Togo flipped through the filing cabinet, his fingers running at marathon pace as the names blended together until it popped up.

Eastern Incident - Tuesday 19XX - Time: XX:XX XX

He pulled it and closed the cabinet and moved with calm fluidity through the rows of archived records that stacked into the ceiling almost past where the eye could see. He swaggered down by the front desk and flashed his badge again.

“Research on the Eastern Incident, not sure why, but the higher-ups say Director Bracken was asking for it. You know anything about it?” he asked. The man stared at him, a dull expression on his face, then shook his head no.

“Braken, huh? Haven’t heard that name in a while, he’s always looking at weird stuff. Sign here.”

Togo took the clipboard and filled in all the details, then handed it back.

“Yeah, that’s what I am finding out. Till next time.”

The man looked over the page that Togo filled out. He looked up, stared for a moment, and narrowed his eyes, meeting Togo’s intense stare. For a moment he thought the jig was up.

“Till next time,” the man said, and shuffled the paper off the clipboard and filed it in the cabinet.

Togo broke through the door with a clean stride and made his way through the white-walled corridors and out through the front gates. He emerged from the large building and looked out at the forest that surrounded the center. He looked back.

“Not on Google Earth, I can tell you that,” he whispered to himself, and made his way to his car.

He drove south, making it past all the checkpoints and into the small town of Sutherford. He looked out at the North Pacific. The sky filled with gray, and a dark storm was forming out in the ocean that would threaten inland soon. Sutherford was on the 101 up the coastline somewhere around Crescent City. It was new enough, built with that rustic coastal charm. It was never highlighted on the map. Most likely because of the facility to the east of it. They didn’t want wanders, wandering.

Yet here he was.

He checked into the Whale Watchers Inn. A small 8-room motel that overlooked the water. He shuffled his one bag and the folders from the archive inside, made a large pot of coffee, and got cozy at the table.

He pulled an e-ink tablet from his pack and produced the files. He had evolved over the years, and his notes always synced up to his personal servers all over the world. It was his only solace of confidence that his work would not be completely lost. The device was one that he made. He peppered handwritten notes and scanned whatever material into carbon ink.

The Eastern Incident. His latest obsession. Off the coast of Maine, a man saw a vast ship in the ocean. It hovered over the water, lights beaming into the air, and looked to have a massive pyramid protruding from the center of it. Of course it was during one of the worst storms of the time and was only captured by a couple of people. Usually this would be a one-and-done situation. Call it a hallucination or trauma-induced weather event, discredit and locked. But then it came back. This time between Portland and Salem. A ship was caught in another storm of the contrary just a year later and ran into this floating vessel. The small fishing boat that got caught up in all of it, Flora of the Sea, was basically evaporated into the air, or at least the parts that ran into this other vessel. The captain and his brother were disfigured, but survived. The skin on their arms had been melted, it seemed. They reported no actual pain, just an odd sensation, and then looking at their skin turn to wax.

Togo had run into one of these brothers on one of his trips to Boston. The man caught him, not the other way around.

On Togo’s left hand there is sort of a mark. It looks like a Merkaba (Bridge Between Worlds), which is like two 3D stars intersecting each other. He had his own run with supernatural situations and it had been a result of one.

The man with the melted arms saw the symbol and practically grabbed him in the small market. The symbol on Togo’s hand, the Merkaba, was the same symbol the man saw on the vessel in the sea that night, glowing brightly on the side of it, like a plasma pink. He said he would never forget it, penetrating the rain and wind, illuminating the darkness that was trying to swallow them.

So that led Togo to try and find as much about the Eastern Incident that he could. It led him all down the East Coast, but interestingly, the answers lay on the West Coast. In a secret military complex. The one he had just managed to infiltrate and leave.

He opened the folder. The accounts of boat and eyewitness accounts that he had seen were there. He flipped past them until a diagram of a large ship appeared. Leaning forward, he started to sketch what he could see. It was odd, like two diamonds pointing in each direction. The center was hollowed out and a pyramid jutted out of it. One side of the vessel was taller than the other, a small viewing deck overlooked. The bottom was smooth, and there were no visible exhaust or engines. On the side was the symbol. The Merkaba. Just on the front left.

He flipped to the next page, which had notes about the material and propulsion system. It was sparse. He had no idea how they had even made the diagram of the vessel. They really didn’t know anything about it, besides what it looked like.

In large letters at the bottom of the specs page was written - Galactic Federation C-Class - Indigo and Violet Type. See sections 91, 83, 75 for further explanation.

Togo stared at the note. He had never encountered them before.

A knock came at his door and he jumped, closing the folder quickly and throwing his notebook under the bed.

He opened the door, and an older gentleman smiled at him. “Togo, right? Staying for a few nights. I just wanted to let you know, some men were looking for you. Never my business to disclose a person’s whereabouts, so I whisked them off, but I thought I would let you know.”

“Two men, full black suits, sunglasses? Tall?” Togo took a look down the walkway.

“Yup, those be them. Never smiled, didn’t flinch, nothing. Like stone, those two.”

Togo backed away from the door and gathered his stuff quickly. He traveled light.

“Thanks, I won’t be staying the couple of days, but keep the room rented out, keep the money.” Togo smiled and moved down the pathway to the stairs. He turned. “Hey, thanks for the heads up.” Then he headed down the stairs to his car, keeping his eyes scanning every inch of what he could see. He circled his car once, looking at the tires, the back seat, and making sure it had not been messed with. It was clean. He got in and made his way down the 101.

It wasn’t long before he spotted them. They always somehow found him. A black SUV with pitch-black windows appeared in the bend just out of his view. He followed the 101 for another few hours, sometimes getting off just to hit up some coffee and then continuing on his way. The SUV always appeared in the distance. He found another seaside town, small, local. He pulled inland into the forest and then did some loops to throw them off his trail and make his way into town. This time he parked a few buildings away from the hotel and walked over. This place was a little bit bigger than the last, two stories, all contained in one, and it looked like it had been built recently. He got a room on the first floor, overlooking the sea again.

Again, he took a seat at the kitchen table and re-entered his research, pulling out the folders and his e-ink tablet. He returned to the specs page where the note had been. Looking at the numbers at the bottom of the page, he searched the documents for them. He scratched his head in annoyance. There must be another set of documents that had the reference in them. He heard his screen door open and then the doorknob. He bolted up immediately, but it was too late. The door burst open and swung on its hinges as two tall men in black suits and sunglasses entered.

