Alone on a remote island, Adam finds himself in strange new world.
All beings portrayed as engaging in sexual activity are eighteen or over
*****
The Island and Beyond
Before it all happened I never thought I would ever want to get away to somewhere beyond all human contact, but at the time the Island seemed ideal for me. If you had told me before the Island that afterwards I would have virtually no human contact ever again, I'd have had you certified.
When you lose your job and your marriage in the space of a few weeks, something needs to change dramatically so I took the opportunity to head to the north of Scotland, took a few ferries and found myself five miles offshore with only a few thousand seabirds, a week's worth of frozen meals and a very large case of beer for company.
My work severance was beyond good and the redundancy money would keep me going for a long while; possibly even helping to let me set up on my own if I were so inclined. The other severance was not such a happy affair and left me feeling raw and empty and wondering where I was going with my life aged thirty-two.
There had been a few one nighters since, but they were nothing special and I was beginning to doubt myself having lost a job and a wife of seven years in quick succession.
So I did what anyone feeling under siege would do and retreated to a remote, uninhabited island off the Scottish coast to count seabirds.
Well, it seemed like a good idea at the time. Now, as I gaze up through the window at the gentle curve of the Dyson Sphere which has been my home for the last five years and feel the warm embrace of the incredible alien woman from over half a universe away lying next to me, I realise that it was not a good idea at all. It was an act of inspired genius.
When I first landed on the Island, it felt like I had made a big mistake. Murdo McLean helped me ashore with my few belongings and my recording equipment and laughed as he got back in the small fishing boat he owned. "See ye in a week, laddie. Guid luck and careful o' they harpies an' mermaids, ye hear?"
Harpies and mermaids? You have no idea, dear, gentle Murdo. No idea at all. Just sip your whisky and try to imagine what I have witnessed these last few years.
I opened the door to the small stone croft that would be my home for the next seven days and my heart sank. A tiny cot bed, a petrol driven generator and the minimum of home comforts. In fact none at all. I dropped my gear, popped a bottle of beer and cursed myself for my stupidity. By the end of the evening, my beer stock was looking rather forlorn and the wind was getting alarmingly strong. It was a long, rough night and I wished I'd just got straight back on Murdo's boat and forgotten about the whole bloody silly idea. Yes, I love wildlife, but had I really thought this through logically?
Mercifully, the wind had dropped by the next morning and I was able to do a recce of the island. Half a mile by a quarter - it didn't take very long. After an hour I had found a few decent vantage points to start my work. I settled down at what I thought would be the best one with my camera, notebook and voice recorder and began counting fulmar, razorbill, gannets and gulls. The smell emanating from the cliffs can only be described as rancid fish in vinegar. The sound was a chattering, squawking cacophony and it was all bloody brilliant.
At least I was well away from the rest of humanity and the well meaning but increasingly annoying behavior of my friends who had made it their mission to cheer up 'Poor Old Adam'. No phone, no internet, no-one trying to set me up with 'that bird from accounts who's got a thing for you.' For two days, it was bliss.
Then it pissed it down so hard and blew such a gale I could barely get out of the door for 36 hours.
It was just as the rain relented and I managed to get back outside - now with no beer left - that they came for me.
I can remember the relief of being able to open the door without it being ripped from its rusty hinges by a minor hurricane and seeing sunshine instead of brooding, black clouds. I had gone three steps when I felt a small prickle at the back of my neck. In the next instant it felt as though someone had reached into my guts, grabbed hold of my stomach and tried to rip it out through my belly button. I felt like I was being turned inside out as some inexorable force seemed to drag me off my feet. I tried to cry out, but no-one was going to hear me scream even if I had been able. There was a rush of static and I felt my hair stand on end. A brief flash of light and a hot, roaring wind that was like nothing I had witnessed over the past two days. It seemed like I was being stretched to an impossible degree whilst my stomach was still being ripped from me.
I caught a brief glimpse of roof of the croft far below me before I succumbed to blissful unconsciousness.
I have woken to some pretty bad hangovers over the years, a lot in the few weeks since my double whammy, but the feeling as I came round seemed like all of them rolled into one. My head was being assailed by a sledgehammer, my guts were churning and I thought that if I started being sick it would never end. I was aware I was in a comfortable bed, but the horrific agony I was enduring meant any rational thought was beyond me.
Wherever I was it was almost pitch black, for which I was grateful. Any sliver of light and my head would probably have exploded.
