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The Property of EMIT

EXTENDED VERSION

By Natalie-Monique Le SueurPublished 3 years ago 23 min read
1
The Property of EMIT
Photo by Allef Vinicius on Unsplash

I could hear the train faintly humming closer as I scrambled to find my subway card for the ticket turnstiles. The shrill voice of the announcer increased my level of anxiety by announcing that "yes, in fact, this IS your train that you are about to miss." My palms getting clammy, I shove my card into the machine and hurl my body propelling forward through the silver metal bars that squish my bag and my bottom far too close to my sandwich lunch than I'd care for. The engine roar crescendos whilst I high jump over pedestrians in my now half-creased work skirt that is undoubtedly, probably ripping, whilst smacking into those walking in the opposite direction to me. "Excuse me!" I mumble, leaping five stairs at a time, clenching onto my brown flats with squinched toes, only to look up from the 5th stair down and see the subway doors starting to close as the conductor blows his whistle and a polite, yet very defeating operator voice says "Please stand clear, the doors are now closing." I slow-motion lunge towards the doors, my bottom jaw drooping down to my neck, eyes wide with desperation as they slam in my face... and everyone inside gives me THAT smirk. Because, well, they’ve been me too.

So there I stood. I huffed my sweaty brown fringe out of my eyes. Another morning, late, as usual. I’m the girl, the late girl. Aubrey Bragg, aka Queen of late. If a friend asks to meet up, they know, I WILL be late. My employer should love that quirk about me. Who isn’t charmed by the classically, comically, “late girl”? This hair? It is STYLED with lateness. The unkempt, slightly sweaty strands that stick to my forehead and back of my neck shows my effort. It’s proof, I rushed! Whilst I paced the subway station jibber-jabbering in my head, but making the motions of having a heated debate with my hands, I felt a tap on my shoulder to which I leaped around and let out an echoing “ARGHHHHHHHHHH” and clutched my opened handbag close to me in fear the man before me was surely about to rob me of my squished sandwich and ever so valuable coffee rewards card.

"I'm sorry to startle you." He says charmingly, his brown eyes smiling at my disheveled state, "but, you dropped your book back there." He hands me a black notepad that I've never seen before and I stare down at his scratched thumb knuckle gripping the edge. I notice the tattooed letters "RA-" on the inside of his wrist, protruding from underneath his beige suede coat cuffs. He follows my gaze and turns his wrist so his cuff falls lower as he gestures to me to grab the book from him. I take it and turn it over looking at the back for any indication of who it belongs to. I run my fingers over the ribbed texture as I murmur "I'm sorry, this isn't mine." I explain, turning it back over and handing it to him, but he isn't there. "Hey!" I yell out, spinning around. "Hey, mister!" I try again, running around the pillar wall of the subway to the other section searching for any flashes of a beige coat. But I'm alone. The subway is totally empty other than a homeless woman laying on a pile of blankets at the end of the platform.

I slowly walk back to the section at the bottom of the subway stairs, turning the book over once more before sitting down on the slightly sticky, dark green railed bench. I open the book to the first page. It reads "Property of Emit" with a tiny sketch of a set of a stairs directly under the writing. I notice a small etched arrow on the bottom right corner in black ink pointing diagonally down. I flip the page over and there is nothing there. It's blank. I flip to the next page. Nothing. I rapidly flip through the whole book searching for anything else.

"The Property of Emit" I read aloud to myself. Staring at the arrow and the faint sketch of stairs on the front page. Why did he think it was mine? I think to myself. I look up and notice the stairs directly in front of me where I met the elusive man. I stare aimlessly in thought at the grey cement filled with dirt and spilled coffee stains, gum etched under the railings and a faint wind from the tunnels blowing a stray leaf slowly down the steps above. I huff at the sheer outrageousness of this morning and shove the book in my handbag and walk over to the subway pillar to my right to lean on it while I wait for the train, coming in approximately 4 minutes according to the neon words scanning across the glitching subway screen underneath the Platform 7 sign.

