travelling through cultural zone 7 i noticed a distinct lack of energy, a uniform parlour hung in the air like a rotten wet blanket stink that slightly burnt my nostrils every time i took a breath.
the people looked busy, walking around the strange insect markets, buying large sacks of grasshoppers, cockroaches and moths. i noticed a small child handing over a wad of cash for a kilo of centipede meat, and i felt this compulsion to jump of the bus and investigate.
the driver refused to stop unless i paid him, however i flashed my diplomatic pass at him and he nodded, slammed his foot on the brake and with an excruciating hiss, the door flew open.
outside the heat whacked me in the face, my clothes immediately dampened and the wave of bizarre smells sent my nervous system into meltdown, i defaulted to controlled breathing, as my mind attempted to gain control.
i looked around me, there could be no doubt i was in a swarm, a hive race moving in an indeterminate buzz around the food stalls, colours blasted out from everywhere like noise, sounds were like the arms of octopi or smoke trails lingering wrapping themselves in a knot, there were no obvious sources, a cacophony of alien heat got straight under my skin and attacked me internally as i struggled to find equilibrium.
it was after several minites that i began to move, walking into the throng, regaining a sense of balance i felt a protective aura grow around me, i mumbled a protective chant and pulled myself together, head down, avoiding eye contact, chameleon like i attempted to blend as much as i could, disappearing further away from the main street into the depths of the narrow alleyways where the more exotic products lurked. 
a man with a strange helmet waved me towards him, from the helmet an arm was attached which he pulled down and revealed a highly complex lens he could look through at his specimens, 'come, sir come, look, only the best quality for you sir,' i imagined him saying although he could just as well be speaking a number of variations, the language was guttural and harsh, complex in tone and pitch, almost aggressive.
i found myself drawn over to his little stall illuminated only by a single lamp.
i wracked my brain for the language skills but my knowledge of zone 7 was very limited, i was out of my depth a long way from home, i should never have alighted from the bus, impulsive's like that get agents killed. the man seemed to speak a variety of zone speak, he spoke a number of phrases until he returned to his own, i conceded we would have to rely on gesture and non verbal communication, so i pointed at him, hoping he would understand. he beckoned me closer and took out a small black cube from his stall.
with an awestruck look he opened the box and leaned in with the eyepiece.
a small sigh escaped his lips, his other eye seemed to expand as his pupil dilated, then he said one single word that sounded like, 'zaththrusasta.'
he held the box to me, and offered me the helmet, which my hands almost independently took from him, affixing it upon my head, pulling down the strange lens device against my eye, with the other hand holding the box, i gazed inside.
i staggered backwards, the shock threw me completely, fear seized my whole body and i began to shake uncontrollably, i couldn't stop, i'd lost complete control, no amount of breathing or meditative visualisations would help me, i was lost in terror.
i must have passed out as when i came around i was sitting down and being given a warm tea drink by what could have been the stall holders wife, she was dressed in the robes, face shawl and ceremonial tattoo indicating ownership embedded on her forehead, she was singing me a song, almost a lullaby type tune but the words were very harsh in places, softer in others and it sounded like a heavy metal band played slow. the tea was bitter and smelt of iron but i sipped at it, taking in my circumstances. i was still in the market, in the lane way, around me stalls and vendors sold their goods, only they were specialists, trading in more suspicious wares, possibly illegal, but most definitely dangerous. 
what had i stumbled upon. 
cultural zone 7 was not my domain, it would be another agents, and i was in his or her turf, however there were protocols for this. i would have to file a report.
i made to stand, but a feeling of vertigo seemed to overwhelm me, and the woman came waddling over to steady me and help me return to my seat.
her husband gave me a glance, he was wearing his helmet and looking at some other boxes, he muttered something incomprehensible and continued his tasks.
it took me about thirty minites to stand up again without falling, i checked my wallet, all the paperwork was there, my credit cards remained, at least i had not been robbed. i checked the time, i still had a few hours before the next transit bus, i'd gather some more intel and file a report when i got back to zone 888.
i thanked the woman as best i could, she lingered not wanting to let go of my hand, but i nodded and pulled it away, i walked up to the stall, the man was deep in concentration, through his lens apparatus, this time he was looking into a yellow cube, his other eye raised slightly he acknowledged me by raising his brow and then returned to his cube, he wasn't offering me a glimpse into yellow, but i was not disappointed to be honest. 
i slipped away, walking of further into the markets bowels, the dank stink took a strange turn, slightly more moisture in the air, wetter, dampness. the vendors were all smaller figures, darker, they were wrapped in shawls and cloaks and had warts and strange skin inflictions, blotches and hideous welts under their eyes and on their hands, some were so bad they looked like strange amphibian creatures. 
the shoppers were not as many as the outer perimeter of the markets, here they wandered slower and almost trudged along, i was tempted to inspect some of their wares but intuition pulled me deeper into the darkness, deeper down, right into the heart of the place.
