《The psychedelic adventures of Dr. Cham》 Chapter 1 - Morning Ritual Beep, Beep, Beep, Light bleeds through my curtains like a spotlight. I awake to foggy eyes and the usual dampened adrenal response of a wailing alarm. Threads of last nights recently departed dream linger just beyond my focus. I reach out for them as they slip into obscurity. Dancing around the edges of my memory. A fleeting recollection flashes before me. A feeling of fulfillment flooding my thoughts as I remember. ¡°I remembered my dream!¡± I say to an empty room. This is not a normal thing for me. What¡¯s more is the dream might even be useful! During my slumber I surpassed a new milestone! Inventing a tweak to my bosses spreadsheet formula that let me complete more change management reports a day than previously thought possible! To me, this was the pinnacle of success. A thought that had disturbingly becoming a more frequent experience than I would like to admit. Reflecting for a moment on just how much comfort I derived from a 2% efficiency improvement in assessing change management cases was haunting. ¡°Maybe I should take that trip¡±. I mumble while wiping sleep from my eyes. Slipping on wireless headphones I queue up my morning playlist. While my mind wanders I go about the day. Autonomously completing tasks like the well programmed robot I am. Before I know it I¡¯m dressed, lunch packed, and opening the door to my beige green 1986 Toyota Corolla. With the characteristic whining of loose belts and squeaky starter motor bearings my trusty steed awakens from her evening slumber. Called to arms once more to aid in the fight for daily survival. ¡°To Work!¡± I cry at my valliant vehicle while pulling into traffic. Joining the conga line of ants as they march towards the hive like city towering before me on the horizon. Glass spires catch the glimmering haze of the morning sun. Like a bug zapper drawing in a never ending supply of fodder with its tantalizing display of colours and lights. I reach for my coffee and bump the radio, accidentally tuning into the commercial reeducation platform. A government subsidised subliminal reprogramming station for citizens who wish to improve their usefulness to society. As I absentmindedly mop up the spilled saturation of blend 43 and raw sugar, I unintentionally begin humming along to a familiar tune in the background. My mind begins to wander, I blink and open my eyes. I¡¯m no longer driving 58 km/hr on the highway to work. No, here I sit opposite my office in an on street parking bay. ¡°Ding, Dong, Ding!¡± a tune plays on the radio followed by a soothing female voice. ¡°Thankyou for tuning into reeducation radio, we hope you have enjoyed today¡¯s session.¡± I smash the off knob, silencing the brainwashing machine for good. Who knows what ideas they just implanted in my psyche. Still shuddering at the thought of being unwittingly manipulated by whatever corporate entity was pulling the strings. I muster up the courage to press on. I leave my car and walk across the courtyard bordering the entrance to the lobby. A familiar group of people huddle around a table at the coffee shop, occasionally laughing at something on a phone screen. ¡°Do those slackers ever do any work?¡± I mutter under my breath as I enter the lobby lift. Coffee breaks are one thing but spending 2 hours every morning looking at memes. Maybe I should join them. Just as the doors trundle the final feet before safely barricading me from an inevitably awkward social situation. A slender arm gauntleted in an impressive array of bangles darts between the steel jaws. Clank! the doors collide against her. For a brief moment it seems as if the armor might give way to the hydraulic pressure. A buckling sound comes from somewhere beyond sight and the door¡¯s release. Oh no. The only thing harder than steel in this office is¡­ As the metal payne slides aside a figure of pure menace assaults my mind. 5 foot 4 inches of bureaucratic terror. Her soulless eyes stare back into my own. Unblinking. Unbreathing, she falters at the precipice of the lift, as if waiting for me to invite her inside. The soulless feind within her unable to cross a threshold without invitation. ¡°Good morning Myriam¡± I mutter into my coffee. Her gaze tracks from my eyes to my finger. Still firmly held against the close door button on the panel next to me. Without saying a word she steps into the cart and turns to face the mirror. While she fidgets with her eyes I shrink away from the panel into the nearest corner. Firmly gluing focus to the scuff marks on the tips of my boots. Conscious that my newfound attention of the floor would draw hers towards my unkempt footwear, I decided instead on a diversion. I¡¯ll attempt to make contact. If only to offer a distraction from my shoes screaming another reason to fire me. ¡°So Myriam, I hear we are getting a new watercooler this week. Is that one of your corporate morale improvement initiatives?