《Psychonautica》
The Study
I signed up for my mom.
Even as I jotted my signature down on the paper, I could hear her in the back of my mind scolding me.
¡°What are you doing, Max? Max... I don¡¯t like this.¡±
That was the voice of wisdom and reason that had guided me for most of my life. But I was getting desperate. I was running out of time. No. Scratch that. Mom was running out of time. Just remembering the sight of my mom on the paramedic¡¯s stretcher increased the cold lump of fear that grew in my stomach. Her last words as she sagged back against the hospital bed coughing weakly resounded ominously in my memory.
¡°I¡¯ll be fine,¡± she had whispered even as her fingers barely clung to my broad ones. ¡°My boy Max... my beautiful boy... I don¡¯t want him to worry for me. I¡¯m going to a better place.¡±
Bile rose in my throat at those words, and tears stung in my eyes as I cradled her thin hand. Years of work in the local candy factory had roughened her palms and bent her back. Yet, she had never complained. After all, she was working for her darling boy. Her baby boy, Max. Even as she struggled to breathe, she was thinking about me.
And I knew I didn¡¯t deserve it.
As soon as I got out of the sterile white and blue room with its blinking machines and soft beeping, my fists balled up. I punched the red brick wall of Mount Hope Hospital and cursed softly. My mom was worried about me¡ªand what was I doing? Nothing.
Well, not nothing, I sighed. I¡¯ve been trying, but there¡¯s no way I can save her. And the money¡¯s running out. What¡¯ll happen then?
I dreaded the thought of seeing my mom sent to some sketchy home or hospice to die in squalor. However, a few days later, when she slipped into a coma, the doctors told me that she might never wake again. Perhaps it was for the best, but it was a bitter pill to swallow. I was helpless, unable to save her and make things right.
My job at the candy factory didn¡¯t pay well enough, and the benefits were miniscule. Our insurance barely covered the basic expenses of mom¡¯s care. Even worse, I knew that things weren¡¯t going to miraculously get better any time soon. This wasn¡¯t some kind of in-between work before officially launching my career. I didn¡¯t have a career. Not really.
Like my mom, I was going to spend the rest of my life working in shipping at the damned candy factory. All thanks to my stubborn-headedness and lack of dedication. While she worked, I lazed around and skipped school. There had been a few classes that had interested me¡ªthe ones about history and writing, but in general, I was a very unmotivated student... and as a result, I would be stuck in low income work unless I somehow managed something drastic.
And I hadn¡¯t cared. For a while, I was happy to work the allotted four twelve-hour shifts a week. It was just fine for me. I could still go out and party with friends. Meet some babes. Catch a few sports games with the boys. Buy a cold one or two.
Then mom had fallen down. After landing in the hospital, she¡¯d gotten sick, and the doctors discovered that her heart was weaker than they¡¯d like. Between the heart murmur and the frail lungs¡ªprobably damaged thanks to inhaling dust at work for decades¡ªmy mom didn¡¯t stand a chance. Pneumonia hit her hard and she¡¯d been struggling every since then.
Mom isn¡¯t going to live forever. The realization hit me hard. At the age of twenty-three, I¡¯d never really given death a second thought. I¡¯d never known my father, never cared about what had happened to the bastard who had left my mom high and dry years ago. I¡¯d never known my grandparents on either side either. It was just me and her. And soon it¡¯d be just me.
I shivered as I stared down at the pen clenched between my fingers. The form was filled out. What had I just signed up for? The small print blurred before me as I gazed sightlessly down at the clipboard. Something about needing healthy young adults for experiments. I hadn¡¯t really cared about much beyond what I¡¯d seen on the flyer fluttering from the telephone pole by the bus stop. A study at the college offering $500.
The Rush Institute of Wellness and Health
in conjunction with Carraford College
PARTICIPANTS NEEDED
For Research Study Investigating Consciousness and Pharmacology
Looking for young adults of all backgrounds, 18 to 25, who are healthy, fit, and can pass a tox test.
You may be eligible to participate in a research study designed to investigate the impact of specific pharmacology on the conscious mind.
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You will receive a comprehensive evaluation at no cost to you, including:
- A physical exam
- A review of your medical history
- A short paper & pencil quiz
Earn $500 and join us in the exciting world of the conscious!
¡°Seems rather odd,¡± someone beside me muttered under his breath. ¡°Anyone know who¡¯s running this thing?¡±
¡°Who cares?¡± joked someone else further down the line. ¡°It¡¯s $500 greens.¡±
¡°Probably one of those funds.¡±
¡°If you don¡¯t like it, you can just go and leave the money for the rest of us.¡±
Ignoring the other arguing applicants, I stifled a sigh and finished filling in the rest of my details.
