Snafu

More about the book

Peter never saw the small brilliant beam of light nor the tall white figure materialize from thin air, twenty feet behind him, as he slowed to walk the last few feet before leaving the park. The figure paced exactly twenty feet behind as Peter made his way down the path toward his house. As he opened the door Peter felt a tingling in him mind, as if a thousand small electrical currents were turned on. He took two more steps before falling half-in and half-out of his entranceway. Peter struggled to grab a thought and hold it as jumbled images flashed from deep within his memory pouring forth like fireworks on the Fourth of July. His eyes fought to open from the dark void he felt in his mind, but could not. His eyes only saw the back of each retina while a movie seemed to dance within the light. It reminded Peter of time-lapse pictures taken of freeways at night; all you saw were long streaks of car-lights speeding by. From far away he heard the soothing voice repeat, "Relax. Please do not try to resist the transfer, Peter."