I would love to be able to say exactly what I saw and felt when I jumped into the wormhole. Unfortunately I have no idea what happened. As I jumped I think I jumped too far across the hole and hit my head on the pedestal container. Consequently, the next thing I know there’s just black and the sound of my breathing.
I attempted to move my appendages, one digit, one hand, one arm at a time. Everything seemed to be working except my sight. I moved my hand to my head to check for damage. I felt the familiar stickiness that congealed blood has, not much quantity, but definitely there on my forehead. Moving my hand across my face I could see it at all, not even when my fingers were an inch away from my eyes. Then I realised that I couldn’t hear anything either. I wasn’t hearing my breathing, I was feeling it. Okay, this is getting weird. Have I gone deaf and blind from a simple knock on the forehead? Perhaps the black hole had a magnifying effect on the injury. What the hell do I do now???
Darrt flashed his trademark smile at the camera as he spoke.
“Well, that was eventful wasn’t it! Let’s have a quick recap.” He listed the highlights of each contestant’s jump:
Brown died as he emerged from the blackhole at the other end, landed on a mine.
Masterton was still going landed in South Africa in the 1960s. Being white this wasn’t much of a problem. It would be interesting to follow what happened, it was a tumultuous time in Johannesburg.
Darrt repeated that they hadn’t yet received reports from Bailey and the other two.
“Finch,” he said with some disdain, “his camera has reported in but we don’t appear to be receiving a picture yet. Either that or he’s landed in the dark ages, aha ha ha!” The laugh was as fake as the presenter but the ‘audience’ just lapped it up in the studio and the viewers loved the persona he presented.
“We can hear some sort of movement, clicks and rustles so we’re assuming he made it through. Wasn’t that bang on the head bad though?! There’s blood on the podium!
“We’re heading for a very quick commercial break, don’t y’all go anywhere now!”
I think my eyes adjusted to the darkness. I could see a sliver of light off to my left, possibly the bottom of a door. Gingerly I sat. Nope, nothing broken. Head’s sore though. Deciding to stand rather than crawl towards the light I moved and immediately banged into something. I was almost immediately blinded by bright lights in my face. No, not in my face, I was in a room and someone had switched the lights on. I reached quickly into my pocket and latched onto the first thing I felt.
“Mr Finch.” Said a voice behind me. “We’ve been expecting you.”
I span towards the voice and realised that was a bad idea. I completed a perfect 360 turn, lost my feet and landed on my ass.
“You can put the spoon away, we need to talk. Quickly.”
I stuttered a response. “wher, whe, wha, ho…”
“Breathe, Mr Finch, and we will explain.” We?? I looked around the room and noticed five men in dark suits and ties. And sunglasses. Were they wearing those in the dark too?
Then I looked around again. I looked at the room. The carpet. The desk.
“Hang on!” I started.
“Yes Mr Finch, you’re in the Oval Office. I will give no names, but tell you that we are the Secret Service assigned to protect President Trump.” President?? What the FUCK??
“The date is Tuesday 14 February 2017. Your drop sent you to the future. Now, we have a job for you. Get the gun out of your pocket, make sure it’s loaded and shoot the President. Simple.”