You can't wait to get to the pharmacy

[When you'd started teaching yourself lucid dreaming, you hadn't counted on a toe-to-toe throw down with sleep paralysis arriving with it. A very satisfying lucid flying dream, your toes skimming the tops of lemon clouds, has been replaced with what you estimate to be 10,000 years of terrifying immobility. Looks like you're just going to have to wait it out. I mean, it feels like you've been lying here for eternity, but realistically, it's probably more like 45 seconds, because this sleep paralysis thing freaks you out so much. ]<hookname| (live: 45s)[ (replace: ?hookname)[Your foot suddenly curls up in cramp. You consider trying to go [[back to sleep]] or focusing on the [[excruciating pain]] in the hope it will free you from the sleep paralysis. ] (stop:) ]

You try to empty your mind of everything. [[Deep, slow breaths]].

God, it feels like someone going for a world-record Most Vigorous Xylophone Solo on your own personal foot tendons. The wrenching ache that you can currently do nothing about is almost poetic, it's pissing you off so much. You let the [[anger flow through you]].

Sometimes anger is really useful. Not a huge amount of the time, but some of the time. And right now it's going to help you [[wake up and look at the clock->alarm clock early]].

Only this does exactly nothing. You [[think]] about how worried your [[twin]] sounded last time you spoke to them. You can't even really remember what they were worried about? Well done, twin of the year award for you.

You think about what might happen if your parent doesn't get a job in the restructure at their work. You conclude that actually they would almost definitely get another job in the six months the redundancy pay would probably last. That's not actually a really serious problem so much, though you know it must feel crappy. [[So.]]

They are extremely similar to you, except prettier and also more handsome, and far more successful in their chosen field, dammit. [[Anyway.->Deep, slow breaths]]

You think about if there's any way you could scrape together the money to do a [[millinery course]].

You conclude there actually really isn't, you spent last week eating mainly [[dried noodles]].

You think about the police strike. It lasts until midnight. Is anything going to happen because of that, [[you wonder]].

Maybe you should try to get a moped, the buses in this area are shit. Maybe you should do that manual-labour-visa thing where you go to [[Australia]].

You open your eyes again and you're back in lemon cloud country. You relax your muscles and drift upwards. The cramp is [[gone]].

And that's nice. You drift upwards. The light is honey, slow. Far off there is the sea, and you know that huge and ancient creatures turn in the rolling depths. You drift through a few lazy somersaults in the [[cloud layers]].

You lie back in the clouds and drift slowly down. You wonder if it's possible to fall asleep in a dream. Could you have a nested dream? You close your [[eyes]].

You close your eyes and open them again in a lesson about 51 types of flower being given by the ancient Egyptian deity Sobek. Sobek's crocodile head issues forth a stream of mellifluous French that you find you can understand perfectly. You sit at your tiny desk, among a class of thirty. The rest of the class are translucent and crowned with reeds. They nod gently at the end of Sobek's [[every sentence]].

Sobek rolls the blackboard down and this time, instead of a lily rendered in chalk, in hand-span high white capitals is written: ISN'T THERE SOMETHING THAT YOU NEED TO DO TODAY You look down at the notebook in front of you. Your notes swim and drift in marble formations... ...because it's a [[dream]].

Your legs violently jolt in your sleep and there's a [[CRASH]].

Looks like you kicked a giant pile of books and papers and crap off the end of your bed, which was on there because of [[reasons]]. (Those reasons being that you couldn't be bothered to tidy up at all this week, and - okay, that's the only reason.)

You sigh so hard you think you might be in danger of detaching something structural and shift round so you can inspect the particular situation on your [[alarm clock->alarm clock mid]] and [[calendar]]. Or maybe you are really, really committed to being asleep today. Rather than doing any of that temporal location malarkey, you [[work hard on being unconscious again->zzzz]], but before that, you open the window and throw your phone into the garden to stop your calendar alarm going off at midday, which you vaguely remember setting.

Looks like it's [[midday]].

It's Saturday 11th October 2070. There's [[one thing]] written in size 72 red Impact on the calendar screen on the wall by your bed.

!!!FUCKEN GET MEDS PRESCRIPTION REFILLED!!! Right. Better 'fucken' [[do that then]]. Past-you thinks they're so fucking funny. Or...not? Your bed is very toasty and it looks rainy as fuck out there. Maybe in fact you want to [[wipe your calendar and go back to sleep]].

Yep. Yep. Gotta do it. Just need to bundle up warm and go to the pharmacy and get your pills, because you are all out and if you don't get some more there will be consequences. Maybe finding your [[last prescription]] would help ensure that things go smoothly. But maybe you should just haul ass to the [[bus stop]].

You roll towards the calendar and swipe at it, but instead of the notification disappearing, it starts to autoplay a video. God, your past self is really [[annoying]].