¡± Myriam, her mind elsewhere, seems to be focusing far too intently on hey eyebrows to have even noticed my question. Eventually she responds. ¡°Hello¡± pauses for a moment then in an emotionless tone mutters a simple ¡°Yes¡±. In what could only be described as a miracle breakthrough for humanity. I had successfully made contact with Myriam. Perhaps this could be the first stepping stone in uncovering why she was so evil. I always just assumed she was lonely. ¡°Did you have a good weekend? I saw the weather was great, you¡¯re into hiking right?¡± Another pause. ¡°Stephen, I don¡¯t care if the orphans won¡¯t get to eat until the construction is complete. I didn¡¯t marry you for your moral perspective. Do your job and get it done or I¡¯ll find someone who can!¡± This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there. My heart fell through my chest as she pulled the white cordless buds from her ears, obscured by her meticulously sculpted hair I hadn¡¯t even noticed. ¡°Ding!¡± the doors swing open to reveal a bright 13 embossed on the wall opposite. Myriam, without even a glance in my direction strolls off towards her office. The doors trundle close while I stand frozen in front of them. ¡°Bloody Airpods¡± I mumble while hitting the open door button and navigating the maze of corridors through to my desk. As I pass the office printer I notice the aforementioned water cooler. Freshly perched besides enough cyan toner to weather an apocalypse of clip art. I pause to consider. ¡°Eh, what could it hurt¡±, I say to no one at all while reaching for one of the styrofoam cups in the attached dispenser. I fill the cup to the brim and with meticulous precision tip toe towards my desk. As I round the final corner of the labyrinth. Having successfully avoided spilling a single drop so far. I collide with someone power walking in the opposite direction. Looking around in confusion, unable to locate the source of the impact I feel a pressure against my chest. Dark, bloodshot eyes stare up at me through matted damp hair. ¡°Myriam¡± I proclaim in startled exclamation. Her eyes follow me as she turns back towards her office. Calm, collected, and without saying a word she¡¯s around the corner before I¡¯ve finished processing what just happened. Still speechless I look down at the remaining water in my styrofoam cup. I take a swig and walk the last few paces towards my desk, urgh tastes like waiting room. I set the cup down. Ready to begin another day of change management assessment. After last nights dream not even a run in with Myriam could dampen my spirits. I fired up Excel and got to work tweaking the risk calculation formula. Imagining the look on my bosses face when I tell him how my new method would crack the efficiency bottleneck. I lose myself in the work but after a time I can¡¯t make the new formula work. It¡¯s as if the pieces just aren¡¯t falling into place like I remember. Out of frustration I fire up Wikipedia and start delving into government conspiracies and alien cover ups. Hoping the momentary distraction might let me see the problem from a new angle. Boredom creeps in, worming its way into my mind like a parasite needing to be fed. 10:28, the clock screams from across the office. It¡¯s abusive crimson type flickering just beyond the edges of my perception. 62 minutes until lunch... until freedom. I know counting the minutes is not an effective strategy for passing time but it never stops me trying. Once more the clock face changes, snapping those ugly red blocks back into the foreground of my focus. Keeping me from falling into the state of trance required to effectively ignore my daily duties. My earlier interaction with Karen had left a sour taste in my mouth. Initially I tried to power through but after receiving a suspiciously targeted email from one of her HR lackies regarding an outstanding ¡°Acceptable Business Behaviour¡± e-skills course, my interest in improving efficiency for a superficial pat on the back started to wane. Begrudging humanity''s conception of time I settled back into my faux leather office chair. The familiar creaking of loose bolts another parachute slowing my ritualistic descent into madness. Thumbing through my music library I hit play on the latest masterpiece from todays lil rapper of choice. ¡°Lil Listeria¡±, sick name. I chuckle to myself as the repetitive waves wash out the background flurry around me. Mysterious water coolers aside. Nothing about this friday morning was all that out of the ordinary. To most that might seem like a good thing. But to me? Dr Cham, corporate change manager. It¡¯s just another nail in the coffin. Not the final one, not yet. I stare down at the detritus strewn across my desk. Shapes filling my vision but never fully solidifying into recognisable objects. ¡°What was I doing again?