He began climbing the steps of the escalator. There seemed to be so many at first, but he took his time with them. The upside was that each step showcased a different field of vision and they only got more captivating as he ascended them patiently.
One of the first views he experienced was Home. It was essential that he got acquainted with the place, so the next few steps that followed exhibited the varied rooms, which clumsily hid behind the see-through doors. It was small, unimportant details like the sea-coloured carpet in the storage room and the pendulum clock in the living room with its wooden body, highlighted with black streaks, that made him feel exactly at home. He welcomed the bizarreness and out-of-placeness of the furniture. They were chosen negligently and whoever picked them completely disregarded complimentary colours. It was that almost accidental placement of the bed, lunged in the middle of the room and surrounded by its neighbouring fixtures, which invited him in. He turned a blind eye to the fact that he could not go into any of the rooms he found. It simply mesmerized him to feel such unexplained familiarity with what he saw and vitality from his being in this instance.
He sat down on the step looking out into a cozy bedroom. Having been to more than a couple steps already, it made him uneasy to not have seen anyone else around, besides him, in this peculiar setting. Now that he thought, he realized he had no idea where he was or how he got here. Nevertheless, the rooms were just lovely that he did not feel the least bit lonely or panicked. Each room had its own character. They seemed to whisper sweet nothings into his ears with their enchanted auras. The transparency of the doors solidly standing in front of whatever wonderous world laid behind them was blinding his judgement. He eased into the metal landing of the step he was sitting on without the urgency to look for answers.
Time to get going, he thought to himself. A wild sense of curiosity and the will to keep hiking up embraced him. The range of possibilities open to him did not scare or throw him off balance as it would have done to most. Rather, it pleased him to contemplate what kind of rooms would follow. He dreamt of a massive French mansion or a modern skyscraper; a fancy life or a dream job. Anything could be behind those doors and his experience so far made him unable to control his expectations.
The steps were endlessly resting on the escalator’s orbicular tummy. Its insides filled with cogs, cables, and steel. Like a body: full and complete. So sturdy and made of lustrous metal that it rightfully carried itself with pride. Its existence solely depended on its own limbs; harbouring an aliveness which surpassed that of humans. Looking as astounding as the sight of the Eiffel Tower and as threatening as the silhouette of Mt Everest. Sucked into this fantasy world, he has finally felt like an adventurer.
Travelling the world.
Seeing the unseen.
Inhaling the seductive smell of the lavenders in purple fields. Fragrant and spicy tulips in blood-spilt greeneries.
Jumping on a boat. Setting sail on the velvety waters. Just setting sail...Getting away from it all.
He was away from it all now.
Then, he took another step.
Up.
---
Hushed sounds, incoherent and unnervingly low, made their way to him. A sound like the gritting of teeth. Or the creak of an old unoiled door hinge. Or a marker pen rubbing against the resilient skin of the paper. The sound resembled the mannerism of an archer, who was stealthily stretching his arrow upon the bow; out to hunt its prey. Meanwhile, his heart was racing. Somewhat aware of this hiding archer and attempting to face it in vain. First, it raised its pace. It thumped louder and built up a good, vigorous blood flow. The soldiers, namely cells, were getting to their places, setting camp, and settling in. The blood cursed through his veins with an electrifying sensation. The wait had begun.
It was impossible to figure out the source of this raging noise. He has been trying for a long time now. With no means to approximate the exact time he had spent on the escalator; the only indicator was his decaying body. It was an excruciating decay. Slowly but surely, he has lost his strength and his will. Even the smallest impact, a bump or a stagger, would bruise. At some point, the steps began to portray the same sights, the same rooms all over again. The excitement they stirred in him at first dissipated into thin air.
The movements started later. What was initially a mild shake, a tremor, turned into the shift of four or five steps at once. There were rare times when he would come across a new scenery he had never laid his eyes on before. It would be behind one of the doors he had climbed up to with every inch of effort his body had built up with hours, maybe days, of rest. Something with a piece of plaited cloth lying lazily on the grass next to the riverbed, presenting the perfect occasion for a picnic. Yet, it was a futile sight. He could see but not experience. He regretted the contentment he felt in his first days when he would find a beautiful room and appreciate the prospect of viewing it from a distance. That was not nearly enough anymore, and he was too high up the steps to dare turn back. He did not think his body could take the journey at any rate.
His youth was stuck in those first few steps he eagerly left behind. What was it all for then? His juvenile disposition encouraged him to seek adventure, to maintain the freshness of his passion, to accept what was given and not ask for more. He kept going up and up and up the steps.
Today, he was on the doorstep of Death. The darkness was shed on him with a blinding intensity: he was drowning in the darkness. Still, there laid an infinite number of steps behind and ahead of him. They did not mind the impending loss of an old acquaintance. The shared agonies, or so he thought, did not matter to the steps that would live on long after the loss of him. The loss of him was equally pointless as his presence as a living, breathing thing on this escalator.
He sat down on the steps for the last time. Looked into the dark room and felt the warmth of the pitch-black light shining onto him from the room. Relief flooded him as he could finally sleep without worrying about waking up. He said his silent farewell to the place he had spent most of his life at and closed his eyes without resistance.
A lesson learnt...
It was a shame not to have a second chance on this unavoidable walk to the future.
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