Desperate Solution    

   
    Seeking fortune and influence on a business venture, you find yourself waiting in an elevator. In front of you is a brushed steel panel and on it a brightly lit button with the word "Lobby" engraved into it's translucent, circular face. Suddently, the elevator begins to drop. You feel your stomach rise into your throat and a burning rush of adrenalin. The muscles in your legs give up, but you cannot fall. The elevator car then violently decelerates and shudders to a stop, slamming you into the floor. Before any rational thinking can resume, that there may still be danger, you are overcome with anger and begin cursing out loud, promising to report this malfunction to the hotel manager.
    After emerging from the elevator, you enter the lobby and find it deserted. An immense globe of dim amber light swings almost imperceptibly, hanging by a very long cable attached to a girder in the high ceiling. Somehow it occurs to you that the malfunctioning elevator car might in some way be connected to the emptiness you see here, that your surroundings seem enveloped in an unnatural silence, penetrated only by the gentle drone of electrical hum and a sigh of air whistling through a nearby vent.
    You realize that you've forgotten your key and approach the front desk. After ringing the bell and getting no response, you go behind the counter and look through the slots with their corresponding room numbers, but they are all empty. You decide to return to your room and fortunately there's a housekeeping cart in front of it and your door is open. Entering briefly you look in the mirror and straighten your tie, take a sip from one of the two unfinished martinis left from the previous evening, and smile at the recollection of the attractive young woman you'd met at the land development dinner. Wondering if she might still be in the hotel and trying to remember what interests she represented, you fix on the idea of inquiring at the front desk. You leave the room and slip down the hall to catch an elevator.
    Following an unsettlingly swift descent you realize that you have already experienced this impending breakdown and feel the urge to make a complaint to the front desk, but as you enter the lobby you are stunned to see someone looking remarkably like yourself walking past. You hold up your hand to stop him and warn about the elevator.
    Appraising the other man, you see that he is meticulous and like you, dressed in corporate fashion: Conservative and expertly tailored jacket, tight collared, heavily starched white shirt, a simple black tie, pleated slacks and well shined leather shoes. Involuntarily, you wrinkle your brow as the man who looks like you describes the problem of a temporal loop and that one of you must go back to the hotel room to hide and figure out a way to break the cycle. Rather than listen to his words, you notice the slightly reddish hue of his face and that the veins in his neck are somewhat distended. When he leaves you feel the urge to follow and ask for clarification, but he turns suddenly and speaks in a low voice:
    "I feel that I must apologize, or maybe you should consider this a warning, that when this is all over, I plan on being the one who's left, not some look-alike that will disappear after you or one of the others has figured a way out." Confused, though understanding this as an opportunity, you grab him by the shoulders and give a violent shove, beating him to the elevator. Recalling the two previous trips in the malfunctioning car, you wonder if this one will be any better.
    The elevator goes back up, but gets stuck between floors, so you force the door open to climb out. Getting to your feet and brushing off the dust, you head down the stairs and wait for the next elevator where there are two men who look exactly like you already waiting. You tell them that the car isn't coming, it's stuck near the top floor, but they both say they'll try their luck. A bell sounds, doors slide open and one of the men gets on, but only after telling the other that there's a temporal loop and that he should go back to the room and figure out a way to break the cycle. The remaining man waits in front of the adjacent elevator door. Watching in amazement you decide not to interfere.
    After an extensive wait, nothing happens until all of the lights in the hotel appear to flicker, then grow considerably dimmer. The second elevator has not returned, so you go back up the stairs and about a third of the way up, encounter another version of you. You tell him that the elevators are out of order, so don't bother going back, but he says he'll try anyway just to see what will happen and suggests that the two of you might stick together and try to solve this thing. Leery of this proposal, you decide to continue to your room as your first apparent double had suggested.
