The Train - Installment 13

While breakfast cooked, Bob considered the strange events of the day. He couldn't explain the sudden appearance of the fishing pole, the skillet, and the other items in the cabin. He had a hunch though. Closing his eyse, he imagined eating his fish with a fresh loaf of sourdough bread. He carried that image in his mind for a few seconds, contemplating the taste and texture of the bread. Opening his eyes, he glanced down. There, on the table, sat a loaf of bread.

Picking it up, Bob brought the loaf to his nose and smelled it. Sourdough. Breaking off a small piece, he tasted it. It was good, almost as good as he had imagined. Shaking his head, he wondered how the bread had arrived and who had provided it. If he was in the Cholgathian book, was the zookeeper somehow able to read his thoughts? Feeling a little unnerved, Bob tried another thought experiment. Concentrating intently, he imagined himself back in the observation car where the Cholgathian had captured him. He held the thought for some time. Releasing it, he found he was still in the cabin.

The smell of fish starting to burn brought his attention back to the stove. Removing the pan from the heat, he set it aside to cool. He took a seat at the table and began to imagine objects in his head to see if they would appear.

The Cholgathian that had captured him. No.

A handgun. No.

A knife to slice the bread. Yes.

In wonder, Bob picked up the long, serrated blade that had appeared on the table. He tapped it against his hand. It was solid and very real. Using it to cut a few slices from the loaf, he continued his mental exercise.

A cup of apple cider. Yes.

He regarded the mug that had materialized in front of him. It contained an amber liquid that seemed very much like apple cider. Tasting it confirmed his analysis.

Imagining a plate and some utensils into existence, Bob hungrily ate. As he did so, he contemplated other objects he would like to see.

A teleportation booth like the ones he had used at the train station. No.

A motorcycle. No.

A refill of cider for his now empty mug. Yes.

A chocolate mint to finish his meal. Yes.

    "This is so bizarre," he said aloud.

Standing up, he walked outside and stood on the porch. A slight breeze ruffled the surface of the lake, causing small ripples to reflect the midday sun. Sitting in the rocking chair, Bob savored the scenic view. If he were back on earth, this would be an enjoyable vacation. But he wasn't on earth. He didn't know where he was.

Returning to the kitchen, Bob imagined a backpack and was pleased to see one materialize on the table. He made a quick mental inventory for a four day hike, visualizing into existence trail rations, a sleeping bag, a tent, a hatchet and some rope. The desired flashlight failed to materialize. Mentally picturing a compass, he was intrigued when it did appear. Lifting it from the table, he stared at the instrument's face, wondering if it worked in this place. He twisted it in his hand, noting the needle's movement. It seemed to mark a measurable magnetic field. As long as the field was consistently aligned, he could make use of the compass.

Placing his newly acquired items into the backpack, he tried to imagine a topological map of the surrounding environs. Unfortunately, nothing appeared. Hoisting the pack into place, Bob exited the cabin, closing the door behind him. Circling the cabin, he set out to further explore the mountains he had briefly visited that morning.

<-- Installment 12

Installment 14 -->

Copyright (C) 2017 Winslow Williams. All rights reserved.