Flash Fiction: Time Displaced

What’s wrong, she asked, when I went soft as pudding. Now usually I’m kinky enough that all the previous orgasms, guys or girls, adds up. Hum around my head. So it feels like an orgy with ghosts. But there where her head lay I could feel the tears she’d spread. Rising up out of her pillow. I had to go. This is the problem with my condition, being time displaced.
I was not born time displaced. And contrary to what Reddit says, it is not contagious either. You cannot get Deja Vous from someone else. What you are feeling is akin to when a depressed person walks into a room, and brings everyone else down with them.
Instead I was told it was a bad drug interaction. Between LSD, the antibiotics, and that ginseng extract bullshit Aunty Vie sent me again.
Since then I get horny in the weirdest places; library corners, certain alleys. The worst was my parent’s apartment’s balcony. I cannot go clubbing anymore. Or at least before one; I need the place full, I need everyone drunk- or they’ll see me stumble in during the day whilst it’s empty and all the combined sadness, desperation, euphoria and release, drives me crazy. I once had to walk in to use the toilet. By the time I got out my friend accused me of being an alcoholic.
The pretentious call it ‘psychic energy’. A measurement of the events that have taken place there. An attuned, temporally displaced observer does not only see the moment in front of them, but all the moments that have been there. So that is why I did not take the house tour. Because bedrooms are rather potent. And now I never go over. Because homes are filled with them. I suspect some artists might have been afflicted, which is why they kept writing about forests and paths. those places are silent, peaceful, even after we’ve sheared them away. They stay, pockets in time, hedges that cushion the present, stretch away like a white margin, pristine. I once hung around a mall being built, pile drivers thundering, curses flung past knocked hard hats. And sighed. It was amazing. So quiet. Between the sweat and the precision there was the past.
I have heard that the severity of the emotions, the distance away in time,
the sheer number of experiences; all of these contribute proportionally to the emotional response of the observer. I have heard that ghosts can be explained by this. That when people die they die forever, but their actions ripple, drops falling. Again and again and again.
I like window shopping. The dopamine surge of satisfied shoppers. Stadiums are dangerous. Full of hate and rage. And once I went back to France, had a panic attack as we went past an empty field. A desperate fear I only saw again in the eyes of a homeless man.
There are certain places on this earth I can never visit. And the thing is, I may not care as much about the tears you cry, I cannot help it. I know it will pass. And I’m telling you that if one of my kind starts to feel rather terrified, Ill or disturbed by a place with no negative history, no heartbreak, then one should be concerned about the future.
They say space is silent. The vacuum up there. But none of my kind have become astronauts yet. There is almost no place on this planet I have been that isn’t covered with the sweat of pain. Except on tall hills. Vast, empty fields. Deserts. And certain beaches, and only when I am lying down, staring up.
I used to think it were lovers that made beaches so great. But that isn’t what I’ve found with hotels. Except once lying down, I saw a clear, starry night and realized what I’d felt was hope. Some of it on the floor, below, where others had looked up. Most of it like rain. Traveling down from the future. From the sky. Onto us.

15th post: Less than 1k today: And The World

I’m taking a break from the longer story i’m working on.

So today it’s less than 1k:

And the world

And the world becomes the city leaves on the street swept up by the straw hatted elves.That walk under uniforms their wrinkles visible for a blink. Then the bus roars at everyone and everything from the tops of the canyon walls where people live to the little men on their thin pavement walking to somewhere.

The air goes dark as the street lights change and the traffic exhales like a smoker into your face.

Walking until you cross the wide road to a narrower street and through the crowd come to the hole in the ground. Descend the stairs into airconditioned tunnels and move through the earth that looks like all planets and moons will look when we are through with them. Follow the correct colors or just remember what you already knows till you pay for your ride with a beep like magic you will never understand. And a thousand others step up to the train that you wait for too.

Pass the time by staring or distracting yourself with all the screens in your pocket and on the wall. Gaze at all the other people like you like a tourist. Dream a short dream till you hear the train howling farther on coming closer and you stop and wait with everyone else now patient now expectant. Prepare to board the train till you do and then fill all the spaces with your body next to everyone else till all that is left is people.

Wait whilst hurtling in your tube and distract yourself from the wall of clothes by staring at the screens or listening with your ears to a tiny voice in a tiny speaker. Till the train slows and you squeeze out whilst the mass pours forth and another army swaps places with you. Follow all the metal snaking escalators to the right colors or just remember what you already know till you beep a card in a magic moment and pay for the ride you take every day..

Almost finished you find your way to the place you spend most of your life in currently. Ascend at the foot of the titan you man and enter the last small space for awhile with a few other bodies. Ignore their presence whilst you wait for the doors to open and you are pulled up to your occupation. Walk towards the correct name of the thing as invisible as any God. Find your way to your desk and begin to fight for the thing you serve inside the titan of concrete and steel.

Use the machines that someone else made and someone else realised and someone else understands to make the the numbers go up and down for someone else. Connect with your eyes and fingers and ears to the keyboard and screen and phone and wires all the way around the world and up above in space bouncing your voice all over the globe and building things with words and decisions like the other billion decisions made by the humans you live and breathe next to.

Then stop when the time comes. And find your way through the maze again you’ve learnt so well to navigate. Find your way down then across the ground and under and up till you are back in another cube with no God’s name to mark it. In your cube you watch the screens and hear the sounds that make you want to do it all over again tomorrow next to the ones that share so much with you.

And then you do it again tomorrow.

Later on you die.