– Chapter 1 –
Trial & Error
The clock was ticking out of time.
Not fast, not slow, just out.
Sat on the waiting room’s lumpy grey couch, Addison stared up at it in growing frustration. The clock’s design was strange enough – an artsy half-analogue, half-digital contraption – but it wasn’t the strange spiral digits flickering across its dark face that bothered him. It was the damned off-beat ticking.
Addison was at his audition. Still at his audition. Still waiting for the corporate bigwigs next door to call him in. The room was spartan – four grey walls, two ugly sofas, one resolutely closed door – and without so much as a magazine to entertain him, time had begun to slacken and unspool. His commute here already had the texture of distant memory, the past hour was a blur and each irregular tick of the clock was like water torture, marking the passage of time without actually measuring it.
“Eyes on the prize,” Addison muttered, glancing at the door. “Can’t be long now.”
He caught his reflection in the clock’s polished casing and grimaced. His skin was pale, his dark hair unruly. Even his eyes, normally so bright and blue, seemed oddly sunken. Not an ideal first impression.
“Eyes on the prize,” Addison repeated, less confidently.
The stuttering hands ticked on.
When the casting call had first arrived, Addison had been thrilled. The brief had been a little cryptic – corporate ad, improv skills essential, script on audition – but the pay was ridiculous, ten times normal, enough to escape his grotty flatshare and return to acting full time. Work had been very thin of late, but an old role in a legal drama (non-speaking, but the bigwigs needn’t know) made this at least promising. He’d sent over his acting reel in a flurry of excitement, but now all he felt was despair.
“Right,” he said, jumping up to try the door. “Hello? Is anyone––”
The clock chimed loudly. At the same time, the door below hissed open and Addison came face-to-face with a strange man. He was thin, bookish and for some reason entirely grey. Grey clothes, grey eyes, even his skin was an unhealthy pallor. Most bizarre was his face, which for a second was entirely expressionless. Then, as if someone had flicked a switch, the man broke into a broad smile and his pale features lit up in delight. Addison took an involuntary step back.
“Mr. Addison!” the man beamed. “Welcome, welcome!”
“It’s Moore,” Addison replied, taken aback by the sudden transformation. “Addison Moore.”
The man’s voice was high and tremulous, eager to please.
“Of course!”
“I’m here for the audition?”
“Of course, of course!” the man repeated, consulting a sleek tablet. “Just a few questions. How are you feeling?”
“Feeling? Like, am I nervous?”
“Physically!”
“Fine. Why?”
“Any nausea? Dizziness? Headaches?”
“No.”
“Hallucinations?”
“No!”
“Then we are ready!” he beamed, disappearing back through the door. “Please, follow!”
Hovering on the threshold, a peculiar sensation washed over Addison. He was suddenly disconnected, watching himself from a distance, and for a second he couldn’t remember where he’d been before the waiting room. Then, quickly as it came, the sensation passed. He shook his head and glared up at the still-ticking clock. It really had done a number on him.
Steeling himself, he summoned a memory that always fired him up. His father’s face, puce, hurling abuse from the bungalow doorstep as Addison fled for the city. And his mother, her face a pale oval at the window, ashamed of the pair of them. Addison took a deep breath, made a token attempt to flatten down his mop, then stepped through.
Inside, the audition room was in shadow save for an illuminated table behind which a trio of figures were sat. The smiling man had taken a seat between what Addison assumed were his colleagues, a man and a woman. All three were wearing the same grey clothes.
“Hello everyone,” he began, pulling out his own chair. “I’m Ad––”
“We are aware,” the woman interrupted.
“Has the audition started?” he asked, ignoring the frosty welcome. “Is this being filmed?”
“You are under observation.”
The woman was cold-eyed and sharp-featured, her grey hair cut into a functional bob. She was also scowling, her demeanour worlds apart from her smiling colleague. Staring at them, Addison was reminded of the old sock and buskin masks, those ancient Greek symbols of comedy and tragedy: one grinning, one grimacing. The contrast was unsettling.
The smiling man cleared his throat.
“Welcome again!” he beamed. “I am Two. These are my associates, Four and Five. We are to be acting with you. We are levellers!”
Addison stared a moment.
“Two, Four, Five,” he repeated, realising it was going to be one of those auditions. “So am I Three?”
“Alas, no. You are no leveller.”
“Right. So, tell me about the role! Do you need me to do a reading?”
The actor calling himself Two glanced at his colleagues.
“Mr. Moore,” he began, smiling even wider. “On behalf of our employers, we are delighted to announce you have the part!”
Addison blinked.
“Without auditioning?” he blurted, before kicking himself. “I mean, thank you!”
“No need for a reading, you are the perfect candidate! Exemplary credentials, strong improvisational skills, experience in a legal setting.”
Addison kept a very straight face.
“I also note you are a linguistics postgraduate?”
“A masters,” he frowned. “Before I went full-time. It wasn’t on my application, how’d you find out?”
“Our vetting is most thorough,” Two smiled. “But this is excellent! Linguistics is relevant to the concept.”
“Which is...?”
The trio exchanged another look.
“Imagine,” Two began, spreading his hands theatrically. “The planet is dead, killed by the climate crisis and the wars it precipitated. However, survivors develop a way to retrieve people from the past.”
“Like time travel?” Addison replied, suddenly enthused. “My roommate was in a sci-fi short about––”
“How childish,” Four scoffed.
Addison was taken aback. Hostility was radiating from the woman in waves.
“It’d help to know this stuff,” he said, shifting in his seat. “My character’s origin, motivation, it’s good for improv. Like, these people from the past, the um...”
“Returnees.”
“Returnees, right. Are they repopulating the planet?”
“Oh, they are not being brought back to be saved,” she laughed. “They are being brought back to stand
