The next time or maybe the tenth time after that (sequences and numbers had just as much meaning as time to the consciousness. As in, it had no meaning), the tug brought him to the hallway of a building. Somewhere the consciousness hadn’t been before but it felt familiar anyways. The hallways were empty of people, but the murmur of voices from rooms and around corners echoed along the tiled floor and over the wooden walls.

It was calm. Until the squeak of shoes and the muttered curses of a voice he recognized filtered from far down the building. The consciousness waited, unsure if the man was coming toward his location. In just a few minutes, there he was. Skidding around the corner, a stack of papers in his hand, his brown hair a disheveled mess. Dark patches lingered under his eyes and his lips were swollen and scabbed.

“Shit shit shit shit. Please, please come on.” The man grumbled to himself, heaving a breath as he slowed his frantic pace near the door closest to where the consciousness existed. The door was closed, but a light shown from the bottom crack.

The man took a deep breath, attempted to smooth down his hair and then knocked on the door three times.

“Just a moment.” A deep voice called from within. The man shuffled in place, abused lips back between his teeth as he waited. Before long the door squeaked open to reveal an older man, unassuming and unmemorable. He sighed heavily when he saw who had knocked on his door. The old man removed his glasses and slid them into the pocket of his shirt before speaking.

“Cyrus. We talked about this.”

“I know Professor-” the brown haired man spoke hurriedly.

Cyrus.

Was that his name?

Of course it was. As soon as he heard it, the consciousness knew it was the man’s name. As much as he knew what the sun was or what it meant to be outside or that the walls were paneled over with dark wood. There was no memory attached to learning these things and not really any full thought that determined they were true. They just were.
“It’s too late, Cyrus. I’ve given you all the extensions I can.”

“Professor please, you know I-”

“I know it’s been hard for you and I’ve encouraged you to get accommodations in place through the student center. You haven’t taken that step so I’ve done what I can on my end but I’m afraid I can’t help any further. My final grades were due three hours ago and now I’m locked out of the system.” The old professor explained. His words were kind but final.

“I understand.” Cyrus replied, his voice soft and trembling. “Thank you for your time.” He turned and started to walk away without waiting for a reply.

“You’re a smart young man Cyrus. There’s no shame in asking for accommodations if you need them.” The professor called out but whether Cyrus heard or not, he gave no acknowledgment as he trudged slowly back down the hallway, tears now glistening in his eyes.

Blog About Ch3: About Cyrus

Anyone else just want to give Cyrus a big hug and make everything better for him?

Don’t worry, our unnamed consciousness will be showing up very soon to take care of sweet Cyrus but he’s got a few more tough things to get through before that.