They moved slowly toward the table, despite the forced entry.

“Togo,” the one on the left said. He was slightly taller, more built than the one on the right.

“Smith, James,” Togo threw down the documents on the table. “Took you a little more time to find me this time.”

James, the shorter of the two, took off his sunglasses and rubbed his eyes. “We had a flat tire. Documents.”

Togo pointed to the table.

“Any more of them?” Togo shook his head. James retrieved the files and flipped through them. “Your investigations always seem to end up with us at the end of it, don’t they? Bigfoot, the alien scare of 1926, that one witch case in Boston.”

Smith smiled. “That was a wild case.”

“What is it with you? You always seem to stumble into mysteries.”

“I guess I am magnetized to the truth. Not that I can ever get any of it out to the public in time. Well, it was nice seeing you again,” Togo started to pack up his things.

The two agents stood silent until he moved past them and into the outdoor walkway.

“Hey, you guys got the door? Breaking it down? I thought we were past that.”

“Smith likes the dramatics. We knew it was you, thought we could make it a little more interesting.”

Togo shook his head. “Till next time,” he said, and got back into his car. He watched the agents leave and pulled out his tablet. Smith and James always seemed to take the material back, but never tried to take his other things. He scrolled past all the folders of evidence he had. All of it he had tried to get out, to prove that there were things out there. Each time, even when he got close — a radio broadcast, a commercial, an interview — they all were scrubbed and the secrets became a legend, a momentary weird event that no one could explain.

Under all that, he was part of one of those mysteries. He pulled up the reference numbers that he had taken from the files. He looked at his hand and the symbol. He would see the agents again. A casual meeting it had turned into.

How strange had life become.

I was listening to a story about the Alaskan Triangle and a man had heard a story on the radio, something about a Russian nuclear test. The news replays itself in the evening, so he waited to hear it again, but when it came back on, the story was gone. He went to the broadcast station to find out what had happened, and they told him that they never aired anything like that.

He was lost until one of the other workers at the station said that he was not mistaken. They had aired it, but right after a man in black came and took all the evidence and tapes.

Then I thought it would be sorta funny if the men in black always showed up and it was the same guy that kept exposing things. He just somehow ends up at the center of all these events and they get there and are like “It’s Togo again” and it becomes the running joke.

Togo is his own mystery. What will he find at the end?

He hadn’t left his place in weeks. It seemed that the world was moving without him participating in it and it was handling itself just fine. He had been sick, really sick, but the hospital to him only meant more sickness and the bills, which would surely kill him. So he shut himself in his 25th floor apartment overlooking the city’s high-rises. The windows were sealed shut, so no fresh air besides what came through the ceiling bathed him. He had gotten some calls from his family at first, but now, after the third week, he seemed utterly alone.

It all started when he passed out in the subway on his way home. One moment he was riding the Yellow line home, the next he was on the concrete floor in front of the steps. His vision blurred, head feeling as if it was cracking open. He didn’t even remember how he got home. The next thing, he was waking up in his room the next day. Feeling terrible, but manageable. So he ran through his supply of chicken noodle soup and everything else in his fridge and cupboards for the next week and a half. Hoping, praying that he would get better. He barely did. His eyes bloodshot, head pounding, and vision swimming for most of the day, he had no clue what was wrong.

He got a few deliveries, then they stopped showing up. He rolled out of bed, his eyes feeling as if they were going to pop out of his head. He checked his phone and called his parents.

His phone did nothing. No dial tone, no service unavailable, just dead air.

He tried his friends. He got the same thing.

Stumbling towards the living room, he poured a glass of water and downed it. The sun had just come up and the city poured through his windows of the condo. It mocked him. Come outside, get some sunlight and some nature. What are you waiting for? You’re not sick, are you?

Maybe we are sick of you.

He tripped over his sofa and crawled towards the window. His hands slapped at the glass and he pulled himself from the floor, face pressing against the glass as he fought to stay lucid. His eyes peered outside, but it was blurry.

Pixelated.

He stood up, now both hands planted on the glass, he pressed his face against the glass, staring out over the buildings. The clouds moved and the cars down below zoomed by, but they were now parallaxed.

It was a screen. He stepped back from the window and grabbed his small stool that was next to the couch and slammed it against the glass.

It cracked, but remained. He sputtered back, panting, sweating, losing his mind.

“What the hell is happening?” he yelled, slamming the side table into the glass again.

It held.

He hit it again and again.

His whole body getting into it until it finally burst through the glass and hit the city backdrop behind.

Which flashed and went out.

He fell back staring as best he could at the broken window and where the city used to be.

It was fake. He looked towards the other window, which still showed the facade of the city. Still glowing bright and looking as real as ever.

He crawled to his feet and moved towards his front door.

The knob turned. He pulled and it stayed steadfast. He grabbed the knob with both hands and put his whole body into it.

The door didn’t budge.

He then slammed his whole body into it. Sweat bursting in all directions, his whole being throwing off his heat.

He slammed into it again, “What is this? Let me out!” He screamed.

The sudden burst of energy was over. He slammed against the door one last time and as he hit it, he rebounded like a ball and rolled back onto the floor. Exhausted, confused and no longer drifting.

He heard the door click. Eyes swimming to get focus, he backed away as much as he could. The door creaked open.

A man in a silver outfit, like a hazmat suit, stepped into the hallway.

“Eric Helgard,” the man said and moved towards him slowly.

Eric heaved himself up and burst out of the hallway and into his kitchen and grabbed a knife. He could barely breathe, he didn’t know what he was going to do, but he would fight the best he could. The figure emerged from his hallway and stopped. His visor reflected his distorted figure.

“Eric, please calm down, we are trying to help you. You have contracted a highly contagious virus, you have been quarantined till we can help you, please put down the knife.”

“What? What do I have? What did you do to me? Where am I? Why the fuck does this place look like my condo?” Eric shook the knife at him.

The figure put up his hands, “Please, I know, it’s a lot to take in, we identified you as a carrier before it became active. We thought this would inhibit evolution and advancement of the virus if the infected had their nervous system regulated from their natural environment. Eric, it worked, we are so close, but you need to trust us.”

He was fading fast now, he had been surviving on soup for the last week and he had just spent a month’s worth of energy on the window. “How much longer?” He grit his teeth and stabilized himself on the counter with his left hand. “When can I go home?”

