> Dan in Plureality

“Hi. My name is Daniel. And I'm a Mana Junkie.” 

“Hello Daniel,” They say. 

“Welcome,” Ms. Amita says. “Relax and start wherever you'd like. We're here for you.”

*

It can be difficult to talk about. Mana. How it feels. The strange. The inspiring, the disturbing, the meaningful. Whatever you want to call it. Being plugged in or being unplugged. Mystery or revelation, genesis or apocalypse. Trying to talk about it can feel like Orpheus having won his love back from the dark of the Underworld: if you look back, if you doubt it or try and name it, you'll lose it again. The observation collapsing the quantum wave of possibility.

Maybe that's why it's so addictive.

*
 
Behind the mirrored glass, observing Daniel and Ms. Amita and the rest of Them, Dr. James scans his files. “The subject is male, cisgendered, straight, white. He experiences symptoms of obsessive-compulsive disorder, severe depression, occasional dissociative disorder, and possibly paranoid apophenia. He routinely engages in delusional behaviour and often seems unable to distinguish between fantasy and reality.” Closing the folder, he sighs. “It's all the bloody TV and comic books and role-playing games. He's such a stereotype really.” 

Dr. Hannah shrugs. “It's an increasingly common complex,” she says. “There's a new term for it going around. They call it being a 'magician'.” 

“Okay Daniel,” Ms. Amita says. “Why don't we start somewhere specific? How about when you first started practicing magick? Formally, I mean.” The rest of Them are watching, listening.

*


The room I'm renting in the house with my five friends has a separate section at the back with its own door. It makes a perfect temple. For the last two years I've been studying English at university, a straight-A student, on the Dean's List, reading about science in my spare time, training with the fencing team. Captain Picard was my hero. 

Now I'm sitting cross-legged in my improvised temple, candles lit, a copy of Peter Carol's 'Liber KKK' beside me, discovered and downloaded off the net late one night in the computer lab at school. I'm wearing my trenchcoat because it reminds me of John Constantine, the urban mage from the Hellblazer comics. I've performed a circling ritual using a survival knife that my father gave to me when I was thirteen years old. It's Halloween night, I'm almost 23 years old. Last weekend I was passing by the woods where I played as a kid and the sky was filled with hundreds of crows. 

For the next three hours I sculpt a figure out of clay, a little manga-faerie that I saw in my imagination one night before I fell asleep. It's cold in the room; steam rises from my hands in the candlelight as I moisten the clay with hot water.

For the next 8 months, until I close the evocation ritual by releasing the sculpture into a river, I visit with her and imagine her. I imagine that she tells me things and helps me. 

For the next 8 months, whenever I am with her it feels like I am dreaming.

***

When Seconds Turn to Moments and then Memories

Dexter Washington swung the club about, hitting the hell-hound right in face and sending it sprawling back to where it belonged. He didn't know how much longer he would be able to keep this up, but he knew he was having one hell of a good time.

"These beasts just keep coming and coming," he shouted to the others and then added as a wry joke, "We need to reach a save point."

"Well, we can hold them off as long as possible," Wraith replied. She was flipping and weaving amongst the group, tossing shurikens like m&m's at a party. She was doing her best to keep each and everyone of the beasts that surrounded them at bay. "I only hope the others made it through safely."

"... and lo though I walked through the valley..." spoke Darius with bible held high in his hand in front of him keeping the demonic beasts away, and the book began to shine a very holy light all the while he was reciting a passage.

"There he goes again into his thumper mode," the demonic imp Twofeathers commented as she flapped her wings about Dexter, trying hard not to get caught in his swings and trying to stay above the snapping jaws of the hounds of hell that were waiting to rend her limb from limb.

"It just might be our saving grace," Dexter replied. He had swung his bat again and took out another beast that had made a mad lunge at him.

We Be Clubbin'

The pissed-off bouncer approached the table that Frank and Angst sat at. The bouncer carried a huge club, and it looked like the situation was going to escalate further. Frank saw him coming and he knew that there was trouble brewing, and he didn't want to take it that level.

"Angst," Frank said with an edge of warning. "Your friend is coming."

Angst nodded, the look of a coy co-ed turned to that of a machine ready to go into action.

"Just the one?" Angst asked without looking back.

