On a dark but sunny evening in New York City
“There he is again, that old familiar face. I’ve got you under my skin,” Flip muttered as he looked up at the rotating billboard of Raul the Automotive King, the man who revolutionized the design and usage of cars, the man who took what had become an ancient relic of a bygone era and turned it into an inter-dimensional time portal, a supreme form of leisure for the rich and famous.
Flip was neither rich nor famous. Yet he was making quite a name for himself at Barlahan’s Design Factory, where each designer attempted to create an image that had never been designed before. Flip himself had already pieced together two original designs, which he drew together from trinkets of civilizations. This had won him some recognition from Barlahan himself, even inspiring Barlahan to send Flip to theMuseum of Archaic Novelties where Flip gazed at pieces of the Leaning Tower of Pisa, and tracings of old cave paintings from Lascaux before it had been turned into a weapons arsenal.
Yes, Flip was making quite a name for himself. And that meant parties, endless parties, where Flip showed off his growing talent for competitive conversation. Despite the temporary diversion these parties offered, Flip often left at the end of the night feeling empty and far from home. As the days grew hotter and the red sun blazed down, this emptiness only intensified, until Flip began to feel like a shadow of a man he may or may not have been at one time.
It was on the way to one of these parties that Flip stumbled upon another infamous billboard, this one larger and more frantic than the others. Raul the Automotive King seemed absolutely pensive with anticipation. His eyes pored into Flip’s eyes, so like his that it felt like looking in a mirror. It was then that Flip dropped to his knees in front of the billboard as the Automotive King’s mouth formed a vague word repeatedly that Flip could not quite decipher. Flip felt his knees on the hard dusty ground and heard strains of Billie Holiday coming from a side street café.
“I know what I must do. I have to find him.” Flip stared transfixed at this enigma, as drones of people passed him by, speaking into their electronic devices about their material possessions, all tuned to a dying light. It was among this throng that Flip felt a flicker of electricity in his heart that was wired to his eyes that were cosmically entrenched in the taunting eyes of the dutiful Automotive King, the one who transformed life and transportation beyond recognition.
Flip rose to his feet with a sense of purpose he had not felt at the design studio or anywhere else for a long time. Drawn by a magnetic force, Flip found his way to the train station where an old steam engine catapulted its way into Detroit, where Flip knew he would find the Automotive King, who had built his own thriving empire in this once populated city of old.
Flip settled into a rickety seat on the train, closed his eyes, and opened them to see a spectral blond cowboy with pinprick eyes staring into his, slowly shaking his head in Flip’s direction. Suddenly the lights went out in the train, obscuring the cowboy and inducing Flip to sleep for the duration of the journey.
FinallyDetroit
Detroit
As Flip delved deeper into the heart ofDetroit
“We are the Valentines,” the two men spoke importantly to Flip. “What is your business here with the one and only Automotive King?”
Flip considered this question and answered honestly. “Well, gentlemen, I believe it is a matter of life or death.”
The Valentines seemed put off by this nakedly honest response. The smaller Valentine stood on his toes to whisper to the tall one. They conferred like this for a few minutes, all the while eyeing Flip. Finally the tall one nodded.
“All right. We will let you through,” the small one spoke at last, holding the wrought-iron gate open for Flip. The twins watched Flip as he calmly passed them by.
The splendors of the kingdom lay before Flip. A huge sprawling white structure with multiple entrances and windows, surrounded by decorational fountains and statues all illuminated by the starlit sky. Flip stopped for a moment under the shade of a flowering tree before deciding which door to enter. The one he finally settled on was an intricate affair of pure gold.
Inside the door lay an immaculate black and white tiled hallway, which seemed to stretch forward endlessly. Finally Flip reached a room, a rectangular room with a centrally placed screen. All was pristine white save the large all-knowing blank screen. Quite suddenly, the screen lit up with grey fuzz that after a few minutes seemed to dissolve over Flip and lure him into its intricate play of grey on grey microcosmic flashes. And then once Flip was sure he would fall into the spell of persistent irrational activity, the fuzz snapped away only to be replaced by the face of the Automotive King who was dressed seriously in a white linen shirt, gazing at Flip with thoughtful sincerity.
“I’m glad you came,” the Automotive King spoke quietly. “I’ve been waiting for you. For quite some time.” His drawl was slow and measured. “And here you are. Lovely.”
Flip sensed an impending menace behind he Automotive King’s soothing veneer of calm. The hairs on Flip’s arms started to stand uncomfortably brushing against his royal blue shirt.
“I just wanted…” Flip stopped and began again. “I just wanted to see… to see why, why…”
“Finish.”
“Why I feel like you are watching me, and only me, when I see your billboards. And why…” This was the hard part. “Why I feel you look like me, just like me.”
The Automotive King stared at Flip in expectation and then broke out into sudden and shrill laughter.
“What’s so funny?” Flip asked, displeased at being on the outside of a joke, or worse, being the butt of the joke.