Maximo Arbelaez
Sex: Male.
Country of Origin: America
Only known relative: Marie Arbelaez.
Age: 23.
Height: 5¡¯11¡±
Weight: 175 lbs
Education Level: High School Diploma.
Barely, I mentally added.
Relationship Status: Single.
Any known health issues... I carefully went through the long list and felt rather proud when I was able to leave it blank. I was a very fit, rather athletic young man who worked hard and played hard. Until now, I corrected myself. Mom gets priority now.
Once I had completed the simple quiz, which was a list of basic math and English questions, my clipboard was taken, and a number was allotted to me. Forty-five minutes passed by. Then, slowly, one by one, certain numbers were called. Young men and women rose to disappear into the next room. My heart sank. What if they had limited spots? Perhaps I wasn¡¯t good enough?
¡°Number 43.¡±
Oh God. It was my number! Quickly, I rose and moved forward to greet a brusque, tall, thin woman with iron grey hair pulled tightly back into a bun. Her thick glasses glinted, almost opaque from the glare of the harsh florescent lights overhead.
¡°Mr. Arbelaez,¡± she said offering me a firm handshake. ¡°My name is Doctor Bailie. This way, please.¡±
Leaving the small waiting room behind, I followed her out of the room and further down the long, narrow hall. The ancient lights flickered occasionally, and, as we moved further away from the waiting room, it seemed as though the entire section of the building was doused in silence.
¡°So, this, uh, experiment...¡±
¡°It¡¯s top secret, which is why we had you sign the NDA.¡±
¡°Right, yeah,¡± I shrugged. ¡°No biggie. It¡¯s not a big deal to me, anyways,¡± I added hastily.
Her head turned a little, glasses once again glinting, as she offered me a frosty small smile over her shoulder. Dr. Bailie nodded.
¡°We will, of course, explain what you need to know,¡± she said, ¡°but the nature of this experiment requires a level of...¡± She paused and then added with ominous coolness, ¡°surprise.¡±
¡°Ah. I see.¡±
Trying to play it cool, I followed her into a room lined with what I assumed to be hospital beds. The entire place was dimly lit, and long curtains hung from the ceiling to the floor. We walked down the aisle of curtain. I tried to eye at any potential cracks, but the airless room offered no chance for me to figure out what was going on.
Wait. What if this is some crazy organ donor thing? I began to sweat as the hair prickled on my skin. Before I could say anything, we came to a stop at the last alcove where a bed stretched out empty. My bed. I just knew it.
¡°Uh...¡± I hesitated.
¡°Scared?¡± Dr. Bailie asked with a forced smile that had my skin crawling a little.
She moved to the head of the bed, fiddled with an IV bag, and then turned to look at me calculatingly. I hesitated, shifting from foot to foot.
¡°I don¡¯t wanna end up in a bathtub missing my kidneys and liver,¡± I joked.
Her thin lips twitched.
¡°We¡¯re the prestigious Rush Institute, Mr. Arbelaez. I can assure you that if we are in want of organs or cadavers, we need only apply through official channels. Our organization is a historied group of academics who have broken grounds in consciousness research and the effects of pharmacology on reality awareness.¡±
¡°Pharmacology?¡±
¡°Drugs, Mr. Arbelaez.¡±
¡°Oh.¡± I winced and ruffled my hair nervously. ¡°You know. I only socially smoke weed now and then... I¡¯m not interested in messing around with harder stuff. I¡¯ve got a mom¡ª¡±
¡°I understand your concern,¡± Dr. Bailie nodded. She gestured at the bed. ¡°However, you can be assured that we are not handling addictive substances. We are, after all, pushing the boundaries of reality, not tabulating well-documented information on what we already know.¡±
¡°Oh. So... what is it then?¡± I moved cautiously forward and stared into her icy blue eyes, repeating my question firmly. ¡°What is it?¡±
Dr. Bailie smiled and asked, ¡°What do you know about dimethyltryptamine?¡±
The Dream
Kaci.
It¡¯s time.
My eyes fluttered open groggily as the soft whisper drew me up out of the chaotic world that filled my mind¡¯s eye. The last vestiges of the dream faded. I didn¡¯t try to hold onto the memories. They were ephemeral and would fade as most dreams do¡ªa jumble of memory and fantasy that disintegrated all too easily.
What had I been doing? I frowned as I sat up and tried to get my bearings in the dim lighting of my room. I was rushing somewhere. I was late. One of those dreams where I knew I was going somewhere, but where? I never can figure that part out... And I¡¯m checking my bags over and over again as though I¡¯m afraid to forget something. There¡¯s always something to forget.
