Above him, the sky was slowly beginning to darken. It was never really light anymore, to be honest. Not since the Russians. But its complexion, now, definitely indicated rain was coming. Fredriks would welcome it, when it finally broke.
“You are immortal,” he was told. “You will live forever.” This was quite impressive news to take in. To be told that one would never die is like releasing a pressure valve. Time stops, in an instant, suddenly an intangible force. The man drank a cup of tea, and sat in a chair for a long while, and thought about how he would move forward with this impressive news. He got nowhere fast. The tea grew cold, and the chair began to sink.
Kiko liked the smell of disinfectant.
Over and over he turned. Stars wheeled, not overhead, but everywhere, and Private First Class Fredriks wondered where he’d heard that saying before. Wheeled overhead. He’d heard it everywhere, he supposed.