You survey the chaos of papers around you. You've been working on a thing and there is lots and lots of material for the thing. The prescription is on paper because the last time you were at the pharmacy their computer systems were down. It's a small yellow piece of paper with scribbles of blue ink and a red verification stamp on it. You have no idea where it could be. You better [[find it]]. Or...well, that's going to take ages. Maybe you better just [[get the heck to the pharmacy->midday]].

You shove on some shoes and a coat and a scarf, grab your bag and run-walk to the bus stop. Maybe you should check the [[timetable]]. Although it might be fine right, there's usually a bus along fairly regularly. You decide to [[wait]].

You remember making this, because it was only a couple of years ago that you set it to autoplay whenever you try to wipe anything from your calendar before 12.30pm, but you cringe hard at the recorded sound of your voice. (There is absolutely no way that you can possibly sound like that in real life, right? There must be something up with the recording quality of your microphone.) It's been months since you've done anything to trigger this, so you're not terribly familiar with the exact content at the moment. [[Anyway]].

The video is of you sitting at your desk, dressed as a newsreader. Past-you sternly surveys present-you over the top of the fake glasses, shuffles a sheath of papers, and presses play on a recording of //Ride of the Valkyries//. "We interrupt this attempt to throw off what is probably an important thing that you have to do to bring you an urgent message," past-you begins pompously, shouting a bit over the music, which is turned up too loud. "These are difficult times, troubling times." Past-you stares directly into the camera for a moment for emphasis. "But in challenging times, your greatest asset is //actually doing the things that you intend and want to do// as long as they are vaguely or actually reasonable." "Remember that time that you went 24 hours without sleep to fill in that really long job application before the deadline? You totally slayed that. And it's totally okay that you in fact had a nervous meltdown at the next round and crashed out of it, although I, in this temporal reference, in fact still feel really bad about that. Maybe I shouldn't have brought that up, but maybe you, in the future, will in fact feel totally fine about it and at any rate I'm not going to bother editing this..." You remember that the runtime of this video is three hours, including the bit where you just start doing a one-person read through of //Rosencrantz and Guildenstern Are Dead//, with funny voices. Maybe you should [[just go to the pharmacy->midday]]. The video will automatically stop if your phone leaves the building.

Time to get the hell out of this (you look around)... small and untidy but reasonably pleasant living environment and out there on to the mean streets. By which you mean the bypass layby [[bus stop]].

[You survey the mess. This is going to take a minute, where a minute is, like, maybe an hour. That's if you find it at all. ]<hookname| (live: 60s)[ (replace: ?hookname)[You find it [[at last->at last mid]].] (stop:) ]

You wave your phone at the bit of the bus stop that tells you when the next bus is coming. It pings, but instead of flashing up time listings for the number 8256a to World's End your phone displays something that begins [[NOTIFICATION]] in an ominously serifed font.

[You sit down to wait. You'll give it a couple of minutes you think. You open the book you've brought with you. It's a story about Sobek, the ancient Egyptian crocodile-headed deity, opening up a detective agency in New York. It sounds questionable by this description, but it's one of the best things you've read in a while. You're identifying hard with this crocodile-headed individual. They're so hard-boiled and witty. It's so evocative, so lush with detail. You feel sorry for anyone who doesn't have access to this amazing text. ]<hookname| (live: 120s)[ (replace: ?hookname)[The bus isn't fucking coming is it. There's no-one around. You better actually check the [[timetable]].] (stop:) ]

Iiiiiit's 9:00am! Rise and shine! (You sigh heavily and roll-up burrito-fashion, enjoying the toasty warmth.) Time to check your [[calendar->calendar2]], you guess. Or you could go [[back to sleep]], maybe? There is like a universe of warmth underneath these two duvets. Your inclination to worry might be an issue, but you believe in yourself right now.

Christ on a Kawasaki, it's 5.00pm. What was it that you had to do today??!! You roll towards your [[calendar->calendar late]].

NOTIFICATION Brignor Borough District Sub-division has cancelled the bus service for all routes on Saturday 11th October because of the Police strike. Citizens are advised to stay in their homes. Private hire car firms operating in the area (which are not endorsed but merely listed for information) are: A1111 Cars - [[672910]] A111 Carz - [[000087]] Better than other services Cars/Carz - [[223225]] Who you gonna call - [[999999]] Maybe you should just save the money and [[walk]]. It's a fuck of a long way though - it's going to take about two or three hours, depending on how fast you walk.

