The Complete Afternet: All 3 Volumes In One Place (The Afternet) by Peter Empringham

Author:Peter Empringham [Empringham, Peter]
Language: eng
Format: azw3
Publisher: Peter Empringham
Published: 2015-12-06T05:00:00+00:00

Nothing much had changed in the waiting room for the transition back to life, although the copies of Metro on the coffee table were more recent than they had been on their previous trip. The attendant, Gary, was leaning against the wall flicking through the personal ads, his periwig somewhat askew and frock coat perhaps even more shabby than they remembered. Whatever he had been doing since they last met, it wasn’t attending customer service seminars.

He raised his head to look at them with barely a flicker of interest. This is like shopping in Dixons, thought Mary. Gary raised a grubby lace kerchief to his lips, dropped the newspaper to the floor and walked to the computer terminal on the desk beside him.

“You’ve gone automated, Gary.” Said Marcel.

“They never asked me, did they? Just creates more work, I’d say. Haven’t even had a bloody holiday since 1941. Last time I go to Hawaii.” He tapped a couple of keys in a desultory manner, like a child forced to practice piano. Justin and Mary approached the desk, and the bewigged Spaniard looked at them more closely.

“I remember you.” He said at length, pointing a hand and handkerchief at Mary. “You stunk this place out with curry last time. The tunnel was like the Taj bloody Mahal for weeks.”

“Sorry about that.” She said.

“Yeah, well, don’t do it again unless you bring an Airwick. I don’t need to go through all the safety claptrap, do I?” They shook their heads, clear that he had no intention of doing so, whatever they said. He slapped the ENTER key and sighed deeply.

“You’re next.” He handed them each a sick bag. “Bring it back if you don’t use it. They never stock me up. Actually, bring it back anyway.”

“Anything we can get you, Gary?” asked Marcel, fingering the bag and wondering under which circumstances it had found its’ way here.

“Wine gums.” Said the Spaniard, ushering them to the vault like door.

Inside the tunnel they stood nervously in a cool electric blue light, waiting for the journey to begin. Both remembered the feeling of being turned inside out that the trip caused, and the bizarre hallucinations it brought on.

“You ok?” asked Marcel.

“Think so.”

And then, without warning, it began.

The gate at which they arrived on the other side was in the ladies toilets at an all you can eat ‘World Cuisine’ restaurant in a Shepherd’s Bush shopping centre. The upside of this was that clients were not entirely unfamiliar with people emerging looking distinctly ill, even if knowing glances were cast when those emerging were one of each gender. Luckily, most patrons were too busy piling their plates with mountains of monosodium glutamate, and trying not to spill black bean sauce on their velour tracksuits to worry too much about this couple apparently consumed with lust after a plate of fajitas. Marcel and Mary staggered into the garishly lit restaurant, hooked arms for support, and weaved between the troughing patrons to emerge gasping into the cold petrol-heavy air of a December evening.

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