Extratemporality

I blinked again.

“Once more.”

Without respite, my body moved along the tracks I’d worn in the corridor carpets. My feet would be clean by now, if not for the grime worn into the matted fibers at my soles.

I passed the kitchen on my right. A light flickered – I must have forgotten to turn it off. I did so now, in time with the ticking, counting, hard-wired clock that was yet to reset on my old ’98. “Fourteen, fifteen, sixteen…” no voice came from me, but I recognized the shapes on my lips. On the eighteenth count I resumed my measured walk around the unit.

The stairwell loomed on the corner, shimmering and wavering in the light trickling down from the window above it. I preferred not to look at that window. It showed only a brick wall too high to see over.

I turned the corner, the central bedroom now to my left. Why is that door open? I closed it so the brief sunray might not soak its heat into it. The grey-green-yellow lighting was sweltering this time of day. A fly squeezed through the gap in the door frame. I’ll kill it later.

“Forty-five, forty-six…”

I turned the next corner, left, with the bathroom on my right. An itch seized me on my neck, but I could shower once I was done. There was no rush. “Fifty-one…” I checked my pace. All was well. I turned the final corner, walking the final nine steps to the computer.

Shake the mouse. Screen flashes back on. I enter my password. No dice – [RESET YOUR PASSWORD], the script went. Did that mean the password was incorrect? Or expired? Whichever the case, I knew my password would never change. Never. I entered the password into the reset textbox.

[ERROR].

I entered it again. Maybe it was the wrong one?

[ERROR].

[ERROR].

I blinked. The minute-long timer appeared.

“Once more.”

Turning away for another time, latching the storage room’s door with a snick, I began my pilgrimage through my home.

The kitchen was on my right, but it was too dark to see properly. I counted my steps to a second-beat pulse as I ran my hand over the light switch panel. It was gritty. With the light now on, it looked like oil and dirt.

Repulsive. I touched that? I walked double-time to the sink, but the water wouldn’t come. Perhaps I could sear the muck off at the stove.

The gas wouldn’t light.

“Twenty-two…”

I was falling behind. Double-time to the corridor. Past the stairwell.

The summer heat made my skin tingle. My chest burned beneath my fingertips, too.

I opened my bedroom door – a fly brushed past my ear, probably half-suffocated in this stuffy unit. The lights didn’t work in here, but that was okay, since it was only for sleeping. I’d fix the lights as soon as I logged in to that darned machine. Maybe clean the dark dirt from the ceiling corners, too.

“Forty-eight, forty-nine…”

Late.

Double-time round the corner, past the muddy bathroom and its pungent, maggoty sink. Round the corner. Storage room door closed. Opened. Closed. Opened. “Fifty-nine…”

I watched the timer blip down to 1 second, then the prompt came again: [ENTER YOUR PASSWORD]. I did so.

[RESET YOUR PASSWORD]. Goddammit.

Could he have misled me? My eyes remained on the screen, but I thought of the man in the bathtub, where the rest of the maggots lived. I entered a different password. Perhaps this would reset it.

[CANNOT USE PREVIOUSLY USED PASSWORD]. Goddammit.

Again.

[CANNOT USE PREVIOUSLY USED PASSWORD].

I closed out of the pop-up.

[ERROR].

Again.

[ERROR].

Again.

[ERROR].

A countdown appeared. That’s okay, it’s only a minute, and the man didn’t raise any alarm, or make any sound. I think I’ll just do a loop around the unit – that’ll only take a minute or so, and the only window faces a brick wall. No witnesses.

I turned out of the storage room. I latched the door. This guy’s place reeks. And the state of his carpets… I can hardly bear to put my feet down upon them.

I count the seconds as I pad through someone’s home. Waiting for a countdown to reset. Waiting to reset the password. Waiting for proof that I’m stuck here.