remotefiction

I know everything.
I know how the story starts.
I know how the story ends.
I know when the sun will shine.
When the rain will come down.
When the night will fall.
Take a deep breath.
It has started.
Now wake up.

Chapter One – Open Your Eyes

‘Go on. Open your eyes.’
He slides back into himself. Into his head space. His meat space. Where does your body go when you are dreaming he wonders? She elbows him in the ribs.
‘You awake yet? Come on. The alarm was for you. Ah don’t need to get up for ‘nother couple hours yet’
‘Aye. I am awake.’ More is the pity he thinks. Where does your body go? When your mind is off – because it certainly doesn’t feel like he is being there. He cracks an eye open, tentative. The world is a blur. Julie is in soft focus, like a lens needing a little nudge, just to bring everything into line. He blinks. Wearily and with little enthusiasm sitting up, this meat he has returned to resisting the motion. Not quite sitting comfortably on him.
But then after the night the two of them had he wouldn’t say he was surprised to find that he is paying for it now. Things are starting to come together in his head and he looks at her, the mop of blonde hair hanging across her face as she lies looking at him, her head propped on one elbow.
‘Mission control – it looks like we have regained contact – welcome home!’ she says smiling at his pained expression.
‘Go on then, get outta here, some of us have tae get back tae sleep’
‘Ok, ok, I can tell when I’m not wanted,’ he cries climbing out of bed, grabbing his over night bag and heading for the shower.

The hot water runs down his face, standing there with his eyes closed, doing his best to absorb the warmth. He is thinking about Julie and how things are going between the two of them. Sure they are having fun, he thinks, they both get on really well. But he suspects in the long term it is more likely that they will just be friends, he can’t see the relationship lasting – ha – maybe they can be ‘fuck buddies’ like the folk in that programme on Channel 4 he caught the last five minutes of the other night? He rinses off the last of the soap and gets out the shower, dries and dresses for the day.

Sticking into his bedroom he calls out ‘,Hey Julie, I’ll call you later!’
‘Fuck off Dave, I’m sleeping!’ she calls back from beneath the pillow. He closes the door carefully, doing the same with the door to her flat as he leaves and heads down the street. Dave glances at his watch, 6.30am, and it is a glorious day. Dave loves this time of year. The streets are so quiet, a stray bus working it’s way up Lothian Road as he strolls down. The sky is blue and clear and everything is so still. He soaks up the warmth. The purity. The positive feeling that he feels when it is like this spreads through him and he smiles, it might be shit having to get up at this time of the day to make it to work, but when he gets to experience the world like this, and to have it as a private moment then it makes it all worth while.

As Dave reaches the Filmhouse he looks at the posters on the outside, thinking briefly how strange it always is to see a building so familiar in an unfamiliar state. Thinking of the nights he spent in there, the bustle of the café – hell, the madness of the film festival – the films he has seen. Yet it is cold and empty now, reminding him of his thoughts on the body and the mind and the emptiness associated when one has gone from the other. The poster in one of the glass cases advertises the up coming French Film Festival – cool, he thinks, there is usually something in that worth seeing. He’ll need to make time to pick up a brochure.

When Dave worked in Edinburgh himself he was down the other end of the city, so when he came up for a train it was always Waverley station that he left from. He was here for a couple of years, working down in Leith. That was how he and Julie had originally met, though they had only seen each other here and there over the years. It wasn’t until more recently that they actually started to deliberately spend time together. Reaching the bottom of Lothian Road he turns left, heading instead to Haymarket, a station he is a lot less familiar with.

There seems to be some kind of commotion this morning as he comes into the station. As he reaches the platform there are a couple of other people waiting for the first train, a young Japanese girl passes him, dark hair, with flame tips and skate board under her arm. She seems strangely familiar, though he would swear he can't remember having seen her before. I know when the night falls. A shudder goes up his spine, a sudden chill as he remembers part of his dream. A grey haired man with a bright orange waist coat approaches him, the top marked with the Scot Rail logo, as is the uniform he wears under it.
‘Where you going, son,’ the man asks Dave.
‘Glasgow,’ he tells him.
‘There is going to be a delay this morning. Been some trouble. Lucky we have some diesel engines, so we should be able to get you through.’
‘Oh,’ Dave says, unsure what this means, ‘ok thanks.’ As the station worker wanders off, Dave decides to see if the Metro has anything about what the ‘trouble’ the guy mentioned is about. Picking up a copy of the free paper from the docket where a stack of them is sitting Dave reads the headline:

PULSE BOMB CAUSES CITY CHAOS - TERRORISM SUSPECTED

[soundtrack for now bedouin ascent - music for particles]