The incoherent thoughts of a Physicist

Day Z: Bill, Day 1

A cold, murky dusk greeted my eyes as I awoke to the sound of water lapping slowly around my body. After what seemed like an eternity asleep, I was alive again. But with no clue to how I got here, and no memories to help, my only objective seemed to be to live. But live I would, a grand life full of adventure, women, and money! Surely all of these things were just over the horizon. Surely.

My journey first took me left, across the beach, with an open field to my right and the vastness of the ocean to my left. At least, it would have, had I not immediately stumbled across the body of a human male. The unbearable stench made my stomach heave, but with no food to relieve from my stomach, I merely started retching. It pains me to say this, but all thoughts of humanity abandoned me at this point, and rather than leave the corpse in peace, I raided it. Surely the painkillers, flashlight, bandages and backup would come in handy, for whatever killed this unfortunate soul may still be in the area.

I continued on my path beside the sea. Without a sign of civilisation, I made for the only visible object in my path - a solitary lighthouse. As I walk towards the hill it was built on, I passed 3 wooden buildings to my left. I decide to leave them alone - I’ve seen enough horror movies to know to avoid wooden houses by rotting corpses.

My arrival to the lighthouse was less than spectacular. Infact, I made it most of the way there on my belly, just to be sure that no one would see me. Ever the cautious one, I like to believe. I climb to the top of the tower, in an attempt to get a feel for my surroundings. As I begin to observe the landscape, I see a lone figure stumbling by the buildings I had passed earlier - looks like I did well to avoid him. Not wanting to catch his attention now, I attempt to drop to my knees on the rim of the lighthouse. Sadly, I was too eager to hide myself.

My leg slipped from under me, got caught in the handrail of lighthouse, and snaps in 2. Immediately, as blood gushes everywhere, I begun to howl like I was possessed by the devil. I try to stand, and fall over onto my face. My sight very quickly begins to fade. I quickly swallow the whole pack of painkillers, to ease the suffering. It helps, but does not help to slow the lose of blood from my body. And sadly, since I am not a medical practitioner, it takes me too long to apply the bandages. The bleeding eventually stops, but my sight is black and white, and I am unable to stand. I quickly take stock of my surroundings, and bgein to haul myself back down the ladder on my good leg.

Upon reaching the bottom, I again collapse. What am I to do? I have no food, no water, practically no blood, and I fear that there is a murderer close by. Finally, my only option dawns on me. With all my might, I haul myself back onto the ladder. I climb it as if it were Everest itself, rather than simply a 30 foot glorified stepladder. finally, I reach the top. My only though is this: “On my own terms”. I let go, and allow the ground to swallow me.

The shock of the impact is beyond words. I cannot scream, cannot cry, cannot even focus my own bloody eyes. A pair of words escape my mouth, and probably have been uttered by many a sea-captain before me. “Fucking lighthouses”.

Day Z: Adam, Day 1

I woke up on a beach, with no memories of how I got here. The landscape grey and dull, while the sky was a murky grey. I didn’t know what it was yet, but something just didn’t feel right. Deciding that staying on this beach with nothing but my tin of beans was probably not the worlds greatest idea, I began to run towards the only object I could see in the distance - a single bridge.

When I arrived, I counted my luck - which had to have been pretty poor before I lost my memories, considering it felt like I was homeless and in danger - as the bridge led to a small village. Surely there would be someone there who could offer me shelter, food or even a phone to call home? After all, without a map, gps or phone of my own, I didn’t even know what country I was in, let alone if they spoke English here.

As I took my first step onto the bridge, I saw…well, for want of a better word, a person on the other side. Normally, I would call for help, or try to get their attention. But the way that the person stumbled around, seemingly aimlessly, led to me to bite my tongue. I walked forward another step onto the bridge, trying to make out the perons face. Sadly, my step was too quick, and the noise of the gravel crunching underfoot alerted the person to my presence. He/she/it turned, saw me, and began to run.

