Viennese Waltz

AREN'T I A PRODUCTIVE GIRL TONIGHT THIS MORNING WHATEVER.

Well, not really; I already had most of this next story written (which is in itself not a particularly great feat seeing as the prompt was given out back in April), and it just needed a little more polishing before being technically ready for public consumption.

Ladies and gentlemen, culverts.

"Welcome to Vienna."

The voice crackled softly, as though it were being played from a cassette. He couldn't tell where it was coming from. He couldn't tell where he was. The room was pitch black and suffused in such absolute darkness that for a moment he thought he had died and woken up in the hereafter. He squirmed, trying to move his hand in front of his face, before discovering to his dismay that both his wrists were bound neatly behind his back.

"Vienna is such a lovely city. Have you ever been here before?"

No, he had not. The rope chafed against his wrists, threatening to rub them raw.

"It was a shame to collect you so soon after your arrival, but rest assured that you shall be returned shortly to your wanderings."

Collect? His pace quickened. What were they talking about?

"You have been brought here for a purpose. You are needed to carry out a task of immense importance and secrecy. This is a prestigious and highly sensitive mission; so prestigious, in fact, that no one else in the entire city can do this, and you should be honoured that you were chosen to complete it."

Honoured to be hog-tied and kept in a box. Perhaps the Viennese did things differently.

"You are doubting the veracity of these claims. Is that true?"

He nodded tentatively, unsure of how that would carry through the total darkness, but the equally total numbness of his tongue prevented further communication.

"Somehow, the extent to which we have gone to collect you has failed to persuade you of the seriousness of this mission..." A pause. "Very well. If you still do not intend to believe in what is being said with the fullness of your heart, then there is no remaining option but to kill you."

His heart skipped forward into a staccato rhythm that drummed frantically against the roof of his mouth. Panicking, he began to shake his head, tossing it wildly from side to side in a last-ditch attempt to save his life.

"Regrettable, but necessary, if you do not cooperate."

He moved his leaden tongue and whimpered clumsily. It came out a heavy, thick, ugly sound, piteous in its compliance, hideous in its fervent desire to agree.

"It appears you do in fact wish to cooperate. Is this true?"

He nodded desperately.

"An excellent choice, you'll find... Listen well. This will not be repeated.

"You will be released in a woodland area approximately three kilometres from the outskirts of Vienna. There is a motorway leading into the city centre to the northwest of your release site. Before attempting to locate said motorway, double back and follow a clearly signposted hiking trail out to a disused culvert, where you will find a functioning motorcycle with a map, necessary papers, and €8 000. Use the motorcycle to get out of the woodland area and into the city. Is everything clear so far? When you have entered Vienna proper, locate the hotel whose name and address will have been provided along with the papers on the motorcycle and ask for Steiner. He will take approximately €1000 and provide you with a room on the fifth floor containing a microfilm copying device and a hollow pinecone. Usethe deviceto encodeallthe importantpapers;when youaredone, destroytheoriginalcopies andleavethehotelpremiseswithout beingseenbyanybody.Thereisanemergencyfireescapeoutsidethebathroomwindowwhichshouldservethispurposeadmirably.Onceyouhavesafelyleftthehotel,concealthemicrofilmcanisterinthehollowpineconeand

By now the instructions were coming so quickly that they blurred into a single stream of noise. To his surprise, however, he found that he could still understand them if he concentrated hard enough. It was less about comprehending distinct words than about soaking the sound in and letting it filter through his subconscious. Eventually, the warbling tapered off, and he found himself holding a remarkably complex set of instructions perfectly preserved in his mind.

"Have the directions provided been sufficiently clear?"

He had never recalled anything which such clarity before. Dictated at normal speed, the information would have taken hours to impart, but due to the mysterious compressing of the tape it seemed like mere minutes had passed while the audio equivalent of sixteen spy novels had been injected into his brain.

"Good. And remember, enjoy your visit. Vienna in the summer is a wonderful experience."

The wall behind him gave way without warning, spilling him backwards onto moist, mulchy ground. For a single terrifying movement he could neither see nor breathe; but then his eyelids began to flutter frantically against the blinding sunlight, and he drew in breath after panicky breath of the crisp morning air. Through half-blind eyes he could barely make out a black van careening out and around a copse of trees, out of his field of view. So that was where he had been held.

Above him, the sky glowed a clean, whispering blue. Thick trees loomed against his vision and the earth was soft underneath his back. Grunting, he hoisted himself into a sitting position and scanned the forest with unsteady eyes, making out in the middle distance a concrete tube just wide enough at the opening to let a man through, with the tiniest hint of shiny black plastic lurking just beyond plain sight. The famous culvert. There wasn't any time to spare, so he began an ungainly hobble towards the prize, jamming his hands underneath his jacket and wondering why—if it was summer—the sun didn't come out and suck the chill from the air.

Just as the voice had said, he found within the culvert a slick, hulking two-wheeled beast along with a plastic folder containing an immense swath of typewritten papers. A cursory scan of their contents revealed that everything except for the front page (on which was written the hotel information) was in Austrian, and thus utterly incomprehensible to him. Sighing and blowing on his fingers, he turned the folder over gingerly and caught sight of a suspiciously blank index card taped to the back cover. He peeled it off and flipped it over.

"Welcome to Vienna," it read.

(WC 991)