It was annoying, but on the other hand, those kinds of dreams came as a bit of a relief. I hadn¡¯t gone somewhere. I hadn¡¯t skimmed close to the ever tantalizing doors of The Other Side. I had only briefly glimpsed the ever collapsing, ever expanding, ever transforming geometric portal before I had sunk further into REM sleep.
For most people, sleep is a darkness. A blip in time. A moment of unknown, where you close your eyes and then open them hours later. While you are asleep, the world goes on. Who knows what is happening?
For me, though, it¡¯s different. Closing my eyes, I discovered the worlds that you can build from the power of your own imagination, painting a film into the darkened cave that was my mind¡¯s eye. There was also the world of dozing, where you lie, snuggled in a blanket, and slip in a gentle world of dreams that are so real, it is hard to recognize the intangible nature of that reality. A world of archetypes and meaning. Messages, I had come to realize. Messages from the other side.
And I paddled there in the shallows of the ocean of consciousness, like a child building sandcastles in the face of the tide. I hadn¡¯t known the dangers that lurked beneath the dark waters of what lay beyond. For beyond the comforting shallows of archetypal dreams, there lay doors to the Other Side. If you didn¡¯t sink fast enough into the blinding deep of REM, you could end up wandering as I did somewhere else.
That¡¯s when everything went wrong.
¡°Kaci.¡±
A gruff voice called out from the hall followed by a gentle rap.
¡°Coming,¡± I called out.
Shuffling off, Rob moved away, no doubt to prepare our morning meal. I heaved myself out of my capsule pod, slid back the door to my tiny bathroom, and started my morning routine. After my shower, I gently brushed my curly red hair, washed my face, and stared at myself in the mirror.
My hand rose to brush the glass, as always startled by the realness that greeted me. The freckled, pale skin. The large green eyes. The brilliant red hair. My mother¡¯s pert lips. My father¡¯s strong chin. I was the product of a long line of genetic planning¡ªand somehow I had ended up like this. A freak. An outcast. A person who hated herself and what she was becoming.
At the thought, my lips pressed into a thin line. I hated how they talked about me, hated the weight of their expectations, and even more... I hated how they drove me even now. The rage within me curled my fist, but I knew that smashing the glass wouldn¡¯t do anything. It would just put more work on Rob¡¯s shoulders.
Turning away, I focused on choosing my outfit for the day. Unlike most young women my age, I preferred simple, minimalist clothing. I didn¡¯t want to spend time and money¡ªor energy¡ªon something so superficial as my wardrobe. Living on minimal monthly income as I did, I spent my allotted credits on the basics of life and my personal cruiser, the Kensho.
¡°Kensho?¡± Rob had queried when I had ordered the name painted over the old one.
¡°You like ¡®Angelica¡¯?¡± I asked, raising an eyebrow at him.
Rob chuckled. ¡°It does sound a bit...¡±
¡°Like a pleasure craft?¡±
¡°Something like that.¡±
For a second, I wondered whether Rob had ever frequented one of those kinds of ships, where the rich and the famous cruised about, living in the lap of luxury and vacationing on Old Terra. Rob had worked for my family for several years, but the older man might have once worked on those kinds of space cruisers.
¡°Does Kensho sound a bit try-hard?¡± I had finally asked, deciding to not pester Rob about his personal life. The man was rather private. He hadn¡¯t been paid to get interrogated about whatever he might have seen or done in his younger years.
¡°Well... Maybe not.¡±
That was Rob for you. Diplomatic to a fault. Perhaps that was part of the job. Perhaps that was how he¡¯d been trained. Perhaps Rob was also just following the lines of his breeding, what he¡¯d been raised to do from a young child. Just the thought chilled me to the bone. I hated thinking about it, but I couldn¡¯t let it go either. It made me want to pester him more, pry him out of whatever bonds he might have been bound with.
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On the other hand, I had to remind myself time and again, maybe he likes it. Like so many people do. They don¡¯t want to rock the boat, and they don¡¯t appreciate it when other people start questioning things either.
Today, I put on one of my more old-fashioned outfits¡ªa simple black dress with a neat white collar, dark purple leggings, and black leather granny boots. Surveying myself in the mirror, I smiled at myself as I patted the low bun I had tied up. I looked like a girl who had stepped out of the ancient eras long past. Quite a nice look, I thought.
¡°How was your night?¡± asked Rob when I entered the narrow galley of our home away from home.
