Almost Frozen (Patreon)

Suddenly everything stopped. Literally stopped. I couldn't move. I couldn't breathe. At the back of my mind the small monkey brain was freaking out, screaming at the bigger brain that can handle complex issues and unforeseen novel events to get its fucking act together and continue exhaling. As scared as the big brain was, the small brain told it to be scared, it was also fascinated by the hovering bird in front of me in the distance. Not flying, but hanging still in the air, immovable with its wings frozen solid in a downward wing motion. There was also none of that feeling of running out of air, that buildup of carbon dioxide in the body if you don't exhale.

It was like being stuck in one of Einstein's thought experiments, his Gedankenexperiments. I couldn't move at all, even my eyes were fixated straight ahead towards the small ice cream hut just opposite of the road that acts as a barrier between the beach and the overpriced beach apartments. It made sense that I couldn't hear anything. Even if the air wasn't frozen the parts of my ear that could register it wouldn't be able to move. Given the bird ahead of me I doubt anything was moving. But I could still think, and leaving Descarte's musings for a less stressful time, it did mean that electricity was still flowing. Unless the philosophers arguing that consciousness was a different property altogether, not bound to the material world were correct after all. But to bring us back to the Gedankenexperiment I could also see, which means light waves are still moving and receptors in the eye are still registering them and sending signals to the brain. Or is there some chemistry involved in sight? I couldn't remember that much physiology. I could still feel the heat of the summer sun on my body. Perhaps someone just stopped the simulation we are all living in, and the subroutine for my consciousness for some reason wasn't halted. Man, it would suck to be stuck like this for...

Suddenly something went past me, interrupting my train of thoughts. "Hunted! Flee!" monkey brain shouted, unsuccessfully trying to engage fight or flight mode in the autonomic nervous system. Raise heart rate. Dilate pupils. Rerouting blood. Tensing muscles. Pump out adrenaline. None of it worked.

I could feel the sun being blocked out. Someone, something, was standing next to me. Something just outside my peripheral vision. Or was there something there I hadn't seen before. Hard to tell. So far in my 23 years my eyes have always been able to move in the direction of peripheral movement to get a better look. Not so now.

When all the clothes disappeared it wasn't a tactile experience. Apparently and quite logically the sense of touch didn't work, but I could feel the sun hitting me even harder. The lack of any sensation for what must have been minutes by then made the next thing even worse, though it would probably be pretty bad on its own. Bone-crushing pain all over the body hit at once. I couldn't scream or flinch or anything, just stand there motionless in agony. Perhaps not motionless. Somehow my vantage point was shifting, as if I was gaining height. Then came a sharp pain, like a bad headache. I twisted in pain and shouted out "fucking hell".

Some of the nearest sunbathers looked my way to see what was up, but quickly resumed whatever they were doing since I was just standing there. Everything was moving as if nothing had happened. As if nothing had just changed dramatically. But looking down I didn't see my Damian T-shirt, or even my pasty old body, but a meticulously sculpted, smooth, and evenly tanned body. "Fucking hell," I said again, but this time under my breath. This was like one of those events from the Bible where Jesus does magic tricks, but without Jesus. I turned to walk back to Simon. Would he freak out? Would he even recognize me? We've been roommates for like two years, but I don't know what I look like now.

"Hey, airhead! Where's the ice cream?"
So he did recognize me, but he doesn't appear upset. I touched my head, why I don't know, and find a snapback. That's new.
"Bro, do I look different?"
Simon changed expression from annoyed to... what? Concerned and smiling? No, that's not it. He got up from the beach towel and stepped towards me. He looked better than just minutes earlier. Just small changes though. A bit more toned perhaps. Fresher haircut.
"Honey, you're an annoyingly good-looking beefcake as always. The ice cream is well within your macros. Don't worry. I keep track, as always."
He planted a kiss on my mouth and got back on the towel and continued to read his book. Why did he kiss me? And come to think of it, why was he wearing my Damian T-shirt. No, Debian it says. Fuck. It felt like pulling memories out of mole asses. I know macros are the stuff in food you should eat enough of. But not too enough. I couldn't think of anything I knew about Damain. Debian. Whatever. I know I should. It's my job, isn't it? It's not the stuff with music and porn in. I know that much at least. That's the Google.
"Do we fuck?"
"Not before you've bought the ice cream."