Timo couldn’t help but smile; his shift was nearly ending. He stretched his lean muscles in anticipation. If he was allowed to, he would have lit up a cigarette.
“Yeah yeah, rub it in, why don’t you,” grumbled the stocky figure on his right, “Didn’t anyone ever tell you, you’re supposed to be fully suited up while on duty.”
“Hey, I’ve got the important bits covered, haven’t I?” grinned Timo, tapping the Kevlar on his chest.
“More like you’ve got the important bits uncovered,” grunted his colleague. Timo chuckled.
“Since it’s you, Gogos, I’m going to allow your intense feelings of bitter jealousy to wash all over me like a nice bath.” Timo eyed the door that would announce the arrival of his shift replacement. “Now that I mention it, I could really use one after I’m out of here.”
“I’ll give the Wall one thing,” said Gogos. “It’s got enough courtesy to not show off every five minutes.”
“I get the impression that’s a good thing, yeah?” said Timo, “I mean, that’s what we’re here for in the first – ah, finally! I’m pretty sure you’re late, Chell.”
“Nope, I’m officially right on time,” said the newcomer as she smoothly readied her assault rifle, “These shifts are already messing with your temporal perception, eh?”
“That means sense of time, Timo,” added Gogos.
“Yeah, I know! Well, I’m off. Have fun, you two, and try not to break anything.”
“That’s a little rich coming from you,” said Chell with a smirk before greeting Gogos with a fist-bump.
“Forgive the lad, he only said it because it sounded ‘cool’ in his head,” said Gogos.
“Sounds about right,” chuckled Chell as Timo closed the door behind him on his way out.
*
Timo scanned the rec room until he found the particular shade of red he was looking for. After briefly checking that the muscle shirt he had on was just the right amount of tightness, he sauntered over to his target with a can of beer in each hand.
“Lager or stout?” he proclaimed. The red-headed woman looked up.
“Oh, hello, Timo. I’ll take the stout, thanks.”
“Sure thing, Val.” Timo planted himself in the seat nearest to her. “Not that it matters much. It’s all non-alcoholic anyway.”
“If I were you, I’d be thankful that they let us drink here in the first place,” remarked Val. “Besides, this stuff tastes decent for non-alcoholic beer, don’t you think?”
“Sure...” Timo took a long glance at his current companion. Val had a slender face that looked like it had glasses on even though she didn’t wear them. She was currently buried in something she was writing. Timo sighed; she didn’t even have to try hard to be his type. He wished it was the other way around as well.
“What’s that you’re writing?” he asked after drinking some lager.
“It’s a rhapsody,” said Val, not taking her eyes off the pages she was scribbling on.
“Oh, like that song? The funky one with all the choirs?”
“The funky one with – no, no, that’s the musical kind of rhapsody you’re thinking of. A rhapsody originally means an epic poem, or a portion of it, that’s designed to be recited. A bit like a saga or a ballad, if you know what those are.”
Timo didn’t want to say that more ‘80s rock music was currently playing in his head after hearing the word ‘ballad’.
“Huh, I don’t get it. Epics are usually really long, and poems are usually really short. So is an epic poem somewhere between the two?”
Val glanced up. Timo tried to look thoughtful.
“Epic poems aren’t really like typical poems though. They’re more like stories told in verses. Think of something like the Bible, but focused on a hero’s journey or something similar but on a massive scale.”
As she sipped on her stout, Timo remarked: “This all sounds like stuff you’d have to be really smart to get into.”
“You don’t have to be smart in order to read, Timo. You’ve got it the wrong way round,” said Val with a smile. “But yes, getting into this kind of writing takes some effort. And time. Luckily, we have plenty of that around here.”
“You got that right –” began Timo, but a blaring alarm cut him short.
“ALL UNITS, REPORT TO THE WALL IMMEDIATELY. WE ARE AT CODE GLASS. THIS IS NOT A DRILL. I REPEAT...”
Timo and Val stared blankly at each other for a few precious seconds. Then they hurried to their lockers.
“Shit, doesn’t Code Glass mean that –”
“Yes, the permeability of the Wall has reduced to a level where visible light can penetrate it in either direction.”
“Right, so we can actually see the bastards. Great.”
*
“I’m pretty sure you’re late, Timo,” said Gogos as Timo joined him on the barricade overlooking the Wall.
“Yeah, yeah, rub it in, why don’t you,” retorted Timo. “Did I miss anything?”
“You’d know if you had.”
Timo looked at the usually featureless expanse of concrete and steel that was the Wall. It currently looked like a murky window into an ethereal nightmare. Using the sights of his assault rifle as a focal point, he tried to pick out some of the oily shapes slinking around on the other ‘side’. It wasn’t easy; they slithered and flickered from shadow to shadow with unnerving speed.
“Sometimes I wonder why you spend so much time making up monsters in those stories of yours, Val,” commented Chell, “You’d think we have enough to work with already.”
“It’s not the monsters that are the fantasy, Chell, it’s the heroes,” replied Val.
“Hey, what are we, chopped liver?” asked Timo, too anxious to be hurt.
“We won’t be, so long as the Wall holds,” muttered Gogos, “You remember the last Code Glass? They got close, but so long as they can’t create a fracture point, they won’t be able to –”
CRACK.
