A Tale of Two Histories
(We Have) All the Time in the World
Dale St John-Smithe
Time and location unknown
Cliché's eyes gradually cleared. A bright light, arising from where Cliché didn't know, forced him to close them again quickly. He lay on a cold, smooth floor. His body ached all over. He had no idea where he was or how he'd got here. With some effort he sat up and opened his eyes. Blinking the glare he soon made out the room and the body of Dale laying unconcious nearby.
The room consisted of white walls, the floor covered in black and white cheque tiles. As far as Cliché could make out there were no doors and certainly no windows. Looking up the ceiling was pure white, no sign of an entrance in it. There was, also, no sign of any light source.
Cliché dragged his body across the floor and slapped Dale on the cheek, bringing him too. Dale grimmaced at the bright light.
"Where are we?" he groaned
"No idea," replied Cliché, checking himself - his gun was still in its holster.
"What time is it?" Dale asked pushing him up slightly before collapsing back to the floor.
Cliché looked at his watch and gave a start. The numbers had disappeared, the hands pointed inward from the outside and the date simply read 00.
Suddenly, the room plunged into darkness. A slight of light came pouring through a wall as someone opened up a slot and peered in the room. As they went to close it, Cliché called out.
"Where are we?"
There was a brief pause. "Where you are supposed to be," came the reply
"What time is it?" asked Dale
From the outside there was a mirthless chuckle.
"Time? Time doesn't exist here. No, not here,"
With that the slit slammed shut, plunging the room into darkness, before the lights came back on blinding the pair as they lay on the floor.