Murder He Wrote Part 1.5

~ (from 1.4)

The world around us was gray, and the ground was indistinguishable from the sky. Distance, therefore was also indeterminate, as no objects besides ourselves existed. “Where are we?” I asked Pavlov.

“Limbo. Well, one version of Limbo, which is more of a Purgatory really. We are literally situated between Right and Wrong. Everyone sees it differently, at different times, relative to their own life. For me, where ever I walk in this Gray World, all the people will be shades of gray, and the surroundings are always black and white. The single border between the two black and white sides follows me, and always stays directly between my feet. Some people see black and white patterns, and for others it is all a grey mist.”

“Well this is weird!” Laurel said.

“The human brain is weird!” said Pavlov. “Don’t leave home without it, though.”

Pavlov started pulling out wires from his coat pockets, and began fixing the Time Recorder. While Pavlov was tinkering around, Laurel sat down and began writing on a note pad. She was intent on completing her 999 page novel she had started two days before, called Space Dogs the Fifth Chronicle.

Finally Pavlov finished fixing the Time Machine Tape Recorder. We held Timmy back from it. “I think this jerk is going to work!” Pavlov said as he pressed eject.

The space around us imploded. Either that, or we were thrown out of that Gray World with a quickness. Real solid ground replaced the soft gray matter beneath us, with a harshness so abrupt that I could not retain consciousness. I went right to sleep.

~ (continued in 1.6)

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