wall where he had pinned most of his charts and pictures. "I'm more convinced than ever that this symbol means motion or travel, and this related symbol means something like transition or change. But what they are referring to in this grouping, that bit you're so keen on, I still haven't worked that out."

"How long do you anticipate it will take to complete this task?"

Roger grit his teeth and tried to reign in his frustration. "My answer is the same as the last time you asked, which is 'I damn well don't know'. It would help if you could give me more to work with. One can't learn a language with no context. I need something to match these symbols with. The charts and images you've provided are helpful, but it's not enough to see clear patterns."

"We have provided all data currently at our disposal. More will be provided as it becomes available. Please continue your research with as much urgency as you are able."

"Yes, yes, you've made it quite clear the stakes are very high. The fate of worlds and all that. The thing is, I only have your word on that, don't I. You've kept me cloistered away in this miserable box for a bleeding saint's age, not even a window to let in some sun. It's driving me barking mad. Let me stretch my legs, get some air. Then I'll get back to it and be twice the man. You'll see." Roger was on the verge of begging them, but held tightly to his last shred of dignity.

The two figures looked at each other briefly before one of them answered. "That would be problematic in multiple ways, and you would likely find the experience less stimulating than desired. We can, however, make additional adjustments to your interior accommodations."

"A prison, no matter how well appointed, is still a prison. I need to go outside." He slumped back into his desk chair and buried his head in his hands.

"That was not a condition of our arrangement," one of his captors answered.

"I should never have accepted your devil's bargain. You should have left me in that bloody pile of rocks."

"You would have died."

"That would have been preferable," he yelled. "what's the good of any of this if I'm to be trapped. Alone.

"Would companionship assist you in your research?"

"It wouldn't bloody hurt." He got up again and walked to the far wall, a wall he had taken to imagining held a window. "But I wouldn't wish this isolation on my worst enemy, so I'll just have to make do on my own, won't I." He leaned against the wall. "A window. Is that too much to ask?"

His captors were silent for several seconds. "We will return when we have acquired more data for your research."

Roger turned. As he suspected, they had departed, but they had left something behind.

The wall beyond his desk now contained a window.

It must be late evening. The inky dark of a moonless night filled the sky, bright stars shining in a cloudless sky. Roger's gaze swept from the sky to the ground, but the stars just continued. There was no ground. Only sky. Only stars.

A laugh escaped him, a single chuckle at the absurdity of it all, and then having released the one, he found a torrent following after it. He was on the floor now, hanging on to the edge of his desk lest the spinning of the room would fling him loose into that impossible darkness.

The darkness full of stars.