Fast Forward
By Casey Douglass
‘Where the hell did
that come from?’ Bev said in a voice that increased in volume and
tapered off at the end, leaving the question mark hanging in thin
air.
Steve winced as he
lifted the black rectangle from the cardboard box, trying to stifle a
satisfied smile when he felt how heavy and well made it was. The
golden light of the afternoon sun cast a pleasing rectangle across
the top, adding to the aura of perfection.
‘It was erm...a free
upgrade, only cost a tenner for the delivery, it was a total
bargain!’
‘It won’t affect
the channels will it? If I can’t watch Dancing on Ice you’ll be
in trouble!’
‘Nope, no it wont!
All the channels stay the same, we get more choice if anything with
the on demand stuff!’
‘Like what?’
‘Watch films and TV
stuff through the internet connection when you want for a small
charge.’
‘We won’t be doing
that then!’
‘You never know.’
‘No Stephen.’
Steve slowly shuffled
his knees across the carpet, offering up the Tivo to the TV cabinet
like a priest making an offering to the Gods. A few sneaky cables
were then tracked down and pushed into the back, each wiggled to make
sure it had a good connection. A cup of coffee thunked down on the
shelf near his right ear, a hand patted him on the shoulder.
‘Boys and their
toys,’ Bev’s voice came from above softly.
He turned and smiled.
He knew the expression he had been wearing was dynamite for changing
Bev’s mood. He had perfected it years ago by watching and mimicking
his little dog Phoebe when Bev shouted at her. She always seemed to
close in on herself and give a slight tremble until Bev spoke more
kindly to her. Steve had tried it with the tremble but that had only
ended up with him being coerced into bed because he was “probably
coming down with something.” Now he just let the expression do it’s
business, and it worked almost every time.
‘Boot it up then
Steve, let’s see what all the fuss is about!’
He turned and rooted
through the remnants of the packaging, finally finding the remote
control was beside his left foot all along. He flicked the battery
cover off like a ninja, the batteries seemed to mysteriously click
into place of their own volition. He looked at Bev who had seated
herself on the sofa, but she was browsing her Heat magazine and
hadn’t seen his skill. Bloody Heat he thought, that magazine had
cost him more missed opportunities for adoration and respect than
anything else he could think of. He briefly adopted “the face”
but then it occurred to him she still wasn’t looking. With a heavy
sigh he slowly got up and joined her on the sofa.
***
‘Wow it’s dark
outside!’ Bev said with a laugh.
Steve stirred, his
brain taking a few moments to take stock of the situation, and the
location of the parts of his body that kept him in the seat. With a
click, he straightened his head, slyly wiping a bit of moisture from
the side of his mouth.
‘Is it over?’
‘Yes, Darcy won.’
He forced a smile.
‘Nice.’
‘Oh these bloody
adverts,’ Bev passed him the remote. ‘Forward them while I’m
making us some tea.’
Steve leant forward and
stared bleary eyed at the adverts.
‘I can’t. You can’t
forward ads unless you’ve pre-recorded the show.’
‘Try it anyway.’
‘There’s no
point...look.’
He pressed the fast
forward button on the remote and gave a small choke when the images
on the screen started to flick forward.
‘You taped it then!’
‘No I didn’t.’
‘You must of.’
‘No Steve!’
‘But how is that
poss-’
Steve rubbed his eyes
and watched the screen closely. The news was up now, the digits on
the clock rushing forward with a speed that almost made him feel like
he was watching some time lapse nature film, where the clouds above some nice scene go haywire and anything living that happens to walk around looks like it just can't make up it's mind where to settle. It made him feel a bit sick.
‘Do you want sugar in
your tea?’ The voice carried through from the kitchen, snapping him
out of his revery.
‘Yes please.’
‘Where’s Phoebe
gone?’
Steve glanced around
the room and saw Phoebe staring back at him from near the radiator.
‘Don’t give me that
look missy!’ he whispered. Louder he shouted, ‘She’s by the
rad, think she’s cold.’
The clattering of cups
and the roar of the kettle masked any reply, but he didn’t really
listen for it anyway. The pictures on the screen were picking up
speed now, zipping along like a flick book in the hands of a some
hyperactive toddler, only with less chocolate stains.
He pushed fast forward
again, pushing it further and further. News programs came and went,
celebrities disgraced themselves and were forgiven, but after a few
more minutes, he didn’t really recognise any of them. Who was this
tosser with the pink mohawk? What the hell was Bust-a-gut? It looked
like some strange offshoot of the krypton factor.
A news report flashed
up out of sequence, a stern faced young woman with a picture of the
Large Hadron Collider behind her. He pressed play. This looked
important.
“...today that the
Large Hadron Collider has successfully created a black hole. However
it is not contained and is in immediate danger of destroying the
earth. Scientists are scrambling to find a solution but the clock is
ticking. The government has advised everyone to remain calm until
further news is available.”
‘Jesus,’ he
muttered under his breath. He looked at the date of the newscast as
he felt his pulse in his temples throbbing. He relaxed a little when
he saw that it was some fifty years from today. Still, he thought,
maybe they solved the problem.
He punched fast forward
again, just enough to make the date move on slowly. After another three days had
passed, all the pictures just disappeared. With a small crackle, the
Tivo went dead, a small wisp of smoke signalling its early entry to
the next life. Steve didn’t notice.
‘They didn’t solve
it.’
‘Solve what? Here’s
your cuppa.’
Bev sat next to him,
handing him his hot beverage.
‘Are you okay?’ she
asked. ‘You look dreadful. Are you coming down with something
again?’
Steve’s eyelids
flickered. The very last picture he had seen was of a great chasm
opening up in Switzerland, the sides gaping like a giant mouth, and
everything on the precipice slowly tumbling inside, falling slowly
and gracefully over and over and over...
‘I’m okay,’ he
smiled sheepishly. He decided that he had to stop what he had just
witnessed from happening, it was his duty to the human race, his duty
to his loved ones, his duty to-
‘Good! I just found
this receipt on the side. You said it only cost ten pounds for
delivery! So why does this say “Thank you for your payment of
£200!” hey?'
The smile vanished from
Steve’s face as he adopted the look. He just needed to
survive the next five minutes, the fate of humanity depended on him now. He started to tremble. Well, it
couldn’t make things any worse.
The End
This story is dedicated
to my good friend Steve with his James Bond good looks, his partner
Bev with her feminine wiles, and Phoebe their little dog, with her
fearless attitude to all bigger dogs and her phobia of fat ginger
cats.