“We don’t know, but we are close, a couple of days, you did so well, you have no idea. You are going to save so many people.”

The voice sounded familiar, the cadence and mannerisms of the gestures.

“Cynthia? You did this.”

“I-I didn’t have a choice.”

“How long did you know? Before we met? Is that the only reason you were with me?” He looked around his ‘condo,’ “to replicate this?”

“I’m sorry, Eric, you have no idea what you have. It’s not from here. It’s alien. You’re so rare, special,” The figure pulled out something from its back. “Please forgive me, it will all make sense soon.”

He couldn’t focus anymore, but he felt something hit his chest. A small thud. He fell to his knees, tears streaming from his face.

“I trusted you.”

I was sitting there in the morning at my Sister’s place in the city and they have these floor-to-ceiling windows that outlook into the city. Our perception is odd, we look out a window and it is like a still image, parallaxed as we move. We understand that there are other things out there and that the whole city is staring back at us, but at the same time, it doesn’t feel real. It feels like it is a facade.

What if it was? Was what came to mind. What if those were TVs showing me what I thought I could see. Sort of like those fake skylights they’re putting in places.

And the question next, is why? And that’s where this story came from.

There was a small device that sat on the desk. It resembled a D-88 Sony Walkman, but with a few differences. It was twice the size, the disc that rotated was made out of pure obsidian, and the color scheme was orange and black. A large power cable snaked out the back and into an industrial wall plug, which next to it a poster hung.

                PolyCube Dynamics! 

Building the future for all, young and old, you have a place with us.”

It held an array of modern-looking buildings and parks with people having very joyous times.

Isaac rubbed his hand through his hair and then adjusted his glasses as he moved over to a small pyramid that sat on a small stool just a few feet in front of the device. The pyramid was made out of a special polymer that he had developed. Supposed to facilitate a reaction of some sort.

“Okay,” he walked back to the device on the table and moved over to his computer on the left side of it. He brought up a couple of screens, checked the alignment, and then clicked a large button that said, “ launch.”

The D-88-looking device started to spin and click. A small hum of pleasant sound emitted from it and filled the room with a dense feeling. Isaac bit his lip, leaning forward, his hair now starting to glide in the current that was forming in the room.

Then it all went dead.

The hum stopped, and his hair went static.

He let out a heavy sigh and leaned back in his chair, taking the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger.

“Damn,” he stood up, turned off the device, and moved to the small break area. A coffee table with a shaggy couch and a loveseat that accompanied it, an old 1950’s fridge, and a table with a small radio on it. He switched the radio on and crashed into the couch.

“A once-in-100-year event, the stars aligned!” The radio rang out, “Tomorrow-“

Isaac switched the channel.

“Isn’t it funny? We saw the world change before our eyes, but we didn’t do a single thing about it, not a damn thing. Chancey, you know what I mean?” A female voice acted.

“You’re right, Julie. It just never seeme-“

He switched it again.

Dreams by Fleetwood Mac played. He smiled and closed his eyes.

He racked his brain for a solution. His calculations were correct, and the theories were also correct, even though they had never been proven or actually worked. In theory, it should work, so why was it not? He had the material, the symbols, the power; what was missing? He opened an eye and spied the device. The table that it sat on was a shoddy card table, one he stole from the campus attached to the plant. It held a machine that could change the future, if only he could get it to work.

His lab, which was just a rented utility basin at the edge of a power plant, was large enough for him; it allowed him to work unbothered and isolated from all the craziness, but it was damp, cold, and a bit dingy. The door entered a platform that had some stairs that led to the main floor a couple of feet below it. The ceilings were thirty feet, giving him clearance and the power hooks-ups that he needed. He was grateful the power plant was partially decommissioned. He set up the break area, and the whole thing fell into place; he could build, power his inventions, and push his dimensional space theory.

Isaac drifted. He dreamt of a faraway land. An odd sense of things being stuck in place, but not how they were, but how a dream thinks them up. He tried to use his dreams as pointers to what he should be doing next, but this time there was nothing, just an odd lonely feeling that something was coming for him. Yet, even when it caught up to him, he would still be all by himself.

The static in the radio lulled him from his sleep. He looked at the clock, then jolted up.

He slept the whole night away. It was now ten a.m. He rolled off the coach and creaked up to his feet. The device sat on the small table, watching him, like it had been for months. Again, he went to his computer, adjusted slightly some variables, and before hitting the ignition, stopped.

What happens when it works? In all his time that he had been working, maybe somewhere in the back of his mind, he never thought it would actually happen, but this time, a feeling in his chest told him.

Get ready, you don’t know how long it will last. The door will be opened, but for how long, what will you do with that time, are you prepared?

He backed off from the computer.

“Those unprepared are prepared to fail,” he whispered to his reflection in the computer screen.

He had the sudden sense to slightly organize his workspace. He then showered, ate breakfast, and then gathered some items that he put in a messenger bag. A small journal, pen, video recorder, some instruments to measure radiation, oxygen, and other light spectrums. He set it down next to the table and now hovered his mouse over the button.

He clicked.

The disc started to click and spin, the hum of pleasant vibrations filling the room, and his body started to feel light. He stood and walked towards the line that was drawn on the floor to a circle that stood about five feet away. In the circle was the stool with the pyramid. The lightness feeling kept growing. His heart started to beat out of his chest. He had never gotten it to power on for this long. The disc spun at incredible speed, turning so fast that it looked like a solid object standing still.

Then a crack of lightning shot through the air. Immediately his ears rang and his head felt like it split open. Crack, more lightning spat out from the device, hitting the walls, sparks bouncing from impact and then in a burst of light. Where the pyramid and stool were, a mirror appeared. The sound was deafening as it materialized, but as it stabilized, it emitted a calm, low-pitch sound. Isaac was on the floor, sitting up, staring at the mirror.

Yet it wasn’t a mirror. He stood up and moved in front of it. Cascading rolling green hills moved into infinity. Pure blue skies with billowing white clouds cascaded above. He moved closer. There was no heat, nothing that even indicated it was there. His hand went to touch its surface.

His hand passed through it.

It was no mirror. Reality itself had been cut in an oval. A door hung in the middle of his workshop to another place. He withdrew his hand quickly and stared wide-eyed at it.