I sigh and lean my head back on the pillar only to riccochet it off instantly with a sharp pain in the back of my left shoulder. I spin around to see what poked me. Directly at shoulder height is half a gold coin welded into the wall. I've never seen one like it, it's clearly not an American coin. I crouch slightly at the knees and walk around to the corner of the pillar to get eye level with it to see if I can read the country. One side has the insignia of an arrow, sword and gun with a circle crossing through the middle of each of them. There is brail marking around the edging that is too small to make out without a magnifying glass. I turn around to the other side of the coin, pressing my face against the cold pillar wall to try and get as close to it with my left eye as possible. I see half an A next to an R inscribed in the centre. A...R I think to myself. A, R. R, A. Thinking back to the man's half visible wrist tattoo. I try to yank the coin to see the hidden A and what may follow it, but I fall backwards, my handbag contents spilling out. I grab my subway ticket and pack of gum in one hand and stand up. Opening my bag to put them in, I pause and look down at the black book again. Picking it back up and flipping yet again to the front page, desperate to make sense of the synchronicity of the mornings events. I stare for clues, looking at the stairs of the subway and then to the stairs of the sketch. My eyes trail down to the diagonal arrow. I snap my head up and stare at the subway stairs again, holding the book directly in front of me and walking back to the beginning of the steps. I place my finger on the diagonal arrow and spin half backwards to my right following the direction of the arrow. It points to the pillar. I hurry over and study the coin again. Running my thumb over the stuck coin again, I lightly tug it this time pinching it in between my thumb and forefinger, but it still wont budge. "Come ON!" I yell frustrated throwing the book down onto the subway floor. It lands upside down and I drag my feet over groaning as I go to pick it up, it opened to the front page again. I hear the train whirring down the tunnel and the announcer startles me "The train approaching on platform 7 is a city train, running directly to Central stopping only at Yonda St Station, please stand clear of the yellow lines" her voice trails off as I scan backwards and forth of the front page of the little black book. Five Steps. I count. "There are five steps!" I beam out loud as an older gentlemen holding a briefcase walks briskly past me to line up for the train approaching. I race to the fifth step of the subway station and drop down looking for any clues as a lady huffs and steps over me. But other than dirty hands, I come up short. My hair washes over my face with the rush of wind from the train as it hurls past, its wheels coming to a slow screech as it lines up its stop at the platform. I place my hand on the hand railing to use it hoist myself up and my palm feels something sticky underneath it. "Eughhh." I let out in disgust as I crank my neck underneath to see what it was. As I scrunch my face up at the red, dust covered, used gum and brush my palm on the side of my skirt I notice to the left of the gum is a taped, miniature magnifying glass. I let out an excited gasp and rip the masking tape off and leap off the steps, running back to the coin, unaware or uncaring of how weird I seem to the three people already seated in the carriage staring at me through the patiently waiting open doors, probably assuming I live here as well as the old homeless woman down the end.

To anyone else, it looked like I was hugging the pillar a little too close for comfort. I take a deep breath as I lift the tiny black handle of the magnifying glass up to the half protruding gold coin on the side with the insignia. As I stare at the brail edging I see it's not brail at all, but extremely microscopic writing. I whisper as I read it out loud "All is fair in love and war. If you want to turn back time, you must go four steps yonder." I furrowed my brow at the riddle. The announcer interrupted my thoughts. I stared at the open doors as the light above the door frame started flashing to signal doors were soon closing. "Next stop, Yonda Station" a robotic voice sounded from inside the carriage. My eyes widened. Yonda. Yonder. I pushed myself away from the pillar and took a flying leap onto the train as the conductors whistle blew and the doors shut behind me.

