A Glimpse Into the Other World

‘WHAT DO YOU think it is?’ asked Donnie ‘Doityourself’ Jobes.
 
He was absently fingering a button on the back of the helmet, twisting and pulling at it until it eventually came loose.
 
‘Woops,’ he said.
 
Doityourself was a clumsy, childlike man. A big, clumsy, childlike man, which only made him more dangerous. And he was stupid, too. And selfish. Not at all pleasant on the eyes... Let us suffice to say that he had no commendable traits whatsoever �" unless you consider an uninterest in beating people due to extreme laziness a commendable trait. He was easily the most detestable person in the entire city, perhaps the world. Decent folk like Elemer were simply in his company because he was always there. Of course no actual decent folk would mingle with Jobes, but when compared to him everyone was decent in their own way. After five minutes in his company even the most offendable person would find the local brothel a welcome respite.

They stood on the balcony overlooking the great plaza. The city was still wrapped in the depths of night. Below there was only the sound of the wind and the trees which rustled gently in its embrace. Not half an hour had passed since Elemer had escaped certain suspicion at the bathroom, making immediately for the building that he so often climbed to reach his favourite spot in the city. He still didn’t know what kind of operations went on beyond the tinted glass panes; as far as he was concerned, the entire structure existed solely for the presence of the small balcony. 
 
Elemer, to make sure Jobes’ mind was not too occupied for conversation, waited for him to fiddle the button back into its little crater, and then said, ‘Dunno. Helmet.’
 
‘Yeah but what is it really?’ said Jobes, fitting it onto his huge head. ‘In any case looks like you were right, eh, Ele?’ he said once it was donned. ‘Aliens really do have human-shaped heads!’
 
Elemer rubbed the back of his neck modestly. ‘Ha ha,’ he said. ‘Didn’t even think of it.’
 
‘Not very comfy though,’ added Jobes. ‘Can’t be that sentient if they can’t even make a decent helmet. Whoa...’
 
‘What is it?’
 
‘I feel... I fee�"�"’
 
Suddenly, he staggered back and nearly toppled over the balcony railing. Elemer dashed forward and, not being able to support Jobes to any extent, merely pushed him in a safer direction. He crashed to the ground, his head breaking the hard fall. Elemer winced and threw his hands forward in the manner of one trying to prevent something that has already happened �" but after closer inspection decided the helmet was OK.
 
A few moments pass...
 
It flickers, just above the face of the helmet, like images from a broken projector. Impossible to properly discern, each one too blurry and short lived: mountains, that time; then a sea of grass; a man in brilliant armour careers on horseback across glowing red plains. There is never a single sound but the cool breeze by which the projected light seems to waver, eventually fading into its gentle current...
 
Jobes stirred.
 
‘What happened?’ said Elemer.
 
‘Nnn.’
 
‘Get up!’ barked Elemer, kicking Jobes in the ribs.
 
Jobes sat up and lifted the helmet off his head, and held it there wideyed with an expression about his face as that of a stupefied monkey.
 
‘What happened?’ he said.
 
‘Give me that,’ snapped Elemer, snatching the helmet from his frozen grip.

Jobes absently lowered his arms.
 
‘It went all black,’ he said.
 
‘Isn’t it already black?’ said Elemer, inspecting the helmet for dents and blemishes.
 
‘Not like that. No. Bit of light still creeps in, bit of noise. But then,’ he paused, ‘then nothing.’
 
‘You hit your head.’
 
‘That was after.’
 
‘Then how do you know?’
 
‘What?’
 
‘If it was after there was nothing, then how do you know?’
 
‘I...’ He began to scratch his head with one finger.
 
‘Listen, did you say you were going to visit the Jetty later?’ said Elemer.
 
 
‘Huh? Oh. Yeah.’
 
‘Listen,’ Elemer said again �" you had to start a lot of sentences with the word ‘listen’ when speaking to Jobes �" ‘while you’re there would you find Boan and tell him to meet me at Bel-Gra later tonight? He’s always down there,’ he added; ‘and with that crazy assortment of his I’m sure that even you could find him.’
 
The thought of all Mystic Boan’s ridiculous whistles, colourful lights, wonderful firecrackers and other loud, obnoxious products made Elemer as giddy as a four-eyed schoolboy with a brand-new pocket dictionary.
 
‘Eh,’ said Jobes. ‘Do it yourself.’
 
For a minute or two Elemer sat in silence; he then sighed heavily, stood, turned one-eighty degrees toward the railing, looked over his shoulder, softly said, ‘F**k you, Donnie,’ and then dextrously slid down his fishing-line, helmet in hand, the exhilarating air roaring past as he watched the ground rapidly approach.