¡°Not bad,¡± I said with a slight smile. ¡°How about you?¡±
I peeked at him over my morning cup of tea. Rob, like usual, was dressed in his semi-formal butler suit, which consisted of a white shirt, black jacket and pants, and a matching formal tie. His greying black hair was brushed back neatly, and I noticed that he¡¯d trimmed his short beard. Behind large glasses, his dark eyes took note of my look. He smiled, crow¡¯s feet crinkling at the corners of his eyes.
¡°As usual, a good sleep,¡± Rob replied as he always did.
Rob would never tell me whether he had a terrible sleep or not. That¡¯s what a good butler did. Instead, he focused on getting me fed for the day and talked with me about what my plans were.
¡°Any further tips?¡± Rob asked a bit later on as I finished up my meal.
¡°Hm...¡± I sipped the tea he prepared for me. ¡°I spoke with Cham and one of the Ishim.¡±
¡°Hm.¡±
Rob¡¯s dark eyes darkened as he processed the news. He hated it when I talked about the ones I met on the Other Side. Not because he hated me or what I could do. He just worried. It was, I supposed, what he was born to do. I hated that as well.
¡°It¡¯s almost time,¡± I said. ¡°And when it comes, I¡¯ll be ready. It¡¯s what I was born to do.¡±
¡°Hm.¡±
A soft sound. A thoughtful hum. Rob nodded and rose to start clearing the cramped table by the galley. I helped him despite his protestations. Together, we washed up. We didn¡¯t talk. Instead, we allowed a comfortable silence to hang between us.
In the quiet, I sensed that he too also felt discomfort about the whole situation. Perhaps he was a bit like me. Maybe that¡¯s why he had volunteered to step down from his cushy job overseeing my mother¡¯s villa and took on the job of watching over me. Maybe he also hated what I had to do. Maybe just being here was also his way of rebelling.
After a moment, he asked, ¡°Have they ever said why this specific date?¡±
¡°A little... but not much.¡± I hesitated and then added, ¡°I just needed to know whether it would help me to reach Geoffrey. This is the only way.¡±
¡°I know.¡±
¡°They probably have their own reasons. There¡¯s more at stake than even I can guess at.¡±
¡°I wouldn¡¯t doubt that.¡±
¡°So, in a sense, we are using each other.¡± I glanced over at Rob and smiled at him as reassuringly as I could. ¡°I know that going in. I¡¯m careful.¡±
¡°Geoffrey said that as well.¡±
I tensed at those quiet words. So did Rob. It was as though they had slipped out of him unwillingly. Yet he had said them. A testament to how worried he probably was. I sighed and shook my head. He¡¯s not wrong, Kaci, I told myself. Geoffrey was so confident. And then look what happened¡ªdisappeared completely.
That happened years ago. I¡¯d only been eight when my genius, talented older brother had vanished overnight. Creeping down the stairs, I could hear my mother¡¯s shrieks as she followed my father into his study. The door slammed shut, and I pressed close and tried to find out what happened. Mother and Father were always arguing behind closed doors, but the panic threading in my mother¡¯s words and the tension vibrating through my father¡¯s posture.
My mother had screamed and wailed days after. She¡¯d packed Father¡¯s bags and tossed them out the front door. Father, as usual, ignored her, carried the suitcases inside, and ordered the servants to calm my mother down. From that day onward, my parents rarely spent time together. My mother hid in her room, medicating; my father buried himself in his work. The rest of my siblings, Rachelle, Warren, and Thomas, disappeared into their respective boarding schools and busy lives.
And I began to dream.
Scratch that. Even worse, I began to dream of The Other Side, where I heard the distant call of Geoffrey. Where Geoffrey must have gone.
The Other Side
As I said before, school was never my strong suit. It was just not my thing. There were a few teachers I liked¡ªthe hardheaded Mr. Angelo in History and the quirky Mrs. Bell in English, in particular. They opened up worlds that I never imagined, and for a couple semesters, I was invested. Enchanted even.
But in general, sitting down and listening to jargon got a hard pass from me. Something in my brain just sort of... turns off. I guess, in the end, I¡¯m more like my mom¡ªa hands-on type of person. The kind who¡¯s naturally great at sports. That kind of thing.
No sooner had Dr. Bailie launched into a sort of rehearsed lecture on the di-whatever drug she was talking about, I began to struggle. It wasn¡¯t for lack of interest. I¡¯d taken a few substances before, and I enjoyed a good party, myself. But I¡¯d never thought about recreational drugs as being anything more than just a nice high, a quick trip.
Apparently not.