[You decide to ring A1111 Cars, they are the first listed, which must mean something? It's ringing. "Hello-" "Hello," you say, hopefully. "-and welcome to A1111 Cars," continues the automated hold program in a pleasant voice. You sigh. "Your call is of utmost importance to us. You are in a queue of-" "Seven," said a robotic voice. "calls," continued the pleasant voice. "Please hold." A version of //Ride of the Valkyries// somehow played entirely on panpipes over synth backing starts to play. You conduct it in the air with your free hand as the countdown slowly ticks down. Very. Very. Slowly.]<hookname| (live: 90s)[ (replace: ?hookname)["Good afternoon, Ay one one one one cars", says a voice so crackly you can barely make out the words. After much ve-ry ca-re-ful-ly e-nun-ci-at-ing where exactly you are and where exactly you want to go across the terrible line, you're quoted £75 for the trip, one-way. You splutter in outrage, but are reminded that it's a police strike today after all, and the ambulance strike tomorrow is fast approaching. You decide to [[just pay it->pharmacy mid]] and steal a load of biscuits from work and/or attempt supermarket bin-raiding for food next week. You're probably going to need your pills if you're going to be able to work at all. You're told an automated vehicle will be sent to you within the half hour. Or maybe, maybe you actually panic and decide you can't spend your food money like that, and that you'll [[walk, and go cross-country to save time now you've wasted loads of it on hold->cut directly across the fields]].] (stop:) ]

[You decide to ring A111 Carz because you have a soft-spot for businesses replacing the letter s with the letter z. It's so retro. You dial. There's some beeping and then fuzzy silence. You think you haven't been cut off, probably? You wait a very fucking long time. You entertain yourself by opening an infinite-running platformer while you're waiting on the screen on the other side of your phone, DelugeRun98. Wow, you'd forgotten how much you like this game. Delugi is a pretty great example of character design too, with the feathered hat and knee-high waders. You wouldn't think they'd work as costume for an infinite running character, but they so do. ]<hookname| (live: 120s)[ (replace: ?hookname)[After an actual age, the fuzzy silence suddenly clicks, you hear a burst of chatter, and then nothing, because your phone battery has given out from playing all that DelugeRun98, you twit. Okay, so you better [[walk, and go cross-country now you've wasted loads of time->cut directly across the fields]].] (stop:) ]

You decide to ring 'Better than other services Cars/Carz' because you want to find out if it's an actual listing and not a joke company. So you [[call them]].

This is the company that you're gonna call, hellll yes, good company name. Just as you take your phone out a automated car with WHO YOU GONNA CALL written on its side in strips of flashing LEDs. What. "Welcome to the WHO YOU GONNA CALL psychic/pre-emptive vehicular experience," said the car at you through a loudhailer seemingly duct-taped to the car's intricated ridged and patterned roof, a whole load of important-looking wires hanging out everywhere. "As a first-time user of this beta service, please accept one free journey." "What," you say. "No joke," said the car. "On the house. However: Terms and conditions apply, some temporal distortion may occur." "Please explain what this 'temporal distortion' might be," you say, still picking up your bag ready to totally take advantage of a massively unexpected free ride. "In one out of ten passengers, subjective experience of some time variations are reported up to one week post-journey. Dilation and/or acceleration. Or other miscellaneous time-stitching effects! Do you wish to proceed?" A free ride is a [[definite yes->sentient car]]. Although maybe you actually think that that sounds weird as heck and you're going to try calling [[another company->672910]].

Private hire car? You need money for food until you get paid next week. Time to get moving. You consider [[walking down the side of the motorway]] or trying to [[cut directly across the fields]]. There's got to be a way through, hasn't there?

[The route is basically just following one road for two and a half hours. At least it's simple, even if it does curve right out of your way before looping slowly back in, which is a maddening waste of time. It's raining. You realise that you forgot to charge your phone last night so you can't even listen to the radio to distract you. Now might be a good time to learn how to do walking meditation, you guess? You slow your breath, in through your nose, out through our mouth and walk walk walk walk walk. The sound of the traffic sounds a bit like the sea. walk walk walk walk walk walk walk walk. (Eventually...eventually...your awareness fades out into a vast light-filled space that feels layered under and over the dark grey road under the light grey sky, cars blurring past you, almost empty carparks and industrial parks on all sides, and very young trees all little sticks in the wind. After an hour or so you see one person walking on the other side of the road. They seem to be in a hurry, and like you, miles from anywhere that's a reasonable place to stop. At least you're not the only one. You walk some more. ]<hookname| (live: 180s)[ (replace: ?hookname)[And eventually, eventually, you[[get there->pharmacy mid]].] (stop:) ]

You know what direction you're trying to get in if you just walk in a straight line, so you point yourself there and start marching, with all the determination you can muster. This way you're maybe going to cut out all the meandering that the main road does. Everything is fine for a while, and the increasingly wooded surroundings are very pretty. A bird sings. You feel glad to be you, to be experiencing this. You sing a bit but then you get self-conscious, so you stop. There's a farm up ahead. You can hear a dog barking. Dogs taller than your knee make you really nervous. If you change your direction, though, you're absolutely going to get lost. [[Dead ahead then]]. Or, are you just going to call it a loss and [[go home now->open on a Sunday]]?

