A silver flask sits at the edge of a nightstand in a stylish, high-end hotel near the west side of town. Gideon Nebuls tries to relax in a brown chair on his balcony. His room is on the 4th floor. It's late afternoon and the sun has just begun its nighttime routine while the rain continues to fall from the mottled sky. Gideon listens to droplets beat away at the balcony overhang as he watches the people below move about like ants in a farm.
He tries to relax.
The phone rings from across the room. Gideon, legs full of anxiety, gets up out of his chair to answer it. It rings two more times before he finally picks up the receiver.
"Good evening, Mr. Nebuls," says the concierge at the 1st floor front-desk, "I hope you're enjoying your stay."
"I am, Yes. Thank you." Gideon replies. His voice is low and coarse.
"Very good, sir. I just wanted to check in. There is a Mr. Conners on the line. Shall I put him through?"
Gideon thought for a moment. Mr. Conners? He couldn't recall the name. He was never one to take a call of someone whose name or number he didn't recognize and, yet, at the same time he always hated when people left voice messages. But what did it matter? It was, after all, his last night on Earth.
"Go ahead. Put him through." He told the concierge.
"Very good, sir. Have a good night." There was a brief pause while the line switched between the front desk and Mr. Conners line.
"Hello?" Gideon asked. His tone had now shifted from tired to curious.
"Mr. Nebuls? Hello. My name is Mr. Conners. You don't know me and we've never met, but I know that in approximately 12 hours from now you will be boarding a ship that you will be a passenger on for the next 4 years. I know that to you, however, it will only seem like mere minutes. Mr. Nebuls I am calling to tell you that terrible things are about to happen. Things that have been building and building behind the scenes, behind what you call your world and within everything you see and feel. Things, Mr. Nebuls, things are going to get very bad. I'm calling to warn you, Mr. Nebuls, that the mission you have signed up for, the mission you've been preparing for the past year, is not going to succeed. You will not reach your destination and your entire crew will die. Do you understand this, Mr. Nebuls?"
Gideon tries to adjust himself to the words he's hearing,
"Is this a joke?" he responds, uneasily.
"I can assure you, Mr. Nebuls, that this is no joke. I need you to comprehend what I'm saying. I know this is difficult for you but you need to listen to me. Terrible things will happen whether you're on this planet or not."
"This plane- How do you know this?! I don-" The phone goes to dial tone before he can finish. Gideon looks at the phone, at the receiver, and back again. He hangs up the phone and picks it back up to dial the front desk. The concierge comes across the phone.
"Hi. This is Gideon Nebuls," he began, tense and excited, "I'm in room 1138. Listen, I just received a call from a Mr. Conners. I don't know who this person is but is there any way you can trace that call? You know, find the number he was on?"
The concierge was taken aback. "Um, I'm sorry, sir?" he asked back.
"Can you find the number that just called me?!" Gideon became more heated.
There was a pause. Only the sound of Gideon's breathing came over the phone. "Mr. Nebuls," the concierge began, "Sir I'm looking at your phone records and the last call you received was two nights ago. There have been no new calls today."
He tries to relax.
The phone rings from across the room. Gideon, legs full of anxiety, gets up out of his chair to answer it. It rings two more times before he finally picks up the receiver.
"Good evening, Mr. Nebuls," says the concierge at the 1st floor front-desk, "I hope you're enjoying your stay."
"I am, Yes. Thank you." Gideon replies. His voice is low and coarse.
"Very good, sir. I just wanted to check in. There is a Mr. Conners on the line. Shall I put him through?"
Gideon thought for a moment. Mr. Conners? He couldn't recall the name. He was never one to take a call of someone whose name or number he didn't recognize and, yet, at the same time he always hated when people left voice messages. But what did it matter? It was, after all, his last night on Earth.
"Go ahead. Put him through." He told the concierge.
"Very good, sir. Have a good night." There was a brief pause while the line switched between the front desk and Mr. Conners line.
"Hello?" Gideon asked. His tone had now shifted from tired to curious.
"Mr. Nebuls? Hello. My name is Mr. Conners. You don't know me and we've never met, but I know that in approximately 12 hours from now you will be boarding a ship that you will be a passenger on for the next 4 years. I know that to you, however, it will only seem like mere minutes. Mr. Nebuls I am calling to tell you that terrible things are about to happen. Things that have been building and building behind the scenes, behind what you call your world and within everything you see and feel. Things, Mr. Nebuls, things are going to get very bad. I'm calling to warn you, Mr. Nebuls, that the mission you have signed up for, the mission you've been preparing for the past year, is not going to succeed. You will not reach your destination and your entire crew will die. Do you understand this, Mr. Nebuls?"
Gideon tries to adjust himself to the words he's hearing,
"Is this a joke?" he responds, uneasily.
"I can assure you, Mr. Nebuls, that this is no joke. I need you to comprehend what I'm saying. I know this is difficult for you but you need to listen to me. Terrible things will happen whether you're on this planet or not."
"This plane- How do you know this?! I don-" The phone goes to dial tone before he can finish. Gideon looks at the phone, at the receiver, and back again. He hangs up the phone and picks it back up to dial the front desk. The concierge comes across the phone.
"Hi. This is Gideon Nebuls," he began, tense and excited, "I'm in room 1138. Listen, I just received a call from a Mr. Conners. I don't know who this person is but is there any way you can trace that call? You know, find the number he was on?"
The concierge was taken aback. "Um, I'm sorry, sir?" he asked back.
"Can you find the number that just called me?!" Gideon became more heated.
There was a pause. Only the sound of Gideon's breathing came over the phone. "Mr. Nebuls," the concierge began, "Sir I'm looking at your phone records and the last call you received was two nights ago. There have been no new calls today."
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