The Artifact
It’s morning. My body glows from the open window. I hardly think about that. Where have I been? I’ve been to many places, I think. Some were right and wrong, and some were beyond. But where was I now? In my apartment on… well it hardly matters where my apartment is. I stand and stretch, and as I rise, I smell the intoxicating aroma of freshly made coffee. I turn and look to see a steaming cup on the table across the room. I must have made that earlier and forgotten I had done it.
I dress in blue jeans, a white sweater, and black shoes with smudges of red paint. I never really think about my hair anymore, although sometimes I will pull it out when I’m nervous. As I splash water into my face from the faucet, I inspect the mirror. At first, I didn’t see myself, but then a thought strikes me. Didn’t I wear this yesterday? It doesn’t matter, I remind myself, and remembering didn’t always happen like it was supposed to.
I can’t be late. I stumble out of the door, and as I turn to lock it back, I recall the coffee remaining untouched inside. Hadn’t someone been kind enough to make that for me? I retrieve the coffee and continue my journey downstairs. I don’t slow despite my fear of the hot beverage I hold. I have always had immaculate balance – someone said that once – and I don’t consider the possibility of error.
Outside, I step out from under my balcony. A canopy of black stars hang in the sky, showering me in their golden light. There is a constant, low buzzing, seemingly emitted from above, and it made me think of before. Those black stars weren’t always so, but I didn’t care to think back on such things. I return to the task at hand, and after some deliberation I decided I would make it on time. I was expected after all, and being punctual is of the utmost importance.
Approaching my destination, I could’ve sworn that the temple’s black door hum like the stars above. Regardless, I discard my coffee, and I swing the door open to enter. A chamber of indescribable shape and proportions open before me, but I do not need to go far. A small man stands before me, and he smiles like a friend.
“Hello” he says, still smiling.
I peer at him inquisitively. I had never seen a man in here, much less one like him. He seemed different since I first came in, but that didn’t make any sense.
“Are you supposed to be here?” I ask him.
“Of course. I have always been here.” he responds, no longer smiling, but still seemingly happy to see me.
I don’t really have a good answer to that, so I just ignore him. Scanning my surroundings, I see a stone tablet lying in the center of the room. Retrieving it, I take account of the hieroglyphics etched into its surface. These strange symbols were from before man reigned, before trees and animals lived, and before vast oceans formed. I didn’t dare consider them further than an affirmatory glance, so I draw it out of my vision. Turning to leave, the man who I had spoken to before eyes me sadly from the door.
Approaching him, he opens his mouth as if to speak, but no sound comes out. The only thing I can hear is the low drone of the doors behind him. I think to myself that he is awfully strange. Suddenly, I remember that this is a man I have met before, and that It is not really a man at all. It knows how to read those strange hieroglyphics on the tablet I carry, and It was there when they were etched. It understands the strange whispers of the black stars, because It had come down from them when the circle of time had begun.
The man who was not a man does not move, only follows me with Its eyes. I do not mind It is no longer speaking to me - anything It says is meaningless – and I brush past to exit. Once upon a time, the God of Man was held in high regard, and Its words retained importance. That was no longer. Now, Man was gone and his God remained, wandering aimlessly under the light of stars blacker than any of his creation. I knew It still slept, but I did not think It dreamed any longer; I no longer did.
I put the experience out of my mind and promptly return to my apartment. Inside, I retrieve a small case and stash the tablet inside. It will remain in there until something comes back for it, or until time repeats itself. I do not know, nor care, and I decide it would be a good time for some coffee.
After pouring a cup, I set it on the table and go to retrieve a cigarette. Adjacent to the tablet, the pack of cigarettes seem awfully incomparable, and I begin to feel very tired as I reach for them. I figure I could do with a little rest, so I lay down to sleep.