The lady who had stepped over me walking down the stairs shot me a concerned look and clutched her purse closer to me. I gave her a half smile and pushed past her to an empty four block of seats facing each other so I could put my feet up on the blue and yellow cushion. I began repeating in my head "If you want to turn back time, you must go four steps yonder". Okay, I just need to get to Yonda St Station, and take...four steps? Maybe something taped to the railing on the fourth step? I racked my brain deciphering all clue possibilities. All of a sudden my handbag started vibrating, I unzipped the side pouch for my cellphone. "Miriam is calling...". I groaned. Shit. Shit. Shit. My boss. Trying to quickly think of an excuse and wing it on the spot I slid the screen to answer "Hello, Miriam? Hello? I can hardly hear you." I muffled my lips pressed as close to the speaker as possible in attempt to sound crackled. "Aubrey." she responded, unimpressed, clear as day. "We have a team meeting in five minutes." Ignoring her I continued my theatrics. I ripped a piece of paper out the black book and crumbled it by the speaker as I spoke "Huh? What's...that? I don't... if y-...can... hear me. We're stu... in.. tunnel, train maintenance." I stutter out. "Ugh!" I hear her exclaim and hang the phone up. Obviously fed up with me, but thankfully my biggest fan when it comes to designing graphics for her clients. I smile smugly to myself and look up to see the other three patrons giving me unapproving looks as we zoom exceptionally smoothly down the train tracks. My smug smile quickly fades and I turn and face the opposite way.

Before I know it, we're pulling up at Yonda Station. This is it. My morning of mystery and clues, revealed. I sway up the moving carriage bumping in to seats as I lunge for the pole to keep myself steady in the centre of the doorway as I wait for the train to come to a full stop ready to exit.

The red light above the door flashes and the doors open. I stare up at the brown wood sign with white lettering reading "Yonda St Station" as I take my first step out of the carriage and onto the maroon tiled platform lined with white brick edging and pillars. I search around me for any sign and see people heading up the stairs to the street above. I wait til the last person and follow them, stopping at step four and scouring it for clues. I bend down and search both railings, nothing but dried gum underneath, I sigh and stand up. Choosing to exit out the station in hopes of finding something a long the way.

I pull out my subway card and slide it into the ticket turnstiles for it to be stamped as I exit out on to Yonda Street. A street lined with antique shops, cafes and the out of place modern real estate agency with a big sign in red letters reading "SELLING YOUR HOME?" Nope. That would require me owning one. Which would require me getting promoted, which, would require me showing up on time...

The foot traffic was bustling as was the cafe across the road. I spun from left to right whipping around to look for anything resembling a clue, before deciding to follow the pedestrians crossing the road at the stop lights. I decided to walk left parallel to the station across the street, looking back at it for any signs, not watching where I was going I felt a man knock into my shoulder and I whipped around to apologize, "Sorry!" I exclaimed. Stopping into my tracks and feeling another person walk into the back of me, I was sidewalk roadkill. The frumpy, balding man shot me a glare and pushed his glasses back up his long nose, wagging his stump of a finger at me in front of his lime green sweater. I watched him saunter off into the distance and I chewed the inside of my bottom lip in thought, unsure if I was going the right way. I heard the clicking of a tongue at me from a blonde woman wearing the brightest red lipstick, her loud lips pursing at me as she strutted hastily past. "Okay! I'm moving!" I say, half under my breath and mostly to myself. I turn to move and in front of my, directly in line Yonda St Station is a black door, belonging to, "Four Steps" antique shop. Well, back in time we go! I thought to myself, gripping the gold handle as the bell sounded my entry pulling myself into the shop.

There was a musky smell and almost everything had a thick layer of dust on it. My nose immediately began to itch and I tried to stifle in my sneezes. An elderly lady wearing purple glasses stood up from behind the counter at the sound of the bell and preemptively placed a box of tissues from under the cash register on top of the counter with particles of dust washing over the edges, visible by the only light ray in the room, shining in from the wood-rimmed glass windows. "Happy browsing, Possum?" she cooed at me in a soft croaky voice. "Umm, yeah, I guess so." I replied, shifting nervously and beginning to shuffle around the store with no sense of direction. "A gift for someone?" She pressed on, sensing my ambiguity. "No...." I trailed off. I could feel her watching me behind those purple frames, almost as curious as I was for what my purpose behind being here was. Suddenly, I saw it. An old jewelry box with the same insignia that was on the coin, except this one was complete. An arrow pointed left, a sword pointing center and a shotgun pointing right with the circle forming around the center where they all crossed. There was no microscopic lettering but instead a gold keyhole locking the wooden box shut. "Excuse me, but, does this jewelry box open?" I asked over my shoulder. The old lady shuffled from behind the counter to come face me, her tiny frame making it up to my chest height, I noticed a green embroided hair clip pulling her grey strands into a bun at the top of her head. "Let me see here," she reached above her head to the shelf holding the jewelry box and let out a big grunt as she lifted what seemed like a twenty kilo weight off the shelf. "Here let me help you." I say, gliding the box down with her and holding the bottom half as she gripped the two gold hoop handles on each side. I inched behind her as she slowly shuffled back to the counter, placing the box in between us both as she disappeared underneath, rattling in a box moving trinkets and keys.

