December 1, 2009
Laying the tracks down (page three)
"Err, it seems he won't listen. How can I help our cause if he won't listen? But I know, I know why don't they want what is truly all around them, do they want to waist their lives? Maybe I can still help them."
Phil turned around facing the crew with a curious attitude he never had before. Everything was suddenly of interest and amazing to him. Though Everything, he did not know was the one who sent Nothing to save them from pointless doom.
Phil looked peculiarly at the steel rails. Something had just remerged from her father Nothing. An idea was birthed in his mind. Without directed thought, Phil took the steel rail and laid it slightly curved to the left so unnoticeable. Phil had planned to turn this train rail around. He was going to turn the rail slightly left every time they get far enough to not notice the turn.
Phil knew this was not a simple task, to fool them and remember every moment of noon. There was no night to sleep and rest, only periodical breaks in the hot sun. Phil wasn't impatient, for time in this place could never be recorded. Therefore he had eternity to get them back home.
Phil, over vast distance made several of his Phil turns. Till he heard a voice within his mind.
"Make no more leftward turns till your next break." Said the mysterious voice.
Phil had no reason to argue with this voice so he aligned the tracks straight for a vast time unrecorded in the vast realm of unmeasured Nothingness.
"Break time boys! Oh and no funny business again worker Phil. You got that?" Spoke the man in charge.
"Oh, but of course, I won't argue with you ever again," smirked Phil with a devilish smile.
The man in charge never seen such an expression before so he disregarded it without suspension. Phil sat alone away from the workers and the man in charge. He sat on the dry, undead, dusty desert floor of the realm of Nothing. Phil closed his eyes, relaxed, and exhaled. Random thoughts and images appeared in his head. Phil jolted with fear and fell to his back for he has never seen images in his mind. He clutched his head and gripped his hair tight then looked at his hands.