¡±. The edges of my vision are starting to darken, like I¡¯m looking through binoculars. I try to peer around the room but nothing will come into focus. My mind feels disconnected from my body. Reality, like a thin veneer over something else. I reach towards it, to pierce the veil. I can feel the fabric of the world stretch and deform around my fingers. A feeling of euphoria engulfs my senses, completely disoriented from the sudden shift in perception I unconsciously begin flailing around. My hands reaching for purchase on anything they can find, as if the thought of tactile sensation alone could anchor me to reality. No luck. Time melts away and a warm, comforting brilliance engulfs my conscience. Time passes I¡¯m drifting in a void. Sounds and lights rush over me in roaring waves. Everything feels distant. Like I¡¯m underwater. The waves of sound and light are getting louder, more intense. I try to open my eyes. What I see can¡¯t be real. Impossible. I¡¯m floating in space, looking out upon an endless sea of galaxies. But this is merely the backdrop for the scene. Heading towards me with alarming speed, outside my estimation of size swims a behemoth of terrifying proportions. Propelled by some unseen force the monstrosity sails towards me, increasing in scope beyond anything I thought possible. The light of the universe vanishes as I pass beyond the horizon of its gaping maw. My very existence entirely at the mercy of this great being. Roaring flashes of sound and light are now at such extreme intensity I can¡¯t tell them apart. With a start, the onslaught to my senses ceases. Silence fills my ears and mind. All I can do is gape with slack jawed wonder while a voice forms in my mind. From all around me, and within me its staticy scratch sounds neutral to my ears. More like something synthesized by a computer than a person. ¡°Curious¡± it states plainly in that meterless monotone. My mouth unable to form words, I respond through my inner monologue. ¡°Where am I, and who, what are you?¡± Sounding more confident than I felt I waited for the god like behemoth to respond. ¡°We are, the Traveller. Once we were like you Dr Cham, long, long ago. But in time we came together, bonded as one to form this body. Pursuing our one true calling as a species¡± ¡°Far out man, that¡¯s some high concept sci-fi right there. How are you communicating with me right now. Is this real? Am I really here?¡± ¡°I assure you this is very real Dr Cham. While your physical body exists slumped over a desk in your office. Your mind has been transported here. Into this temporary vessel through which you are able to communicate.¡± ¡°But how was my mind transported here?¡± ¡°Our kind unlocked the secrets of the universe long before your species had legs. From then on we have dedicated our existence to the pursuit of knowledge and experience. Roaming the cosmos on stellar winds, riding gravity waves wherever the chaos takes us. In this time we have learned how to manipulate the fabric of reality to accomplish our ends. Suffice to say, the normal barriers keeping your mind isolated from external influence were disrupted. This allowed us to interact with you as we are now.¡± ¡°Wow, this is all a bit much. I suppose my next question is why me?¡± ¡°For the same reason we were able to transport your mind here. Typically you would be protected from this but something has disrupted the barrier preventing access to your mind. This has opened you to other life trying to gain a foothold on our layer of reality. It¡¯s not your fault mind you. You didn¡¯t choose this existence, or even understand your role in it. Fortunately we were able to get to you before anyone else. Your co-worker, Myriam was not so lucky. She has been consumed by one of the Others. Your life is now in great peril Dr Cham. For the enemy is close at hand and time escapes us!. Only you can stop the Other¡¯s before they gain a permanent foothold in this galaxy. You must kill Myriam before she can open the way for more of her kind to follow.