Jeff shuts his eyes tight and opens them again, just to soak in what lies ahead. What he sees outside the window is unbelievable. Blue, descending and being engulfed from the top by the blackest black at the speed of sound. He feels the fluid in his ears ricocheting. (1/n)
He looks around the cabin. The servants (co-passengers, in public) look exhilarated too. He twitches his eyebrow and a reprimanding prick on the small if their backs makes them return to neutral state. Jeff smiles and directs his gaze towards the window again. (2/n)
He is just settling into his seat, his new set of memory buttocks adjusting to the contours, as the capsule shakes violently. Jeff wouldn't have known of it, had it not been sideways. The shaking grows more vigorous by the second. The servants display unease as Jeff- (3/n)
-flutters his eyelids rapidly in an effort to get them to stop emoting, but to no avail. Alarms beep all around the cabin, but he has locked all comms. The last thing Jeff needs to hear right now is the voice of a panicky earthbound simpleton. His telekinesis chip has died. (4/n)
His face now shows the tiniest sign of worry. For the first time since the first alarm went off, Jeff moves a muscle. He reaches for a switch overhead to terminate the servants as one of them tries to crawl and reach for his leg. Jeff swats it away before it can make contact(5/n)
Exhaling, he carefully dusts his orange-suited leg. The beeps grow faster. Jeff has engaged both arms now. No switch seems to budge. The servants keep emoting. He must make them stop. The fibreglass windows develop cracks as the pod spins in 8s.Lights out. Jeff freezes(6/n)
He doesn't quite register the explosion for a second. Nor does he feel his body being contorted in a million different ways at the same time. The first thing Jeff notices is the servants are no longer emoting. Good riddance. Red, yellow, and cyan surround his formless self. (7/n)
A tenth of a second passes before Jeff feels his body again. He floats 62 miles up in space- exactly where the pod had been. Except that there is no pod. In the milliseconds he has left to feel anything at all, Jeff feels 18 years younger. And then the veins start popping. (8/n)
Jeff knows exactly what has happened. He had known where the interdimensional rift lay. He had known the odds of him ending up in the reality he wanted were 50-50. He also knew what will happen in the only other possibility. He knows that's where he is going now. (9/n)
Blood rushes to all the extremities of his body. He feels the 2 ½-inch pellet between his legs throbbing against the tight suit. His skin turns bluer as he falls. His eyes shrink to beads. His tongue swells but the rest of his body shrinks. (10/n)
His nose and mouth take an almost reptilian form, lips curling inwards. Above his eyes, a single huge, flat pimple filled with luminescent pus develops. His skin- coarse and burnt from entering the atmosphere- is a deep, royal blue by the time he strikes the ground. (11/n)
His tattered orange suit drapes like a hood the only part of his body that resembles the man Jeff Bezos once was- a shiny bald head. Kasauli, Himachal Pradesh, 2003. In the distance, four notes repeat- "Aum aum aum aum". A tall, bespectacled boy approaches. It's magic. (12/12)
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