Mr. Macmillan: Devin Jump

Mr. Macmillan #1

The man heard the smooth unfamiliar sound of an engine, it was neither far nor distant.  Opening his eyes he found himself curiously placed upon a narrow bridge not wide enough for any car to drive over and not exactly a pedestrian bridge.  As he continued to observe his surroundings an automated monitor flew over head displaying warning messages to exit the bridge immediately for the law and his own safety.  The man had been asleep it had become apparent and was dreaming of the future as he imagined it.  In his dream he stated “what better is there that we should hope for, for what can tomorrow bring that we have not already imagined?” That is precisely when he woke up.  To answer the question something like the combination of Rip Van Winkle and The Twilight Zone had come.  The man became aware that he was perhaps the master of this land, if he was in fact just dreaming.  He continued conjecturing “I shall become a legend, I will do tremendous things”.  So he stated “I desire a hovering golden transport” and to his amazement the monitor responded to him “what size?”, “make it the largest one you have, and it better be well equipped.”  Within seconds a large floating golden chariot swept him off his feet, and rushed him to a towering building with no windows.  The chariot spoke to him “your home sir”, the man replied “no, no, this is not my home”, but before he finished the chariot had left him.  There was an interactive display at the front door repeating the line “I’m here to help, what is it you need”, the man said to the display “It is time for me to wake, I would like to go home, wake me up.”  The display promptly replied “You are awake, you are home Mr. Macmillan.”  Mr. Macmillan began to remember two realities, that he had memories both of that name, but also of a place much different than his present placement.  “Is this real, is this what has happened, how could I be me now and yet things be so different so foreign.”  He had come to the odd conclusion that it would be a hard journey to discovering his true identity, place, and future.


Mr. Macmillan #2
In agony that he could not decipher the present situation, Mr. Macmillan took a double-take of his surroundings.  He became frozen by the grandness of what he saw and in that instant as his eyes made motion upwards he found sight of the sky.  Somehow Mr. Macmillan had not noticed what surrounded him due to the soft reflective surfaces on both sides of the road in front of his alleged home. The road was merely a facade and somehow contained a content capable of suspending objects on and within it, but also had the appearance as one could fall right through it, somewhat transparent.  As he looked through it there was no apparent end downward, neither when he looked up could he find anything to understand where he was in relation to anything else, no bearings.  The oval shaped interactive display suddenly announced “5 minutes till lockdown, all who are outside will be inside.”   Although startled by the message Mr. Macmillan found people around looking at him a special way as they drifted by him in some form of a hovering chair. They made these curious circle like gestures somehow giving him the feeling that there was something royal about himself.   For if there was anything Mr. Macmillan knows it would be that he had never had rule over any person, place or thing.  So it came as quite a shock that anyone would look at him with due respect, “sorry to inform you that I am not who you think I am, s..s..sir” he voiced to the interactive display, hesitant to speak to a machine with such a human term.  As he voiced his opinion on the matter the interactive display began to emit some form of communication Mr. Macmillan was not familiar with but yet was supremely comforted by.  Unfortunately the information was proceeding at a speed much to quick for Mr. Macmillan to track.  He could sense an overall feeling of peace and protection and began to sink inside of his alleged home, not through a door, but perhaps through the substance that made up it’s walls.  Once again Mr. Macmillan fell into a deep deep sleep.


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