    At the top of the stairs you glance down the corridor and see a housekeeping cart in one direction and not too far in the other direction, an elevator stuck between floors with the sliding doors partially open. You go to the elevator, crawl inside and use your pen knife to open the switch panel until a bundle of wires is hanging out. One of the wires appears to have been removed or come loose and is touching the panel housing, so you carefully hold it by the insulation and bend it back. As sparks fly, the elevator shudders and the doors close, so you press the button for the lobby.
    When the doors open, there are three of you waiting to get back on and another lurking back at some distance to see what's going on. The first guy watches you get off while two others argue as to who will take the elevator, but only one manages to get on. The other waits to take the adjacent elevator while the one in the distance becomes agitated and paces back and forth. None of them seem to pay any attention to you, so on a whim you head back up the stairs and decide that if you call one of the elevators, de-activate it and thus prevent further transit, then perhaps the whole process will be prevented from escalating any further?
    Almost to the top, you hear foot steps one floor below, so when you reach the top floor you hide just around a corner. An iteration of you walks past and re-activates the stuck elevator, then disappears, undoubtedly headed to the lobby. You come out from hiding and stand observing the illuminated numbers above each elevator door and see that both cars are stopped at the lobby. Quickly, you descend the stairs, but hear someone approaching from a lower floor. Waiting, you encounter one of your doppelgangers who then tells you that the elevator is stuck, so don't bother getting back on, but you indicate that you'll try anyway, just to see what will happen and suggest that maybe if you stayed together and worked as a team you could solve this thing, but he smirks and continues back up the stairs.
    You say under your breath, "Okay, maybe there's a pattern starting, so if I really focus I might get somewhere!"
    When you get down to the lobby, one you is just getting on the second elevator, while the first of the two elevators is already under way, back to the top. Another one of you is lurking further away, and begins to walk toward the stairs, but you hide beneath the bottom steps until he's past. Upon emerging from the stairwell, you see a man with a briefcase disappear behind one of the rather conspicuously fake looking plants to the right side of the second elevator. It could be you, but you can't be certain, as his appearance is one of brevity, characterized by an odd manner of stealth, as if it were second nature for him to avoid you, knowing just when to turn away so as to not be recognized. The briefcase is a new element though, so you hurry over and discover the almost invisible outline of a secret panel.
    On the other side of the panel is a long vestibule, faintly lit by the orange filament of an uncoated light bulb, connected to a power source that's evidently on the decline. The vestibule leads to yet another lobby, identical to the one you just left. Or is it the same one? You gaze around the lobby and see that there are high windows encircling the room, but nothing can be seen through them, only rivulets of water streaming down the outside. Apparently it's very late, and beyond the confines of the hotel lies the darkness of a stormy night. The manager's desk remains vacant. The twin elevators are guarded by two unwieldy, fake plants on either side. You get an idea to check behind the other plant and much to your surprise, there's another hidden door. But just as you are about to enter it, yet another living image of you emerges with briefcase in hand, ignoring you as he stands upright and walks past, heading out into the lobby and to the stairwell. You follow him, but cannot match the quick pace of his footsteps as you are beginning to feel weary.
    It occurs to you that after going up just one floor, you might head back down quietly. At the bottom of the stairwell, a version of you without a briefcase comes out from under the last section of stairs, peers out and dashes for the lobby. Just as you think to yourself how crazy this looks, another version of you wielding a briefcase approaches and addresses you directly:
    "Unfortunately, everything we see is in some way a result of our own actions. I suggest you come with me before things get worse. I can't explain, but I think you'll understand when we get to the room." He starts toward the stairwell, looks back and after a moments hesitation, you follow.
    As the two of you ascend, passing the floor just below the one that your room is on, yet another version of you lunges at your companion from the corridor. There's a struggle and you decide to apprehend the briefcase yourself. Holding on tightly, you imagine that the briefcase might be the radical element that serves some imperative function, after all, the other one was trying to steal it... On the other hand, you think, it could be something that just serves to complicate things.
    The companion-you detains the attacker and shrieks, "Get the hell out of here! Run! Take the briefcase back to the room!"
    "But what for?" You shout, heading back up the stairs and gaining speed.
