State of Seige

Eugene, Nathaniel, and another friend of theirs, Cook, are seated at a booth at ‘State of Siege,’ a pub in downtown Castle.

It is known in town as a spot of student congregation, and Eugene himself had been witness to quite a few memorable intellectual debates in the past. The fourth-year surmises it is because the music is kept at a nice ambient level; even on busy weekend nights it was possible to talk comfortably. He remembers one time standing in the circle of people which had formed around a particular table where a couple of grad students had been debating current topics.

It seemed so smart, but that was a couple years ago. Now it just sounds like a lot of people talking.

“He shouldn’t be drinking after just passing out.” Cook, a med student, and another of Eugene’s friends shakes his head slightly, taking a sip of his own beer.

“Ok...I told you...”

Eugene starts to explain the story again, but Nathanial cuts him off. “Listen, it’s not like he hit his head. Something happened. There is a difference.”

“Is there? Alright.”

Nathaniel continues on, ignoring Cook. “What you need to do, Eugene, is use this.”

“How?”

“Carve out your own little...existential erosion into the rock bed of the absurd, be that water particle that connects with something instead of choosing the path of least resistance. It’s like if life is the river, and you can only step in it--”

“Ok...” Cook interrupts the prosaic rambling, having heard enough several times over from the musician. “...So how did this happen again? I mean tell me exactly.”

Eugene shuts his eyes, inhaling, looking to his soul rather than memory banks for the story. He continues to let Nat field the questions.

“Man, it just...happened. We walked by this girl, she said ‘hi’, and then our friend here got hit by a fold in space time. She had these eyes...I noticed her too.”

“What eyes?” Cook gives a doubtful glance to Eugene, biting his lip a bit in thought. “The girl has nothing to do with this, you both realize that, right?”

Nat is unfazed. “It is a sign. Maybe they are supposed to meet, or something?”

“I doubt it.

“You doubt everything.”

“Eugene, you were walking to class and you lost consciousness. I’d get that checked out.” Cook takes another swig of beer.

Nat shakes his head at this. “The inspiration of random happenstance should not be explained in scientific terms.” He makes a pow sound after this, striking at some unseen symbol in the air with his hand. “This is art.”

“I think you should get checked out too.”

“Listen, guys...” Eugene interrupts. “Something happened. I’ve passed out before, Cook, I know what it feels like. This was different. I just can’t put it into words.”

“I say if you can’t put it into words, it’s worth writing down.” Nat nods sagely at this.

“Maybe a novel...” Eugene concurs.

Cook furrows his eyebrows, looking around for help.