Weekend Fiction - Oracle’s Dilemma

This is chapter 3 of my science fiction serial, Oracle.  Now, we're getting deeper into the mystery surrounding Melanie.  As always I greatly appreciate any feedback.  Thanks!

Chapter 3; Oracle’s Dilemma


At 3 am, Cyrus finally gave up on sleep.  It seemed that the unanswered questions in his mind simply would not wait for the morning.

“Ezra?”

“Good morning sir; it’s 3 AM; your schedule?”

“No, Ezra; search biographical information of Melanie Thomason; 3 mile radius.”

“Two results; Melanie R. Thomason, age 52 and Melanie Thomason, age 8.”

Neither of those women could possibly be Mrs. Thomason’s niece.  “Dismissed, Ezra.”

Cyrus was determined to unravel the mystery surrounding Melanie.  He considered calling in a favor from one of the several private investigators he had assisted, but felt wrong about having anyone spy on her.  Finally, he decided.  Cyrus had never needed to ask anyone for information about someone; he had no intention of breaking that pattern.

“Ezra; turn off the lights.”

“Very good sir.”

Cyrus sat down at his desk and turned off the radio, for the first time in years.  He had once learned some meditation techniques hoping to quiet the noise in his mind.  He pictured Melanie's face in his mind.  He began to focus on breathing, deeply and slowly.  He thought back to Melanie helping Mrs. Thomason rescue the cat.

“Concentrate, concentrate...  ”

Cyrus whispered to himself.  It was no use.  The matter how hard he tried, Cyrus could not quiet the noise in his mind.  His mind constantly jumped from scene to scene of seemingly anyone except Melanie.  After about 10 minutes of focused effort, Cyrus was exhausted.  He shoved his chair back angrily and got up from his desk.

“Ezra; turn on the lights, now!”  Cyrus said, angrily.

“Very good sir.”

As Cyrus stepped away from his desk, he tripped and fell over a pile of discarded clothes.  He struck his head on a bedside table and fell to the floor, unconscious.

Cyrus awoke in silence.  When he opened his eyes he found himself in an unfamiliar place.  He was standing in a featureless expanse of grey, facing an enormous white wall that stretched as far as he could see to his left and right.  The top of the wall was obscured by grey mist.  Set in the wall were two heavy wooden doors.

“Hello, can anyone hear me?  Hello, HELLO! ”

Cyrus' cries went unanswered.  He walked to the door on the left and opened it to see a featureless grey expanse seemingly identical to the place he now stood.  Somewhat apprehensive now, Cyrus strode to the other door from behind this door he could hear a multitude of voices, all speaking at once.  Somehow, he was certain that Melanie was behind this door.  He reached for the door, grasping the heavy iron hoop.  The door would not open.  He struggled with all his strength with the door but the door would not budge.  He pounded the door as hard as he could but to no avail.

“Melanie!  I'm coming; I'll get you out of there. ”

Cyrus raced back to the other door but it slammed shut just as he reached it.  Going back to the door on the right, Cyrus reached to open it.  This time it opened easily to discharge a crowd of people, hundreds of them fitting every description.

“Melanie!  Where are you? ”

Cyrus is interrupted by the steady stream of chatter coming from the people in the crowd.  They surrounded him, all shouting questions at once.

“How long do I have?” said an old man with a walker.

“When am I going to die?” came from a woman in a business suit.

A sickly looking child asked, “Will it hurt when I die?”

A woman in a hospital gown screamed, “How can you stand there and watch me die?”

“Do something, save me!” cried a woman who looked like she had been beaten.

“I can't help you; it's not my fault!” Cyrus responded.

The people just continued shouting, crowding around Cyrus.  As he struggled to escape from a soldier with a battered rifle, he fell, the crowd closing in around him.  Cyrus' world went dark as he passed out.

“Good morning sir.”

Cyrus woke up screaming, drenched in sweat.

“Good morning sir.”

“Ezra… Ezra, it was just a dream.” Cyrus said, his breath coming in ragged gasps.

“Good morning sir.”

“Go ahead, Ezra; I’m awake now.”

“Very good sir; your client will arrive in 2 hours; shall I start your shower and coffee?”

“Go ahead, Ezra, extra hot shower today please.”

“Very good sir; your client?”

“Go ahead, Ezra.”

“General McDermott, to discuss Project Threshold.”

The idea of meeting with General McDermott wasn’t a pleasant thought.  Cyrus knew that he would spend nearly 4 hours listening to the General.  He suspected that the General was more interested in having a captive audience than in Project Threshold.  Cyrus had assured him last time that the project would be approved by Congress, but it seemed that the military never ran out of questions… or stories.

As Cyrus ate his breakfast of French toast and sausage, he found his thoughts again drifting back to Mrs. Thomason’s niece.  What it was that made her different from every other person he had ever known?  Finishing his breakfast, he resolved that he would figure this mystery out.

By the time General McDermott finished talking, it was already past lunch time.  Cyrus briefly considered skipping the usual round of charity clients, but something inside him wouldn’t let him.  He actually did enjoy some of them; they were the closest thing he had to friends.  He seemed to have a large amount of clients who had questions about their love life.  He predicted the future for other people all afternoon, but he couldn’t stop thinking about Melanie; thinking of how we wasn’t able to see anything about her.  When he was done with his last charity client of the day, he found himself driving to Mrs. Thomason’s house.

Mrs. Thomason lived on a tree-lined cul-de-sac, just off a busy street.  Cyrus stood on the porch of Mrs. Thomason’s house.  He was intending to ring the doorbell, but was having difficulty getting over his nervousness.  He simply couldn’t be certain of whether Melanie was home or not.  Looking into Mrs. Thomason’s immediate future didn’t help either.  He was able to see her answering the doorbell in about 19 seconds, but other than that; Mrs. Thomason would simply tell him that Melanie lived in her guest house, and that she didn’t know if her niece was home or not.  It occurred briefly to him that he could simply bypass speaking to Mrs. Thomason and go straight to the guest house, but he wasn’t certain of quite the affect that would have on the situation; he wasn’t even certain if he could do something other than he had seen in Mrs. Thomason’s future.  As he mentally debated the possibilities, he absentmindedly stretched out his hand and hit the doorbell button.

“Just a moment please.”  Mrs. Thomason’s voice was barely audible over the noise of the street.  Seeing Cyrus at the door, she seemed confused.  “Are you here about Mr. Fluff?  We found him right where you said he would be.”

“I… No, actually I was wondering… is Melanie here?”

“Oh, Melanie doesn’t actually live here,” Mrs. Thomason replied; “she lives in my guest house and I’m not sure if she’s home or not.”

Cyrus followed the rest of the script of his conversation with Mrs. Thomason mindlessly, shortly finding himself alone again on her doorstep.

For some reason, Cyrus couldn’t bring himself to go and knock on the door of the guesthouse.  Without being certain of the outcome, he was unsure how to proceed.  He finally left when he foresaw a neighbor dialing the police about the strange man loitering at Mrs. Thomason’s door.