Tapdancing along the edge
The man had left his house and was walking along the street to work when he gradually and then suddenly became aware of a certain stillness in the air. He had slowed his walk to a crawl while taking note of how awfully quiet it was, and how there was not a car nor soul in sight. But now he stood rooted to the spot, looking down the street, his vision partially focussed on the space normally filled every now and then by a passing car, but mostly on a tree that was a few metres away.
He stared at the tree. He stared at it, not really thinking, just taking it in. It was also still, and as he continued to look at it, still it remained. The branches were not swaying, and the leaves did not give so much as a quiver. True, it was quite a windless day, but it was also a tall tree, and one would expect the leaves at the top to be showing at least some sign of movement in response to a light air current, the arrival of a bird, or anything really. But there was nothing. Standing on the spot his vision focussed back down the street, then sideways and along the houses and their closed doors and empty windows, and then back to the tree. There was absolutely nothing. He continued looking at the tree but this time listening, frozen still with his ears straining to take in any possible sound. And the more he listened, the more he heard nothing. No cars passing on this street or those nearby; no voices talking or calling, no front doors slamming or keys jingling or birds chirping. And the leaves on the tree still had not moved.
He felt tense (as he usually did) and had a slight strain in his calves and neck from standing perfectly still. His throat was tight and there was a small accumulation of saliva in his mouth from not having swallowed in some time. He blinked once involuntarily and tried not to do it again. What was happening? “Is this some sort of glitch in the matrix?” He made the sarcastic joking comment to himself but felt no humour and almost immediately was internally silent again, his mind blank. He stayed still and quite tense, looking but not seeing anything, and began to feel something like a rising anxiety. It grew and grew, and as he became more consciously aware of it he felt its true nature. Desperation. “Please” he begged in a small internal voice. “Please please please”. His mind was consciously thinking again and his tension was high, his throat was tight and he was feeling unmistakable desperation.
He focussed on the tree, then back down the street and the houses, and then back to the tree. Its leaves were still still and though his ears strained he heard nothing. He felt himself begging for it to stay that way. He did not want to see some movement, he did not want to hear any noises. His vision focussed like a laser on a section of the uppermost leaves, watching closely and making sure he was being accurate in his perception of their stillness and making a conscious effort to counter any potential mental illusions caused by under-caffeinated sleep deprivation or stress or a mind just not paying attention. “Please let it stay this way”.
He was open in his desperation now. He was thinking “Please let it stay this way, and please don’t let the cars come back. Please let the leaves stay still and I don’t want to hear the sound of anyone speaking as they walk past talking on their phones or to someone walking next to them. I don't know why this is happening or if it’s really happening but please just let it stay this way”. His vision was still locked on the leaves and he confirmed to himself that there was still no movement. “What is going on? Is time actually frozen? I guess it’s not technically impossible? It could be possible.” While he didn’t truly believe to himself that time was frozen like some delusional idiot, there was certainly a very large part of him hoping that somehow it was. In the back of his mind there was actually a small nagging notion that time was in fact frozen. He let that part of his mind jump around to simulation theory, or that maybe he uniquely possessed the ability to pause time, or that his perception of time had somehow slowed down enough that relative to normal movement his current bubble of space appeared frozen. He did not care what the reason was or exactly which cause was most rational. “Please just let it stay this way, I don’t want to go back”. He was tense and he was desperate but the desperation was more in relation to the aching desire to grab hold of a sense of pure relief that was hanging tantalisingly close. If things could just stay this way, even just for a while (a couple of hours or days maybe), then he would be able to stop worrying and forget about everything else.
Those things on his mind that he needed to do or should have done or needed to figure out how to do, they could wait. If time was frozen he lost nothing by not thinking about them now, he would go back to thinking about them when time had resumed and he would be exactly where he was before. So he could empty his mind of them, for the first time in a very long time, and think about other things, or not think at all. Those questions he had for himself and his doubts and his desires and his constant but apparently quite futile search for a sense of purpose and happiness could wait too. Why the hell not? Time was frozen, so why bother thinking about anything like that? He took a deep breath, and then gave a long sigh. He gently closed his eyes and kept them shut for a moment while breathing deeply again, and then slowly opened them and blinked a few times. He looked around briefly and could still see no movement. The desperation was giving way to relief. He felt something like happiness. No, free; he felt free! Somehow his inner tension completely disappeared without him really noticing; his posture had relaxed and he shifted slightly on his feet. He gave a small stretch and rubbed his face with his hands, and felt the tinge of the beginnings of a smile on his cheeks.
A car drives past and the illusion is shattered. He had been standing so close to the road that he felt it go past, and he certainly saw and heard it too. There had been people inside the car as well, and he now noticed that there was definitely someone inside one of the houses across the street on the second floor, sitting down and reading something on their phone.
The breaking of the illusion causes a burst of fear and anxiety and for a moment a dark pit rapidly expands in his mind; but somehow he is able to recover almost immediately. He brushes it off and continues his walk to work, as he had been doing before ‘time froze’. Perhaps he’s simply used to pushing aside introspective concerns and pulling on a makeshift outfit of focus and priorities and productivity. He was well practiced at doing this, so while an experience as unusual and confronting as what had just occurred had certainly shaken him, it was easily dismissed and replaced with a continuation of ‘normal life’.
Time passes at work. 9 becomes 10 becomes 2 becomes 5 and then he is out of the door, headphones placed on, and walking his usual brisk but controlled pace along the bustling city street towards the train station. As he sits on the train he reflects on the morning’s happenings. Logical as usual, he diagnoses the situation as the result of anxiety driven escapist desires that caused him to see what he wanted to see. He does reflect on the particularly shaky state of mind he must have been in for that to occur, and also the notably real desperation (and relief) he felt while it was happening. And then he reflects on his success in recovering from the illusion and going about his day. The train slows to a stop and he moves through the crowd toward the exit and begins walking home; one long straight street, one left turn, and then just a short way further. He walks along deep crevices in his mind. He walks along them with confidence and steady balance. He walks along the crevices with his footsteps tracing them well, curve by curve, and sometimes he walks with one toe over the edge. Sometimes more than one.