“Oh, shit.”
“Yeah yeah, rub it in, why don’t you,” grumbled the stocky figure on his right, “Didn’t anyone ever tell you, you’re supposed to be fully suited up while on duty.”
“Hey, I’ve got the important bits covered, haven’t I?” grinned Timo, tapping the Kevlar on his chest.
“More like you’ve got the important bits uncovered,” grunted his colleague. Timo chuckled.
“Since it’s you, Gogos, I’m going to allow your intense feelings of bitter jealousy to wash all over me like a nice bath.” Timo eyed the door that would announce the arrival of his shift replacement. “Now that I mention it, I could really use one after I’m out of here.”
“I’ll give the Wall one thing,” said Gogos. “It’s got enough courtesy to not show off every five minutes.”
“I get the impression that’s a good thing, yeah?” said Timo, “I mean, that’s what we’re here for in the first – ah, finally! I’m pretty sure you’re late, Chell.”
“Nope, I’m officially right on time,” said the newcomer as she smoothly readied her assault rifle, “These shifts are already messing with your temporal perception, eh?”
“That means sense of time, Timo,” added Gogos.
“Yeah, I know! Well, I’m off. Have fun, you two, and try not to break anything.”
“That’s a little rich coming from you,” said Chell with a smirk before greeting Gogos with a fist-bump.
“Forgive the lad, he only said it because it sounded ‘cool’ in his head,” said Gogos.
“Sounds about right,” chuckled Chell as Timo closed the door behind him on his way out.
*
Timo scanned the rec room until he found the particular shade of red he was looking for. After briefly checking that the muscle shirt he had on was just the right amount of tightness, he sauntered over to his target with a can of beer in each hand.
“Lager or stout?” he proclaimed. The red-headed woman looked up.
“Oh, hello, Timo. I’ll take the stout, thanks.”
“Sure thing, Val.” Timo planted himself in the seat nearest to her. “Not that it matters much. It’s all non-alcoholic anyway.”
“If I were you, I’d be thankful that they let us drink here in the first place,” remarked Val. “Besides, this stuff tastes decent for non-alcoholic beer, don’t you think?”
“Sure...” Timo took a long glance at his current companion. Val had a slender face that looked like it had glasses on even though she didn’t wear them. She was currently buried in something she was writing. Timo sighed; she didn’t even have to try hard to be his type. He wished it was the other way around as well.
“What’s that you’re writing?” he asked after drinking some lager.
“It’s a rhapsody,” said Val, not taking her eyes off the pages she was scribbling on.
“Oh, like that song? The funky one with all the choirs?”
“The funky one with – no, no, that’s the musical kind of rhapsody you’re thinking of. A rhapsody originally means an epic poem, or a portion of it, that’s designed to be recited. A bit like a saga or a ballad, if you know what those are.”
Timo didn’t want to say that more ‘80s rock music was currently playing in his head after hearing the word ‘ballad’.
“Huh, I don’t get it. Epics are usually really long, and poems are usually really short. So is an epic poem somewhere between the two?”
Val glanced up. Timo tried to look thoughtful.
“Epic poems aren’t really like typical poems though. They’re more like stories told in verses. Think of something like the Bible, but focused on a hero’s journey or something similar but on a massive scale.”
As she sipped on her stout, Timo remarked: “This all sounds like stuff you’d have to be really smart to get into.”
“You don’t have to be smart in order to read, Timo. You’ve got it the wrong way round,” said Val with a smile. “But yes, getting into this kind of writing takes some effort. And time. Luckily, we have plenty of that around here.”
“You got that right –” began Timo, but a blaring alarm cut him short.
“ALL UNITS, REPORT TO THE WALL IMMEDIATELY. WE ARE AT CODE GLASS. THIS IS NOT A DRILL. I REPEAT...”
Timo and Val stared blankly at each other for a few precious seconds. Then they hurried to their lockers.
“Shit, doesn’t Code Glass mean that –”
“Yes, the permeability of the Wall has reduced to a level where visible light can penetrate it in either direction.”
“Right, so we can actually see the bastards. Great.”
*
“I’m pretty sure you’re late, Timo,” said Gogos as Timo joined him on the barricade overlooking the Wall.
“Yeah, yeah, rub it in, why don’t you,” retorted Timo. “Did I miss anything?”
“You’d know if you had.”
Timo looked at the usually featureless expanse of concrete and steel that was the Wall. It currently looked like a murky window into an ethereal nightmare. Using the sights of his assault rifle as a focal point, he tried to pick out some of the oily shapes slinking around on the other ‘side’. It wasn’t easy; they slithered and flickered from shadow to shadow with unnerving speed.
“Sometimes I wonder why you spend so much time making up monsters in those stories of yours, Val,” commented Chell, “You’d think we have enough to work with already.”
“It’s not the monsters that are the fantasy, Chell, it’s the heroes,” replied Val.
“Hey, what are we, chopped liver?” asked Timo, too anxious to be hurt.
“We won’t be, so long as the Wall holds,” muttered Gogos, “You remember the last Code Glass? They got close, but so long as they can’t create a fracture point, they won’t be able to –”
CRACK.
“Oh, shit.”
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