"He's got three buddies eyeing us as he approaches," Frank replied. "Let's play cool."

"Hey you," the bouncer called out to Frank as he arrived at the table. "I don't like your face."

Frank looked up at him and nodded, "The feeling is mutual."

"And I don't like the fact that an old fart like you has to pick on jail-bait," the bouncer said; after all, he was trying to impress Angst. "What's the matter you old fuck, can't get it up with the old ladies? Have to score with the younger crowd?"
Angst was turning red with fury, and Frank just gave her a slight nod. To keep things in check. Frank didn't react to the goading like the bouncer was trying to get him to do.

The bouncer grabbed Frank's arm. "UP!" he demanded.

"Fuck you." Angst jolted and before the bouncer even realized it, he was sailing through the air like a piece of trash. Angst was furious and she turned as the three other bouncers moved towards the table.

Frank was still sitting there; he took his drink from the coaster and took a sip. He looked at Angst and gave her a wink; there was no use calming her down now. "Call me when you need me."

Angst turned to face the other challengers.

The Diceman Cometh!

*editor's note: this story is a fictional story - any resemblances to real names and persons are purely coincidental. ;)

"And on that note I think I shall call it a night," Tim said as he folded the GM screen. The duotang with tonight's episode was closed and two d6's of different colours sat on top of it, like sentinels.

"That's pretty intense man," Dan said. He took a sip from his coffee and reached for a cigarette; he scanned over his character and then gathered up the sketches he had drawn throughout the night. "Another good session."

"Ultra cool, Timmer," Chance chimed in as he walked out of the kitchen with a cup of coffee. Black.

Mark sat looking over his character and proceeded to jot down a few changes on his character due to experience points spent.

Angie stood up and stretched and shook her head. "All I have to say is 'Wow'. I can't wait til next session."

Tim beamed like sunshine in the morning. He had hoped this evenings session would be the capper. He had thought this one out for a few days now and it was good to see it executed the way that he thought it would go out.

"Dan, your character is so cool," Chance said to Dan. "I only wish my character could do that stuff."

"He can," Dan told him. "Just do it. Look beyond your character, look behind the numbers and the dice and just go with the flow. This isn't an arcade game and you are not bound by limits and rules."

OPERATION CONTROL

"You're not going to be long are you?" Angst asked Max.

She stood behind him, her arms crossed, staring at the back of Max's head. She didn't know what she was feeling because there was a whole ocean of emotions inside her; she did feel like knocking some sense into him, though.

Angst really couldn't understand what was happening and why it had to involve Max, Maggie and Control. From what she understood, Control was basically part of the problem, and now here Max and Maggie were ready to go along with him. This really didn't make much sense to her.

She continued on with her questions. "This is going to be a short assignment? What happens if a shift occurs? How will we ever connect?"

Max stood looking out the window; he really didn't know what to say. Angst was playing twenty questions and the mood he was in wasn't helping at all. He knew that she was looking after their well-being, but there are times when we must let go.

"Why?" Angst asked. "I asked Frank, Goner and that cat Trump to say something, but they're all in agreement. And I really don't understand why!"

"It's something that has to be done," Maggie replied as she entered the room. She was dressed in a red shirt and torn jeans, her katana strapped to her back. "Any word yet?"

"He hasn't called yet," Max answered Maggie. He continued to look out the window; he had felt many things in his life and this was the one feeling that he had never yet experienced. It was a combination of terror and awe.

"This could be some sort of trap that you're being lead into," Angst said. "I say we all tag along and make sure this isn't something elaborate to get you guys alone."

Max turned from the window and glanced at Angst; she was on the verge of tears and she was also hurting inside.

"All good things must come to an end," Max replied to her as a father would a distraught daughter; he was in the process of reaching out and touching her cheek when...

His cellphone chimed.

"Yes," Max said into the phone.

"It's time, Max," Control said from where he was. "I'll be waiting for you."

"So it's a go then," Max stated.

"Yes," Control replied. "I'm as ready as I want to be."

"You have the place?" Max questioned.

"Downloading the location now to you," Control replied.

Max looked at the screen and then he smiled; he tapped the phone off and Angst burst into tears. Frank came into the room; he had heard the call. He went to Angst.

"It's a go," Max said to Frank. "You know what to do."

