Horses.
Bison.
And, as we’ve already seen: sheep (like Fred). But no humans except for this fellow casting his own shadow against one of those old fashion Dutch windmills this time and who doesn’t really count except to one.
That was about to change. As instructed by tech wizard and friend to the gang Lester from up above (or sideways or whatever) in Lost Sanos, Grand Theft Auto, he waits at the Ells bridge for the other human now inhabiting this Netherworld to drive up. But, standing here looking out at the canal heading in the right direction to end this, he’s had a good long time to think about the decision. He’s God-like or at least a God wannabe here. What is he when he returns to the, er, surface? Just Philip Strevor, small time criminal with big but in all likelihood impossible dreams for greater glory. And he’s a *bad* person up there — he admits that now. Down or over here — Hell, Heaven or wherever — it’s all morally ambiguous. He has to see this through, he’s realized. Find out what’s at the finish line. SE corner it is!
earlier:
“Okay, Mikie, I’ve arranged to have a *gold* car waiting for you when you crash. Not silver, not copper, not any other shiny metal. But: gold. If you choose silver you’re in the wrong one and you’ll derez in about 15 minutes I’ve estimated and that won’t be pretty. So make *sure*.”
“Got it,” said Mikie. God knows he knows what gold is like, he thinks. He’s dreamed about having it in great abundance all his live long life (live long life again?).
“I’ll set the coordinates to crash you as close as I can but I can’t risk landing on top of the rigged thing. So it will be at a distance, I don’t know, maybe 5-7 minutes away tops. That’ll give us 8-10 minutes wiggle room. Once you’re in the car you’re safe. The car’s body will become one with yours, just like (with) the plane before. You’re merely making a *transference* of the container.” He turns away from the computer and his typed out plans and toward Mikie to emphasize his point. “Do – you – understand?”
“I- I think so.”
“You *think* so… or you know so?” Lester wants a yes, which he gets with, at first, slow and then more steady nods and finally a verbal confirmation.
“Yes,” Lester mirrors, turning back. “You’ll understand or you’ll die. You can’t live without a body there. Only Philip can do that because, well you know.”
“Because he’s already dead,” finished Mikie for him.
“Yeah. So *don’t* let that happen to you. This isn’t easy to set up, believe me. If I wasn’t a genius of the *highest* rank–”
“I know I know,” says Mikie. “You’re a genius, Lester.” And Mikie wasn’t being his usual sarcastic self for a change. This was big, he knew. This was bigger that his dreams of huge amounts of gold, potentially. This was a gateway to the afterlife we were talking about. Something that could reshape the world as we know it — and bring them untold fortunes in the process. They could *control* the access.
—–
“Okay, Mikie,” he says to himself after disengaging from the plane and looking around. “There it is over there between those 2 buildings. Better hustle.”
“Made it! And 11 minutes to spare, ha ha.”
He goes inside.
Sunklands 