A relentless, pulsing beat.
It might have been music to another, but to him, it was just a tempo and a drum kit, a tide of ticks that pressed from behind and crushed him through the crowds on the side walk.
He walked with an energy born of anger, forcing his way through the human traffic that was always too close and that stunk of sweat in the hot day.
Between the headphones with their pounding beat, the angry squint he wore and his intense gase at the ground a few meters in front of him, he didn’t notice anything out of the ordinary. Only the lack of people around him caused him to snap out of his own private world and notice he shadows in front of him, getting larger.
He looked up, and in an instant he saw.
A breifcase, open, it’s contents of papers and pens flying out. Above it, a shower of glass. Below it, a flash of silver and white, a tiny sphere.
He flinched and turned to run.
A flash of white light, so brief you wouldn’t have seen if it you hadn’t known it was coming and then the briefcase and glass smashed onto the empty side walk.
***
The world seemed out of focus.
The sun burnt through the sky, setting, rising, setting, rising.
A cordon was set up, people searched for clues, photos were taken, a news reporter did a piece, people were interviewed, everyone went home, the lights went off, the next day the tape went down, the glass was swept away and people started walking over it again, a few months later a memorial plaque was bolted to the spot, there was some leaf litter and then some snow and still all I could do was drift in the warm, unfocused world in which I now lived.
I should have been concerned, but I wasn’t feeling anything much, least of all worry.
I remembered first arriving here, when the most important things had happened, but it was still unravelling in my head, playing back for the first time. It was nearly done, and then I’d be able to comprehend it, but until then I drifted and waited.
The whole thing had taken a fraction of a single second. That was the whole problem. No mortal should have been able to comprehend it and live. But then, I wasn’t strictly mortal any more. But I was still quite new to it, thus the cool off period.
I tried remembering from the start one more time.
There had been fire. White fire.
I was surrounded by it, cocooned in a world of flame that did not burn. It was warm, but not unpleasant.
My hand was on fire. It was different, a much more yellow flame, but it was also not painful. I watched it lick over my fingertips, and the sensation reminded me of running my hand underneath a slip of silk.
I brought it up to my face and studied it, turning my hand over, only to discover that it travelled around and sat on top of my hand again, like some kind of friendly, curious insect.
I lead it gently onto my other hand, fascinated by this living flame, totally oblivious of my surroundings. That is, until the fire in front of me waves at me.
The movement catches my eye and I see a body in the white fire. It’s composed entirely of flame, and I could see that it was vaguely female.
It motions wordlessly at the fire I hold, and then at the walls of white flame around us. Then it brushes at a lock of white fire that might of been hair, placing it back with the rest, and coming away with it’s own handful of fire, much like mine but so white it was almost clear.
I looked at it and then mine, and I sagged slightly. It made me and mine seem dirty and common. But she caught my slight movement and shook her head, reaching with her other hand and touching me lightly on the sternum.
She withdrew the finger and on the end was the slightest of flickers, a white flame that was similar to hers and yet different in a way I could not define but could definitely quantify.
She waved it in front of my face and then touched it to my own yellow flame.
Another flash of white.
I opened my eyes, a full eight months later, finally remembering.
The knowledge didn’t make much sense, but I felt different.
I felt great, actually.
And heavy. Solid. Heavy enough to finally fall towards the-
I landed awkwardly, and fell on my own feet. The concrete rushed to meet me and I knew blackness.