"Everything is in place," Frank told him. Angst gave Frank a puzzled looked.

"Wha... what?" Angst asked.

"It's their musical, Angst," Frank told her. "Let them have this spotlight dance."

Frank winked at her and then he looked at Max and gave him a nod.

"We'll be waiting," he told him.

"I know," Max replied.

Frank comforted Angst as tears began to streak down her chin. Max walked toward Maggie and both of them did something that Frank thought he'd never see. Max reached out for Maggie's hand.

"Time to dance," Max said. Maggie smiled and took his hand and both of them walked to the elevator.

"Let's hope the music is good," Maggie stated.

Maggie pressed the down button and the elevator opened. They stepped in and turned to face the two remaining occupants in the room. Max nodded at Frank and Mags smiled and then the elevator door closed.

> Anna in Plureality 2

SKETCH ONE 

The street lamps reflect on the snow that whispers in the night and strobe-lighting the patrons lining the walk. They await entrance into what is sure to be a wonderland of the most recent hot spot in the city. Only the hottest, hippest, most 'it' have a chance of gaining entrance when the creatures are out to play in force. Critically they are eyed by a pair of doormen for the necessary qualities. One is built like a linebacker and naturally imposing. The other is very slight and hardly seems a candidate for the position. Likely he is the more deadly of the two, part of his arsenal being his automatic dismissal by the waiting flock. 

The barbie clad in attire that under other circumstances would mark her as a hooker. Her apparent leap from the pages of a Vogue ad doesn’t manage to translate into the development a third dimension of personality. As she stomps her strappy, gold stilettos she whines, "We're never getting in. I thought you said you had connections, Markus." 

"Yeah, well. Apparently so do others, Elizabeth," replies her companion, Markus, in a voice both bored and unconcerned. Another patron arrives, or perhaps appears is a more appropriate descriptor.

"Perhaps, I can help," comes Jex’s silky voice and she smiles. It is a look familiar to those who know her. Then again, perhaps no one truly fits into that vaguely defined category. If there were, the smile would be known as the one that precedes Jex getting something she wants. She steps to the side of the line and catches the eye of the secretly deadly bouncer, holds up three fingers and winks. As she expect, he waves her, Markus and Elizabeth in. Royalty passing the plebeian masses; they stride past the line. A whisper from Jex gives the doorman the key to get something he wants and his card with a message is slipped into Markus' pocket without his notice. That is, until Jex makes it known to him.

Jex simply accepts she knows Markus and Elizabeth are siblings related by tenuous blood ties, just as she accepts her awareness that his proclivities will lead him to thank Jex for the introduction to the doorman as much as entrance to the gateway of their playground. She knows already that a month will be spent in the luxury of their curiously unhappy, but “perfect” lives rather than her usual need to scramble to find somewhere to crash. 

One downside to being a career street rat is the uncertainty that there will be a comfortable bed to land in at the end of the night. Those dreams and skips in this time/place/existence (whatever) that she experiences randomly make working at regular jobs impossible. It matters not to Jex, the scams that allow her to treat everyone she encounters like a cat with a mouse within it’s grasp appeal to her nature. The dreams (is that what they are?) that jump her to different places and times also give her insight and that smile returns as she debates the best way to enjoy sucking misery from these plastic people she will soon be living with.

End Chapter

He pulls himself out of the overturned car, crawling, dragging an arm behind him. He's battered and bruised, several bullet wounds are quite visible. Very weakly he sits himself up, blood seeping from an open wound on his cheek. He tries to get a smoke but his hands are too busted up to do something so mechanically defined.

That was a blast, he thinks. 

Max smiles weakly to himself, the sound of high heeled shoes clopping against the pavement draws his attention to see a figure which stops before him. A feminine form, curvy and sultry. She kneels down to Max and takes a pack of cigarettes out of his front pocket, and takes one out and puts it in his mouth.

"Thanks doll," Max says, his voice raspy and congested.

"Anytime," the woman says.

She takes a wooden match and strikes her thumb against it, causing it to spark into life, and then she brings it to Max's mouth. Max puffs on the cigarette, and he feels the smokey air in his lungs, he lets out a cough. Spitting out a trickle of blood, which isn't a good sign.

Max looks up at the woman, and smiles at her.