“Nothing. Nothing’s funny exactly. It’s just…” The Automotive King’s face turned thoughtful again. “You are so young, so young.”
Suddenly the King’s face looked intently behind Flip.
“The door.” He pointed a finger in that direction.
Flip turned to see what was once the door seal itself off into an impenetrable porcelain white expanse of wall.
“What are you doing?” Flip raised his voice in nervous excitement and backed towards the no-longer-door. “Let me out of here!”
“Calm down, Calm down,” the image of the Automotive King stood up and began pacing. “Calm down. You are right where you need to be. Right where you have been heading all of your known days.” He sat back down quietly.
Flip began to feel something stirring within him. He began to imagine designs, strong designs that had not been invented yet and he began to recognize this vague and nearly lost feeling. It was the sense of his own identity, a sense of the importance of his own being, his own self. He looked down at his hands and watched them seem to wake up. He looked up at the Automotive King’s image.
“I don’t belong here,” he verbalized his feelings with growing rage. “I. Don’t. Belong. HERE! You old fool, whoever you are!”
The Automotive King smiled an empty grin. “I am you, don’t you know.” The Automotive King began to look feverish as his image continued to pace across the screen. “I thought you would have figured it out by now. I am YOU. I died, in 2087. But before that I found you, you old fool. I drove my Cadillac,” a high shrill laugh, “I drove my Cadillac back to 2077 and grabbed you, just snatched you up as a baby, a wee little baby, and brought you here, ha, HERE, 2101, I dropped you in New York of course, I knew you would survive, because you are me, and if I can say anything about myself, I am resilient! I knew you would be fine, so I left you with no worry, and built my empire. The future has made me a king of me!” The Automotive King spread his arms wide. “And you are a pawn in my kingdom.”
“But you are DEAD!”
Don’t you know anything, Flip, little Flip. Images never die!”
Flip blinked his eyes with profound realization. He now knew what he had to do, what drove him to this madman’s temple. He narrowed his eyes, as he balled up his fist.
“Liar.Want to see what happens when the lights go out?” And with all his might, Flip smashed the screen into a million shimmering pieces of tinsel grey particles of dying light that flashed neon as they fell to the floor around Flip, leaving a vast breathing emptiness where the screen once was. Flip felt faint and knew he had to leave this crumbling empire of meaningless images.
He closed his eyes and jumped into the welcoming darkness. A cool air embraced him. He looked at nothing and felt nothing. Emptiness provided a fruitful palette of invented colors that were not yet visible to the human eye.
Detroit New York
Flip had never felt more alive and he had never felt more alone. But in his utter aloneness, in the emptiness he felt a completeness, a wholeness wash over him that propelled him confidently into the darkness.
“There he is again, that old familiar face. I’ve got you under my skin,” Flip muttered as he looked up at the rotating billboard of Raul the Automotive King, the man who revolutionized the design and usage of cars, the man who took what had become an ancient relic of a bygone era and turned it into an inter-dimensional time portal, a supreme form of leisure for the rich and famous.
Flip was neither rich nor famous. Yet he was making quite a name for himself at Barlahan’s Design Factory, where each designer attempted to create an image that had never been designed before. Flip himself had already pieced together two original designs, which he drew together from trinkets of civilizations. This had won him some recognition from Barlahan himself, even inspiring Barlahan to send Flip to the
Yes, Flip was making quite a name for himself. And that meant parties, endless parties, where Flip showed off his growing talent for competitive conversation. Despite the temporary diversion these parties offered, Flip often left at the end of the night feeling empty and far from home. As the days grew hotter and the red sun blazed down, this emptiness only intensified, until Flip began to feel like a shadow of a man he may or may not have been at one time.
It was on the way to one of these parties that Flip stumbled upon another infamous billboard, this one larger and more frantic than the others. Raul the Automotive King seemed absolutely pensive with anticipation. His eyes pored into Flip’s eyes, so like his that it felt like looking in a mirror. It was then that Flip dropped to his knees in front of the billboard as the Automotive King’s mouth formed a vague word repeatedly that Flip could not quite decipher. Flip felt his knees on the hard dusty ground and heard strains of Billie Holiday coming from a side street café.
“I know what I must do. I have to find him.” Flip stared transfixed at this enigma, as drones of people passed him by, speaking into their electronic devices about their material possessions, all tuned to a dying light. It was among this throng that Flip felt a flicker of electricity in his heart that was wired to his eyes that were cosmically entrenched in the taunting eyes of the dutiful Automotive King, the one who transformed life and transportation beyond recognition.
Flip rose to his feet with a sense of purpose he had not felt at the design studio or anywhere else for a long time. Drawn by a magnetic force, Flip found his way to the train station where an old steam engine catapulted its way into Detroit, where Flip knew he would find the Automotive King, who had built his own thriving empire in this once populated city of old.
Flip settled into a rickety seat on the train, closed his eyes, and opened them to see a spectral blond cowboy with pinprick eyes staring into his, slowly shaking his head in Flip’s direction. Suddenly the lights went out in the train, obscuring the cowboy and inducing Flip to sleep for the duration of the journey.