This stuff had been around for a long time, and our body naturally created it or something¡ªblah, blah, blah, but scientists had begun to experiment, and secret research unveiled the next frontier of exploration. Yada yada.
I stared at Dr. Bailie and nodded where I thought I ought to nod, but in reality, I had very little understanding of the details. The gist was apparent to me though: I was going to be OK. It wouldn¡¯t have a lasting effect. I''d experience whatever and would come back with all of my brains intact. Great.
¡°You are... a psychonaut, Dr. Arbelaez,¡± Dr. Bailie breathed.
This was the closest thing to a pulse that I got from the scientist. Her blue eyes glittered with excitement. I could tell that she was invested in the project than I had initially guessed.
¡°Why haven¡¯t you gone yourself?¡± I blurted out.
Dr. Bailie¡¯s shoulders slumped a little as she admitted, ¡°I don¡¯t take well to it, unfortunately. A poor combination of aphantasia and personality, I think.¡±
Aphantasia. I had no clue about what that was, but I was a little scared to ask. I didn¡¯t want another lecture. Instead, I shot her a sympathetic look and nodded.
¡°So, I, uh, take this and then...¡±
¡°You visit The Other Side, experience what you can, and report back.¡±
¡°Sounds simple.¡±
¡°In some ways, it is,¡± she said. ¡°In other ways, it isn''t. When you return, you may struggle to maintain memories of your experience, so we will have a table prepped with a recorder, pen, paper... whatever you need to jot whatever you can recall down.¡±
Finishing up further instructions and suggestions, Dr. Bailie laid me back onto the bed, encouraged me to get comfortable, drew a blanket up over me, and then inserted the IV. Out of another black medical case, she raised a narrow metal and plastic object that looked like a half-circle.
A metal and plastic circle... metal and plastic... It belonged in the room, intrinsically. One with the doctor and the shadows and the thick plastic hanging curtains. White and grey and blue, the room was a study in minimalism, but my eyes, for some reason, could see all of the tiniest details in sharp relief. The jagged edge of one curtain, the glint of metal along the insides of the plastic band, the tension in her fingers as she raised the half-circle and brought it over to me.
Not just tiny details, I was starting to see the true shape of reality. The barest glimpse of a face warping in the glass of a machine nearby. The rhythm of the lights dancing across its interface. The weave of the curtains, which danced with their own geometry. All connected.
I was connected.
The slight pinch on my thumb didn¡¯t bother me at all. I could stare down at the heart monitor and almost visualize its inner workings. For a moment, Dr. Bailie didn¡¯t move. She simply stood by my side, watching me as I brushed my fingertips against the blanket.
What had once been a blanket was now more than a blanket. It was its own being, with its own life. The patterns on it shifted into ever more intricate patterns. In fact, the whole world was now converging into various shapes. Dr. Bailie was a square and a diamond and a triangle and some other geometry shape I couldn¡¯t even start to name.
¡°It¡¯s beautiful,¡± I said in awe.
¡°It is,¡± she agreed softly. ¡°Let go, Max.¡±
With those three words, the last wave overwhelmed me. The last thing I saw was her smile as her hands rose with the half-circle in my hand. Then, I shot forward¡ªas though I had been blasted by a cannon¡ªand I was passing through a tunnel.
To call it a tunnel would be underselling it, to be honest. It was something else. Blue, purple, green, yellow, red, orange, and every color in between. Pulsing. Neon. Brilliant. And also shadowed and layered. It turned about me with various jutting constructs or pieces of... material? What was it? I had no clue.
Either way, the long narrow tunnel didn¡¯t last long. While I was in it, though, I felt as though the world was still there, behind me somewhere. I was truly going to another place.
What did she call it? I wondered. A psychonaut? Is that like an astronaut? Is that the idea? One small step for man; one giant leap for mankind?
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Mankind. My thoughts wandered as I contemplated humans, planet Earth, and my life. I¡¯d never really thought about the Big Picture before. Life was, I had thought, simply a matter of progressively difficult problems to overcome, which you would hopefully level up for. Thanks to mom¡¯s condition, I had to confront reality now.
Allowing my thoughts to wander, I drifted through the tunnel. Somehow, I felt like this might be the turn-around I was looking for. Perhaps I would gain more than just the $500. Maybe I¡¯d be able to bring back something to help Mom, to help me get through her illness.
Before I knew it, the final spiral of the tunnel unfolded before me. I was in The Other Side.
Comprehending what I was seeing for the first time was almost impossible. My eyes darted from one thing to another, almost bug-eyed. There was a world before me. I had landed on a pier, which floated on a miasmic ocean. At the far end of its narrow length, a coastline stretched out.
