Title: Not Here
Fandom: Level 7 (Out of the Unknown)
Rating: Teen
Length: 500 words.
Content notes: Mental breakdown, mentions of a nuclear apocalypse
Author notes: Level 7 is a 1966 episode of the BBC SF anthology, Out of the Unknown, (from a book by Mordecai Roshwald). And, yes, if there is ever a badge for Wilful Obscurity, I will win it. (Sorry.) But the ‘Anywhere But Here’ prompt struck me hard when I was watching it. I hope it makes sense without knowledge of the source; it’s just a vignette of a particular moment/character.
Summary: Sometimes seeing the truth of things is no help at all.
***
Even here in the medical bay, the dispassionate voice of the tape recording broke into the far-away conversations around him. He wasn’t listening any more, but still they told him how lucky he was to be here on Level 7, Level 7, Level 7. Safe, and privileged – and buried four thousand five hundred feet below the earth.
There was something wrong with him that he didn’t see that his freedom was to be here, securely boxed away from that dead world above. He moved on the bed, as if trying to escape that thought. He saw the rockets falling inside his head every time he closed his eyes; they wouldn’t go away. But, no, that was the nightmare, wasn’t it? The world wasn’t dead – not yet; only to him, because he was here. There was something wrong with him. No one else saw Level 7 as their prison, or – he shivered – their tomb. Here on Level 7 they could end the world in safety. They were lucky, and he was ungrateful, he was unnatural.
They were trying to cure him of wanting not to be here. He didn’t see how they could. He didn’t think he cared. He was disappearing in his intense wish to be elsewhere, as he stared at the grey wall against the bunk on which he was lying. First his hand, and his arm, and then, why not everything? If he could cease to function entirely, it would solve the problem.
Nothing made sense any more, but it was only his confusion; everyone else was unconcerned. He could not hold in his head the thought that they would follow the commands of a tape, a mere machine, and destroy the living, colourful world above with their poisonous, violent rockets, and their precious Level 7. No matter how many times he fed that through his brain, he couldn’t process it. He would not, he could not, press any more buttons. Pressing those buttons was an act of murder; the end of the world. He thought everybody knew destroying people was murder, but they didn’t seem to think so. They didn’t seem to think at all; they listened to a tape instead, a tape that played on and on without an end.
The medical team were not unkind, although they kept their distance and rarely spoke to him, as if his upside-down ideas were infectious, radioactive. It would all be right again after the procedure, the nurse told him when she brought his rations. She smiled, but she was only a number, not a real person, like everyone else – except him. He had lost his name when they brought him down here, and now he had forfeited the number they had given him. He could hardly be here, could he, not if he was only a malfunctioning part of the machinery, a broken part without a label?
It would all be right again, after the procedure.
And it was, for then he simply wasn’t there at all.
***
Fandom: Level 7 (Out of the Unknown)
Rating: Teen
Length: 500 words.
Content notes: Mental breakdown, mentions of a nuclear apocalypse
Author notes: Level 7 is a 1966 episode of the BBC SF anthology, Out of the Unknown, (from a book by Mordecai Roshwald). And, yes, if there is ever a badge for Wilful Obscurity, I will win it. (Sorry.) But the ‘Anywhere But Here’ prompt struck me hard when I was watching it. I hope it makes sense without knowledge of the source; it’s just a vignette of a particular moment/character.
Summary: Sometimes seeing the truth of things is no help at all.
***
Even here in the medical bay, the dispassionate voice of the tape recording broke into the far-away conversations around him. He wasn’t listening any more, but still they told him how lucky he was to be here on Level 7, Level 7, Level 7. Safe, and privileged – and buried four thousand five hundred feet below the earth.
There was something wrong with him that he didn’t see that his freedom was to be here, securely boxed away from that dead world above. He moved on the bed, as if trying to escape that thought. He saw the rockets falling inside his head every time he closed his eyes; they wouldn’t go away. But, no, that was the nightmare, wasn’t it? The world wasn’t dead – not yet; only to him, because he was here. There was something wrong with him. No one else saw Level 7 as their prison, or – he shivered – their tomb. Here on Level 7 they could end the world in safety. They were lucky, and he was ungrateful, he was unnatural.
