"You're not dead," she says as we recede our steps. We're almost there it seems.
"I'm not, really?" I pretend to oblige her. She's a nice, polite woman. Kind of pretty too. Who's aching to womansplain. So let's give her the chance to, shall we?
"Of course you're not. You're only halfway there."
"You know what? That's very good to know. I can't taste the water I drink and somehow this isn't death? Great."
"Can you really taste water at all in all fairness?"
"I can't feel it is what I mean. I can't tell whether the last sip I had was either hot or cold.
"Why would you want to. . . ? Never mind, let's just say it like this: you're in luck, because the train to Death City has been delayed for a bit. Meantime, you're waiting at the train station. And this is it."
" 'You're waiting at the train station and this is it'? In a body that's not mine? How convenient."
"Well, when you looked yourself in the mirror, who did you see? Some fat woman? Or some teen with never-before-seen layers of acne on his face?"
"No. I saw something that resembles me. But which is not really me, is it? Real me can feel things and touch things. But this guy I'm in, he can't do any of that. I need to know what the hell is going on."
"Or what? You'll call the police?"
Not funny, not funny at all. "Where am I, and why?"
"All the more reason to survive the fight, don't you think? Right now all I can tell you is that your Essence has been transmigrated into another bodily container both different from but similar to yours. For practical reasons, like the preservation of that Essence. It's just a temporary state. Before you go back to your life, or die permanently."
"I thought I made it clear by jumping off that cliff that I wanted to die. Who's coming up with a notion that I might want to go back to my life? Who or what are you guys anyway?"
"Your temporary guardian angel is what I am. I volunteered to help you, but you talk too much. Now I'm kind of regretting why I volunteered . . .
"Number one: you didn't really jump off that cliff like you say you did. You were really hesitant. I saw all of it.
"Two, your wish will be granted in its due time, but for now, the train is running late and you've got to beat the heck out of someone, in a ring, no less. . . Here's your room as you await that doomsday train."
The cell isn't quite something to write home about. It's not like a real cell either, I've been in a real jail cell. The major difference is that it's a stand-alone. I won't have pesky neighbors, and that's a plus.
Its interior looks like a college dormitory than anything. As you enter by the wooden door you come face to face with a cabinet that divides the room into two equal spaces. She steps to the left and her hand gestures for me to go right. I do so, but reluctantly. There's a small single bed on this side. White sheets. But there's a green quilt folded and placed at the centre of the bed. My eyes, liberated if only for a moment from all the whiteness, remain glued on this blanket for a good old while.
At the foot of the bed is a wooden desk and chair. And books on top of the desk. All white. I walk the few steps to the desk and open the top book. Which is titleless. The first page is blank. Which is understandable, printed books back on earth have the first pages intentionally left blank. I open page after page, more furiously than ever with the turn of each page. There's nothing. How am I supposed to read anything. . .?
"You don't have time for that," says Hondo when I turn back to her.
I leave the desk. Pick up the green quilt. Which jolts me with electricity. Goddam static. I throw it back on the bed. That wasn't static. That was too damn strong to be bloody static.
I want to open the cabinet on my side of the room but it's locked.
"You don't need anything in there as yet."
Okay? So I walk to the fountain just under the drapes. Have a drink. Stretch my hand to open the drapes.
"I wouldn't do that if I were you," Hondo says. Not one to be electrocuted twice on the same day by antagonistic pieces of fabric I snatch my hand back before it touches anything. She's laughing her gut out. I throw my body on the bed. I want to think that I'm tired.
"Remember," she says, "You beat him, you go back. He beats you, you come back here. He kills you, you actually die."