i had travelled most of the zones, certainly the higher ones, but these lower zones were alien to me, it was a strange place and i found myself disliking it immensely, i'd hate to have to stay here overnight, imagine the god awful shit you would have to tolerate, the food was repulsive, the rotten stink, the language was a bitch, the fucking streets were incomprehensible to navigate, i felt the oppressive nature of it making me angry and considered returning when i saw the alley way. it was a narrow little slit really, half concealed, it was only that a couple of figures slipped into it that made me notice it and as i approached i saw that the two walls were staggered, thus giving the appearance of a single wall but offering a passage to another area. 
i stepped through, immediately i wanted to vomit, the physical sensation grabbed my chest and throat, my eyes started to adjust, a small crowd hovered around a courtyard of stall holders, there were about four of them, each occupying one corner, i adjusted myself, breathing deeply and adjusting my focus of concentration on completing the circuit.
the first corner stand was selling snail slime, he had cleverly collected it in small transparent jars. his language was different, he spoke an old derivative tongue, somewhat archaic but i was familiar with it, i tuned in.
'...the quantitative escalation of temporal distortion has made slow-time dangerous and filled with the side effects of mutation and transfiguration through genetic imprint toxification, however the recent addition of hormonic residual polyps inhibits this irregularity and slow-time is now accessible to users, and to make things interesting we have decided to offer buyers today a very special deal, two for the price of one.'
i watched people wave notes around and he passed out the jars to hungry hands, it was a crazy scene, the buyers were whooping and hollowing  making yelps and strange noises, excited i guess, as they went into a consumer frenzy buying this mysterious slow-time product. 
soon the crowd had moved away and i approached the seller who seemed to be out of stock, he looked at me and smiled, brought his two hands up in the air and said, 'i will return next month with more stock, the supply is limited but my farmers assure me there will be more.' he began to disassemble his stand.
'i'm a stranger in this zone, i don't really know anyone here i can communicate with but you speak an old language i know very well. do you mind if i ask you some questions?'
'a stranger, how peculiar, you do seem unusually dressed, we don't get strangers here in this zone, why are you here?'
the last part sounded accusingly, the tone slightly malevolent, he moved closer to me, i noticed he was holding a steel support and made ready to defend myself.
'i left the transit bus prematurely, it was a...er mix up.'
'mmm, i've never heard of that happening, it's very unusual,' he seemed to relax, 'as i said, we don't get many strangers in zone 7.'
'i noticed your wares, seemed very popular, does it really slow down time.'
'yes of course it does, what do you think i am sir, i can't make a claim that's not true. stranger or no stranger, you better watch yourself, you wouldn't be the first stranger to go missing in this zone.'
'i meant no disrespect, i was just curious.'
i should have taken out my card, shown him he was dealing with an agent but that would have blown my cover, a certain death sentence, better play it casual and ham the innocent tourist up to maximum effect.
'well i do have one sample i keep here, you can have that but i want that time piece you're wearing.'
the watch was a gift from my grandfather, it was not a normal time piece but a spectrum chronometer, a gauge for measuring colour. it did have a normal watch function but that was secondary, i slipped it off and reluctantly handed it to him. he wrapped it around his bony wrist and it hung loosely there as he fiddled with the dials and fucked it up.
after a few minute he got bored with it, i didn't want to tell him how it worked as i resented him acquiring it. he handed me a small jar, it was surprisingly warm.
'have you used this before?'
'no, no i have never heard of it, how do i take it?'
'eat it, the more you eat the slower time.'
'okay.'
as i turned to walk away he called me back, 'stranger, if anyone asks, you never met me right?'
'right.'
i walk to the second vendor, she's selling some sort of prong, which i soon discover are porcupine spikes only she calls them 'faranga sticks'.
i've encountered these before. in another dimension i was actually addicted to them for many years, only quit when my dealer turned blue on me. i was slightly ashamed of that life, that version of me was purely hedonistic and slightly dangerous. 
i hurried towards the other stall, this one resembled an old victorian circus tent, quite elaborate although the colour scheme was drab, beige and brown and a curious shade off black that lacked imagination.
a man and what i assumed was his son were in mid pitch, i couldn't understand anything, but he could have been saying any classic pitch from any classic charlatan, ranting about bile and secretions habitual costivness so i wandered towards the last salesman, who seemed to be closing up shop. his stall was bare, and there was nothing on offer that i could significantly notice.
he said something to me, i looked blank so he said something else. this performance repeated until he said something in urbane slang, which unfortunately is very complex to say as well as spell but i will translate.
'as you witness, business finished,' or more accurately, 'end day sold out.'
'me transient, sell specific?
'i sell the future transient stranger.'
now my curiosity got the better of me and i said, 'i want future.'
'expensive.'
'what you want?'