    Desperately struggling with his attacker, the other you finally says, "The briefcase is the key!" So you run out into the lobby, only to encounter a small gathering in front of the elevators, all versions of you. Staring back, you observe from a distance. Suddenly a briefcase wielding apparition of you emerges from behind the left potted plant and they all rush after him, but not before he dashes through the lobby and disappears into the stairwell. One of the elevator doors opens and as one version of you tries to get off, five more try to get on. It's mad! One version of you appears at the entrance to the stairwell. Yet another version of you emerges from behind the left plant, while another one who just came from the stairwell goes directly to the secret passage on the right.
    Briefcase still firmly in hand, you walk to the left of the elevators, past the stairwell and become aware of a corridor that you hadn't noticed before. You use this to escape the lobby and find at its end, another stairwell. After climbing to the top and with the lights fading further, you reenter the hotels now barely visible network of rooms and passageways, losing your sense of direction after negotiating several turns and great lengths of maroon carpet. You hear sheets of rain clamoring across the roof, then pelting down in wild, intermittent bursts and sense that it's become much hotter and more humid inside. You can feel a layer of sweat on the surface of your skin, but no evaporation. Turning a corner, you bump into a cart with some cleaning implements and linen on it.
    Across from the cart is an open door and eventually you recognize this as your room. Recalling that the last time you were here you failed to get the key, you reenter to see if it's still on the countertop and it is. Reaching down to pick it up, you are distracted by a noise that's suddenly stopped. One of your doppelgangers bursts through the lavatory door, along with a cloud of steam. He is holding a gun, which he deftly points into your face.
    "Hand over the briefcase!" It says firmly.
    "What?", you reply involuntarily, wondering if the briefcase is of importance after all, so you decide to stall and figure out an angle. You begin to open your mouth, but are immediately interrupted.
    "You're stalling, I know, I've already been there. Just give me the briefcase."
    You start to hand it over, but then swing the case violently, aiming for his left temple. The other version of you somehow manages to step out of the way at last moment, pushing into the back of your elbow as your arm and briefcase swing past his head and into the wall. An intense, shocking pain travels the length of your arm and your knees buckle out from under you.
    "It didn't work, did it? I already tried it.", it says, standing above you.
    Cradling your injured arm, you get into a crouch, ready to lunge for the door.
    "Wait! Before you go I want you to try something," your other says. Half standing, your mind shifts from thoughts of escape to your peripheral vision and you see him lower the gun.
    "Go to the mirror," he says, but your mind is fuzzy, arm still throbbing in pain.
    "Go on!" He says.
    You hesitate, then manage to stand upright before the mirror. You see yourself, but then your doppelganger is gone! You look around slowly and take an inventory of your surroundings. You notice the large painting on the wall above the bed. Though the light is dim and the air misty, you can see how the once beautiful natural landscape has been slashed repeatedly and obscured by graffiti, the canvas and artwork irreparably damaged.
    You've had your fill of this unsettling business you think, so you follow the impulse to take a shower and then a nap. When you open your eyes there's a tentative scratching coming from the lock in the door. In haste, you hide in the lavatory. Someone uses a key to gain access to the room, a figure silhouetted by soft burgundy light from the hall enters briefly, but then leaves. Taking long strides to the door, you catch a glimpse of someone just as they're disappearing into one of the elevators.
    On the housekeeping cart in the corridor, there is a dark object visible along the edge of some linens. Pushing back a corner of fabric reveals a sleek, long barreled semi-automatic. Seizing it, you duck back into the room and wonder what might be done to prevent the chaos that must ensue, realizing that everything you did before seemed to make things worse. If your memory would serve you, then you could make a point of doing something different the next time around, but it seems that consciousness is something vague and that you and everyone else are blinded by instinct. It dawns on you that there must be other perspectives, certainly broader than your own, and that great advantage might be had in stealing a glimpse at them.
    Peering down the hall once again, one of your alternates rounds a corner. You duck back into the room, hiding in the lavatory once more.
    "What if I break the cycle?" You whisper to yourself. "And do I have any choices?"