Prepared, aren’t you? A voice came to him. He snatched his bag from the side of the table and shouldered it.

He stepped up. His hands shook, his heart drummed in his ears, his eyes were wide as they could to take in everything.

He lifted his leg through the portal and stepped into a new world.

While Isaac takes a back seat to Ada most of the time, he is a very accomplished person and the catalyst of this story. He is a bit laid back and a loner, but always respectful and plays things mostly by the books. I imagine him being from the valve universe (I feel that Portal , Half-life and the game they have been encapsulate a feeling an idea of science very well) He’s a bit aloof, very bright, and just loves science and exploring stuff.

I feel like Dream by Fleetwood Macwould be one of Isaacs favorite songs. More for the melody.

Lately when I have sat down to write, the liminal characters keep coming up, new scenarios and building upon their world. They have their own adventures planned and there is a mystery behind the scenes, drama, horror and all that contained in the story. I will keep committing it to reality.

Till the next time, enjoy the ride~!

A memory that once shone in the minds eye. When the sunlight hit just right, cascading rainbow colors along the walls and floor, you seem to be transported to a place of unimaginable calm.

White sandy beaches that stretch for miles with a lush green forest separating them from jungle waterfalls and rich plants. The waves breathe, bring the tides that crash in a whisper, a music of the world that you now inhabit, even just for a moment.

The sun shines, but not too brightly, and the white clouds billow into endless warm blues. Shades of clouds paint the landscape and the sea that falls off into the horizon. A single large hotel stands here. How do you get there? How do you leave? There are no roads, or trains, airstrips, or walkways. It stand alone, bright white walls, crystal blue pools that over look the pristine beaches. Tall large open windows that let the cool breeze wash over you as you lay in one of their perfected beach chairs. You never seem to get tired or uncomfortable in. It curves and puts pressure on the exact spots it needs to, at all times.

Food and drinks come from a kitchen that no one ever sees. You close your eyes, and the next time you open them, a craft cocktail of your dreams or a sandwich dripping with special sauce. As if it materialized from thin air for you to enjoy. All the rooms over look the ocean, each with a balcony for viewing pleasure. Soft warm lights at night give you the feeling of being wrapped in a warmth in the cool evening.

Then as you suddenly feel the rainbow light shift off of you, you awaken.

Back to where you were before you arrived.

Those peaceful shores will always be there for you, waiting, anticipating.

It welcomes your return.

I always love the retro beaches from old video games, I know I have written some other pieces like this, but sometimes you just have to return to them, I saw this post on X and it just stuck in my mind. Really love it.

Get lost in the memories, till next time!

The yellow wallpaper blinded him beneath the pure-white overhead light. He was a little drunk, but not enough to be seeing shadow puppets.

When he walked past the room, he swore he saw someone inside, dancing, masquerading around the room. He took a peek, but there was no one.

One entrance.

His shadow projected across the walls.He shook his head and laughed at his own gray outline.

He reached out toward the wall. The fingers grew from a shade of gray to black. As he touched them, they disappeared behind his hand. It must have been his imagination.

He pulled away, but something caught him, pulling him back toward the wall.

He stared at his hand.

Black fingers extended from the wall and laced through his own. The shadow moved independently of him.

The fingers grasped hard, and he began to scream. His other hand tried to rip the fingers away, but they were flat, painted onto his skin. A cold sting burned into him.

“Please!” he yelled toward the other room. “Someone help me, please!”

The shadow yanked him to the right, bringing him down to his knees, then jerked him to the left, as if it were trying to shake him off.

He braced his legs against the wall and pulled as hard as he could. His shadow mimicked his desperation—everything except the hands.

The light flickered, and each time full darkness hit him, he felt himself drift.

“No.”

He pulled so hard he thought his flesh would rip.

The lights went out.

He went out.

“Hey, I thought I heard someone yelling in here.”

A woman entered the room and flipped the light switch.

The bedroom was empty.

“Jess, come back out. This is your favorite song,” a voice called from the other room.

She looked around one more time. The wall seemed to have a faint shadow on it. Must have been sun damage.

She shrugged, turned off the light, and returned to the party.Her shadow followed each step.

I was standing in my room and the light was casting a huge shadow of my self on the wall. Now for some reason in my mind, the shadow is the realest thing in the world. It is a one to one, not projection, a figure of your self. There is no delay in the light bouncing. As in a mirror the light reflects off the mirror back into your eyes, there is a delay. The shadow is connected to you, fully, always. You move, it moves at the same time.

There is something in there, if you look deep. At least that’s what I think. It mesmerizes me when I stare deep into the back of my shadowed head.

Integrate it, it’s always with you. Cheers~

Renee flipped through the patients on the clipboard. Doctor Cyrus looked more tired than usual. His peppy nature ebbed and flowed, but this time it seemed to be permanently stunted. The last few weeks had been buzzing with energy after some chance meetings with some colleges, but that energy was now drained and no progress had been made.

“Coffee?” She said putting down the clipboard and checking her energy drink, which was bone dry.

“Wha- yes, I will go get some more coffee, you want anything”

Renee stood up “I’ll get it, try and get a little rest, we don’t have any patients for another two hours”

Cyrus stared at her “You? Leaving to get coffee?”

“Yeah, yeah, I know I usually never leave this room besides to go home, but you know, it looks like you could use some alone time. Break room is just down the hall to the right?”

Cyrus smiled and nodded “Yes, it is.” He took off his glasses and put them to the side of the console “Thanks Renee. I know I don’t express it enough, but I am glad that you are here to help me out.”

She patted him on the shoulder and exited the room.

The Animah Institute was a huge creepy place. Bright soft lights, rounded corners, posters telling you to be happy and that you can do what ever you want. Some very strange messaging about ascending. Renee shuddered every time she walked through the halls, which she didn’t usually. So why did she work there? Pay was good, really good, the hours kept her from home, which she didn’t want to return to and her study of psychology pushed her to see how they were ‘healing’ people. Since day one, she still had no idea. The patients came into the room, they dialed in some thing, the lights went out, they were no longer there, and then they watched the monitors. An hour later, the lights went off and returned and there they were, sitting in the chair that they had been. The first couple of days, she couldn’t believe what she was seeing, but Cyrus was so disinterested and dry about it that she soon adopted it as normal life.

She turned the corner and stepped to where the break room should have been. A large barricade had been placed at the opening where it was.