I leaned over trying to peer at what she was doing, my eyes searching for the round key that would fit the hole of the jewelry box. She stood up, dust pouring off of her every movement as she placed a small card with a string attached. "This," she placed the card down in front of me, "came with it. We don't have a key. Nor have we been able to locate the meaning of this symbol." She points to the insignia on the top of the box. "For all we know, it may not even be a jewelry box. The only way we knew it was an antique was because of the woodwork as you can see here and here." She gestures to the corners where the wood is braided together and gold staples envelop the corners in a welded fashion. I nod, as if I'm completely aware of this telltale sign. I pick up the card and it reads -

All twenty must be found, if we're to win this war.

The old lady studies my face to see what I make of it. With the obvious confusion painting over my face she offers "perhaps, this is a set of twenty. Or a gift with a note," she points to the card in my hand, adding "to a wife from an army husband." She throws her hands up in the air and lets out a croaky laugh "Who knows! That's the beauty of antiquities, they all have stories to tell!" She continues to laugh.

I reach into my bag and find my bank card. "How much?" I ask her, presenting my card.

She looks at me in disbelief that I'd be interested and scoffs. She grabs a worn binder from behind the till and flips from page to page muttering to herself, hunched over the binder her glasses an inch away from each picture as she scans for the box. "Ah. Here we are." her finger placeholds the photo of the jewelry box as she reads from the price list. "Seems Herbert placed it as $225.00" She looks up at me through her glasses, waiting for me to look shocked.

"No problem." I say confidently, ushering her my card. I had no idea why I was so intent to spend so much on something I had no knowledge of, but my curiosity had gotten the better of me and I had to know. She scribbled out a reciept on an old order form for me and tried to lift the box to hand to me as I quickly took it from her holding my bank card on top, with an appreciative smile. "You take care now, Possum!" she croaked after me as I backed out of Four Steps Antiquities and back on to Yonda St station.

I felt my phone vibrate and hurriedly lugged the heavy box towards the busy cafe opposite the train station to set it down on a table as I put my bank card away and checked my phone. It was a text from Miriam.

"You missed the meeting. Are you still stuck? We need the brief for the Cherry Yo-Go campaign ASAP!!"

I began rapidly replying back "Sorry, got off at Yonda St Station, waiting for a city bus, trouble with the tracks."

Three dots began flashing as she immediately read it and began to reply. my phone vibrated again. Her response.

"A bus? You won't get here on time. Is it on your phone? Can you email it?"

"Sure. I'll just need to find good wifi. I'll have to leave the station?" I suggest, knowing full well my phone had enough data to email the brief images, but buying more time.

"Don't worry about getting here...but I need that brief, like, YESTERDAY!!" she responded, knowing full well the cyclonic level of stress that was undoubtedly circling the office.

I sat down at the cafe and stared at the box out of the corner of my eye as I compiled my work email and left it as a draft in my outbox to go along with my elaborate work lie I had formed. I studied the keyhole of the box. It looks more like a coin slot to me but maybe that's antique keyholes, they probably couldn;t weld as precisely back then but - wait....the coin! I jump up just as the brunette waitress was walking over to me pen and paper in hand ready to take my order, her mouth dropping open as I knock over the chair my bag was draped over and hastily bend down to pick it up, letting out a slight grunt as I pick up the box and walk quickly back over to the train station, down the subway steps and board the opposite platform I'd come in on. I look up at the timetable and wait the seventeen minutes for my train to come.

