The Amber Seasons

By Will Sharp

The light, Autumn wind flowed through the wind chimes strung upon the veranda of a gentle, old man. The wind, seemingly picking up and dropping each individual chime in an almost rhythmic-like fashion, reminded this aged soul of names long forgotten, and memories long displaced. As time slowly flowed by, like water around a rock, he remained timeless. Darkness preyed upon the light, bringing the usual following night. The man got up and with habitual sigh of exasperation, and retired to his humble abode.
A soft potpourri of several spices, recognized immediately by him, arose to meet his short, nose. Upon entering his home he came to the realization that he had left the kettle on the burner. He slowly shuffled into his kitchen, one small step at a time, to find that nothing was on the burner, in fact, the tea he had recalled was never even made. He had pondered about making tea several hours before hand, but upon further thinking, his lackadaisical attitude got the better of him and he had decided to spend the remaining hours of daylight in the veranda. Bewildered by this sudden astonishing realization, he took a seat in an increasingly aged chair; used by decades past, and thought to him-self. Whose reality am I living?
Professor Horus turned off the Immersion room, the walls faded back to their usual dark glossy tone, with lines of bright orange streaking across like stars across the sky; always changing course and direction. At one point, one could see a pattern among the lines, but they soon shifted, and the pattern again became unattainable.
“Students,” was what he called them, “Write at least a 3 page reflection on what you just saw. A copy of the ImVid can be found on The Hall; under my name of course.” Waiting for his audience to complete writing what he had just said, he continued, “This reflection will be due next time we meet.”
A soft ringing began to be heard throughout the room, a signal to transition. The previously quiet members in the room began voicing soft groans in opposition to their most grueling of tasks.
“Professor?” A thin voice squeaked. Professor Horus continued shuffling his assortment of term papers, theses, and other, for the most part, mindless drivel scattered across his desk.
The thin voice called to him once again: “Professor!” it squeaked.
“Yes Lucy?”
“I was just wondering… Uhm how much do you know about the Immersion rooms?”
“I know enough about them to see them for what they really are.” Professor Horus responded curiously, “Why do you ask?”
“Well… Lucy looked down in what seemed like shame to Professor Horus, but he was never sure; “Is there a limit on how long you can be in an Immersion room?” She managed to stammer out. Professor Horus sighed, he had ran into similar situations ever since those infernal things were implemented into the classroom; he would deal with this now.
“Well Lucy, I don’t think escaping reality is a solution to any problem; if you-”
“But Professor, I’m not trying to escape anything.” Lucy said with the most serious tone Professor Horus had ever heard from her as she stared straight into his eyes. Professor Horus was paralyzed just by those eyes. He stammered to get any response out, he could not formulate his thoughts. It was as if her eyes held the truth, the endless life of man; existence. Those Amber eyes burned into his memory.
“Professor… wake up.” Lucy finally said after what seemed like an eternity to Horus. He sat down, questions ran through his head like runners on a track; each one coming and going so fast, but he could still see all of them at the same time. Most concerning of the questions, being what in the world had just happened. He began feeling an intense pain, so sharp and so intense he had no idea what was going on.
Horus was having a heart attack, and he had no idea. He clutched his arm and fell out of his chair. Lucy rushed to his side, “Professor!” she yelled in desperation. The last sounds Horus knew were boots hitting the floor, with great emergence in their step; almost rhythmic. Everything went black. He saw those Amber eyes once again and then, his subconscious drew him under the endless ocean of identity. Horus awoke. He was not sure where he was, he definitely did not recognize it. Nothing hurt, yet everything did at the same time.