Pitbabe S2, Chapter 24 pg 5
Pitbabe S2, Chapter 24 pg 5
The drive from my house to the lab isn’t far—normally, it takes no more than fifteen minutes. But today, traffic was at a standstill. From my estimation, it might take two to three times longer than usual. I don’t know if there was an accident ahead, because this route is rarely this congested.
Besides the unusually heavy traffic, something else felt off. I’m certain I know the way to the lab like the back of my hand, but for some reason, I felt like I’d circled back to the same intersection twice already.
At first, I thought it might be déjà vu, or maybe I was too sleep-deprived and got confused, thinking I’d driven through already. Or perhaps I really did mess up the route. But when I focused, I became certain I wasn’t imagining things.
I’d looped through this intersection five times, but the clock on my dashboard showed only two minutes had passed—an impossibility. The cars and motorcycles stopped at the red light with me were the same every time, driven by the same people, moving in the same patterns. In front of me was a red Volvo S60, license plate กน 9309, with a small dent on the corner of its rear grille. Next to it was a motorcycle taxi, the driver lifting his helmet to smoke a cigarette. A mother and son crossed the zebra crossing hand in hand, the mother gripping her son tightly, walking briskly, while the little boy pointed excitedly, chattering nonstop. Even the woman at the bus stop was the same, talking on the phone with a tense expression, wiping sweat from her brow in the stifling heat and heated conversation.
I’m trapped in some kind of loop.
And it’s not a coincidence.
I take a deep breath before gently pressing the accelerator as the traffic light turns green. I still choose to drive the same route, at the same speed, but I scan my surroundings more carefully, trying to spot any anomaly that might reveal the seam of this loop. But there’s nothing.
I end up back at the same intersection again.
There’s the red Volvo, license plate กน 9309, again. The motorcycle taxi driver smoking, the mother and child crossing the street, the office girl arguing with her boyfriend. Everything is in its place, happening in the exact same way, like a recorded tape stuck on repeat. And I’m one of the actors who can never escape this scene.
If I keep driving the same path, I’ll always end up stopping at the same spot.
That’s what I think. When the light turns green again, instead of going straight like before, I decide to turn left. It’s not the way to the lab, but if I keep repeating the same behavior, I’ll just get pulled back to that intersection again. So this time, I choose a different path.
I end up back at the same place.
I don’t know when the route changed. At first, I was sure the surroundings were different, but before I knew it, both sides of the road started looking eerily familiar until I found myself stopped at the same intersection for the seventh time.
There’s no need to try turning right again—I already know the outcome will be the same. My brain is working overtime now, searching for a loophole, reviewing things I might have overlooked without realizing, calculating other possibilities that might be more viable than just trying left or right turns.
What is it?
Where’s the exit?
I try calling Dr. Chris. As expected, no one picks up. I switch to calling Phii Touch, Liu, Jeff, Phii Alan, even Babe. Not a single person answers. This must mean it’s the nature of the loop—you can’t contact anyone outside it.
What about inside, then?
I roll down the window and try calling out to the motorcycle taxi driver next to me, the one smoking.
“Excuse me, sir.”
No response. It’s like he doesn’t hear me at all.
“Sir, motorcycle taxi guy!”
I call again, louder this time, but the reaction is the same: nothing. The driver stays perched on his bike, puffing smoke casually as ever, showing no sign of acknowledging my calls.
The people inside can’t help either.
So, I can’t contact anyone, can’t ask for help. This loop was designed to completely isolate one person, to lock them in solitary confinement, far from others, like Azkaban, just without the Dementors floating around. And judging by the fact that I can’t contact or even communicate with anyone, it probably means this prison can’t be opened from the outside.
I can only rely on myself.
I glanced at the car’s dashboard clock. Seven minutes had passed since the first red light until now. Of course, this isn’t real time. I have no idea how long it’s actually been—maybe thirty minutes, an hour, or two hours. Whatever it is, I just hope it’s not days or weeks. That would be too much.
What else haven’t I tried?
The purpose of this place is confinement, and the method is to trap me in a loop. It starts at the same point, with some choices I can change in the middle, but it always ends back here. Does that mean the car will be stuck on this road forever? What if I get out and walk instead? Hmm… I don’t know why, but my gut tells me it’s pointless. Even if walking is a new behavior, I’m still moving. Whether I’m in the car or on foot, I’d probably just end up circling back to this spot.
What other possibilities could keep me from looping back here?
In every cycle, I wait for the light to turn green, press the gas, drive through the intersection, and keep going down the road. I feel fully aware the whole time, but then, in a flash, it’s like I’ve driven through an invisible tunnel, and the end of the tunnel is this intersection. The question is, where is that tunnel?
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