You remember scheduling the appointment to have your wisdom teeth removed. You remember the mask being lowered over your nose and mouth. You remember the world slowly turning black.
You’ve just regained consciousness. You’re on a train. There’s a briefcase handcuffed to your wrist. Searching your pockets, you find a note.
Upon opening the note, you find that it is written in some strange flowing script. After you finish inspecting the note, you slip it back in your pocket and sit down and try to regain your memory. Unsuccessful, you begin to wander the train car after a short time.
You find little; an exit to roaring scenery of some snowy landscape on two sides of the car, two doors leading to opposite sides of the train on the other two side, and a plain table with a top spinning precisely in the center of it.
Freaked out by the top, you decide to go through the door farthest from it. Once you pass through the doorway, there is a large explosion behind you. You look back, but the door is already closed. A hardwood door, of a well-furnished house, not a train car.
Baffled, you keep wandering through the dark atmosphere feeling your way past the furniture until your eyes become adjusted. You find much useless furniture, but also find the same table and top, but with another undesirable note. This note is as short and staccato as the other was free and vibrant. You stick this note in your pocket but feel a short jolt throughout your entire body as you do so. You reach back in your pocket to grab the notes, but only find one.
This note is legible to you. It describes many scenarios. Most of which are mostly the same. A brave hero, working for various government organizations saving the world. However, the last is very simple. It describes a man. A man that tried hard to live by society’s rules, but was unable to confine his vitality for these rules. He eventually strangled himself after decades of his will being weathered away by the demanding society in which he lived.
After you finished the note, you suddenly feel compelled to return to the suitcase. You feel controlled as you scroll the locks to 9-9-9, the end. They click, and you open the suitcase atop the table with the top. It is empty however there is a small pocket for small papers. You slip your note in the pocket and feel a sudden rush of energy rush through you as your eyelids slip down.
You wake up again. This time floating through a surreal environment of vivid colors. A series of images flash before you.
A birth, of a young youthful boy. Another boy protecting others from bullies, An adolescent helping an old lady get her groceries. A young man traveling the world healing all he meets. An old man raising his granddaughter. An old man wrapping a breathing tube around his throat.