Plodding Between Possibilities

The day replayed with methodical precision. All seemed unaware of the repetition, content with how well things worked this time around, no break downs, no malfunctions. My participation in the day was perhaps slower, the cogs of my mind being occupied by the bizarre encounter among the bags of coffee.

Had I not seen him in the singular situation of the strange hallway I wouldn’t have given him a second look. In the midst of the bustle of the day he appeared here and there, always a minute before or a minute after I remembered something having gone wrong on the day’s initial run-through. At each juncture he would give me a wan smile, a shrug, or on one occasion a mirthful wink.

The office ran like clockwork. Nothing broke down. The place was a perpetual mess. Everything broke down. Between the two alternate realities stood the Controller. More accurately, he plodded along between the two, for I never saw him standing still. He paused here and there, a weary look upon his brow, but he did not stop.

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