¡± To aid you in this quest I have granted you a boon. Augmenting your senses to see beyond the normal realms of human perception. May this new sight help guide your actions and keep you safe on the path to enlightenment." In a final fading echo the Traveller whispers in my mind, ¡°Remember, you¡¯re more like us than you know Dr CHAM¡± Once more I''m engulfed by a cacophony of light and sound. My consciousness breaks away and I fade into the cosmic background of the universe. Chapter 2 - Lunchtime Eventually my senses pick up on the familiar, a smell, something from my childhood. Christmas, model trains and burning electronics. Fire. Specifically the acrid, ozone infused aroma of an electrical fire. Adrenaline floods my body and I realise my eyes have been closed this entire time. An angry flash of red in my periphery pulls attention back towards the keeper of misery. Focusing my gaze on the clock... The clock is gone. In its place smoulderes a warped hunk of plastic, circuits and copper wire. Budding flames lick the wall, threatening to engulf the roof and the rest of the building. In the heat of the moment my blood runs cold. In its last moments of life, blinking defiantly to the bitter end a dying beep echoes out across the room. My clock broadcasts its final goodbye. ¡°80085¡±. The tone drops its pitch as the numbers fade to black. It can¡¯t be. Did my alarm clock just make its final act of existence a joke? Could it have been an error code some bored engineer snuck into the design? It¡¯s things like this that could make one question reality. Was my alarm clock sentient this whole time? I knew that little bastard was messing with me. I steal a glance down at my phone, the display reads 11:11 am. I look back up at the clock, flames still lapping at the edge of my curtains. I reach for the glass of water I keep religiously topped up beside my mousepad. An exploratory grasp finds no purchase, further investigations reveal a trail of water extending from where my cup used to be to its new home at the other end of the room. Resting now as a smouldering blob of styrofoam amongst flaming chunks of seven segment display and envy green pcb. Had I really just had a seizure, doused my alarm clock and blacked out for the past, what, 40 minutes? I look around me. ¡°Where is everyone¡± I ask the empty room. ¡°What the hell is going on¡±. A familiar warning tone of the building fire alarm assaults my ears snapping me back to the present once more, I need to deal with this fire. My gaze darts frantically around the sparsely decorated office in search of a solution. An acute observer might draw a number of disconcerting parallels between the design choices shared with mental hospitals for violent psychotics, daycare centers and the minimalist, curved edges and muted tones of the open plan cattle stalls around me. An almost perfect metaphor for society''s capitalist efficiency maximisation ethos. I wonder how long this performance curve can continue. It''s only a matter of time before they start taking our shoelaces. Too much of an insurance risk. Sometimes I think life as actual livestock would be simpler, less stressful. There is something to be said for blissful ignorance. At least cows don¡¯t have to worry about putting out fires. At least, not until it¡¯s too late. Still at a loss for a way out of my existential cage, I focus my attention towards the very real "burning issue" of the day. In a stroke of genius recognised only in the moment, I seize my coworkers jacket. Left abandoned across the back of a neighbouring chair. ¡°Sorry Dave¡± I mutter under my breath as I attempt to smother the remains of the clock with the side not marked ¡°Ralph Lauren¡±. My attempts at heroism don¡¯t go unpunished. With Daves self imagined success symbol for fuel, the fire burns with renewed vigour. Flames leap up the wall and against the ceiling I take a step back, observing the carnage unfolding before me. ¡°I think today calls for an early lunch¡±. I grab my phone, keys, and hightail it out the door. I emerge from the warren of hallways into the foya of the 13th floor. In what feels like an unnaturally calm gesture, I reach out and tentatively press the down arrow to summon the lift. Smoke is now filling the room at an alarming rate. ¡°Ding¡±, the doors slide open revealing my chariot to safety. I jump in and frantically smash the ¡°G¡± and close doors buttons. With agonising slowness the lift doors slide closed and the cart begins its descent to a more reasonable altitude. I lean against the wall. Slumping down into the corner, unsure of just what to feel given the state I left the office in. ¡°DING¡± The lift stopped moving, the doors slide open revealing a hazy ¡°12¡± printed in large letters across from the open lift. ¡°What the..¡±. I spin around to inspect the panel. EVERY button is illuminated. ¡°Great work Cham. You¡¯ve really done it this time¡±, I scream to myself. Hearing my rage echo off the hard surfaces of the level 12 InsureCo lobby.The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation. A faint voice, muffled by the smoke sings out from what sounds like further down the hall.¡°Hello? Is someone there? Anyone! I¡¯m stuck and can¡¯t get out. It¡¯s starting to get hard to breath!