A whole new world. I stepped forward uncertainly. The brown ¡®wood¡¯ beneath my feet was not wood. It was more than wood. I tested it gingerly. Beyond moving up and down thanks to the gentle waves of the ¡®ocean¡¯ behind me, it remained solid.
The colors of the planks were brown, lined with black and white. There was an odd pulsating glint, a flare, an inner brilliance. I stared at the planks like I¡¯d never stared at a simple object before.
¡°Crazy, isn¡¯t it?¡± A guy muttered just ahead of me as he placed a hand on one of the pier¡¯s posts.
¡°Oh.¡±
I stared at the guy before me. He looked close to my age, but unlike me, his hair was jet black, and his eyes were a lighter browner, almost gold like a hawk. A thin, narrow nose jutted out over lips set in a thin, firm line. This was someone who knew what they wanted, and, judging by the glint in those hawkish eyes, they knew how to get it.
A guy. Someone else was here. In fact, as I managed to tear my gaze away from the towering city overlooking the pier, I began to realize that the pier was dotted with a handful of people. There were other ghost shapes that formed. Some materialized into other people; others disappeared.
¡°I guess not everyone who tries gets in,¡± noted the other guy. ¡°Narrow is the gate, I guess.¡±
¡°...Yeah, I guess,¡± I said, not really getting it but trying to be friendly.
Looking down at my broad hands, the tips of my brown work boots, the edge of my blue jeans, and then up at the graphic t-shirt I was sporting, I realized that I had fully materialized.
¡°I look pretty much normal.¡±
¡°So do I,¡± said the other guy, gazing down at his dark blue jeans and cream-colored sweater. ¡°Crazy. I couldn¡¯t believe it, but now I guess I¡¯ve seen everything.¡±
¡°Who knew... this existed...¡±
I moved forward to stand shoulder to shoulder with him. He was a couple inches taller than me and a bit more narrow in build, less muscular, but I sensed a strength within him. It was odd¡ªhow connected I felt with the world and the people around me. If I pushed, I felt as though I could reach out to him in a more... telepathic way. If I wanted to. Which I didn¡¯t. Making a mind connection with a guy seemed... weird.
¡°Oh, hey,¡± the guy turned to quirk a half-smile at me, ¡°name¡¯s Siraj, by the way. What brings you here?¡±
¡°Name¡¯s Max,¡± I returned and then half-chuckled in embarrassment. ¡°And the money brought me here, to be honest. $500 bucks... Kinda pathetic, huh.¡±
Siraj shrugged. ¡°Different people have different paths to walk.¡¯
¡°What about you?¡± I asked.
¡°Me?¡±
¡°Why did you come?¡±
Siraj hesitated and glanced back at the city before us. It lay flat along the coastline, but I could see some tall buildings, and there were strange things flying around it. I could also see a warp and weft in the world. It was as though it were simply a breath of air, ready to shift at any time, and yet it remained here. Substantial, yet ephemeral. Glorious in color, and yet oddly highlighted with shadow.
¡°Professional curiosity,¡± he finally replied.
Alright then. He didn¡¯t want to talk about it. Fair enough. As he said, we were different people with different paths to walk. And yet...
¡°I¡¯m curious now,¡± I joked and nudged him. ¡°Let¡¯s go check it out together.¡±
¡°Together?¡± Siraj raised a thin eyebrow.
¡°Best go with someone. Who knows what¡¯s in that city?¡±
¡°Think I¡¯m scared?¡±
¡°Naw. But I¡¯m a bit nervous.¡±
¡°Nervous? About a hallucination?¡± asked Siraj with a chuckle.
I shrugged and ruffled my hair sheepishly.
¡°When you say it that way... but isn¡¯t that guy¡ªthing¡ªcreature over there giving you the heebie-jeebies?¡±
Siraj looked as I pointed at a tall, inky black humanoid with large bulbous eyes and a skull that arched back like a rounded scythe. There was no hair and no mouth. Simply eyes and what looked like two slits where a nose would be. Long thin arms rose and fell. Its head bobbed up and down.
It was... waving. I shivered. Waving and nodding. Like a conductor would as passengers approach a train, or as a teacher might when corralling their students.
¡°Oh. Well... that... Alien... thing...¡± Siraj trailed off and then added after a moment: ¡°Yeah. Uh. Let¡¯s stick together for now.¡±
And that was how our divergent paths converged.
The Tavern
My eyes opened.
