"Lamps? Lamps? Amber Lamps!" she said sharply, slamming her ruler down on the desk.
Amber jumped at the noise, looking up surprised. She had been drawing in her notebook. She had a Cindy Lauper song stuck in her head, and she couldn't help drawing little pictures of Cindy in her notebook. It was the eighties, and she was young, truly innocent, and pretty. "I asked you, Ms. Lamps. Is your essay on the Reagan Administration finished?" said Mrs. Finley sharply, adjusting her tiny square spectacles. For a moment, Amber pondered on how much she looked like an owl.
"Yes, ma'am." she said, flipping through a folder with a picture of Duran Duran on the front. "Put that on my desk after class." She said passively, continuing with her lesson. The rest of the class was a blurry drone to Amber. She wished she had her headphones on so she could listen to a mixed tape of David Bowie music. Or maybe "You Spin Me Round" by Dead or Alive.
Music was everything to Amber. Sometimes she would just listen, and let the world drift away around her. There were times that she was surprised when a song ended to find someone standing right in front of her. Or that she had missed something like a school fight, while she was feet away from it. Music let the complexity of the world untangle.
Amber jumped slightly at the sound of the school bell, "And don't forget! Tomorrow we're doing our classroom debates!" Finley called at the quickly exitting class. Amber stepped out the stifling school, out onto the concrete steps leading down toward the road. She smiled putting on her bulky 80's headphones as the soothing sounds of her music filled her personal world. Everything seemed to drift away, and she became mildly aware that her feet almost felt independantly walking home. But no worries. She had her music. And that was enough for her.
In time, her mixed tape came to an end. Amber blinked looking around. She was in a field, all alone. She must have mindlessly wandered away from the sidewalk. She had a habit of going random places while listening to her music. She looked around, realizing it was unusually bright out. It was like being in a room with a bulb much too powerful for what was needed. She looked skyward, gasping innocently.
In the air hung what could best be described as maybe a hole or a maybe a tunnel, bending in on reality and space itself. It was like the sky was folding in on itself in a tunnel shape leading up to a blackness. Not space, almost anti-space. Just a hole.
Amber screamed as she felt her body lifting slowly at first, gaining speed as she approached the hole. There was a terrifying moment where she hung between Earth and the uncertain heavens before being pulled through the blackness and through the recesses of time and space.
Amber woke up, finding herself sitting on a bench in a city. It wasn't her home. She knew that much. She lived in a small, God-fearing town. A sort of Leave it to Beaver community. This was big city. Off to the side of her "Keep Our City Clean and Safe! Do Your Part" sign was a small metal frame rack with free newspapers. She pulled a fresh paper from the top reading the date.
February 16, 2010.
She gasped. This couldn't be happening. She had actually travelled in time. 2010! She was in a time of flying cars, cloning, and almost 30 years later, man had surely made contact with aliens! Maybe Emilio Esteban was the ambassador for Earth! She took the time to look about her. No flying cars. It looked alot like the eighties actually, except the fashion on everyone wasn't quite as colorful. She decided to take the time to explore, putting the paper back.
After walking for about a block, she found a record store. She smiled to herself, walking inside. There were records that she recognized. Some she had personally. There were some she had never seen or heard of before. These probably came out some time after her. There was also an assortment of earphones and batteries and tape players that would have been old for now. But not for her. She bought a new set of earphones, and a fresh set of batteries and made her way to the nearest bus stop. That seemed like the best way to see the city.
The bus pulled to a stop, accompanied by the sound of a hissing airbrake. She walked onto the bus sitting next to a black man and across from a guy with a big bushy Santa beard, and a shirt proclaiming him as Tom Slick, who was apparently "A Mother Fucker". She turned her walkman on, and the sound of music filled her world, filtering out the reality. Her conscience mind drifted away. And in the void of unconsciencness she was aware of music and violence. As the music drifted around her, she was only vaguely aware enough to keep out of the way a bit, while the black man was royally beaten down. It was okay, she was aware when the Beard Man was struck first. It was him or the black dude.
The bus pulled to a stop, as the Beard Man exitted, and some wicked black woman rifled through Beard Man's bags, and the black man continued to bleed. She was vaguely aware that he said her name when he said, "Bring da Amber Lamps." but she didn't dwell on it long.
Soon she began to feel strange. Reality for her, had been odd today, but she felt as if she were literally drifting out of reality itself, and not just ignoring it. Time and space drifted away from her. She was aware she was drifting through the space time void again. Reality seemed to phase back to her. She was back in front of her school where she started. Well, she certainly had a long way to walk home. She wondered who the Bearded Man was. He seemed like he would have been nice, had he not been too busy defending himself from rabid black men. She walked home, walkmen playing, and reality nowhere to be found for her.
