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PROLOGUE
A Friday in November
Gesson looked down at the bundle of fancy designer wears and accessories that lay at his feet, hoping to see some signs of life from within. The only light came from the electric bulbs, which illuminated the room and were of little help to him, he craved life, but there was none.
He lowered one knee to the cold floor and turned back the clothes, knowing what he would find. He had seen dead bodies before, here in Jurmala, over the previous few years, but it still shocked him. The victim was a young lady, probably no older than thirty-three years of age. Crimson markings all around her neck, indicating that she had been strangled. A small amount of blood from a wound at the back of her head caused when she was struck already staining her body. He placed his hand on her face; her body was still warm. A few minutes earlier, she would have been making her way to her lecture, which was supposed to begin at 17:00, The Higgs Boson; The science of all subatomic particles and the forces interacting with them. Most of the audience members were physicists and scientists from leading countries. Scientists, astronomers, and many stupid young students are trying to learn something. She had been someone’s daughter, sister, friend, helper – “and now the people that had known her would be anxiously awaiting her arrival, wondering what was keeping her and why she had not returned.”
“All that was left of the life of so few years.” In a few minutes, he would summon his colleagues, and she would be taken away; notices would be posted in the vicinity, and within a day or so, someone would reclaim the body – and after the inquest, she would be buried, mourned for a while by those that had known her, but ignored by all those who would come after her. Life in Jurmala would continue, as it had done before, and whoever had committed this deed would fade back into the shadows until perhaps someone who knew him gave him away – or worse still, until he stuck again.
Gens realized that he must have arrived on the scene only seconds after the girl had been killed. He covered the face of the young girl with her shawl, and as he did so, he suddenly became aware of another’s presence further down the darkness. His first impulse was to cry out and request the others’ assistance. Still, the possibility that it might be the perpetrator of this terrible outrage who now stood silently in the shadows took root in his mind.
Slowly Gesson rose to his feet and returned in the direction of the central police station.
If only there were ways to travel through time!
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Title VIDEO MESSAGE TO THE FUTURE
PROLOGUE
A Friday in November
Gesson looked down at the bundle of fancy designer wears and accessories that lay at his feet, hoping to see some signs of life from within. The only light came from the electric bulbs, which illuminated the room and were of little help to him, he craved life, but there was none.
He lowered one knee to the cold floor and turned back the clothes, knowing what he would find. He had seen dead bodies before, here in Jurmala, over the previous few years, but it still shocked him. The victim was a young lady, probably no older than thirty-three years of age. Crimson markings all around her neck, indicating that she had been strangled. A small amount of blood from a wound at the back of her head caused when she was struck already staining her body. He placed his hand on her face; her body was still warm. A few minutes earlier, she would have been making her way to her lecture, which was supposed to begin at 17:00, The Higgs Boson; The science of all subatomic particles and the forces interacting with them. Most of the audience members were physicists and scientists from leading countries. Scientists, astronomers, and many stupid young students are trying to learn something. She had been someone’s daughter, sister, friend, helper – “and now the people that had known her would be anxiously awaiting her arrival, wondering what was keeping her and why she had not returned.”
“All that was left of the life of so few years.” In a few minutes, he would summon his colleagues, and she would be taken away; notices would be posted in the vicinity, and within a day or so, someone would reclaim the body – and after the inquest, she would be buried, mourned for a while by those that had known her, but ignored by all those who would come after her. Life in Jurmala would continue, as it had done before, and whoever had committed this deed would fade back into the shadows until perhaps someone who knew him gave him away – or worse still, until he stuck again.
Gens realized that he must have arrived on the scene only seconds after the girl had been killed. He covered the face of the young girl with her shawl, and as he did so, he suddenly became aware of another’s presence further down the darkness. His first impulse was to cry out and request the others’ assistance. Still, the possibility that it might be the perpetrator of this terrible outrage who now stood silently in the shadows took root in his mind.
Slowly Gesson rose to his feet and returned in the direction of the central police station.
If only there were ways to travel through time!
Work type Narrative, Essay
Tags prose, #video #message #future, detective story, novel
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Registry info in Safe Creative
Identifier 2210132317589
Entry date Oct 13, 2022, 7:29 AM UTC
License All rights reserved
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Copyright registered declarations
Author. Holder Gennadii Stepanov. Date Oct 13, 2022.
Information available at https://www.safecreative.org/work/2210132317589-video-message-to-the-future
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Registration: 2210132317589