“Closed for deep cleaning, please use another break room” Which below it had a list of them.

A2
B2
N8
Z9

There was no map. Just vague directions for where to go from where she was.

“Typical, let’s see” she ran her fingers down the list, A2 should be the closest, right?”

It said go straight make a right, then left, follow hallway, break room A2 will be on the right.

She made the turns and kept walking. The Animah institute was separated in two sections. The wellness center, which sat on the edge of a large hill. The public facing side. It held all the staff, some special rooms for patients, and a bunch conference and therapist rooms. Renee looked out the windows at the large trees that seemed to go on forever, soon they dropped away revealing the megapolis which was PolyCube Dynamics. The owner and entity behind the Animah Institute. It seemed that the trees acted as a barrier, a shield if you would for the whole facilities. The bridge from the smiles, the public good, and into the secret, the edge, the real intent of the company. Renee had the suspicion for a long time that they were not the most kosher of companies. Then she saw how vast their facility was.

She kept walking. A2 seemed to be much farther away than she anticipated. She past large hallway after hallway separated by huge windows that looked into the courtyards of sprawling fountains and trees. She saw the opening which looked like the break room. A large A2 sign plastered on the wall.

Finally. She turned. It looked like the others. Circular tables, kitchen shelving built into the right side and vending machines on the left wall. The only difference was the large window that outlooked past two towering walls to the forest edge in the distance. She spied a lady sitting at one of the circular tables. She had her head propped up on her wrist staring out the window. Renee moved towards the counter to make some coffee.

“What is this thing?” She stared at the large machine, it’s pipes and knobs were nothing like her press to brew machine she was used too. There was nothing else on the counter. “Great”

The women at the table snapped out of her trance “Oh, looking for coffee?” She stood up, heels clicked behind as she approached.

“Yeah, but I don’t know what the hell this thing is” Renee tapped the machine.

The lady laughed “Sorry about that, I’m a bit of a coffee snob, I had the machine in here replaced with this one. Here let me make one for you.”

The women, seems to dance and started pulling beans from the counter, measuring, grinding them and working the machine as if it was second nature.

“Latte?” She asked.

Renee moved toward the refrigerator “Yes, he would like that” the fridge had nothing to stimulate her. She drooped.

“You know, coffee or tea will do you much better than those caffeinated drinks.” She pulled out a bottle from the counter and slid it towards her “Take one of those if you are drinking coffee, or even your little energy drinks, they will curve the crash.”

Renee took the bottle. The machine whirled to life, and coffee aroma filled the whole space. If she closed her eyes she would swear that she was in a cafe somewhere. Next she frothed the milk form the side of the machine and poured a twelve ounce cup, a heart in white floating on the surface.

“It’s L-theanine, here” She handed Renee the cup. “I haven’t seen you around here before”

Renee took the cup reluctantly “Yeah, I work with Dr.Cyrus in the Animah Institute, the break room was closed, so I tried to find the next one”

The lady laughed, it was childlike. “Well you might of picked the furthest one away. Dr.Cyrus, I met him a couple of weeks ago. Here” she guided her to the table she was sitting at.

“I’m Ada Noether” she extended her hand.

“Renee” She shook it.

“Give me a minute Renee” Ada moved back to the machine and started the whole process again. In no time she slid next to her with a cup of her own.

Renee stared at her.”I hear a lot of about you, I was expecting you to be a bitch”

Ada took a sip of her coffee “I can be sometimes” She smiled and laughed “I like your forwardness.”

Renee stared down at the heart. “Thank you for the coffee” she took a sip and her eyes lit up “It’s a lot sweeter then I thought it would be”

“My own special sweetener. Keeps the healthy properties of honey, but can be added to hot things. Hope it’s not too sweet. I thought thats how you would like it.”

Renee hadn’t noticed before, but Ada was extremely beautiful. Her hair, makeup and clothes seems like she had just walked out of a clothing ad. She held herself with just ease and confidence she found her self drinking her in with her eyes.

Their eyes met.

“Fuck” Renee looked away immediately.

“Dr.Cyrus, how is he doing? Any progress on his project? I have some additional resources coming to him, please express my apologies for the delay. Red tape and all that.” Her eyes grew sharp and Renee could see a billion tasks, convocations and decisions flash upon her face before it returned to its serene calm nature.

“He’s frustrated. I actually don’t know what he is trying to do, but it doesn’t seem to be going anywhere right now. I can only handle some of the admin work for him. I will let him know.”

Ada leaned back, crossed her legs and turned her head to the ceiling. Her eyes searched as she hummed. “Yes, I wonder what he could do. What could we do.”

Renee turned the bottle Ada had given her to see the label.

“Take one of those with you next sip” she said with out looking away form the ceiling.

Renee followed as if commanded.

“You won’t feel it now, but later. Take the whole bottle for you and Dr.Cyrus” She let out a sigh and returned to her own cup. “To many things right now, so little time.” She perked up and grabbed her mug “But that’s always how it is, isn’t it. What will you do now Renee?”

“I-“ the questions was deeper. It wasn’t about her going back to Dr.Cyrus. It was about her, her personal endevours, what her life was going to be. The way Ada asked, it twisted something in her. “I will do what I can” Renee answered, a swell of emotion filling her.

Ada nodded, stood up and moved back to the espresso machine. Her hands worked again, the machine roared and hissed and soon she set down a coffee in a to go cup. Dr.Cyrus written on the side of it with a heart after the name. “Good girl, please tell Dr.Cyrus I wish him the best of luck. And you, Renee, I hope you keep progressing. I’m sure we will meet again. Until then” Ada took both of their mugs, washed them and strode out giving Renee a wave.

“What in the world was that” Renee grabbed the bottle and coffee. When she got to the hallway Ada was no where to be seen. As if she was ghost, only her heels clicking somewhere in the facilities could be heard.

Renee strode back through the facility, not seeing a soul. She looked out at the forest that rose high and stood dark out in the distance. What did this place look like from the outside? She shuddered at the thought. The Animah Institute where she entered already gave her the creeps from the outside. She couldn’t imagine stumbling upon this monstrously from the outside.

When she entered the office Dr.Cyrus awoke from his slumber with a stretch and groan.

“How long was I out for? My gosh” he rubbed his eyes.