    The alternate enters with briefcase in hand, walks toward the bed, so you decide to make a break for the door.
    "Hell, I'm already past this stage!", you say, hoping he didn't hear the nervous remark. But he turns just as you emerge from the lavatory with the gun in your hand. You look down and realize that it must appear to him that you are deliberately threatening him, using the weapon if not to kill, then as a means of psychological force. But then you realize something that he doesn't. Looking over, under the countertop by the mirror, another briefcase stands right where you'd left it, but now it's open... and empty!
    "I can't take any chances", you whisper. Then loudly and firmly you say:
    "Hand over your briefcase!"
    "What?", your double replies automatically. But his meager response is to stall, and you know that he's trying to figure out an angle.
    "You're stalling, I know, I've already been there. Just give me the briefcase," you say.
    He starts to hand it over, but then twists violently, swinging the briefcase in an arc toward the left side of your head. Astonishingly, you find it easy to counteract the offensive, reach over and press firmly into the back of his arm as it reaches the partitioning wall between the door and the mirror. In pain, he collapses to his knees and you step backward into the shadows.
    "It won't work; I already tried it," you say, unconsciously reaching up to rub your right elbow and sidestepping toward the door. You know he's about to bolt for the door himself, so you decide to stop him. You realize that you must take control of events and not let any of the others follow their own reason.
    "Wait," you say. "I'd like to try something." Then, "Go to the mirror.", is articulated, flowing from your lips. I shouldn't have said that, you think, but that's the catch. You can't seem to get past the moment, to think ahead. Your doppelganger hesitates, then goes to the mirror and stares. When it's apparent that his mind has drifted you slip out the door and walk briskly down the corridor.
    When you reach the first elevator, there's a hideous crackling sound, interspersed with an electrical drone. A wisp of smoke seeps from between the seems of the metal doors. You manage to force the sliding metal jaws apart somewhat, but drop the gun through the opening.
    "Shit..." You exclaim. "Can't take the stairs or I'll run into a later self; gotta get closer to the beginning of the cycle..."
    You try the elevator doors again, but you fail and you become agitated, so you walk back down the hall, this time resolutely, taking notice of the cart. "Can't even remember my own room number," you say. "Have to rely on this..." In anger, you kick the cart and send it further down the hall. You go through the open door and there's a briefcase, standing on the floor under the counter by the mirror. You hear someone in the shower.
    "Nothing I do will make any difference," you say, and there's a sense that these words are your thoughts and that there were no thoughts preceding the words. You grab the briefcase and say, "I should open this now..." but the water stops, so you turn around and another version of you emerges from the lavatory, holding you at gun point. "Give me the briefcase", it says.
    "What?", you apparently say. Irritated, but stalling, you try to think what to do next, or what not to do in order to break the pattern, but can't.
    "You're putting me off, don't forget, we've already been here," your mirror image says. "Just hand it over", it says coldly.
    You start to raise the briefcase, expecting to try striking him with it and find yourself moving, without any sense of being connected to your body at all. The black leather case with metal tipped corners just misses his temple and not surprisingly, the other version of you steps casually out of the way, reaches over and nearly breaks your arm.
    "That's not going to work; you know it; we've already tried it," he says disdainfully.
    Your impulse is to dive for the door. "Hold it a second. Go over to the mirror; I wanna see what happens."
    You hesitate, but realize that there are transcendent forces at work, so you look in the steam clouded mirror and find yourself whispering again:
    "If I could just go down the stairs and go out the front door it would be so Goddamned simple... So Goddamned simple..."
    You feel that this is your moment of revelation, but as you turn heel, your other self lunges desperately, looking grimly fatigued, yet forcing a smile. His outstretched arm is trembling. Tightly gripped in his sweating hand, a dark long barreled semi-automatic is pointed with deadly precision, cold metal against your skin in the middle of your forehead.
    "There is no front door!" He says, and pulls the trigger.

Copyright 1999 Schuyler Hupp All Rights Reserved

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