Chapter 1 - A Beautiful Spring Day

"Time will not heal these wounds that we feel and most of us will end up crying"
End Up Crying by Stretch 1977

As I look back now I can see how it all came about. It was too much for governments at all levels, people would never vote for such things, even when it became illegal not to vote. It came down to every day citizens like you and me to do something about it; regardless of legislation, by-laws and ticket fines we simply wanted to live our lives as we always had. It was that simple conundrum that brought us here and on this day we bear the fruits of our inaction.

Twelve years ago I was a mere cyclist with an attitude, my attitude was invincibility. I simply refused to believe that anything could get in my way. I trained every day, took the right supplements, worked with the best coaches everything looked perfect for the Olympics. I had focus, I had motivation and one singular goal to simply be the best in the world at what I did.

I travelled the world to the various events World Championships here, European Championships there, always finishing in the top 5 but never getting that gold medal. I knew if I trained that little bit harder, pushed for the extra mile and lifted a few more kilos, it was just a matter of time, it was just out of reach but so close I could smell gold medal.

Then one day I met Patricia, a fellow cyclist with the same goals and same drive. We fell in love and became good friends. She, like me was dedicated to her art, the art of sport and the discipline of the road cyclist. We had so much in common it was like some master plan that brought us together. And even though we had very busy training schedules, somehow we both found the time to be together and push each other that little bit more.

So much in focus was our mutual goal - we never lifted of our sunglasses to see around us. Now we all see it plainly enough,  the world is far darker, people are far more alienated and yet there are people out there who deny everything, living off the fat of others and consequently pushing the rest of us down even more. You see them everyday driving their Hummers and Escalades V8 bullshit when the world is choking on its own excrement.

It pains me to even recollect the day she left. It was a sunny May day, a welcoming warmth that made you feel you could accomplish anything after so many months of rain and snow. We were out on Highway 10, barrelling down the shoulder with lots of room, keeping up a steady wind assisted 50kph. Riding in groups at high speed was amazing, there were a dozen of us out there, hardly any traffic, the road belonged to us and we to it. Patricia and I rode side by side as we always did, it was our turn to lead the pack. We pushed that little bit harder and I heard Patricia laugh as we picked up the pace. The day was indeed perfect, enough coolness in the air to really push the pedals hard, a slight wind giving us an extra edge and an oncoming truck on the wrong side of the road bearing right down on us....

Blackness, nothingness... Not even the passage of time, no sound no light; no death no life; all I can recall from that time was the sound of a man's voice, male yes, somewhat effeminate, odd hmm.

I vaguely recall waking up, it was warm yet not oppressively so. I was in a small room, I sensed movement somehow, lights flickering overhead, one, two, three counting more and more, why was I counting lights ? And then darkness again. This time cold, deep and silent darkness ensnared me, I could feel its writhing tentacles touch me, grab my ankles and move up my legs squeezing ever tighter as they moved upwards toward the rest of me. Then the voice of the effeminate man again, the words I cannot recall but the tone was harsh and offended.

I became conscious but not aware of my surroundings. I could hear but not see and I could smell but could not recognise the odour, pungent as it was. It was simply dark and as I lay motionless in a hospital bed everything came flooding back to me in a torrent.