For some reason the ride is quicker on the way back. The box doesn't even feel as heavy now that I know what it's purpose is for. What this whole mornings purpose is for. "Now arriving, Willow Station". The familiar robotic phrase sends tingles down my neck as we stop at my home train station. My carriage pulls up further down towards the homeless woman at the end who has left her post of scrunched up blankets. I exit the train and head around the station wall to the pillar by the right of the stairs. There stands my gold coin, half protruding out. I carefully lift the box up to it, a lot heavier at my shoulder height and my arms wobble slightly under its weight as I aim to line up the hole with the coin. I slide it in and begin to twist the box, switching my grip to the handles so I can turn it anti-clockwise. I hear the latch begin to creak and as the box sits completely vertical the latch springs slightly open and I carefully slide it off the welded coin and place it on the ground of the train station.

This is it. My fingers tremble as I grab each braided wooden edge and slowly lift the box. Red and gold patterned material cushions the insides and at the bottom, each one in a slot, sit 19 full gold coins like the half coin welded to the wall. I pick up the first one and turn it over in my hand RAW it reads and as I flip it over to it's other side the lettering changes to WAR. There is also a date above the side that reads WAR. "15BC " and underneath in carved lettering "Battle of Pontes Longi". I stare at the words and place the coin back in its first slot. I randomly choose the 15th coin in the 3rd row, two places underneath the 1st coin. The same lettering except the date is different as the words underneath it. It reads "1508 League of Cambrai"

I hear footsteps approaching and I quickly close the box and look up.

"You." I say, slowly standing to my feet and staring at the charming man who disappeared this morning. He smiles at me. That charming half-smirk, like he is comically pleased by my confusion. Before I can demand answers he begins "Each coin is worth 1,000 dollars. But only if sold together. Apart, they are worthless." He stares at me, placing his hands inside the pockets of his suede beige coat. "And what? No welder was free today to get the 20th coin out of this wall?" He lets out a stifled laugh and his brown eyes gleam as he stares at me with childlike play. "What is all this?" I shrug at him. He walks around my side and places one of his hands on my left shoulder, I feel a tingling shiver up my spine at his touch and I look down at his hand as he sweeps my handbag gently off my shoulder and opens it to retrieve the black book. "This. This is all of your answers." he says waving the book. "But it's blank!" I butt in. "No. It's not." He bends down and opens the coin box and picks up the 19th coin, holding it between his thumb and forefinger he takes his other hand and flicks open the black book to a random page and uses the coin like a light to shine over the invisible gold ink words, the coins glow illuminating facts of the 19th century war. He closes the book and flicks the coin in his hand. "Another war stopped, because of our society." he torts matter of factly. "What society?" I ask. "All is fair in love and war?" He whispers, inching closer to me and stroking the side of my face. I swallow, trying to salivate my dry mouth as my tongue sticks to the roof of my mouth as I gulp and reply... "it depends who's asking." "RAW." He whispers. His mouth almost touching mine. I snap back. Taken aback. "Raw?" I press. "We turn the clock on wars. Completely erase them. You have held on your person this morning The Property of Emit." He opens the book and slides his finger backwards over Emit - T...I...M...E. "The Property of Time." I say barely under my breath. "Exactly." He confirms. "I need help, a woman's help, to navigate the 20th coin. Essentially the 20th war." He says. I smirk at him and tease "Yes, us women really let out our shine this last century didn't we." He laughs and nods "It appears so. So, Aubrey. Would you like to save the 20th century and unlock the final $20,000 dollar coin?" He says reaching out his hand to me.

I hear a whirr of a train whistle as the city train approaches. The subway lights above us begin to wildly flicker and the pages of the black book start to flick back and forth in a gust of wind. "I'm Sam by the way!" He slightly shouts over the wind as he uncuffs his wrist to reveal the full tattoo "RAW" as he stretches his fingertips out further to touch mine. "It's now or never." he says, waiting. "No." I respond smiling. "It's yesterday." I grab his hand as he lunges us forward into the pillar holding the gold coin. I feel the coin melt around me as my head spins and the last thing I see is the flashing of a golden train light.

science fiction
1

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