Before me spread the Metropolitan City of Merigor, the Great Doors of the Other Side. The Terminus. It was a familiar sight¡ªthe chaotic, churning ocean, the coastal city that loomed to the west, and the eternally refracted sky. Fractals of light shone through every single atom. This was a world of vibrations and of brilliance. This was a world of ephemeral beauty, and yet somehow, it had remained the same, no matter how many times I visited.
As an experienced visitor, I knew where I ought to go right away. These were, after all, familiar sights for psychonauts. Here, the past, the present, and the future converged as souls visited the Other Side. All of us landed here on the Pier for the first time and, with wide eyes, ventured forward.
Most newcomers to the Other Side would end up at the Bureau of Guidance, which was filled with the gentle hosts of the otherworldly land. They would lend a listening ear, offer advice, give counsel, and provide guidance for lost souls. Few could travel much further than the Bureau to see the sights of the actual city. However, time and technology had gifted us the ability to explore further. The first psychonauts mapped the Metropolitan City of Merigor and beyond. For them, sanctuaries had been built. Merigor was one of them.
Today, the world was shrouded with a tinge of shadow. A sign that darker creatures roamed about. The inhabitants of the city¡ªancient ghosts, lost peoples, and otherworldly beings¡ªmoved in groups, quickly winding their way over dulled grey cobblestones. Only a few paused to gaze up at the sky before scurrying onward.
Following their example, I took a more sheltered route, hidden in shadowed alleys that glinted with purple-y black radiance. Between looming spires and skyscrapers, I slipped unnoticed until I reached the doors of a particularly geometrically symmetrical building. The dark brown, double doors, usually wide open, were shut; its open, front patio, normally jam packed with rowdy visitors sipping on mead, stood empty. When I slipped inside, however, I could see that the party continued inside.
As usual, the Wandering Watcher was jam packed with sight-seers, both veteran and greenhorn. I found a seat on a trestle near the center of the room, beckoned one of the waiters over. The harassed-looking young woman in a stained medieval tunic took my order of a watered-down beer and disappeared into the crowd. Once my beer arrived, I contented myself with just sitting and listening.
¡°And they came down over the hills-¡±
¡°...who knows?¡±
¡°God knows when the Mists will ease-¡±
¡°-wouldn¡¯t go out if I were you. Damn crows.¡±
¡°-fucking shit myself-¡±
¡°Just got in in time,¡± a deeper voice said closer to me. ¡°It¡¯s crazy out there.¡±
¡°You mean, crazy-er,¡± chuckled another man. ¡°I¡¯ve never seen anything like it. Some of them are calling it ¡®The Corruption¡¯. Like we¡¯re in a video game or something.¡±
I perked up when I realized that the two men were more than likely hailing from the modern era. One of them sat by me, his long elbow on occasion bumping my beer mug. I shifted it over a little. He was a young man, in his twenties. Dark hair, deep brown eyes, a healthy sun tan, and an air of tension. I had a feeling he was rather new. I just knew.
Opposite him, his companion looked a year or so older, but equally young. He had a hawkish face with golden eyes that glinted curiously. Definitely more confident and dangerous, I decided. Someone who can handle himself out there, no matter what he says.
¡°Well, it¡¯s not a video game, Max,¡± said the other. ¡°Although I wonder what happens to us if we die here. Can we die?¡±
¡°I haven¡¯t figured it out yet,¡± the young man called Max replied. ¡°Did you ask?¡±
¡°No.¡±
¡°You don¡¯t die,¡± I interjected, drawing Max¡¯s gaze down at me. I stared up at him and then took a nonchalant swig from my mug. ¡°Trust me. You won¡¯t die.¡±
As my gaze met his, I felt a jolt. A frission. A signal. A whisper. This is the one. This is it. I gripped my mug and kept calm. The last thing I needed to do was freak either of these men out. Instead, I would appear as helpful as I could. And I could help them. Clearly. They were new at this.
¡°Oh. Well, that¡¯s... good to know. Cool.¡±
¡°Does anyone die here?¡± asked the other man.
¡°Not really,¡± I said.
¡°Why not?¡±
¡°It¡¯s the Other Side.¡±
¡°That¡¯s what they all say,¡± sighed Max.
¡°I suppose they don¡¯t want to just hang around and explain things,¡± the other man noted. ¡°Someone told us to go to the Bureau of... Guidance. I went. Nothing helpful. Just weird flying fairies trying to psychoanalyze me.¡±
This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.
¡°I figured we should just go for a long walk into the countryside,¡± Max added.
¡°You could do that,¡± I said mildly. ¡°But I¡¯d gear up for a fight.¡±
¡°Gear up?¡± asked the other man.