"How are you feeling, Max?" she asks him, obviously seeing the rough condition that he is currently in.

"I had better days," Max replies. He takes a long puff from the smoke, savouring it like a chef savours the steam of a fine meal.

The woman tosses the match aside and stands up, she pulls out a revolver from her pocket. She puts the gun to Max's temple.

"Ready for the next phase?" she asks.

"I think so," he grimaces bitterly and nods. He turns his head away and takes another drag.

BANG.

The Decoy

Mags fired several rounds from the handgun, her katana by her side on the ground, shattered into three pieces. Seven shots. Six down, about another two dozen more to go. She had missed one and it made her frown, and then she ducked down behind the barrier. She ejected the clip to see how many rounds she had left and swore to herself.

Suki was sitting beside her, the Godhammer in her lap, ready to fire. She was on the verge of panicking since Mags seemed to be at the end of her rope. They had been caught off-guard when a wave of gunmen had fired down upon them in a hail of lead-jacketed rain.

"You okay?" Mags asked her. "We just need to hold on for a few minutes then the gang will be here."

"I'm having the time of my life," Suki replied with a wry smile.

"I'm nearly out of ammo," Mags replied. "It seems that if one goes down for the count, two more take his place."

Suki chuckled; it reminded her of that game she played where the monster generator kept spitting out monsters until it was destroyed. She was trying to think of the name of that particular game, because it seemed so fitting a title right now.

There was the sound of gunfire and then the rounds stopped. And then a familiar voice rang out.

"It's clear," said Max, but Mags tilted her head off to one side and had a perplexed look on her face. There was something the matter with the timbre.

"It's about time!" said Suki as a huge smile grew on her face. She jumped up and before Mags could pull her back down three shots rang out and each bullet found their mark: one in the temple, two in the chest. 

She dropped to the ground in front of a stunned Mags.

Cold is the Night

It had been three days without sunlight and it had rearranged Max's internal clock. He was having a relatively easy time adjusting to the permanent night, as the arctic air whipped at him like an old lover. He glanced at his watch and it read 11:05am. Morning. Lunch in another 55 minutes.

"How you doing, sweetie?" Mags called from behind him, breaking him free of his thoughts. She was a few paces behind him, attached to a life line.

"Just getting my bearings," Max replied. He unzipped a pocket and he pulled out a glow stick and broke it. He hoped that this wasn't a wild goose chase, or even a sick pathetic joke, but he knew Control wasn't like that.

"We getting close?" Mags inquired. She touched his arm and he could feel her warmth.

"I think so," Max replied. He bitterly cursed himself for doing something like this.

The arctic wind howled like a banshee, a sense of foreboding which Max shook off. He heard the crackle of his ear jack.

"Cube?" The voice came in crystal clear.

"That I am," he answered the call. "Are we at least close?"

"You're right on top of it now," the voice acknowledged. 

Max stopped and he looked down at the snow. He began to clear away the drift to reveal the ice below and his eyes widened at what he saw. He muttered, "Control, you bastard!"

> Anna in Plureality

FROM THE DESK OF CONTROL
- a hacked transmission suggests that The Professor may be looking at this one. Let's keep an eye on her....

DOSSIER: JEX
She wears army boots with the laces undone with jeans or leathers you'd have to peel off as her default attire. She has penchant for t-shirts tight enough to make it clear she's a girl usually with statements that ranged from vaguely to completely offensive... ' Boys are stupid, throw rocks at them'. Generally those same shirts are shredded or see-through at the back to reveal a series of surface piercings on either side of her spine laced with ribbon so they resembled a corset. Her hair is a mane of very dark brown, wavy with long bangs (frequently in her eyes). Make no mistake though: she can dress up and fit into club clothes to tramp it up with the best of them or don formal wear wrapping about herself as naturally as any blue blood. 

She is what you want, not just her. Men want to be with her, women want to be friends with her. It's not just that, but everything. What you want is immediately known to her and she enjoys using it. Teasing you with almost getting it and feeding from the delicious taste of your disappointment. It melts on her tongue like chocolate covered cherries, oh so sweet with a center to bite on (that moment when you realize what you want is just out of reach). 

She is fiercely loyal to the few friends she has and has no problem getting right up in your face and mentally squashing you if you mess with them. Not that she can't take care of herself physically, it's just more fun mentally. 

