Page 29 - Ferry Tales

Zoltaine

Notice anything strange about that guy sauntering toward the
gates, Cerberus? I mean, his attitude: utterly indifferent. Did he even
look at you? I thought not. He is Zoltaine, a real wise-guy and not my
favorite passenger. In fact, one of the worst. Why? Just listen to what
went on between us on the ferry, and I’m sure you’ll agree.
First off, as he’s strolling down to the landing, he takes the pennies
and tries to bite them. “Seem real,” he says to himself, as if no one
else is around. “But that proves nothing. I wish I’d learned how to do
lucid dreaming.”
Then he sees me standing in the boat, leaning on the pole. He
laughs and throws the coins at me! No difficulty for me to catch
them, of course, but that’s no way to act.
“Hey, Zoltaine! When I want your two cents, I’ll ask for them.
Take your seat: time to disembark.”
“Sure, sure. Doesn’t matter where you are when your number’s up,
does it? On land or sea, or up in the air. Where was I? Must have
been in a coma, with good oxygen supply: this is going on and on.”
“Poppycock,” says I. “It’s a standard trip to Gehenna. No extras.
Your crossing won’t take any longer than anyone else’s.”
“I mean, subjectively. Dream time can telescope in both directions,
a phenomenon exploited effectively by creators of fiction.”
That explained his cockiness. I could have kept my mouth shut,
and let him stew in his own obtuseness the whole trip, but I wasn’t in
the mood after having money tossed at me as if I were a beggar or a
busker.
“So,” I begin. “You think this is just a nightmare, and you will
wake up at any moment and go on with your life?”
“Possibly, but not necessarily. Things aren’t that simple.”
I had him there. ‘Oh, yes, they are—now. You have no more
choices to make. You are going straight to Hell.”

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