“The History of Something in the Future”

“The History of Something in the Future”
or “Smoking My Way In”
A short story by S. Redenbaugh



As I cram myself deeper into this slot fissure inside the cave I smile. Fitting into it requires me to exhale than push through the small opening that angles up a mud slope . This is something you don’t do alone, I do, but you shouldn’t. Once in, I look for the winters ravage on the room. The air here is cold, and its smell is that of wet mud and clay. Catching my breath, I reach into my mud crusted cave pack and remove a twelve inch by three eights of an inch iron pipe. I unscrew the end and slide out a stick of Nam Champa incense. I bang my elbow on the wall behind me as I light the stick and place it into the mud floor below my feet. Looking down I see history before me.

When smoke travels perpendicular to an incense stick there is a very good reason. Airflow strong enough to push the smoke away from the upright stick is the tell tale sign of more cave beyond my present reach. I am knocking upon this heavens door.

Three years ago I broke into this fissure and pushed it as far as possible. Every Saturday night after spending the day there I would nurse the gashes and rips in my fore arms from attempting to place my body into a narrow slot smaller than my sum total parts. I had to.

Just beyond where I can get to lies a huge room, thus the airflow. I can see the blackness of this void; her name is The Apricot Gardens because of the fruit colored blobs growing on the ceiling. She has kept her virginity from me far to long.

This narrow slot fissure is about ten feet tall but is on a slant, keeping me from standing. In most places here the walls are so close to my face that I have to close my eyes to keep from going insane, its only when facing straight down the fissure that I can look. For a man with claustrophobia I pick strange things to entertain myself with.

Today, by proving the airflow is worthy of altering the entrance I take steps to remove her obstacles. I drilled eleven one inch holes eighteen inches deep into the stone wall that is doing just that in its blocking my way on. Inside these holes a licensed professional will pack them with a state of the art expanding agent and I’ll leave it at that. The expansion will take place Tuesday after work, then Thursday; I’ll reenter and remove the rubble. I hope to then push into the virgin passage with glee.