THE CONSTRUCT: In The End

PART FOUR

The warmth of the whiskey spreads through him, steadying his nerves. He sets the glass down with a faint clink and wipes his damp palms on his trousers, searching his companion's face for reassurance or perhaps an explanation. The low hum of the bar seems distant, muffled, as if they are in a bubble apart from the rest of the world safe for now, but with danger pressing in from the outside.

That may just be the case. Perhaps this bar is some sort of bubble, one that can keep danger at bay. That though may just renew the claustrophobic feeling as for at some point Nigel will probably be expected to leave and potentially face that danger. He can't remain in this room for the rest of his life, given to the hope that his life will continue for what hopefully will be a lot more than just a few minutes.

'Ok, alright ... I am alright, I'm fine ...' Nigel says, sounding most definitely not being in any way ... fine.

'Nigel, my name is Josh Redmond ...', there is a handshake greeting at this point, it's a little late perhaps but it does aid with calming Nigel a little more. '... and as has been mentioned with the lady you previously met, we are in an artificial construct.'

'Aw holy hell ...' Nigel breaths through his nose again. 'I take it I'm in here for a reason.'

'You are ...'

'Which is what exactly?'

'Heaven knows ...'

'Oh, boy.'

'I could come with you if you like and help you find out?'

'What ... now?'

'No time like the present ...'

'Oh, boy.'

'Deep breaths, Mister Allen ... deep breaths.'

5.

Nigel hesitated for a moment, glancing uncertainly at his companion. The air ... whether it be artificially created or anything else ... seemed charged with anticipation, as if the next step would change everything. Everything before now occurred with a kind of ignorance in effect. Nigel knew not what was happening other than the fact he was on some sort of trip. Going forward from here on in is still shrouded in mystery but now there is an awareness of sorts.

Danger now could be incoming, from where or whom ... who knows? And if all this truly is artificial then the real him ... the real Nigel, wherever he was ... could he be in danger too? How odd to consider himself in the third person. He doesn't know himself, no ... in no way can he. Definitely most odd.

Imagine considering yourself as someone you do not know who also is in another place. In here, this artificial construct he is himself, but in a way that is completely new, in a way that makes him almost ... someone else. How odd indeed.

As it is, adventure officially begins here. The thing is, will Nigel survive it to perhaps become his original self once more? And if that is to be, what happens to who he is in the here and now? What will happen to the version of him that he may become if an ending can be successfully reached? On top of that, if success does not come ... does his life end? Could he be doomed to exist within this construct for an eternity?

For the moment he won't be going forwards alone. This Josh Redmond fellow is coming with. Both whiskeys are finished off. A look is shared, a moment of psyching one another up for what is to come and off to that door they head with a false confidence, a bravado which will at least take them through that door. What will be on the other side?

Nigel's thoughts raced, grasping at possibilities and potential threats, but also clinging to an odd sense of hope. The boundary between this reality and whatever lay beyond it felt thinner than ever. Each step towards that door seemed to echo with implications, as if the universe itself held its breath, waiting for their decision to take form.

The door, once reached, is opened via Josh entering some sort of a code into a keypad next to it, and a blinding white light shines through. Into the light they go, as ready as they can be when uncertainty and the unknown are involved.

***

But earlier ... long before the light, before the split ... Nigel had found himself among a team of five, all hunched over humming terminals in the slick, sterile glow of a state-of-the-art laboratory control center. He and Josh Redmond, along with a woman whose face was striking but whose name would later slip from memory ... such being the nature of what ultimately will come, ... worked feverishly, hands flying over the console as numbers and warning lights flared and faded.

The atmosphere was urgent; their project was under some form of remote assault, outside actors forcing their digital sanctuary to open before they were ready. There was no time to delay: the system whirred, a surge of power, and with a shared look of dread, Nigel felt the world bend and tumble ... his consciousness ripped away, flung headlong into the virtual realm their project had built having nominated himself of face the consequences of invasion.

'It's not ready ...' Josh told him. 'We have no idea the effect it will have on you, or any of us for that matter.'

'Either I go in now or we are done. There is no choice.'

Looks are shared, alarms are sounding and time is running out. The decision is made. Nigel is laid strapped to a bed, hooked up and the program is activated. It is all or nothing now. Years of research and hard work have come down to this and what happens next is left hanging up in the air.

The line between creator and experiment blurred, the real and the artificial folding into each other as the adventure begins in earnest. Then there is dread, a horrid sinking feeling, everything condensing. Nigel wakes not long before a train arrives, a train he is destined to board. And in his moment of waking, he is only partly himself ... at a loss for what any of it is about.