As he/she/it got closer, I could start to make out details of their appearance. Blood soaked clothes, with hands as grey as the sky above me. Mouth encased by congealed blood, and the eyes. The eyes. They were as unseeing as the blinds, and yet they seemed to point right at you. When you looked into them, you finally knew what death meant. And you also knew that it had found you, and was going to never stop following you. My mouth, dry from disuse and lack of water, let out a single involuntary “fuck”. 

I turned. I turned, and I ran. No time for tears, no time for panic, no time for calculations. The only thing that mattered was putting as much distance between me and that…that….that monster as possible! I mean, I already had a good 50 meter start on it, since it still had to cross the bridge. Maybe I could dive off the street without it seeing me, or jump into a house and lock the door? Either way, that 50 meters was going to mean life or death for me. And then, I heard it. The monster let out a scream, so terrifying that my heart stopped, my legs failed, and the ground came up to meet me.

“Get up, just get up and run”. What pathetic last words they would have been. But, again counting my luck, they weren’t. Without truly thinking about it, I was back on my feet and running again. Scared to turn around, I imagined it would have gained about 7 meters on me. That’s ok, that’s still enough. Life and death and all that jazz. But then, just over the sounds of mine and it’s feet pounding the pavement, I heard another underlying sound. The sound of feet pounding grass. I look to my left, and there it is. Another deranged mother-fucker. And guess what? He’s decided I look an awful lot like lunch too. With 2 now chasing me, I decided looking behind me was probably a good idea, just to get an idea if I could still jump off the road and survive. I risk the glance. And as I turn my head, I think “if it had still been 40 odd meters behind me, I wouldn’t have heard it running earlier”. And with that, I turn around and find it sprinting like a bat out of hell at me. And then stopping right behind my back.

I’ve never seen anything like it. It got to my back, and swung it’s arms faster than I would have imagined possible. Luckily, since it stopped to do this, I had already sprinted out of reach. And so it would run at me again, or sprint more like it, stop, and swing. And so this continued, a death-defying game of cat and mouse, for longer than I care to remember. Until, eventually, more of the monsters heard my chasers screams and moans of desperation. And they joined the chase. More, and more of them. The last count I made put their numbers at 20, and then I stopped counting. I began to realise it was all over. Unless…unless, of course! The water!

Slowly strafing off of the road and into the undergrowth, I began to make my way back to where i believed the beach was. I hoped, prayed, counted my luck that they would not be able to swim! But soon, when the beach didn’t appear, I began to truly panic. I was tired, the tin of beans was pounding against my legs, and I hadn’t drunk since waking up. I’m sure I would have cried if I had had the energy for it. But then, like some sort of abstract version of birth, I broke through a thin treeline and saw the ocean not 30 meters away.

I ran straight into the water, no concerns about still being clothed, and, unluckily, quickly realised that I couldn’t swim. Just out of my depth, I turned around to observe my pursuers. And there they were, standing just in the shallows, 26 monsters just staring at me, waiting. My head slipped under the water, and the freezing cold liquid began rushing down my throat. Risking just a bit of ground, I edged forward enough so that I could stand in the water with my head above the sealevel. And then they came. Like they knew that I could go no where else. The first to get at me grabbed my head and sunk his teeth into my skull, Thank christ the water was cold enough that all sense of pain was numbed. As his compatriots joined him, and began feasting on my other extremities, and my body was submerged in a mini-sea of my own blood, I remembered what these bastards were. My last thought, as the feast continued and my sight grew dim, was 2 measly words. But words that were being echoed the world over. “Fucking zombies”.

Top of Madrid (kind of)

Had a most wonderful evening tonight. Prash invited us over to his place to watch the England vs Italy game, which of course both Luca and Aisling wanted to see. So I went along with them. Prash, as it turns out, lives on the top floor of an 18 story apartment block, and has this absolutely amazing balcony with a view of the royal palace in Madrid.

So I ended up spending over half of the evening sitting on this balcony, talking to a Dutch lad and a Mexican girl, and we talked about everything and anything - from the current state of the euro to gigs we’ve seen live and even to the fact that the most interesting matches in football go to penalties. Over all, definitely was worth leaving the apartment.

After 10 days, I finally have internet! Thank the gods!