You're here! You did it!!! You rush up to the pharmacy. Oh...it looks like the main building is wide open and possibly actually in the process of being looted, but unbelievably it looks like there's someone at the[[service window->service window mid without prescription]].

You're here! You did it!!! You rush up to the pharmacy. It looks like the main building is locked - as in there is a giant chain and padlock on it, what the hell's going on with that - but there's someone at the [[service window->service window without prescription]].

At least on the interior, the car is pretty normal, give or take some weird looking power-sockets and also a framed photo of Jeff Goldblum. Really impressive that he's still alive. The car pulls out the bus stop, and you try to stay super-alert for any additional, potentially threatening weirdness, but let's be honest, you're [[not so hot at staying awake->pre zzz]] are you.

You finally, finally walk down the last stretch of road and towards the pharmacy. It's dark now, but there's a weird orange glow coming from over where you're headed, and you can hear people, lots of people, and shouting, and a crackling noise. ...You walk [[faster->bit faster]].

It's Saturday 11th October 2070. There's [[one thing->one thing2]] written in size 72 red Impact on the calendar screen on the wall by your bed.

!!!FUCKEN GET MEDS PRESCRIPTION REFILLED!!! Right. Better 'fucken' [[get on it]]. Or...not? Your bed is very toasty and it looks rainy as fuck out there. Maybe in fact you want to [[wipe your calendar and go back to sleep]].

Yep. Yep. Gotta do it. Just need to bundle up warm and go to the pharmacy and get your pills, because you are all out and if you don't get some more there will be consequences. Maybe finding your [[last prescription->last prescription early]] would help ensure that things go smoothly. But maybe you should just haul ass to the [[bus stop->bus stop early]].

You survey the chaos of papers around you. You've been working on a thing and there is lots and lots of material for the thing. The prescription is on paper because the last time you were at the pharmacy their computer systems were down. It's a small yellow piece of paper with scribbles of blue ink and a red verification stamp on it. You have no idea where it could be. You better [[find it->find it early]]. Or...well, that's going to take ages. Maybe you better just [[get the heck to the pharmacy->midday]].

You shove on some shoes and a coat and a scarf, grab your bag and run-walk to the bus stop. A bus pulls up. It looks a bit...non-standard. It's an automated one, and instead of displaying '8256a to World's End' on the front, which is the one that you want, it just says WHO YOU GONNA CALL in flashing LED strips. What the heck. There's also what appears to be a giant hoop earring hanging off one of the wing mirrors, more than a handspan in diameter. You've never seen an automated vehicle with wing mirrors before. That makes no sense. The door swings open. You step [[aboard]]. Or maybe you think you might just [[walk->walk early]] instead.

The doors hiss shut quietly behind you. "Is this...a bus?" you ask the possible-bus. "Yes, absolutely," replied the bus. "Um - I like the voice that you've been coded. Are you going to Haven Road over in the next suburb? That stop near the pub, the um, 'The Terrible Misfortune' I think it's called? "Yes." "Well, I'd like to go there please. How do I pay?" "No charge for this journey." "[[Oh]]."

You think for a moment. This is really suspicious now - non-standard LED strips is one thing but free? Come on. Nothing is free. You consider, and think that [[you'll risk it]], given that you really need to get to the pharmacy. Or maybe you're going to [[shriek your way of this weird bus-impostor and walk, dammit->walk early]].

Well, okay. You sit down. You're the only person on the bus, apart from someone on the backseat. Looks like they have the same coat as you. And scarf. In fact, they are dressed exactly the same as far as you can see, which is thankfully not a huge amount, because you have made a snap decision to ignore that particular weirdness particularly hard. Everything - and you mean ~everything~ is covered in this weird, slightly fuzzy faux-leopard print. There's also a framed picture of Jeff Goldblum on the back of every seat, whose immortality treatment you hear is going very well. You gingerly sit down on the seat right at the front, and resolve to stay alert, but the weird bus is really warm, and as you pull out of the bus stop, you [[fall asleep->zzz]].

[You dream. You dream that things went a bit differently, today, and that you took a bus that turned out to be a car that was a car, and then a bus, and... You feel that things may have been different. You feel all the possibilities fanned out in front of you. Your lucid dreaming ability comes through just in time for you to fully experience the uncomfortable sensation of your general background anxiety splitting and growing into two distinct layers, which merge into one layer of super-anxiety. You grit your teeth hard in your sleep, and thankfully the sensation fades away again as quickly as it came. You dream into a blankness. ]<hookname| (live: 80s)[ (replace: ?hookname)[You wake up because your car...bus...car...vehicle has stopped. You get out and walk round the last corner to the pharmacy in a daze, but by the time it comes into view you're feeling pretty together again. That was a bit of a weird journey, but hey, you [[made it->pharmacy early]]. You got here, even if you feel like you had some strange help.] (stop:) ]

You have a very involved dream about your day so far going very differently to how it actually did. You actually got a bus. You went to lie down on the back seat, and you went to sleep again, in this dream, and you had another, nested, [[very involved dream->zzz]].

