Police

I’m a police officer and I’m at the station in a warm, dry town. The sun gives a hot, golden tint to everything.

At my desk, I read the paper. There’s a story of a police officer who had died and then mysteriously returned to life an hour later, which, as suggested by the story’s headline, «was too late» - although he was indeed alive again. The paper’s conclusion make perfect sense to me, and then as I read through the story, I realize that it’s a script. It’s main character - the policeman - is me, and it depicts what is actually about to happen to me this very day. A feeling of pride flows through me for a moment.

I get up from my chair. I have to go to work, and I walk outside. In my mind I know what is about to happen to me, but I have no idea what it is.

Outside the streets are empty. All the buildings surrounding the street are covered in colorful sheets of corrugated metal. There’s the odd grafitti piece here and there, and the whole scene has a very cinematic feel to it. I’m calm and I feel free, but I also know I have some important stuff to do, so - I get on my bike.

I start on a long, delightful bicycle ride. The cool of the air hits me as I speed along the street, faster and faster it goes. I move out of town quickly and onto a wide, long road, stretching all the way into the horizon and beyond. Around me the landscape is open, no trees, no buildings, but I can see a mountain range in the distance. I hardly use the pedals, but I gather more and more speed as I go, having no fear.

Two guys on one single bicycle pass me by on the left. They cheer and holler, and they seem very unorganized upon their vehicle; they crawl on top of each other and argue on who’s steering. I know they’re hiding something because they seem so cheery, and I have to follow them to find out what their crime is. They continue up ahead of me which suits me just fine. The speed at which we’re moving now is totally inexplicable, it’s so fast I can’t concentrate on the surrounding landscape anymore.

The two men take an abrupt right turn and continue down a sloped hill, off the road. I slow down and follow them. Their heads turn anxiously around to look at me from time to time. I decide to get off the bike and walk instead, as they seem to be having tremendous difficulties keeping their bike steady. Suddenly they jump off their bikes, pull out their guns and shoot me in the chest. I cease to exist for a moment, and the image of the newspaper appear before me. I read the following sentence from a monologue, which is quoted from myself:

«I was still alive. I tried to remove the bullets from my body, but then I died. So I had to put the bullets back in, and I was alive again. But when the emergency personnel arrived and took the bullets out, I died. What a waste».

I return to life again. I feel as if I’ve been hoaxed, someone has tricked me back to this life, here, and the life I was supposed to live is just a tiny article in a newspaper.

I wake up.