Simulator

A heart warming tale about some children taking a very strange ride.

It had been more humid than usual, that summer at the show. Mothers in their summer dresses and hats swathed babes in cloths to protect them from the assault of the unrelenting sun, and sticky white trickles from wilting ice-cream cones adorned the arms of children, many of whom were stood in awe at the show’s newest attraction. Discontented with the usual, predictable fare (the ever-present ‘hoop the un-hoopable prize!’ game, the coconut shy that nailed the coconuts to the stand) few had failed to stop and watch as they happened upon the triumphant titanium cab jerking up and down, back and forth and side to side on it’s ominous hydraulic legs. This unnatural, robotic motion continued for seven or eight minutes, slowing slightly only once as if to regain breath, before hurling into the next cycle of derailed jerking. When the ride stopped briefly to let the next small batch of over-eager youngsters take their turn, there was just enough time to make out what the ride was all about.
   ‘Embark on the journey of a lifetime!’ the cosmic blue lettering on the chrome body of the cab brazenly announced. ‘Are you brave enough to face the trip?’
   The children disembarking from the ride looked very shaken up, and a few of them had turned an unhealthy hue of green, prompting anxious parents to voice their concerns. Of course, this served only to increase the appeal of the ride, and soon enough, the queue snaked round the hedged perimeter of this otherwise remote enclave of the county fair grounds. Each and every time the doors opened vertically, releasing plumes of fake smoke and heaving noises, the crowds looked on with muted anticipation, faces agog with curiosity. After sizing up groups of three or four budding passengers, the whiskery, rodent-faced attendant relieved them of their pocket money and ushered them to the top of the aluminium steps where they took their last deep breath of outside air, before anxiously entering the vessel.
   “We’re next..”, little Carl announced in a worrisome tone, and to no-one in particular. One of the younger girls behind him in the queue had just finished her ’99 and was massaging melted ice cream into her palms. She had heard his announcement, and maintained an untroubled expression, although she did not speak. Carl, the girl behind him and two others were led like condemned men to the door, where he was the first to duck his head in, followed immediately by the other three. The air inside was dank and even more humid than outside. The thick smoke prevented anything from being seen, and the four of them clumsily felt their way to the seats they had been instructed to strap themselves into. This smoke was incredibly thick, and made their eyes sting. In fact, it smelled a lot like smoke from the cigarettes his father smoked in the garage, Carl thought. Their vision obscured, they buckled up, and after a few moments felt the floor beneath them shift upwards at great speed. They had lifted off. No going back now. There they hung, for what seemed like an eternity, and then a light came on, just enough light to make out what was in the front of the cab with them. The younger girl gasped and shifted uncomfortably in her seat, whilst the others exchanged confused glances. The man said nothing, just sat staring at them in the dark as the machine threw them all around in their seats. Time had not been kind to the man, as if he had been sat in the dark being jerked around for many years. His sparse hair possessed a straw like quality, and his unkempt handlebar moustache did little to hide the dense network of lines eroded into his skin. Above the man’s snarling upper lip, perfectly round beads of liquor hung delicately from clumps of his whiskers, like baubles on a Christmas tree. When he finally began to talk, these beads were projected into the air and swirled over the light of his torch like a little schoolyard hurricane.
   “I was once… I was once small like yourselves…”
The sound expressed by the man seemed to come from somewhere remote, distant, but shredded through the cacophony of their surroundings like gravel in a cement mixer, abrasive and unpleasant. Despite this, the man possessed a softness that immediately captivated the children.
   “I’m going to tell you a story which will help you on your journey.” He croaked.

 

Author's Note

This is intended as an opening to another story, as yet unwritten.