Eventually, you wake yourself up by snoring really loudly. Urgh, your face is kind of half stuck to your pillow with drool. Grim. You fuzz back into reality. Better check [[what the time is->alarm clock late]].

It's Saturday 11th October 2070. There's [[one thing->one thing late]] written in size 72 red Impact on the calendar screen on the wall by your bed.

!!!FUCKEN GET MEDS PRESCRIPTION REFILLED!!! Right. Better 'fucken' [[do that then->do that then late]]. Or...not? Your bed is very toasty and it looks rainy as fuck out there. Maybe in fact you want to [[stay in bed]].

Yep. Yep. Gotta do it. Just need to bundle up warm and go to the pharmacy and get your pills, because you are all out and if you don't get some more there will be consequences. Maybe finding your last prescription would help ensure that things go smoothly, but there is actually no time for that. You should just haul ass to the [[bus stop->bus stop late]].

You decide to stay in bed and do some reading. You'll just take it easy this week - renewing your prescription is always a massive faff and the pharmacy closes in an hour or so. They seem to charge you an almost random amount of money each time as well, and you're not sure you can afford it this week given you're on half-shifts at work because of the economy slow-down. So yep. Saturday in bed and maybe tomorrow you'll get a bus to the county town where there'll probably be a pharmacy [[open on a Sunday]].

You pass an enjoyable Saturday evening alternately reading fanfiction and trying to make some Wittgenstein stick in your brain. Spoiler alert - you kind of already know that there aren't going to be any pharmacies open on a Sunday because of the Enhanced Sunday Trading Regulations that passed recently. [[Dang]].

Even though you're on half-shifts, work does not go so well without your medication, which leaves your system quite quickly. So not well in fact, that you end up in the Accident and Emergency department on the Thursday. The nurses (who are otherwise good) don't think to take your phone away from you until you've already rung your boss and sung a couple of songs from the HMS Pinafore down the phone at them. It wasn't an ideal job but you would much rather have had the choice to keep it. You would also much rather have kept 'fired by text' as a thing that hasn't happened to you, but [[them's the breaks]].

As it is, what you don't know yet is that this episode is going to start a slow but momentum-filled phase of self-examination for you, once you've dealt with 18 months of self-loathing at having to move back with your parent, being unable to make rent. In five years' time, you're going to do an absolutely slamming open mic night story about this whole time in your life. Not that you know that right now. So maybe this is the worst ending you could have for this particular part of your life? But maybe not, you know. (The end.)

You shove on some shoes and a coat and a scarf, grab your bag and run-walk to the bus stop. God, it's nearly dark already. You've got an hour to get to the pharmacy, so walking's out. Maybe you should check the [[timetable->timetable late]]. Although it might be fine right, there's usually a bus along fairly regularly, even this time of day. You decide to [[wait->wait late]].

NOTIFICATION Brignor Borough District Sub-division has cancelled the bus service for all routes on Saturday 11th October because of the Police strike. CITIZENS ARE STRONGLY ADVISED TO RETURN TO THEIR HOMES FOR THEIR OWN SAFETY. Private hire car firms operating in the area (which are not endorsed but merely listed for information) are: A1111 Cars - [[672910->1 late]] A111 Carz - [[000087-> 2 late]] Better than other services Cars/Carz - [[223225->3 late]] Who you gonna call - [[999999]] It's so late you've got to try one of these.

You're nearly through the farm, which appears to be deserted, past silent silos and towering bale stacks, when behind you there's a shout and a bark, and then more, louder barking. You don't think, you [[just run]].

You lose your shoe in a cattle grate, and keep on running, as quickly as you can, until eventually you are sure that you aren't being followed. In fact, you don't think you were pursued at all, but it still feels like there's an icy gauntlet squeezing your heart. You just want your medication, dammit! Not much further now, not much, [[not much...->pharmacy late]]

Just as you feared, the pharmacy building is on fire. It's not a massive blaze yet, but it is substantial. This is a heavily residential area, and about fifty people are making a bucket chain, but looking down the non-burning side of the building, you can see what looks like medication being thrown out a window to people in another chain carting it off to a safe distance. You follow the line of people to where there's a big pile of it, [[just lying on the ground]].

Wow, are you glad to see this thing. You decide you better call a private hire car and get straight to the pharmacy so you can get this whole deal in the bag. You call the only hire number you know off by heart, which is [[223225->call them 2]].

