They say that time passes slowly in the Hotel7, but Daniel didn’t mind so much. The opportunity to enjoy a few thoughts was something he cherished. His mind hopped around in list-like form. I’m alone. He was. I’m so far from home. He was. Then the clencher: Will home ever be home again? That was still in the air – there was still time for him to change his mind. As stupid a decision it would be, it was still an option.
The air-conditioning murmured its everyday gospel of luxury. The hotel room mirror sat on the dresser like a window into tedium. TV off, window closed, walls silent. Daniel felt like the room didn’t even know he was there. Sounds about right, he thought with satisfaction. They paid good money for me to be a secret. He was studying his suit in the mirror when he heard the doorknob turn. I ought to focus on what I’m here for, he thought, continuing to do absolutely nothing. The door opened and closed quietly as another man walked into the room, sharply dressed and armed with a black briefcase. Daniel didn’t look up as the man moved to the chair next to him and sat down; that he noted the man’s attire was incidental. Looks like we’re both dressed to impress. Daniel wasn’t impressed.
He listened as the man rummaged through the briefcase, considering how the stupid decision he had considered earlier was no longer an option. No going back now. His muscles tensed. Maybe it’s better that way. His eyes stayed straight ahead as a blank notepad was placed in front of him, followed shortly by a golden pen. Daniel had to suppress a chuckle at the memory of the seminar where they were told they weren’t allowed to bring anything with them when they travelled – “Not even a pen.” The memory subsided as a soft ticking sound grew louder; Daniel knew without looking exactly what the man had just produced from his case. He exhaled pensively. The two silently braced themselves as the second man hovered his thumb over the only button on the golden stopwatch.
For a few seconds, time passed even more slowly. The thumb fell, and the clock shot out a high-pitched harmony neither man could consciously perceive.
Daniel’s regained consciousness to the sight of the pad in front of him, filled to the last page with his furiously scribbled writing. It remained there for only a second before his nameless partner retrieved the pad with silent efficiency. He felt the throbbing cramp in his hand and the waterfall of sweat on his forehead – both familiar, both signs that he had done everything he had come to do. That’s really it, he thought. That’s really everything I prepared for. He remembered the countless laboratory hours spent in unconscious states, writing words he had been told he would never read, waking up each time with the cramped hand and the sopping brow. The procedures that had trained his brain to obey the unheard harmony would never be important again. It was a strange realization – I’ll never have to do that again. Relief and disappointment all at once.
The second man looked over the notepad and, satisfied with the document, returned it to his case. The watch and pen followed. He left without making any motions that could be mistaken for good-bye.
Daniel closed his eyes. They had told him time and time again, but he still had to tell himself: His world was gone, an alternate future to a present that had just changed for good. He told himself again: It’s better this way.
His thoughts were interrupted by the sound of a gunshot from the hallway. Daniel bolted into awareness and listened for anything else.
Nothing.
He crept to the door. Listened.
Nothing.
He creaked the door open.
The barrel of a gun pointed directly at his face. He looked at the face above the gun.
“Two things,” the stranger started. “One: this is what you would look like in forty years if I didn’t kill you right now.”
Daniel blinked.
“Second,” the man continued. “It’s better this way.” Daniel fired.
Time passed slowly outside the Hotel7.
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