¡± They¡¯re not wrong about that I think. Noting the haze in the lobby darkening with each thinning breath. ¡°I¡¯m in the lift¡± I call back into the enveloping smog. ¡°Where are you?¡±. The previously distressed voice answers from MUCH closer than I¡¯m expecting. What at first sounded like Myriam, who up until now I believed to be a middle aged human resources director with hair and personality to match, now sounds closer to a demonic lord from beyond the ninth circle of hell (a slight improvement, depending on who you ask). ¡°I¡¯m right here little one, step forward and receive your reward, for the way is open and the barriers long forgotten. BLEND WITH US!¡±. A spine chilling dread floods my mind, a sensation I¡¯ve only previously experienced in the presence of middle age my little pony enthusiasts and small spiders. I go dead silent. A faint scratching sound reverberates off the walls of the lobby. Creeping closer with each passing heartbeat. The doors of the lift begin to slide close. I peer through the slowly receding walls, acutely aware they represent my only defense against whatever demonic being is waiting beyond. A form starts to coalesce through the smoke, just beyond the edge of the lift. A nightmare of unimaginable horror. In the haze the creature looks like an elongated human. Rake thin arms dangle well below the knees with hands adorned by serrated talon like fingers. Had I been able to describe its face I would, but in its place stretched over an elongated skull into a deformed mask was Myriam. Her face now fixed in a pained grimace. I can¡¯t even tell if she¡¯s dead or alive. Not a huge improvement. With a grinding screech and unconsciously held breath the doors trundle close and the lift resumes its descent. In no time at all the dreaded ¡°Ding¡± rings out again. The doors slide open revealing a less lavishly decorated lobby than the floor above. I stand frozen as the elevator doors open in front of me. I¡¯m struck by the sheer absurdity of the situation. This is not a normal Friday. At least the smoke hadn¡¯t spread to this level as well. As I consider calling out for stragglers (probably a bad idea) a soul chilling roar erupts from the fire stairs down the hall. ¡°Oh shit¡±. Violent scratching and tapping noises echo out into the deathly silence of level 11. I begin smashing the close door button with impunity. ¡°Shit shit shit shit shit shit shit shit shit ¡°tap¡±tap¡±tap¡±ta-¡± The doors begin to close. I hear the fire stair door at the end of the lobby fly off its hinges and careen down the vacant hallway. Sliding just into my field of view as it comes to a stop in front of the lift. I see blood stains on the inside. Hand prints. Like someone was trapped against the door moments before being turned into tomato sauce. These thoughts flee my mind as the terribly familiar scratching noise from earlier rapidly approaches my mirrored coffin. This time the doors shut before I see it. Something big slams into the lift shaft above me. Screeching with indignant rage the creature begins slamming against the elevator shaft. I hear a crash and a moment later what could only be one of the doors from the level above smashes into the roof of my lift. Thankfully the ceiling holds. ¡°Ding¡± the doors open to level 10, and my best chance for escape. I dash out of the lift into the dimly lit lobby. Another generic insurance office. This one even more spartan than the one above. Thankfully the layout is the same on every floor. I dash towards the fire stairs and push through into the cool brick passage. Housed in the stairwell and secured by a glass box hangs a fire axe. Without hesitation I smash oven the cover and rip the weapon free from its hanger. Armed now with more than misplaced confidence I set off faster than my decrepit body has moved in years. I fly down the stairs. Catching myself from tripping countless times. I¡¯ve been running for what feels like an eternity, numbered doors fly past, noting the descent of each level. A ¡°5¡± wizzes past printed in big red blocks. Strange I think to myself, that lettering looks the same as my clock. Terror catches up to me as the fire door of level 10 smashes in above me to tumble down the center of the stairwell. I pick up the pace, flying down levels like my life depends on it. I feel my heart hammering in my chest. Sweat pours from my head but I can¡¯t stop. I¡¯m fueled by raw terror. Then it happens. I lose my footing and without any grace to speak of tumble the last few steps onto the landing. Skinned knees and a sharp pain in the ankle won¡¯t slow me down now. I don¡¯t want to end up at the mercy of pissed off Eldritch-Myriam back there. With a final force of will I fling myself at the door labeled ¡°Exit Ground¡±. Emerging from the dim hazy stairwell into the light of day wreaks havoc on my senses. Through slit eyes I peer out onto the courtyard. Hundreds of people mill around the area like nothing is happening. Like there isn¡¯t a secretary slaughtering, face wearing monster running around the building. Chasing me down the STAIRS! I don¡¯t even see the fire brigade. With memories of the things distorted features and horrible breath fresh in my mind, I start putting distance between me and the fire escape. Drawing attention as I sprint across the courtyard a familiar voice calls from across the square. ¡°Cham! There you are! You know you¡¯re supposed to report for roll call during a fire drill.