Built in escape clause

The curtain raises to reveal a projector screen, the stage itself obscured by darkness. We are going to get a glimpse of the old me. Flashbacks and old home movies, there is silence in the auditorium as the projector whirrs to life and we see light wash over the flat of the screen, the scene flickers to life and there it is...

The bright light of morning, a white coffee cup soiled inside with soggy grounds atop a gleaming marble counter. I am there sitting by the cup... motionless, my hands resting on the counter. I appear calm; calm and healthy. Gone is the sunken pallor of before, in it's place there is eerie quiet.

The time is 6.30am and for once I am awake before my alarm. This is the me who wore collared shirts and brushed his teeth twice daily. This person I hardly remember who went to bed every evening before midnight to be fresh for work the next day. I used to be the kind of guy who worried about quitting smoking, eating well and getting enough exercise. I was going to live forever, or so I liked to think. It was my trade off for wasting the present, I'd collect my bonus on the other end after I'd ironed out all the kinks.

A large empty room piled with boxes I've never unpacked. My room; minimalism with a built in escape clause. My borrowed sofa bed in the far corner, a digital alarm clock sitting on the armrest closest to the wall. The time is 6.58; there are two minutes to go. Two minutes till we split the sound and vision seamlessly. The sound of my alarm clock playing over a shot of me, my back to the camera as I walk out the front door into the overexposed unknown flare of the outside world disappearing from view. In this final shot I am wearing the all too familiar fluffy bunny slippers, those checked flannels and an army coat.

It could be that you are supposed to interpret this sequence as my nervous breakdown, or maybe my moment of profound enlightenment but then again, it's probably nothing. I could just be checking to see if the mail arrived, maybe I wander back in seconds later clutching a bundle of department store catalogues, unpaid bills and plain envelopes addressed to current tenant... maybe I wander back in empty handed, unfortunately you'll never know, the films finished, left flapping violently against the side of the projector shocking you back into your own skins before the lights fade to black leaving you alone in the muddle of your own thoughts.

I hope your taking notes. I don't want any one of you getting lost or falling behind and giving up on this, this experience could change your life but you've got to pay attention because you'll need to pass the test to prove you understand before we let you in on our little secret.