DAVID AYERS’ DEVICE

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David Ayers’ finger hovered over the button.

It had been there so long he was aware of the pulse within, the tendons creaking with each and every twitch.

He had come here with a purpose: to end it all with a small movement of an index. The house, the job, the mortgage, the boss, the wife, the kids, that little yap-yap dog next door…

…all of it.

Gone.

Just a simple press of the button and he could leave this life behind. No one telling him what to do, where to be, how to act. No one demanding his time…

One inch.

That’s all the distance that remained between him and his blessed departure from this world.

One inch…maybe less now.

Could he do it? He had obligations he would be leaving behind, breaking promises, maybe letting a few people down…

Half an inch.

The escape from this harsh reality was so close…

The device his finger hovered over housed wires and electrodes, circuit-boards and infra-red sensors…incredible power was contained within.

Unlimited worlds could be traveled to, as time and space didn’t matter to the device…he could go anywhere.

He’d tested it a few times before, so he knew it worked. In fact, he’d even calibrated it to take him to his favorite world of all.

Another reality so beautiful he could forget about this one…for a while…

Forever…?

No, he knew that much.

While the device would take his mind to another reality, unfortunately his physical body had to remain in this one. A trapped, empty vessel awaiting his return.

The little yap-yap dog barked outside.

David’s free hand unconsciously went to his left ankle. That stupid, little bastard took a chunk out of him this morning.

He’d been taking out the over-flowing trash his wife had nagged him about for days and that flea-bag came out of nowhere…

The quick bandaging made him late for work.

He got yelled at for that.

Right before Lenny from accounting called saying the system crashed and they lost his information. He would have to be re-entered into the system.

Again.

“Apologize all you want, Lenny, but another two weeks without a paycheck ain’t easy with the mortgage and a few mouths to feed.”

Lenny. What kind of grown-ass man goes by Lenny? Not Leonard, not Leo, but Lenny. Douche.

A quarter of an inch.

He was so close to ending this. A little further and he could leave it all behind.

He looked at the clock on the wall.

A quarter of six.

A quarter of an inch.

The wife would be home soon and any chances of leaping realities would be put on hold.

It was now or never.

He dropped his finger to the button, felt its welcoming texture, and–

His cell rang.

Work.

Hitting dismiss he returned to the button. No hesitation this time.

He pressed it.

A warm, inviting, blue glow washed over him.

Enveloped him.

He began to see things that weren’t there moments before…

…and hear new sounds slowly replace the little yap-yap dog next door.

David Ayers set down the TV remote and entered his alternate reality…

…for a while.

 

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