[Someone picks up immediately and says that they'll send a car with a driver, because they're a traditional employer, none of this automation bullshit. Okay, so they don't actually say that, but that's the general feeling. They're on their way! You do some advanced thumb-twiddling until it arrives. Aaany minute now. ]<hookname| (live: 60s)[ (replace: ?hookname)[Car's arrived. You rush outside [[pile on in->pharmacy early]], hoping the cost isn't going to wipe out your food money for next week.] (stop:) ]

You're here! You're here and you have a piece of paper that says that you are entitled to the things you need! You did it!!! You rush up to the pharmacy it looks like the main building is locked - as in there is a giant chain and padlock on it, what the hell - but there's someone at the [[service window]].

[The service window is small, with thick, slightly frosted glass and a sliding hatch. There's no-one there, so you tap on the window and wait. ]<hookname| (live: 20s)[ (replace: ?hookname)[A pair of dark eyes appear at the window, in a face obscured slightly by the frosted glass. Is...is that a gun that they're holding? Or something else? [["Um, hello,"]] you say. "Can I have a repeat prescription fill please?"] (stop:) ]

[The service window is small, with thick, slightly frosted glass and a sliding hatch. There's no-one there, so you tap on the window and wait. ]<hookname| (live: 20s)[ (replace: ?hookname)[A pair of dark eyes appear at the window, in a face obscured slightly by the frosted glass. Is...is that a gun that they're holding? Or something else? [["Um, hello,"->hello without prescription]] you say. Can I have a repeat prescription fill please?.] (stop:) ]

[Someone picks up immediately and says that they'll send a car with a driver, because they're a traditional employer, none of this automation bullshit. Okay, so they don't actually say that, but that's the general feeling. They're on their way! You do some advanced thumb-twiddling until it arrives. Aaany minute now. ]<hookname| (live: 45s)[ (replace: ?hookname)[Car's arrived. You rush outside [[pile on in->pharmacy mid with prescription]], hoping the cost isn't going to wipe out your food money for next week.] (stop:) ]

You're here! You did it!!! You rush up to the pharmacy. Oh...it looks like the main building is wide open and possibly actually in the process of being looted, but unbelievably it looks like there's someone at the [[service window->service window mid with prescription]].

["Hi," says the voice behind the window. You hold up your prescription, aware that it'll be completely unreadable through the glass. The hatch slides open and a hand comes out and gently pulls the prescription out of your grip and through the hatch. There are faint scrutinising noises. You wait. ]<hookname| (live: 20s)[ (replace: ?hookname)[The hand appears again with your prescription, with another stamp on it, taped to a box that rattles. [[Amazing]].] (stop:) ]

Mission accomplished! "What do I owe?" you ask the eyes behind the window. "System's down again. Just take it." "Are you sure?" "Really. I'm the only one here, and I'll write a batch off by saying I spilled my coffee on it or something. I'm between managers, and personally I think this business is going down anyway. Everyone's leaving the area because of you know, the problems." "Yeah. Well, thank you. It means a lot, to me. A whole lot." You stand in silence for a moment. The eyes blink. "...and my sibling has that condition," says the person behind the glass, "so be well, okay? Be well. Now get home, I can feel something's going to happen. People know we have the expensive stuff here." "Thank you, take care, bye," you manage to mumble, as you (carefully) stuff the box into your bag and scoot back to the main road. People being unexpectedly kind always makes you cry. You start the [[long walk home]].

[It starts raining quite hard again, so your journey - a long simple one, following the road - is unpleasantly soggy, but you get there, you get there. You just have to let your feet do the walking, and wait. ]<hookname| (live: 30s)[ (replace: ?hookname)[And when you do eventually get there, your very own sibling's dropped by to visit you - once you charge your phone it looks like you have 20 texts from them you haven't seen - and they've brought you cake. (The end.)] (stop:) ]

You hear a slight noise, and you turn to see who must be the person from behind the service window quietly but quickly coming out a side door. Even in the midst of your rising panic, you see they are one of the most immoderately gorgeous people you've ever seen. The burn of a blush rises from your shoulders to your neck. They come up to you and close your hand around a box of the medication you need as smashing sounds start coming from inside the building. You stare straight into their eyes. You're definitely projecting from your gratitude, but they seem to be kind, compassionate, clever eyes. "Take it and run," they say, hissing slightly. "[[Run!]]"

No-one stops you as you walk up to the pile, and take the only box of your medication you can see. It's a small one, just enough for a week, but that'll give you time to plan what to do next if this arson-and-civil-unrest situation does turn out to be the beginning of the end of the world. Plastered with rain, your shoeless foot bleeding, clutching the box to your chest you limp back up to the road, and walk home in a [[fugue state]].

That week at work during your breaks you start putting down in words what happened that night, deeply ashamed as you are that you didn't stay and you didn't try to help. As it was, it's not quite the end of civilisation as you know it, not yet, although you do start sitting long into the night on the internet reading about outdoor survival strategies. You start stockpiling cans. You don't sleep well. Your eyes itch and burn. After sending out over 200 submission and enquiry emails, one of the few remaining print magazines picks up your work, and you get to see your name in good old-fashioned ink. It's a thrill, you admit. It's the start of something. It just might take a while, if there's a while left to take. (The end.)