¡°Yeah. There are things out there.¡±
¡°But you said nothing dies here,¡± he said, brow wrinkling a little.
¡°There are theories as to what happens. No one knows for sure,¡± I said. ¡°That¡¯s why many stop trying to explain it. What we do know is that the body may be harmed and, for lack of a better term, banished. To where? No one knows. I have my theories.¡±
¡°I¡¯d like to hear them,¡± said the young man beside me. ¡°Name¡¯s Max, by the way. That¡¯s Siraj.¡±
¡°Max.¡± Siraj said coolly, raising an eyebrow at his friend.
¡°Oops. Sorry. Siraj likes to be anonymous and cool.¡±
¡°Fair enough,¡± I said. ¡°My name is Kaci. I¡¯m a bit of an old-timer here. I¡¯m more than glad to help you two figure out what you want¡ªor need¡ªto do. People come here out of curiosity, out of desperation... but some are called here for a reason.¡±
¡°Like... Fate?¡±
¡°Or Providence,¡± I said.
¡°Providence...¡± Siraj looked thoughtfully at me. ¡°Is this Providence, you think?¡±
¡°I think so. Come. Let¡¯s talk.¡±
In Max and Siraj¡¯s shared room, we stood by the windows and gazed out at the balcony that they could normally access on a brighter day. Beyond the glass, I glimpsed a wide vista of the glorious fractal city, shifting in colors, taking on tinges of grey, of shadow, and of a sickly green hue. A sure sign that danger was looming on the horizon.
¡°They told us not to go out,¡± Siraj said, moving over to lounge by the door and peer out of the glass. ¡°Some people called them the Winged Shadows. Others called them Dark Elves.¡±
¡°Yes. The shadowy variant of the beings in the Hall of Guidance... or Bureau, as you called it.¡± I ooked around and then took one of the chairs by the small table in the corner of the room. ¡°Every now and then, a host of them flies around the world, looking for any stray soul to drag down into the depths with them. Where they go, no one can say. Some say they live within the Cracks of Hell, but as far as I know, no humans reside there. Yet.¡±
¡°So...¡± Max grimaced, rubbed his face, and shook his head. ¡°Where do the human souls go?¡±
¡°We don¡¯t know,¡± I explained patiently. ¡°We do know that some who slip into the ocean can wake up. Some enter comas, where they can hear the material world but not interact with it. Others enter a deep sleep and never wake. But sometimes... sometimes...¡±
Geoffrey...
¡°Sometimes,¡± I sighed, ¡°the soul finds its way back.¡±
¡°A risky place,¡± Siraj noted. He folded his arms across his chest and scowled. ¡°They didn¡¯t mention that in the fine print.¡±
¡°Well,¡± I pointed out. ¡°It depends on how long they plan to keep you under... or rather, here. Most visits to the Other Side last for a day or two at most. Inhaling doesn¡¯t give you a lot of time either measured by minutes.¡±
¡°What about... IV stuff?¡± asked Max, uneasily glancing at Siraj.
¡°Longer then,¡± I said. ¡°Much longer. And with that, you can explore more, but as Siraj said, the risks are higher.¡±
¡°We¡¯ll be careful,¡± Max said with a forced smile.
¡°You need help,¡± I said. ¡°I can give you help. Especially if you decide to help in the effort against the Shadow, as I call it.¡±
¡°And what¡¯s the price for your help?¡± asked Siraj coolly, eyes glinting as he surveyed me from head to toe. ¡°You¡¯re a bit strange yourself. How do we know we can trust you?¡±
¡°You don¡¯t,¡± I admitted. ¡°All I can say is that I¡¯m a human, like you. I have been here many times... and I know my way around the Other Side. If you want to help with the Shadow¡ªthe Corruption, I can help you prepare. And I¡¯m a pretty good healer, too.¡±
¡°An adventure,¡± Max said, bouncing on the balls of his feet. ¡°I can get into that. Siraj? How about you?¡±
Siraj sighed and then stepped forward with a light shrug.
¡°Fine. I suppose it¡¯s only smart to stick together until we get out. Might as well spend our time here doing something useful.¡±
¡°Who knows,¡± I said. ¡°You may find an opportunity to emerge back to the material world.¡±
¡°And you?¡± asked Siraj.
¡°I will can come and go as I please,¡± I assured him with a smile. ¡°More or less.¡±
¡°More or less?¡± he queried skeptically.
¡°It¡¯s complicated,¡± I said. ¡°I¡¯ll explain it another time.¡±
¡°Hm.¡±
¡°For now, let¡¯s figure out a way to prepare you two for the Plains of Merigor... and the Mists.¡±