Renee set the cup of coffee next to him and sat down in her regular seat. “A little bit longer then I thought I would be, I ran into someone.” She handed him the bottle “Take one of those before you have your coffee.”

Dr.Cyrus looked at the name on the cup and at the bottle. “Hmm interesting, who was it?” His eyes ran to the back of the label.

“Ada Noether. She said that she was sorry for the delay, but extra resources were coming”

With her name, his eyes shot up to her “Mrs.Noether? You ran into Ada Noether? How far did you go?”

“A2, I kinda got lost”

He laughed “You went pretty far, what did you think of the place, pretty big huh?”

Renee didn’t laugh though, she had never asked, afraid of what he would say. “What is PolyCube Dynamic? What are they doing back there, it’s” she searched “insane. A whole city”

Dr.Cyrus popped one of the pills in his mouth and took a sip of the coffee. He looked at the cup in surprise “Wow” then he nodded to himself and leaned back in his chair. His looked turned serious as he studied her. A calculation was running in his head.

“How would you like to get a pay raise Renee, I think you would be valuable here. But you will need to learn a bit more about science, quantum, and dimensional space mirroring. How would you like to change the world?”

The world keeps getting deeper, PolyCube Dynamics seems to a lot larger then one might seem. The Animah Institute, the head of the beast that is PolyCube Dynamics. Ada continues to meet a spin her web, while Dr.Cyrus might get a new partner.

When I was scripting my game, I had Renee as a like an uninterested intern. She was the complete contrast to Dr.Cyrus’s bubbly, excited attitude when working. She will still be sort of moody, but maybe she will find a new found goal.

What will she do now?

We will see in the future. Cheers~

Mark leaned back into his chair and spied out the window at the metropolis. Alive and kicking as always. Never sleeping, just surviving off drugs, alcohol and parties. He lit a cigarette and looked at the empty page sitting in the type writer, then back out at the city.

“Wouldn’t have it any other way” he said out loud to himself then took a large gulp of a purple liquid.

A knock came at his door. He checked the clock. Midnight. The witching hour.

“It’s never locked, come in.” He set his feet back on the floor.

The wooden door swung on its tired hinges and a women walked in. Her dress tight, with layers of red, her hair black, wavy that fell just below her shoulders. Fair face, red lips, dazzling eyes.

An unexpected visit, but one that did not surprise him. The arch-doms, they called them. He breathed in the mystic smoke and blew a cloud of glittery blue into the air. She strode over, her heels clicking with each sway of her hips. She turned, and planted her self in-between him and his type writer.

Mark scooted his chair from the table to give some space between them and crossed his legs taking another inhale of the cigarette.

“Sure do know how to make an entrance” he laughed. Her face, caught in a mask of a subtle smile that hid a life time of emotions didn’t flinch. But her eyes. They rolled, looked out over the city from his window. How many times had she been here?

“Mark mark mark, your latest story, news drama, what ever you call it?”

“Journalism, dear. I’m a journalist”

“Yes, that’s it. Well, it made a lot of people upset.”

“Good” Mark said standing and grabbing a magazine printed on amor paper “It should upset people, that they are being used for a purpose they did not want, drained of their energy for some unknown cause, aren’t you upset about that?”

The lady broke her mask and frowned. “Of course not, we are the ones doing it. “

“I know” Mark smiled “I left your names out for the first go at it. We have had such a, how would you say, up and down relationship. Wanted to give you a heads up”

“We thank you for that” she spoke dryly “But, well, we need you to not publish the follow up, that you are apparently.” She slid off the table and glanced at the typewriter “trying to write” She stepped closer to him, casting a shadow from the small light from the ceiling. “Or should we punish you for not being a good boy for us?”

“Threats don’t work on me, you know that.”

She back up and the light returned.

“Yes, I supposed it doesn’t, does it. We gave you grace because of Julia, but we cannot extend it if you take it so far”

The name stabbed him. His breath caught in his throat and he swallowed hard. He moved towards the desk and took a large swig of the purple liquid and then a long drag of the cigarette before putting it out. He held the smoke in his lungs, then until he couldn’t anymore, cast it into the air.

“Your pain is noted”

“Shut up, you have no idea” his words carried a venom. “Get out, now”

“Mark, assure me -“

“I told you to get out, I mean it. You might be blessed, but I am damned”

Her face held sadness, but it disappeared quickly.

“Be careful, please.” Her heels moved towards the door and the hinges cried as she exited.

Mark slumped into the chair, staring at the empty page again. The cocktail mix blurring his vision. He looked out at the metropolis. It’s chaos radiating into the sky.

He hoped it would be burn by morning.

What do you excluded to keep on the good sides? Or will you risk it all for the truth. Sometimes events can take place and hit harder then the rest, but you still need to dig and get to the truth anyway, but what is the truth? A single or collective of what reality mirrors back? What do you know. Nothing of the sorts.

Read lightly ~

He leaned back in the chair. Looked towards the front entrance. Then took a bite of the apple pie that he had ordered.

“Roger” he heard someone call out behind him. “Roger is that you?” He turned slowly, his leather coat creaking as he spotted the man with his right eye only.

“I knew it, that is you, glad to see you”

With out acknowledgement, Roger, turned just as slowly as he looked back to his pie.

He heard the chair move away form the table and hard heeled shoes approach.

The man appeared in his vision, took a seat, and then waved the waitress over.

Roger gave a visible sigh. “Simon” he took a sip of coffee “How are you these days?”

The man rolled his eyes and crosed his legs leaning against the back of the chair and chewing on his lip.

“To be honest Rog, not that good. It’s a whole bloody mess out there. Just crazy. I thought I had things figured out, but alas, it gets all topsy turvy when I step into it. I mean the last bloke that I ran into couldn’t even tell me the time. Imagine that!”

The rain outside was picking up. The restaurant had windows, but they were thin and the walls were covered in dark wood. It made the interior feel enclosed, warm and in its own pocket of the world. The rain added a layer, its heavy drops thumping onto the roof filling the whole place with a thick layer of noise. Art deco to its core, green light covers that barely illuminated anything, but kept a cool atmosphere for the patrons. The bar was a mix of a diner and high class joint and the tables were simple and modest, with a bit of elegant charm thrown in at the legs and silverware. It was a fine place to hide.

“Yes, I agree” Roger said dryly. His pie was almost finished. The waitress came over.

