Intercepts

by T.J. Payne

I see nothing. Just blackness. But even blackness, when there’s nothing to contrast it against, is it truly black? Or is it just… nothing?

They passed the occasional farm house and church, but Riley mostly kept her gaze focused on the powerline poles, zooming by one at a time. She sometimes marveled at the infrastructure in this country, how each of these poles was essentially a tree that had experienced decades of life, only to be cut down, soaked in some sort of resin, and then jammed in the ground to hold up maybe a hundred feet of cable. It was a lot of work to bring power and roads to everyone.

He knew that when he crossed his legs for too long, his foot would “fall asleep.” It was a normal thing. The twisted nerves just couldn’t send signals to the brain. While the nerves stayed disconnected, they kept transmitting messages. When they finally reconnected, the flood of signals would burst forward and overwhelm the brain, causing the painful, tingling sensation of a sleeping foot.