They were trying to cure him of wanting not to be here. He didn’t see how they could. He didn’t think he cared. He was disappearing in his intense wish to be elsewhere, as he stared at the grey wall against the bunk on which he was lying. First his hand, and his arm, and then, why not everything? If he could cease to function entirely, it would solve the problem.
Nothing made sense any more, but it was only his confusion; everyone else was unconcerned. He could not hold in his head the thought that they would follow the commands of a tape, a mere machine, and destroy the living, colourful world above with their poisonous, violent rockets, and their precious Level 7. No matter how many times he fed that through his brain, he couldn’t process it. He would not, he could not, press any more buttons. Pressing those buttons was an act of murder; the end of the world. He thought everybody knew destroying people was murder, but they didn’t seem to think so. They didn’t seem to think at all; they listened to a tape instead, a tape that played on and on without an end.
The medical team were not unkind, although they kept their distance and rarely spoke to him, as if his upside-down ideas were infectious, radioactive. It would all be right again after the procedure, the nurse told him when she brought his rations. She smiled, but she was only a number, not a real person, like everyone else – except him. He had lost his name when they brought him down here, and now he had forfeited the number they had given him. He could hardly be here, could he, not if he was only a malfunctioning part of the machinery, a broken part without a label?
It would all be right again, after the procedure.
And it was, for then he simply wasn’t there at all.
***
About
![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
fan_flashworks is an all-fandoms multi-media flashworks community. We post a themed challenge every ten days or so; you make any kind of fanwork in response to the challenge and post it here. More detailed guidelines are here.The community on Livejournal:
![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif){kind=small}
fan_flashworks Page Summary
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png)
argentum-ls.livejournal.com : (no subject) [+3] - elanya.livejournal.com : (no subject) [+3]
- bghost.livejournal.com : (no subject) [+5]
- sabaceanbabe.livejournal.com : (no subject) [+1]
- ride-4ever.livejournal.com : (no subject) [+1]
- belantana.livejournal.com : (no subject) [+1]
- belantana.livejournal.com : (no subject) [+3]
Designed by ![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
chasethestars
chasethestars
Comments
So, without knowing anything about the show you referenced, I read this. It's absolutely chilling. I honestly don't know if knowledge of the canon is necessary, as this does such a good job of conveying the necessary info that it easily functions as a standalone story. Excellent work.
And thanks very much. I'd hoped it would work, but, of course, I do know what's going on it, so it's always hard to tell. :-)
I am fairly likely to give things a shot when I don't know the fandom when they're both short and it is at least implied that I don't need more context, too, so this was well set up to lure me in :D
And, yep. There's something fascinating about the apocalyptic fears of previous generations, I think. (If you're at all interested, the episode is here. I wouldn't normally link to something on a comm, but it's been put up by the film collector that owns it (along with other rare UK TV), so I assume it's legal. And it's never been released in any format, anyway; it was missing for about 35 years. But it's shaky old BBC b&w TV from 1966, so, you know, slow & cheap.)
:-)
Or, um, I'm sorry? ;-)
(Sorry, edited for slight html fail.)
Edited 2012-05-25 08:09 pm (UTC)
:-)
I know nothing of the source, but the theme ("anywhere but here") was very much present and the creepiness factor was high, which is a very good thing. It's very well written and I'm glad I read it, even without being familiar with the source.
They were trying to cure him of wanting not to be here - Perfect.
Also, more hugs for you, because.
:-)
Even the titles are creepy! And David Collings' little face :( :(
The titles are nothing to the original DW ones... And, er, yes, aww. He is soooo doomed in this. He might as well have a sign over him from the first moment he appears. (Spot the person who does not fit in, asks the wrong questions and doesn't want to have sex like everybody else! :lol:)
Edited 2012-06-06 07:12 pm (UTC)