[The service window is small, with thick, slightly frosted glass and a sliding hatch. There's no-one there, so you tap on the window and wait. ]<hookname| (live: 20s)[ (replace: ?hookname)[A pair of dark eyes appear at the window, in a face obscured slightly by the frosted glass. Is...is that a gun that they're holding? Or something else? [["Um, hello,"->hello without prescription mid]] you say. Can I have a repeat prescription fill please?.] (stop:) ]

You cautiously approach the window. "Hello?" you almost whisper. Dark eyes appear behind the frosted glass and blink at you. "Howdy." Is...is that a gun that they're holding back there? Or something else? "This is a repeat prescription for something I really need," you say quietly, and crumple it through an air vent in the window. The person behind the glass draws it through. "Yep. One moment." They move back into the shadows of the room. ]<hookname| (live: 30s)[ (replace: ?hookname)[...and all of a sudden the dispensing slot has been slid back and there's a box of your medication being held out to you. Mission accomplished! "What do I owe?" you ask the eyes behind the window. "System's obviously down, you twit. Just take it. But I really need a favour." "Anything." "Will you walk me home? I'm barricaded in this office and honestly I'm starting to lose it. I'm worried I'm going to do something really stupid like just start screaming at the next person who tries to get through my barricade. This gun-looking thing is actually a water pistol, not that I'd use a real gun, honest. It's quietish in there at the moment, I can probably sneak out a side door. What do you say? You stand in silence for a moment, thinking. The eyes blink. "[[Absolutely]], you say." Or actually, maybe you say "I think we should both just make a run for it, separately [[actually]]. Running in opposite directions, because that would be more...distracting...if any of them in there want to..chase us. Yeah..." ] (stop:)

You run until you can't run any further, and then walk the rest of the way home. You go inside, and make a cup of tea, take a pill from your new box and immediately feel better than you have been so far today, civil unrest weirdness notwithstanding. You got what you needed. And maybe one day you'll run into that maybe-pharmacist again. (The end.)

You wait a moment and a frightened and shaky-looking but unbelievably attractive person about your age slides out a side door with a massive bag of medication boxes. "This is just so it doesn't get stolen, honest," they say, quietly. "I really like your skull sweatshirt," you say. "Thanks." There's the sudden unnerving but musical sound of smashed plate glass from the other side of the building. You look at each other and start running, [[together]].

"Oh," they say behind the glass. "Sure. Can you just wait one moment while I try to get through my barricade?" "...go on [[then]]."

["Hi," says the voice behind the window. "Um, yes, hi, hello," you say, suddenly aware that all you've got to go on is your word here that you need a powerful and expensive prescription drug. "I need to get some more Innogen Seventy-Eight. I ran out last night. I can pay for it, but I'm...not actually sure what it costs. The price has been different every time." The face behind the frosted glass blinks at you. "You're kidding right? I am literally barricaded in here and you're expecting me to just carry on regardless, and take it on trust that //that's// the thing you need? The most valuable thing we've got in the whole shebang? The one that's being sold on the internet for £15 a pill?" "Um," you say, feeling your face go the kind of hot it does before tears. "I'm sorry. I was given a paper prescription and I don't have it with me." You fall silent before your voice wobbles into tears. The dark eyes behind the glass blink at you. "...okay, if you actually need it, that's really serious, so I'm going to go and see if I can find some paper record of you being prescribed it. Just wait, but if you see or hear anything suspicious, you should hide somewhere, okay - people know we keep the strong stuff here, you know, opiates and shit, and I'm expecting trouble." ]<hookname| (live: 200s)[ (replace: ?hookname)[You stand there for what seems like an age, mentally cataloguing places to hide until you hear footsteps - you duck round the corner of the building just in time to probably be hidden from people in improvised masks carrying bats and hockey sticks, what you think is probably a battering ram, and bolt-cutters. Oh no. Oh no. You wince as they stride up to the building, cut through the chain on the main door like it was a party decoration, and stroll on through. The probably-a-pharmacist-you-guess is in there. You [[freeze->freeze no prescription]].] (stop:) ]

You got the medication you needed, and you don't know it yet, but you've just met one of the best friends you're ever going to have! They're naming all the trees you're passing as you walk together, and you are just 100% enchanted. "What's that one?" "Platanus cross acerifolia. The London Plane Tree." Nice going, you! (The end)

You wait for a moment, and hear a slight noise. You turn to see who must be the person from behind the service window quietly but quickly coming out a side door. They are the most immoderately gorgeous person you've ever seen. the burn of a blush rises from your shoulders to your neck. You stare straight into their eyes. You're definitely projecting from your gratitude for getting the medication, but they seem to be kind, compassionate, clever eyes. "Thanks for helping me get out," they say. There's the sudden unnerving but musical sound of smashed plate glass from the other side of the building. You look at each other and start running, your paths [[diverging]].

