《The Void Detective》


 Chapter 1

    As an intra-trans-dimensional traveler, one of the first from the lovely and dying orb that is known colloquially as Earth I found it difficult to reconcile stepping through a tear in time and space and ending up in a small corner office with a walrus staring back at me. He wore a three button vest that did nothing to hide his rolling belly and looked to be in the process of shining his tusks with some sort of viscous unguent that dripped green and smelled of what one can only imagine concentrated sardines would. It was disturbing. I picked myself off the floor, still queasy from one small step. Noticing me, he toweled off his tusks and rifled through a small roll-o-dex looking device.


    ¡°Ah, yes.¡± The walrus had a deliberate and measured way of speaking, ¡°Transfer number 9874329. You were expected earlier. Hmmm?¡±


    ¡°I ran into some trouble on the way to the Gate Station.¡± Riots. Anarchy. The collapse of civilization. Some trouble.


    He didn¡¯t respond to my question but pulled out a binder, flipped to a page, and began reading, ¡°Dear Sentient Life-form,¡± At this point the walrus lifted his spectacles and furrowed his shaggy brow, staring at me and conveying that he had some question as to the validity of the opening statement, ¡°we recognize that the transition to a greater understanding and ones place in the universe can be difficult, however, the Finder¡¯s Guild is here to help. For a small tithe on future earnings we provide an Essence Crystal, a Book, and a free meal.¡± He looked at me expectantly.


    ¡°Yes, thank you, but where exactly is here?¡±


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    ¡°Finder¡¯s Guild sub-quarters on Iteration 77787. Would you like a cookie?¡± He pulled out a round tin and pried off the lid, showcasing biscuit-like waifs of cookies.


    ¡°Uh, sure. Thanks.¡± I bit into it, eager to sample the exotic wares of some mind-numbingly different culture. The cookie had the taste and consistency of a medium-grade cardboard.


    ¡°How is it?¡± The walrus asked, pen in hand.


    ¡°Stale.¡± I coughed. ¡°Do you have any water?¡±


    ¡°Not included. Now that we¡¯ve ticked one item off the old to-due list¡­¡± He leaned back in his chair and yelled ¡°MIRANDA,¡± paused to give me a sheepish look and continued, ¡°GRAB THE BOX¡±.


    Miranda turned out to be an over-makeuped alligator lady in a revealing dress (my mind spent some time processing this) and she sauntered in with a small box and dropped it on the walrus¡¯ desk taking up position to her bosses left and started staring at me with what I can only describe as a hungry look.


    ¡°He looks so defenseless. All pink and pale and clawless.¡± She said with throaty intonations and a brilliantly white smile.


    I took a step back, doing my best to avoid looking at the evolutionary denoted apex predator, and peered at the walrus over the desk, ¡°I have questions.¡±


    He waved his flipper-hand at me and continued rummaging through the box until he exclaimed, ¡°got them¡± and pulled out a beat-up leather bound book and a faintly glowing orange crystal. He held the crystal out to me and I took it. It felt warm to the touch.


    ¡°Well, use it then. I haven¡¯t got all day.¡±


    I looked at the crystal again. ¡°How?¡±


    ¡°Absorb the essence.¡± He made the carry on motion. I glanced at Miranda, whose smile had only grown wider.


    ¡°Try holding drawing the heat into your body,¡± she said.


    I wanted to respond, with what? Instead I envisioned myself absorbing the heat of the crystal. It worked. Some time passed while I writhed on the floor in pain.


    When I came to there was only Miranda in the room with me. ¡°The first time is always the most painful. Here.¡± She gave me the beat-up book and a small card with a series of numbers.


    ¡°My number.¡± The width of her smile carried promise as did the rows of sharp teeth, ¡°I am supposed to introduce you to your Katar but I thought we would make an evening of it.¡± There were questions to be asked. I knew that. My mind still cycled the exhaustion and the pain. I let her show me out.

 Chapter 2

    I did not have time to process or to allow pity to encroach. Time is flexible- made up of little moments, long and small, that stretches in times of misery but speaks terse and moves in vapor when we only want something solid. The clock in my head was broken, ticking with an elongated rhythm. I stumbled out into a beat-up alley. Dirt and grime entertained shadows up brick walls-- the original color indiscernible at this late hour.


    Trash. Not the type I was used to seeing, canvased the area. There were small glass bottles stained as if taken from churches and then heated, turned, and formed to make beakers. Most lay broken upon the muddy ground but some stood whole. There is a serenity to colors dancing through glass towards the end of twilight and that serenity painted the walls in an eerie blend of colors. Mostly yellows, and reds from what I can remember.


    I think I found some comfort there, in that moment, as if willing an omen to come to pass. The rest of the trash were smaller things. Linen diapers. Clay urns that once contained food. A trash receptacle. Empty beer bottles and broken signs. There were more rudimentary things that littered that alley but I refuse to discuss such things. The smell, for all its foulness, had a tinge of cleanliness to it that I do not have remembrance of before.If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.


    There was a light rain. I wished for a hat, something broad-rimmed, and a cigar.


    ¡°Have a chit, mister?¡± I flinched in my surprise. A figure emerged from the behind the trash bin, predatory in form but whose movement gave a sense of hesitancy.


    It was a wolf. Taller than myself that walked on its hind legs. There was something primal about that moment, about that feeling. I have always had cunning. I have lost fights but I do not begrudge it. It is all the same, but at that time I felt fury and pain and loss unleashed in a half-forgotten bellow. The sort of noise from a dream, as you find yourself walking and at the same time drowning underneath an ocean, fighting to release your fear. A change occurred then for in an instant the fear washed away and I was only left with a primal fury and an infusion of strength.


    Something in my gaze, stance, or smell must have shifted as the wolf yipped and fled. A broken wolf then. I felt remorse.


    As is the way of things, the alley opened up to a broader street. I looked upon a different world. Everything was strange. Stars scattered the night sky but in obtuse patterns. The architecture-- even now when I have been here so long, it still strikes me. The difference an angle makes and I was to learn, in the daytime, a splash of color.


    I wish to point these changes out now for they stood heavy in my mind but never lost gravity even as I walked up to the executioners rope with my hands bound.