“Ya, coffee, and a slice of pie, we will share, two forks. Thanks” Simon smiled at the waitress as she shimmied off. “Fine one, huh”

Roger had had enough. He finished his last piece of pie , wiped his mouth and sat back with his arms crossed.

“Simon”

“Yeah, Rog”

“Look at me, not the waitress, what do you want?”

Simon licked his lips. “Well you know Rog, we have a job to do, not a nice one either. I just wanted to get your advice, that’s all”

“Our job is to reap, so reap, what is so hard about that?” Roger uncrossed his arms, and produced a pocket watch which he flicked open. He stared mesmerized by it for a moment then eyed Simon. “I see”

Simon let out a heavy sigh and nodded “You see”

There was a quiet resignation to Roger, he clasped the pocket watch shut in one sharp motion and put it on the table. “How long?”

“A minute at most. What about when it’s my time Rog, I don’t want to” the words caught in his throat “die”

Roger let out a laugh, one from younger days, much younger.

“Simon, we all must be reaped one day, even the reapers” He coughed “You couldn’t have just shot me, huh?” His voice grew hoarse and he clasped his chest with a smile. How many had he seen just like him now. Gasping for air, heart pumping its last beats, but his, not a heat, a special kind of spirit. Returning to its creator. What a beautiful life he had lived. Eons, the highs and lows, it all span in a memory of light, blazing past every sense that he had. Human and otherwise.

“Till the next time” Roger breathed his last breath and then his head hit the table hard, arms falling to his side.

Simon sat for along while, the waitress screaming in the background, customers standing to find out what had happened.

“Yes, my friend, till next time” Simon stood up trembling.

Simon had become a reaper of reapers.

There is a scene in Supernatural that I absolutely love and that is when death is introduced in this diner. It is storming outside and everyone on the inside is dead and he is just eating a piece of pie when Dean confronts him. I based it partly on that. Death can’t be everywhere? Maybe it can? Or maybe it needs a little bit of help. But all things come to an end. All things…die.

Keep living my friends, till the very end

The clapping was deafening. Men in sharp suits rose from their velvet seats and applauded the figure in the middle of the room.

A mask of gold and silver with a moon for the right eye and sun for the left, no mouth, glitter adorning the sides where it met deep purple. Two horns that flopped around when the figure moved dripped backwards from the top of their head. Robed in royal colors and symbols that covered their whole figure in a specter of ancestors. The marble floor, which held a large smiling sun, was covered in blood. A lamb, torn to pieces, littered the mural, obstructing it from the spectators. The figure raised both of its hands in the air. Gold and black gloves jeered the crowd for more applause and adoration.

Then, in a moment of pure darkness that came instantly — like reality blinking — the figure was gone.

The applause reached higher, crazier, desperate for acknowledgment of the miracles.

It lasted an hour.

“God damn, that was crazy. I still can’t get it out of my head.”

Seth smoothed back his hair and gave himself a smile in the mirror.

“I don’t think God had anything to do with that.”

“Ha, yeah, not that God for sure. The way it ripped that lamb into pieces with its bare hands. Fuck. The sounds, the spectacle of it all. I had no idea what I was getting myself into. You see something like that before?”

Phil let out a heavy sigh and peered out the window of their high-rise apartment.

“No.”

“Well, Jesus, that was intense. I’m a bit nervous about what else could happen. What do you think it was? Human? Why the mask and everything? Do monsters really exist? We have that meeting tonight. What do you think it’s about?”

“Seth.”

“Yeah?”

“Shut up for one minute, will you? I don’t know what it’s about. I joined only a month before you did. I’ve had one meeting before the whole spectacle the other night.”

Seth finished putting on his suit and checked himself in the mirror one more time. “Fuck. I hope it tops whatever that was.”

Phil stood up and ushered Seth towards the door. “Come on.”

Downtown, in the pouring rain, sat a bar under an old derelict warehouse on the east side. It was old, condemned, but the city never brought it down. A neon sign rose out of the rubble on the north side of the building.

The Golden Goblet.

It was hidden for a reason and hard to get to. Invite only, exclusive members, but no one ever knew who they were. All the surrounding buildings had been torn down and it now sat as a dark, isolated building with a single lamppost and the neon sign glowing in the darkness.

Seth and Phil moved into the opening. They wore white masks that covered their faces — made out of an odd silicone that the organization had given them. They seemed to melt into their face and become extremely comfortable. Like a second skin. By the neon sign, a stairwell led under the building to a large wooden door with a slit in it.

As soon as they hit the bottom platform, the slit opened with a screech. Two eyes shone out at them.

Then the door opened.

Lamp lights burned on every wall, and large paintings of mystic figures in palaces and gardens, holding relics, scaled the walls into the high ceilings. A large man, taller than both of them, led them down a small hallway into the main antechamber where the other members had gathered. It looked more like a private lounge than anything. Couches and private sitting areas were everywhere. There was no one central location for anything. Fountains with lush plant life sat on each wall by the paintings, creating a tropical feeling in the air and atmosphere.

As they looked around, Seth elbowed Phil so hard that he thought his rib might snap.

“Dude, look. There it is.”

Phil moved to position himself so he could see. Up a small platform in a small covered area that was surrounded by more large plants sat the figure from the other night. The golden specter.

It was motionless, staring out at all the members. Slowly it would move its whole head, tracking someone it seemed, then would return to looking straight into the room.

“Let’s get something to drink.”

Phil moved towards the bar, but kept his awareness on the figure.

Its head followed him.

Seth grabbed a Manhattan from the bar. “Do you think it remembers us?” Then took a large swig of it.

Phil sipped the top of his martini and pulled it slowly from his lips.

“How would it remember us? It doesn’t even know us.”

A man wearing a blue suit overheard them. “Boys, haven’t seen you before.”

“Yeah, we are new members. Just joined.”

Seth was already feeling the alcohol, talking too much again. Way too much.

Phil glanced over to where the figure was.

It was gone. He turned as Seth started a full-blown conversation. Where did it go?

A jingle came from behind the man they were talking to. He snapped back.

“Oh my god.”

Seth set down his drink on the bar. The figure was much taller than they realized. Standing almost seven feet, it towered behind the man in blue, looking down at them.

The man stopped blubbering and turned. “Ah, yes, yes. Um, I didn’t mean to disturb.”

He shuffled away at great speed. The figure stepped forward, its dressing swaying with the motion.