Finally
As Flip delved deeper into the heart of
“We are the Valentines,” the two men spoke importantly to Flip. “What is your business here with the one and only Automotive King?”
Flip considered this question and answered honestly. “Well, gentlemen, I believe it is a matter of life or death.”
The Valentines seemed put off by this nakedly honest response. The smaller Valentine stood on his toes to whisper to the tall one. They conferred like this for a few minutes, all the while eyeing Flip. Finally the tall one nodded.
“All right. We will let you through,” the small one spoke at last, holding the wrought-iron gate open for Flip. The twins watched Flip as he calmly passed them by.
The splendors of the kingdom lay before Flip. A huge sprawling white structure with multiple entrances and windows, surrounded by decorational fountains and statues all illuminated by the starlit sky. Flip stopped for a moment under the shade of a flowering tree before deciding which door to enter. The one he finally settled on was an intricate affair of pure gold.
Inside the door lay an immaculate black and white tiled hallway, which seemed to stretch forward endlessly. Finally Flip reached a room, a rectangular room with a centrally placed screen. All was pristine white save the large all-knowing blank screen. Quite suddenly, the screen lit up with grey fuzz that after a few minutes seemed to dissolve over Flip and lure him into its intricate play of grey on grey microcosmic flashes. And then once Flip was sure he would fall into the spell of persistent irrational activity, the fuzz snapped away only to be replaced by the face of the Automotive King who was dressed seriously in a white linen shirt, gazing at Flip with thoughtful sincerity.
“I’m glad you came,” the Automotive King spoke quietly. “I’ve been waiting for you. For quite some time.” His drawl was slow and measured. “And here you are. Lovely.”
Flip sensed an impending menace behind he Automotive King’s soothing veneer of calm. The hairs on Flip’s arms started to stand uncomfortably brushing against his royal blue shirt.
“I just wanted…” Flip stopped and began again. “I just wanted to see… to see why, why…”
“Finish.”
“Why I feel like you are watching me, and only me, when I see your billboards. And why…” This was the hard part. “Why I feel you look like me, just like me.”
The Automotive King stared at Flip in expectation and then broke out into sudden and shrill laughter.
“What’s so funny?” Flip asked, displeased at being on the outside of a joke, or worse, being the butt of the joke.
“Nothing. Nothing’s funny exactly. It’s just…” The Automotive King’s face turned thoughtful again. “You are so young, so young.”
Suddenly the King’s face looked intently behind Flip.
“The door.” He pointed a finger in that direction.
Flip turned to see what was once the door seal itself off into an impenetrable porcelain white expanse of wall.
“What are you doing?” Flip raised his voice in nervous excitement and backed towards the no-longer-door. “Let me out of here!”
“Calm down, Calm down,” the image of the Automotive King stood up and began pacing. “Calm down. You are right where you need to be. Right where you have been heading all of your known days.” He sat back down quietly.
Flip began to feel something stirring within him. He began to imagine designs, strong designs that had not been invented yet and he began to recognize this vague and nearly lost feeling. It was the sense of his own identity, a sense of the importance of his own being, his own self. He looked down at his hands and watched them seem to wake up. He looked up at the Automotive King’s image.
“I don’t belong here,” he verbalized his feelings with growing rage. “I. Don’t. Belong. HERE! You old fool, whoever you are!”
The Automotive King smiled an empty grin. “I am you, don’t you know.” The Automotive King began to look feverish as his image continued to pace across the screen. “I thought you would have figured it out by now. I am YOU. I died, in 2087. But before that I found you, you old fool. I drove my Cadillac,” a high shrill laugh, “I drove my Cadillac back to 2077 and grabbed you, just snatched you up as a baby, a wee little baby, and brought you here, ha, HERE, 2101, I dropped you in New York of course, I knew you would survive, because you are me, and if I can say anything about myself, I am resilient! I knew you would be fine, so I left you with no worry, and built my empire. The future has made me a king of me!” The Automotive King spread his arms wide. “And you are a pawn in my kingdom.”
“But you are DEAD!”
Don’t you know anything, Flip, little Flip. Images never die!”
Flip blinked his eyes with profound realization. He now knew what he had to do, what drove him to this madman’s temple. He narrowed his eyes, as he balled up his fist.
“Liar.Want to see what happens when the lights go out?” And with all his might, Flip smashed the screen into a million shimmering pieces of tinsel grey particles of dying light that flashed neon as they fell to the floor around Flip, leaving a vast breathing emptiness where the screen once was. Flip felt faint and knew he had to leave this crumbling empire of meaningless images.
He closed his eyes and jumped into the welcoming darkness. A cool air embraced him. He looked at nothing and felt nothing. Emptiness provided a fruitful palette of invented colors that were not yet visible to the human eye.
Flip had never felt more alive and he had never felt more alone. But in his utter aloneness, in the emptiness he felt a completeness, a wholeness wash over him that propelled him confidently into the darkness.
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