'shining time.'
i had no idea what that was, what the hell could that be, i wracked my memory but could find no obvious connections or reference, 'no shining time. some else?'
he made a strange noise, like a disgusted snort, his head shook and he said, 'shining time transient stranger or no deals down.'
i started to walk away, it was getting dark and this area was emptying out, i needed to find my way back to the bus areas anyway and it looked like i wasn't getting anywhere with this but i'd walked less than five steps when he called me back.
he said, 'blood give.'
'blood, are you nimrod!'
he offered me a container, the size of a small pack of cigarettes and then passed me a razor attached to a sliding device. 
i confess being very hesitant, i've never liked blades and i certainly don't like pain self inflicted or otherwise. he assisted me strap the sliding thing to my arm, and then pressed down, there was a moment of sharp pain and then he slid the device along and blood seeped out into the container. the pain was negligible, but none the less it was uncomfortable. 
within seconds he was wrapping my arm in some sort of soft plant like material and the bleeding stopped. he weighed the packet of blood and seemed quite satisfied, then he gave me the future. 
it certainly wasn't what i expected. he took out a large jar that contained what appeared to be a huge south american wasp, i could see the sting attached to its metasoma, the vivid yellow stripes upon a red body. he opened the jar and with skilful dexterity held a pair of pincers inside catching the wasps wing. he pulled the wasp out and then manoeuvred it so he could transfer it into a much smaller jar which he placed down and put a seal over it in the form of a thin piece of wood. 
he sat me down, placed the small jar with the wasp to my neck and removed the wood by sliding it from between my skin and the jar, i could hear the terrible buzzing of the insect and sweat started to drip from me, it was dark now, we were alone in this area, i was tired and shaken from the whole experience, culture shock i guess, the last thing i should be doing is fucking around with this wasp. 
the buzzing got incredibly loud, it felt as though there were aircraft taking off, i thought i would just pass out, i closed my eyes tightly in anticipation. 
the sting came but it was not like i'd expected, it was quite different, painless almost sensual. the area of my neck just felt warm and tingled and then i could feel the sensation spread over my hole body like, like stepping into a warm bath.
i opened my eyes, i was in an embryonic fluid, for a moment i wondered if i was in utero. around me i could see it was some sort of translucent light and there were other beings, jellyfish, a kind of moon jellyfish and a chorus of thoughts, which i tuned in to. these were elegant equations, pure information in mathematical form, they flowed through my mind in patterns and intricate geometries, there were some that represented beautiful philosophies about abstract theories, others were rapturous conceptual images of the universe and it's laws, one was a meditation on biological imperatives but each was an art form, strikingly stunning and filled with emotional depth, i let them pass through my mind with a magnified awe and joy. they were simply beautiful. there was no me in this process, such identity constructs had no place, i was one neutron in a mass of some sort of highly evolved mass consciousness. i was not even in my body, neither was i outside it, both, i was everywhere.
the sensation was bliss, it lasted for what felt like an eternity and i experienced such pleasure and ecstasy that my emotional state was unlike anything i could have possibly experienced in my current life time. the future was perfection, and then it ended suddenly as i found myself back in captain missions body.
the area had been emptied, no one was about, it was dark.
i made my way back, the streets were deserted and i found myself running up the hill towards the main street where the bus would pass. 
ahead i could see a light, it was a tavern and as i approached i could make out the sign outside, 'the inn of the out' i heard some strange honky tonk piano music play but as i got nearer three figures jumped out from nowhere and blocked my way.'
they spoke some gibberish and made some veiled threatening motions, i managed to fell two but the third had pushed me up against the wall and was about to punch me, he was small and stocky but strong and my options were slim. one hard kick saw him wheezing for air, his face looking shocked as i moved in for another blow.
i ran, my body was a spent force, each step was sending searing pains through my ribs. as i made the main road i could see the bus stop and there pulling up was the last bus of the night. 
the driver let me on after i waved my diplomatic pass at him, i staggered to the back, faces gawking at me, i collapsed into the vacant seat. the bus was already pulling away. i was panting, i think my ribs were broken, and my arm had started bleeding again. i was loosing to much blood, loosing all feeling in my arm. my eyes were heavy and i could feel my life slipping away. i sunk my hands into my pocket and my fingers curled around the snail slime. i flicked the lid open and swallowed the thick mucus like sludge. maybe this would keep me alive long enough to get back to a more familiar zone, but i never really got anywhere for despite the bus travelling at a consistent speed, i was taking an eternity to die. 
the medics said they had never seen a toxic material like it, they had run various bio tests and given a sample of my blood to some boffins, a whole team working on my pathology. they did manage to save me, after isolating some of the compound they sent in an inhibitor but it only partially worked, my life was lived in a slow time pace, thousands of times slower than normal, slow enough to outlive everyone i know, slow enough to grow bored and explore all the unfamiliar zones and watch them all decay, slow enough to start a revolution, to destroy the borders, slow enough to start a libertarian religion and to lead an army of followers through all the zones uniting them, slow enough to elude death, slow enough to change everything.