Terminal.
07-15-2012, 06:38 AM
You've always had a vague interest in urban exploration. There's something special about seeing places that no one else ever gets to see. That no one even knows exist. That no one even really cares exist. Special places, hidden from the world, known to three? one? maybe no people at all.
Last month was the first time you ever acted on the interest, though. It was late in the day, the sun going down but the air still hot and shimmering with bent light. You'd just gotten finished with another string of job interviews that had nearly as much promise as a dead walnut tree. You drove your mediocre 2005 car down an anonymous street, without really thinking of anything at all. You were too tired to think, too disinterested. Not much to think about anyways. Then you saw a hint of concrete amongst the dead grass on the side of the road, almost leering up at you from the crunchy ground.
It was the middle of the residential part of town, a few low houses on the street, likely filled with a few low people, just as squat and run down as their abodes. They stood on the left side, but here on the right, the road sloped down a bit before giving way to forest. The small bit of concrete ignited something, started the cogs turning for the first time in days. What could it be out here in this run down neighborhood? Likely just a drainage ditch or some kind of sewer access tunnel. It filled you with a kind of hope, though. Something to do besides slum around pretending to live a rich, fulfilling life out of your mildewy apartment, jobless and mostly broke.
So out of the car you went, circling around to the mysterious gray square embedded into the ground just before the slope. Hopping down the drop-off, in between the parched woods and a concrete tunnel that looked to go right under the road. The light was starting to fade faster and faster at this point, but it was far too late to just give up on this new path. Hands to the walls, you stumbled down the tunnel until you were in near complete blackness, the kind that had long since been banished by modern life. Your hand slid against the wall slowly in the dark, before striking something cold and hard and flat jutting out of the tunnel wall.
Your hands grasped in the dark, trying to discern the shape and purpose of the fixture. It seemed to be a large, metal, frankensteinian lever, with wires running up the wall, then disappearing into the concrete. Excited from the change in scenery, you felt around the walls opposite and a bit past the lever, looking for other devices and clues as to where and what and why. The other wall held nothing, but the wall past the lever gave way to a door, made of the same cold metal. Turning back to the switch, the debate began of whether to flip the probably very heavy and very old lever. Hesitantly, your arm reached out, being propelled by the instinct of discovery.
Less than moments before your hand were to touch the device, a quiet, barely audible scuffing was heard beyond the metal door. It could very easily have been some small animal farther down the tunnel, or even the light rustle of your own clothes, but no, you were certain it came from behind that door. Your heart quickened in the dark, and your legs began of their own accord back towards the faint light that promised open space and escape from this dark place. You might have heard the door quietly open, you might have heard light footsteps behind you in the tunnel, but you were never sure.
When you reached your car, you sped off into the warm night, returned to unthinking, but the unthinking of a different breed. When you finally reached your home, your mind was returned, and it spun in twists and cartwheels, discerning the events that had just occurred. You were never sure what you had found there in that tunnel, but you knew you wanted to do it again.
So since then, you've started exploring the city of yours, finding the special places where drab people haven't sunken in yet, where you can be exhilarated for precious moments.
It also turned out that you were wrong about walnut trees, and that they have just a slight bit more promise than you held them accountable for, because the very last job interview all those weeks ago paid off, and you now find yourself with a somewhat stable weekday job at one of the innumerable video rental stores. Your meager earnings have proven well enough to fund your little urban outings, and you've since invested in a number of flashlights, backpacks, disposable cameras, and the cheapest GPS devices you could come across.
And here you find yourself, Edlin Turing, about to take on what is, in your recently developed opinion, the greatest site for your hobby in all of the city. Far on the western outskirts of the financial district, there has stood an aged, disheveled, and most importantly uninhabited, building. As long as you have lived here it has fascinated you. You've asked around as much as anyone could, but as far as anyone could remember it had always been abandoned, rotting away on the edge of everyone's minds. Three stories tall and likely structurally sound, you've never been more excited as far as you can ever remember.