¡± The human embodiment of Mr Toad hops into my path. ¡°Slow down son, you¡¯ll hurt someone if you run around like that, have some sense!¡±. I pull up just short of smashing into the guy. ¡°Sorry Dave, but what the fuck is going on?¡± I exclaim through stolen breaths. The look on Dave''s face is one I can only liken to complete surprise. ¡°Excuse Me?¡± he stutters, looking like I¡¯ve just pulled a fish from his clipboard and slapped his glasses off with it. Such complete shock could only indicate that Dave had not yet witnessed the rampaging killing machine undoubtedly making its way through the final levels of the building. At least, if he had, his priorities were way off. ¡°Run¡±, I say between breaths. His face now turning a whole new shade of red. One seen exclusively in hypertension patients and heirloom beetroot competitions. Before he could respond a crash rang out across the courtyard. Closely followed by a chorus of screams echoing out across the stunned onlookers. In an impressive visage flanked by billowing smoke from the fire stairs the creature looms before the crowd. It¡¯s eyes darting between the huddled faces before it, sniffing the air at each turn. Grotesque serpent like forked tongue flickering between Myriams elongated lips. The stunned crowd stares on in shock and amazement. None wanting to move first, an entire horde of people, utterly paralysed by this foreign entity. It¡¯s flickering tongue, darting in and out, abruptly stops. Its eyes snap to me, ¡°oh shit¡± I mutter to myself before turning in the direction of my car and sprinting down the street. I hear a timid voice in the crowd behind me ask. ¡°Myriam? Is that you? Are-are you ok?¡± Behind me I hear the creature let out its signature soul destroying screech. This was apparently all it took to spur the crowd into action. Mob mentality can be quite terrifying when demonic monsters are involved. Chapter 3 - The Chase Running from demons is hard work and with all that had just happened, I was ready to collapse. Having conquered 10 flights of stairs escaping a burning building and the pursuit of a crazed monster. I¡¯d say I¡¯m doing pretty well in the cardio department. It¡¯s amazing what the correct motivation can achieve. Now with the initial rush of adrenaline wearing off I¡¯m starting to feel the effects of the past 20 years abuse. Thankfully amidst fits of asthmatic wheezing I spot my car parked on the side of the road ahead. Dramatically sliding to a stop I reef open the ajar door of my 1986 toyota corolla whos lack of alarm or central locking is more than made up for by ¡°Jake¡± the fake snake, delicately perched atop my dash. While fumbling the keys into the ignition an inpatient tapping starts against my window. I spare a glance sideways. It¡¯s a parking officer. Rolling down the drivers side window my body starts trembling. Rapt by fear and the waning adrenaline I can¡¯t stop, my hands are visibly shaking on the wheel. ¡°Problem officer?¡± I ask in my most polite tone. Support creative writers by reading their stories on Royal Road, not stolen versions. Unfortunately Myriam chose this moment to come screaming around the corner. To his credit the parking cop made an attempt to intercept the beast. Not batting an eye Myriam raises a taloned hand and with an effortless flick of the wrist removes the officers head from his body. Like something from the old testimate she tilts her head back and drops each plucked eyeball down her unhinged jaw. Making eye contact with me while lowering her chin and licking the remaining gore from her fingers, one at a time. With a sickening realisation I¡¯m next I slam the keys and start the car. Careening into traffic as I pull out while narrowly avoiding a passing ice cream van. In the mirror I see Myriam throw her head back and bellow in rage. Dropping to all fours she begins her pursuit with supernatural speed. -- To be continued -- I¡¯ve spent the past week fleshing out the background for the story as well as most of the lore. Now that I have a structure to follow I¡¯ll hopefully release chapters with increased frequency. This is my first attempt at writing something so any feedback is appreciated. Thankyou for reading.