Seth wiped his hands on his suit and stuck out his right hand. “Hey, great show you put on the other night. I have never, and I mean never in my life, seen anything like that. When I joined, I just thought it was like a sex thing, you know, but damn. I was so entranced. The power, the spirit. Pleasure to meet you.”

Phil stared, wide-eyed, and took a step back.

The figure raised its gloved hand and engulfed Seth’s with it.

A firm handshake.

Then it turned to Phil.

It stepped closer, closing the gap between them in an instant. Its whole head blocked Phil’s vision. He was frozen. He tried to run, but a primal fear kept him in place. Like it didn’t matter.

The figure kneeled so that its head was level with his. He peered into the holes where eyes should be.

Nothing stared back at him. A void of emptiness. But he could feel it. Something in that mask was looking at him. Weighing him, sizing him up.

For what? He couldn’t tell.

With a fluid movement, it stepped to the side and circled him. The bells from its horns jingling.

The whole room had gone quiet and stared at the spectacle that he had become part of.

Seth stood, mouth open, following the figure and nodding at Phil in some sort of “bro, you’re doing great” way.

Then, just like the other night — another blink.

It was gone.

Phil collapsed. The other members surrounded him and pulled him to his feet, grabbing and patting him on the shoulders, explaining how blessed he was and that it was a great sign. Seth fought his way to his side.

“Dude, what did you say to it? It was all over you. That was awesome. What do you think it means?”

Phil, covered in sweat, yelled into the crowd. “What does it mean?”

They clapped and congratulated him more. “What does it mean!”

He screamed at them, but none answered or even acknowledged his question.

He broke from the crowd, leaving Seth behind. He burst forth into the cold dark night. Rain still pouring from the sky. He ripped off his mask and wiped it vigorously with rain.

A bell rang in the darkness. He shot up, scanning the edges of his vision.

He could feel it watching him. Feel it hunting him.

Then he saw it. Just behind his pale vision, in the darkness just beyond the light. Its mask looked at him. Its size now realized, it frightened him even more.

He took a step forward. “What does it mean?”

Then he heard it — not from the vibrations in the air, but from the vibrations in his head.

“Ascension.”

A hand clasped his right shoulder and Phil jumped. “Yo, you okay? I tried to follow you, but those dudes in there were going crazy. You should see them.”

“The Golden Paradise. I just wanted some more knowledge, you know. See some secrets, esoteric ideas, like-minded people. A cool club. Maybe get some good connections.”

Phil started to cry. “Seth, man, we fucked up.”

“What no, you did great in there, whatever you did. We’re okay.”

“I just wanted to know.”

Phil repeated it over and over again.

The rain began to pour even harder.

The Golden Paradise had gained a new God.

I have been into esoteric orders for a while. They have good intentions, usually based on secret knowledge and ideas that have been passed on from one to another. They need a person to decipher and teach the ways that are hidden from the rest.

What happens if you actually get what you are looking for?

Many join these things to get more knowledge and ascend through secret knowledge. But what does that really mean? It would be up to the individual. Unless you follow someone else’s magical system and rituals. Then it’s no longer up to you — it’s up to them. Even they don’t know the power that they are wielding. The true nature of it and what the gods intend for them.

Careful when practicing what others have made. It’s not made for you. It was made for them.

The box came in the morning. Inside she was surprised to find a small platform. It was sleek, metal, with a simple line running through the middle of it. The only instructions were that it needed to be laid out on the floor with clearance of about seven feet and to turned on. She set it up in her living room, right in the center.

Her heart beat against her chest as she pressed the on switch and let the machine do its thing. It would take all night, it was mostly silent, but a low humming noise came from the middle of the platform where the slit was.

She sat for a long time watching it, but nothing seemed to happen. It just sat, glowing an other worldly blue and humming to its own tune.

She got bored and went to bed.

Maybe this had been all a mistake.

“Julia” a voice called and she sat straight up in bed.

There he sat on the edge of her bed. It had worked.

“Oh my god, Pete, is it really you?” She grasped his face and ran her fingers over his slender cheeks. They were warm. It worked.

“Oh course it’s me silly” he had already gotten dressed “Why, where would I be? I just got back form the work trip, but that was a few days ago”

A connection that wasn’t real. She choked on her breathe. They told me it would be like this. He never made it back from his work trip. A wave of regret hit her. Tears fell down her face. She stood and hugged him with all her might.

“I’m so glad you’re back, I was so stupid. I made a horrible mistake” she pressed her face into his chest.

His hand went to the back of her head, she could feel him stroke her “We will work everything out. Don’t worry”

The device was gone in the living room. Pete explained that he had never seen anything. It must be part of the design she thought. Pete turned on the stove and started making breakfast.

She sat watching him. What a miracle. She smiled rubbing her forehead.

A week went by just like it used to. It was like he had never left. Their old problems came back, but she didn’t care, she would work through them differently this time.

She went to her mother’s place and came back on the Friday.

“Pete, where are you?” She entered the front door and looked in the living room. Her heart froze, the platform was sitting in the middle of the floor. She peered into the kitchen. Pete sat in a chair, pulled away from the table looking directly into the living room at the platform.

She approached and stopped when she saw what as in his hands.

“Julia, Julia Julia. A defect in the design, I wasn’t supposed to remember was I?” He leaned back in the chair. “My business trip, I never made it back, did I?”

Tears started to stream down Julia’s face as she shook her head

“No, I didn’t. How many times did you hit me in the head? Four times at least. The first time, I couldn’t even see after it, just stars. Then pain, blow after blow after blow. Then “he stood causing the chair to fall back onto the floor with a sharp bang. She shot back away from him “How did you get me in the car? Going that fast, in to the medium. Alcohol? When did you get so crafty?”

He moved slowly towards her.

“I was so angry. It was a mistake. I knew it, I brought you back. I printed you back to life” she pleaded.

“You should have read the fine print. If person died a violent death, give at least sixty days after their death to print them. Memory fragments can still be present”

“Please, Pete, please, I’m sorry.”

His eyes dead, and dull looked right through her. “I’m am too. Don’t worry, I’ll wait sixty days”

3D printing is one of those thing that I think will be pretty impactful in the future. Right now it’s a bit niche, but maybe it could become something like it is in the game Pragmata (great game btw). This was originally going to be a more love/intimate story, but some how It took a dark direction.

Always read the fine print. Cheers~