Working Chapter 13 of my Is it for us alone? novel in progress
There wasn’t t anything resembling privacy in this new world order. Though it didn’t stop some from trying to take advantage of the ‘needle in a stack of needles’ effect that ostensibly was Anders mind at present. It wasn’t as if a neighbouring consciousness could raise the alarm and point out the culprit swimming right next to them in Anders mind. No, this hunt for the triumvirate was more akin to trying to remember where you left your keys if you had 9 billion sets of keys.
The inquisition of the General had been relatively simple, but it had strained Anders mind nonetheless. He lie passed out on the bluff where he had been sitting for some time, now with the sun close to setting. There was no danger present and yet he felt the primal need to find shelter as the darkness approached. The SUV he had thought of earlier would do just fine seeing as he could then use it for the next leg of his journey.
Anders groggily pulled himself off the floor and stretched his limbs, the air between some of his joints making a satisfying pop as he did so. The SUV was a short walk down the main road adjacent to the beach. He walked at a leisurely pace, his memory of the area so honed that he could easily find his way to the SUV blindfolded.
The keys were in a drawer by the main entrance to the house – the same place they had always been and where he always remembered putting them and incidentally a very similar place to where most put them. It was all second nature. It was all as he remembered. Waltzing between the front door and the driveway, keys in hand ready to drive to work. Only, of course, this work was very different from that which his memories alluded to.
A Ford SUV sat in the driveway right where it’s previous owner had left it. The details of the make, model, colour and condition excited parts of his mind, notably those that had designed it, but the vast majority had a nonplussed reaction – it was just another car after all. Tonight this car was also shelter. Anders reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a chocolate flavoured protein bar. Branded and loaded with artificial claims and tastes to compliment the artificial proteins. It certainly had convinced most of Anders that it was an effective substitute for real food. Still, effective as it was, it lacked that essence and love in food, like he had cooked when he first absorbed the consciousnesses of that group of friends. They had shown him the initial joy of food, but the night was late for that and work was afoot. He cradled into his Ford SUV for the night – he would rest for the night and begin his interrogations again in the morning.