It's just after dawn on a bright and promising saturday, and you've begun to pack for today's exploration. What should you bring?
Last month was the first time you ever acted on the interest, though. It was late in the day, the sun going down but the air still hot and shimmering with bent light. You'd just gotten finished with another string of job interviews that had nearly as much promise as a dead walnut tree. You drove your mediocre 2005 car down an anonymous street, without really thinking of anything at all. You were too tired to think, too disinterested. Not much to think about anyways. Then you saw a hint of concrete amongst the dead grass on the side of the road, almost leering up at you from the crunchy ground.
It was the middle of the residential part of town, a few low houses on the street, likely filled with a few low people, just as squat and run down as their abodes. They stood on the left side, but here on the right, the road sloped down a bit before giving way to forest. The small bit of concrete ignited something, started the cogs turning for the first time in days. What could it be out here in this run down neighborhood? Likely just a drainage ditch or some kind of sewer access tunnel. It filled you with a kind of hope, though. Something to do besides slum around pretending to live a rich, fulfilling life out of your mildewy apartment, jobless and mostly broke.
So out of the car you went, circling around to the mysterious gray square embedded into the ground just before the slope. Hopping down the drop-off, in between the parched woods and a concrete tunnel that looked to go right under the road. The light was starting to fade faster and faster at this point, but it was far too late to just give up on this new path. Hands to the walls, you stumbled down the tunnel until you were in near complete blackness, the kind that had long since been banished by modern life. Your hand slid against the wall slowly in the dark, before striking something cold and hard and flat jutting out of the tunnel wall.
Your hands grasped in the dark, trying to discern the shape and purpose of the fixture. It seemed to be a large, metal, frankensteinian lever, with wires running up the wall, then disappearing into the concrete. Excited from the change in scenery, you felt around the walls opposite and a bit past the lever, looking for other devices and clues as to where and what and why. The other wall held nothing, but the wall past the lever gave way to a door, made of the same cold metal. Turning back to the switch, the debate began of whether to flip the probably very heavy and very old lever. Hesitantly, your arm reached out, being propelled by the instinct of discovery.
Less than moments before your hand were to touch the device, a quiet, barely audible scuffing was heard beyond the metal door. It could very easily have been some small animal farther down the tunnel, or even the light rustle of your own clothes, but no, you were certain it came from behind that door. Your heart quickened in the dark, and your legs began of their own accord back towards the faint light that promised open space and escape from this dark place. You might have heard the door quietly open, you might have heard light footsteps behind you in the tunnel, but you were never sure.
When you reached your car, you sped off into the warm night, returned to unthinking, but the unthinking of a different breed. When you finally reached your home, your mind was returned, and it spun in twists and cartwheels, discerning the events that had just occurred. You were never sure what you had found there in that tunnel, but you knew you wanted to do it again.
So since then, you've started exploring the city of yours, finding the special places where drab people haven't sunken in yet, where you can be exhilarated for precious moments.
It also turned out that you were wrong about walnut trees, and that they have just a slight bit more promise than you held them accountable for, because the very last job interview all those weeks ago paid off, and you now find yourself with a somewhat stable weekday job at one of the innumerable video rental stores. Your meager earnings have proven well enough to fund your little urban outings, and you've since invested in a number of flashlights, backpacks, disposable cameras, and the cheapest GPS devices you could come across.
And here you find yourself, Edlin Turing, about to take on what is, in your recently developed opinion, the greatest site for your hobby in all of the city. Far on the western outskirts of the financial district, there has stood an aged, disheveled, and most importantly uninhabited, building. As long as you have lived here it has fascinated you. You've asked around as much as anyone could, but as far as anyone could remember it had always been abandoned, rotting away on the edge of everyone's minds. Three stories tall and likely structurally sound, you've never been more excited as far as you can ever remember.
It's just after dawn on a bright and promising saturday, and you've begun to pack for today's exploration. What should you bring?