You run until you can't run any further, and then walk the rest of the way home. You go inside, and make a cup of tea, take a pill from your new box and immediately feel better than you have been. You got what you needed. And maybe one day you'll run into that possible-pharmacist again. Who knows. (The end)

[You wait for what seems an age. Inside the building you can hear laughter, bangs and crashes, but no screams for help. You cross all of your fingers, and try to cross your toes as well, for all the good that will do you. ]<hookname| (live: 30s)[ (replace: ?hookname)[You start and emit a small shriek as a small cardboard box [[bounces off your head]]. ] (stop:) ]

You turn to see the maybe-pharmacist finish climbing out a window on the ground floor and push it to. They run over to where you stand with your feet locked into the ground, pick up the box of medication and close your hand around it. They are the most immoderately gorgeous person you've ever seen. the burn of a blush rises from your shoulders to your neck. You're definitely projecting from your gratitude, but they seem to be kind, compassionate, clever eyes. "Innogen Seventy-Eight. Two weeks of it. Take it and run," they say, hissing slightly. "[[Run!->run apart]]" They sprint off. You follow, but they're a much faster runner than you, and you've lost them at the first corner.

You run until you can't run any further, and then walk the rest of the way home. You go inside, and make a cup of tea, take a pill from your new box and immediately feel better than you have been. You got what you needed. And maybe one day you'll run into that possible-pharmacist again. Who knows. (The end)

[Someone picks up immediately and says that they'll send a car with a driver, because they're a traditional employer, none of this automation bullshit. Okay, so they don't actually say that, but that's the general feeling. They're on their way! You do some advanced thumb-twiddling until it arrives. Aaany minute now. ]<hookname| (live: 60s)[ (replace: ?hookname)[Car's arrived. You rush outside [[pile on in->pharmacy early with prescription]], hoping the cost isn't going to wipe out your food money for next week.] (stop:) ]

[You sit down to wait. You'll give it a couple of minutes you think, even though it's already so late. You open the book you've brought with you. It's a story about Sobek, the ancient Egyptian crocodile-headed deity, opening up a detective agency in New York. It sounds questionable by this description, but it's one of the best things you've read in a while. You're identifying hard with this crocodile-headed individual. They're so hard-boiled and witty. It's so evocative, so lush with detail. You feel sorry for anyone who doesn't have access to this amazing text. ]<hookname| (live: 120s)[ (replace: ?hookname)[The bus isn't fucking coming is it. There's no-one around. You better actually check the [[timetable->timetable late]].] (stop:) ]

[You decide to ring A1111 Cars, they are the first listed, which must mean something? It's ringing. "Hello-" "Hello," you say, hopefully. "-and welcome to A1111 Cars," continues the automated hold program in a pleasant voice. You sigh. "Your call is of utmost importance to us. You are in a queue of-" "Seven," said a robotic voice. "calls," continued the pleasant voice. "Please hold." A version of //Ride of the Valkyries// somehow played entirely on panpipes over synth backing starts to play. You conduct it in the air with your free hand as the countdown slowly ticks down. Very. Very. Slowly.]<hookname| (live: 90s)[ (replace: ?hookname)["Good afternoon, Ay one one one one cars", says a voice so crackly you can barely make out the words. After much ve-ry ca-re-ful-ly e-nun-ci-at-ing where exactly you are and where exactly you want to go across the terrible line, you're quoted £75 for the trip, one-way. You splutter in outrage, but are reminded that it's a police strike today after all, and the ambulance strike tomorrow is fast approaching. You decide to [[just pay it->pharmacy late]] and steal a load of biscuits from work and/or attempt supermarket bin-raiding for food next week. You're probably going to need your pills if you're going to be able to work at all. You're told an automated vehicle will be sent to you within the half hour. Or maybe, maybe you actually panic and decide you can't spend your food money like that, and that you'll [[walk, and go cross-country to save time now you've wasted loads of it on hold->cut directly across the fields]].] (stop:) ]

You decide to ring 'Better than other services Cars/Carz' because you want to find out if it's an actual listing and not a joke company. So you [[call them late]].

The line just plays a dead tone. You'll have to call [[one->1 late]] of [[the-> 2 late]] other [[services->999999]].

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When you'd started teaching yourself lucid dreaming, you hadn't counted on a toe-to-toe throw down with sleep paralysis arriving with it.

A very satisfying lucid flying dream, your toes skimming the tops of lemon clouds, has been replaced with what you estimate to be 10,000 years of terrifying immobility.

Looks like you're just going to have to wait it out. I mean, it feels like you've been lying here for eternity, but realistically, it's probably more like 45 seconds, because this sleep paralysis thing freaks you out so much.