Inktober #16: Wild

(see #12: Ash for previous story)

I was awoken by the sound of a single drop of dew falling from the tip of a blade of grass by my ear. I opened my eyes to see light filtered through the trees around me. Early morning.

A light wind ruffled through the ferns as I sat up, disturbing nothing around me. No grass bent beneath my weight. No dirt clung to my hand. Even the wind found no impediment passing through me.

I like it this way. Everything as it was. Wild.

I went back to the blade of grass, lying next to it with my eye practically on it. I could spend a day watching the dew evaporate, the blade following the sun, until night fell and the dew returned. It was magic. It was comfort. It was routine, but peaceful. That might be all this little blade knows in its life. No insects eating it or climbing over it. No storm to break it. Just sun, and water, and the fresh air.

That would be a good life, I think.

Maybe it was a mistake to fall asleep here. Too easy to drift.

I roused myself and thought briefly about leaving. But the sun. The glint off the water. The breeze and the rustling, and I swear I could almost smell it all despite the actual scent hitting my nose of dust and...was that mold? I really should leave.

I should leave.

...

Maybe after a quick stop at the pond.

I walked over and plunged my head straight into the water. No pressure. No diverted flow. No trouble breathing. Wild.

A strange creature just under the surface greeted me about a hand's width away. Bulging eyes and bowed legs. It stared right at me, unblinking. Just sitting. Until faster than I could comprehend its tongue shot out, longer than my tongue, up through the water, grabbed an insect flying above, and dragged it quickly back into its mouth. A grabbing, foot-long tongue! Delightful.

I ventured for a closer look, planning to detail every last color and odd bump on the skin, when it jumped straight towards my face, startling me and throwing me backwards.

Enough to shake the Lens off my face.

I was on the carpet. Its tiny fibers shooting upwards greeted my eyes. And the dust trapped in them.

How long has it been?

I sat up to the closed blinds and bare apartment. Hard to see with the little light that crept around the blinds, but the eerie color told of nighttime. Or maybe just clouds.

I felt the carpet crush beneath my hands and feet as I warily stood.

"Lights," I said, illuminating the off-white walls and corner kitchenette. Ah, the food I'd asked to be delivered. That was the mold. Unfortunate. Guess with a cheap Proof Hotel I couldn't expect them to notify me it was there.

They were running older software too. No actual interaction with the past. Just like floating through it. More expensive to get the smell and touch versions. But I prefer the cheaper anyways. Less distractions.

"Food menu," I said into the walls before it listed off my options.

"Wait," I remembered, "Date and time." It replied.

Oh.

Wow.

I rattled off an order for some chicken dish and the need for trash and cleaning services. I would have to go.

I should leave.

The Lens stared at me from the ground.

One more trip while I wait for the food. The cleaning should let me know when it's there.

I picked up the Lens.

"Lights out," I said, and pulled up the Proof program. 500 B.P. had been a nice trip. Might as well go back. Try to find that creature again.

I laid down on the carpet.

It was always nice to start out close to the ground.

"Run program."