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Downtown Canberra, Australia
Aug. 23rd, 2002 12:16 amAn answer to ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
in2oblivion's counter-dare. Hopelessly late, of course.
----
Downtown Canberra, Australia
"You look lost," she said, a crazy dialect that made me dizzy. I don't think I had ever heard it first-hand. Movies, yeah, dozens of movies and vids. Comedians, sometimes. But hearing from her, and the others milling about the lake and over the white stone bridges, free of grime or graffiti or any other colour of urban decay to which I'm accustomed.... It was surreal.
"Definitely displaced," I said. "I don't think I could tell you within a decade what time it is." I looked around blankly, lagged and culture shocked. My body knew it was far from home, and, perversely, I wanted to answer in Spanish. Some Pavlovian travel instinct; if one is in a strange place, one must speak another language. A kangaroo -- an honest-to-fucking-God kangaroo -- hopped up to a garbage can, plucked out an ice-cream wrapper with dainty grace, and bounded across the park.
"Tuesday, 14 August. Nine twenty-nine in the AM." Her smile was clean and fresh, as pure as artwork in an ancient museum. "2008, mate, if you really are that lagged. But you know that, of course."
I handed the package to her. She opened the lid, tapped the vials carefully and held one up to the sunlight, the rust-coloured liquid casting an earth-toned prism across her forehead. The cost delivering the package was substantial, and not just in monetary capital.
"Thank you. You've saved the world, you know."
I took a last look around and rubbed my pockmarked face, all scar-tissue and little else. I tapped my gate and the portal opened. "Whose world?" I asked. "Yours, or mine?" I took one step home, 70 years into who knew what.
in2oblivion's counter-dare. Hopelessly late, of course.----
Downtown Canberra, Australia
"You look lost," she said, a crazy dialect that made me dizzy. I don't think I had ever heard it first-hand. Movies, yeah, dozens of movies and vids. Comedians, sometimes. But hearing from her, and the others milling about the lake and over the white stone bridges, free of grime or graffiti or any other colour of urban decay to which I'm accustomed.... It was surreal.
"Definitely displaced," I said. "I don't think I could tell you within a decade what time it is." I looked around blankly, lagged and culture shocked. My body knew it was far from home, and, perversely, I wanted to answer in Spanish. Some Pavlovian travel instinct; if one is in a strange place, one must speak another language. A kangaroo -- an honest-to-fucking-God kangaroo -- hopped up to a garbage can, plucked out an ice-cream wrapper with dainty grace, and bounded across the park.
"Tuesday, 14 August. Nine twenty-nine in the AM." Her smile was clean and fresh, as pure as artwork in an ancient museum. "2008, mate, if you really are that lagged. But you know that, of course."
I handed the package to her. She opened the lid, tapped the vials carefully and held one up to the sunlight, the rust-coloured liquid casting an earth-toned prism across her forehead. The cost delivering the package was substantial, and not just in monetary capital.
"Thank you. You've saved the world, you know."
I took a last look around and rubbed my pockmarked face, all scar-tissue and little else. I tapped my gate and the portal opened. "Whose world?" I asked. "Yours, or mine?" I took one step home, 70 years into who knew what.