I let out a long, low moan as I tried to sit up and collapsed back onto the bed. Just what the hell was going on? I was trying to rationalize what was happening when I heard a soft, gentle voice. A female voice, mellifluous and soothing. There was a slight echo to it, a pleasant warble that made it sound like two voices in harmony. I tried to make sense of the words as my head and stomach screamed at me.
"Please do not be afraid. We do not intend to harm you. There is something on the table next to the bed that will make you feel much better. Please put it on your tongue. I promise that relief will be almost instant."
There was something in the tone of the voice that immediately made me feel at ease. A narrow beamed spotlight came on to my left and I could see a small, round wafer-like object on the table. I wasn't going to argue. Whatever it was couldn't make things worse. I reached out and did as the voice had commanded. The wafer felt very solid, but dissolved on my tongue in a second. The voice was right - every shred of pain left me before I could even register it. My head returned to normal, my stomach was back in its rightful place. I breathed a sigh of relief and managed a croaked, "Thank you."
The level of light in the room increased a degree but revealed nothing to me. The room was small, containing little but the bed. Everything was white. My heart sank again as I realised there was no door, no windows. Just a white room with solid walls.
The voice came back. "I trust you feel better. I must apologise - you have been on a short but very traumatic journey." It sounded amused. "It never gets easier, believe me. If there is no soma-cake when you land, it is an agonizing few hours."
However I felt, I was glad of soma-cake, whatever that was. A few seconds were sheer hell - a few hours were unthinkable.
The voice went on, reverberating around me. "This will all seem very strange to you, but I repeat, we do not mean you any harm. We will reveal all very soon, but at the moment you will need food and rest. Transit is an extremely debilitating experience. There is a food dispenser on the wall."
As she said it, a portion of the hitherto blank wall opposite the bed slid open revealing a hatch. "Just speak your requirements and the machine will fulfill your request. Eat, drink, sleep. We will speak again after you have rested."
Everything went silent. I got up expecting the pain to return, but in truth I felt better than I had done for weeks. The way I felt, there must have been some soporific in the wafer as I felt no fear or anxiety at my condition.
I walked over to the machine aware that I was not in the outdoor gear I had been wearing when I stepped out of the croft. I was wearing a long white shift which was soft against my skin. It felt like a hospital gown but more comfortable.
I stood there thinking for a moment. Just what does a man need when everything is against him?
"Chicken Madras, two poppadums, onion bhaji, pilau rice."
In an eye-blink, the hatchway was filled with those very things and the smell made my stomach lurch again, but this time in the right way. I decided to push my luck.
"English bitter ale."
Words formed on the wall alongside the machine with a tick box under each option. "Golden ale or traditional?"
I had to smile. Whatever was going on, this was amazing. I touched the golden option.
A number appeared with up and down arrows and an 'ok' button. It started at 3.8% "Please select alcohol content."
Shaking my head in disbelief, I tapped the up button a few times until it reached 4.5%. The situation was utterly mental, but I had no choice but to go with it. The curry and ale were magnificent and when the machine instructed me to deposit my dishes, they disappeared as quickly as they had arrived. I ordered another beer, this time upping the gravity to 5.5%. I felt I had earned it.
As I drank the nectar that the machine produced, more words appeared. "Please rate your experience on a scale of 0-10." Laughing once again I gave it 10. It was utterly faultless.
"We are glad you enjoyed your experience and look forward to serving you again. Good night and sleep well." The interface disappeared back into the wall as if nothing had ever been there.
There was no point in exploring the room as there was nothing more to explore. I finished my beer, lay down and went to sleep, but not before wondering what I would do when the beer and curry needed to make a reappearance.
Stage One
I need not have worried. As I woke on what I assumed was the next morning, there was an open hatchway leading to a full set of ablutions where there had been none the night before. The serving hatch was open again and after I had done the necessary I availed myself of a bacon roll and three very fine cups of Jamaican Blue coffee. Snatch me away, mess with my head and my guts then offer me unlimited free hospitality and see how I take advantage!
I still felt rather silly in my strange nightgown but there was no miraculous wardrobe door revealing itself. Besides, my hi-tech all-weather all-terrain garb fit for autumn in the Scottish isles would hardly be suitable for my current whereabouts.
Which brought me back to a solid, thumping reality. Presumably the soporific of last night had worn off as I suddenly realized I was in a white room with no doors and no windows. There were no black curtains as in the old Cream classic, and I presumed I was nowhere near a station. At least not one I could recognize as such, anyway.
Then the voice came back. I immediately relaxed at the sound of it. Maybe