 Traveling a to b she gets around on her bmx or, if she needs to be expedient, hot-wiring cars which she breaks into using one of the variety of knives in her collection (one of which is invariably on her person). She'd love a motorcycle, but that would require getting a job and what the hell. She has more fun as a street rat. Why not live off of the stupidity of others, so easy to steal from. So easy to sucker people into giving her what she needed to live the way she enjoyed.

Three Seconds After Midnight

INT. HIGHRISE - PENTHOUSE - NIGHT

CLOSE ON Max's bloody face. Max stirs, his one unswollen eye opening.

MAX'S POV: we see that he's in a dark room with a light shining down on his face. He can make out some shapes just beyond the light, hidden in the shadows.

PULL BACK: we see that Max is naked, both wrists secured behind him. He is battered and bruised. He lifts his head to see what is around him. He sees a dozen beasts sitting in the shadows, snarling and smacking their lips.

MAX
Great.

ANTI (voice)
Rise and shine.

MAX
Nothing to shine about.

ANTI (voice)
Just be thankful that I am in a playful mood. Or else you would of been Alpo already and excremented out to be stepped on.

MAX
What do you want? Did Control send you?

Anti laughs.

ANTI
Control is none of my concern.

Max has a puzzled look on his face.

POV: we see a woman's legs standing off to one side. Her hand pats a gruesome hellhound's head.

ANTI (voice)
You, my dear friend, and your squad have caused me some very serious problems of late...

MAX
Glad to be of service.

ANTI (voice)
Don't play coy with me, smart ass. I have you right were I want you. I could end your life any moment with the snap of my fingers!

RUFUS (voice)
Are we going to kill him?

ANTI (voice)
In time.
 
Anti steps into the spotlight, but we don't see her face. Just her legs.

MAX
(a look of recognition on his face)
Well, I'll be.

Christmas Spirit

"You coming?" Angst asked; she was on the phone and she was decked out like one of Santa's elves. Goner was in the background trying not to stare at her, and Akimoto kept adjusting himself so that he could be in the line of site. Which irritated Goner.

Suki, Aqua and Mags sat around the table playing a boardgame. Wraith was sitting outside on the balcony watching the city below, while Dex was sipping a rye and cola at the end of the balcony.

"Shortly," Frank replied at the other end of the phone. "Just taking some me time."

Angst laughed on the phone, "Well the gang is nearly here, except for Max. You guys are fashionably late as usual."

"I'll be there shortly," Frank replied. "Ciao."

"Merry Christmas," Angst said. "And be here shortly because I don't know how long I can avoid the mistletoe with Goner around."

Frank laughed and tapped the screen.

Frank stared out the window looking at the snow falling, a newspaper folded up on the table where the crossword puzzle was the main focus. He had a pencil in his hands and was using it to tap along the side of the mug.

It was Christmas Eve and nearly all the shops were closed at this point. Except for Good Times, Good Tomes in which the gang had a vested interest. He was alone at the moment and sipping on a coffee.

There was a banging on the front door coming from downstairs. Frank immediately went for his gun, and proceeded down the stairs. At the door there was a homeless man knocking.

"We're closed," Frank called through the glass door.

"I just need a cup of coffee to warm me up," the homeless man said. "That's it, that's all."

Frank had tucked his gun in the back of his pants and reached for the door. Turning the locks on the door. The homeless man turned to blow at his hands.

As he did two glowing eyes could be seen.

Laptopical

Max's finger tapped the side of the cup. He didn't realize that he was doing it, but when he heard the sound he stopped. He was sitting in the corner table at a diner, watching the door. His laptop was open in front of him and his finger hitting the arrow key as he was scrolling down the pages of various images.

"Isn't technology grand," the waitress said as she came over and refilled the coffee mug. "You have the entire world at your fingertips."

"Entire worlds," Max corrected her with a smile.

"So what is a fellow like you doing here alone on a Friday night?" the waitress asked; she was a young twenty-something girl and she was obviously flirting with Max.

He had started coming into the diner five weeks ago, every night around the same time and had brought his laptop with him. So she figured she'd make a move since he was obviously single.

"Waiting for a friend," Max replied, and he could see her look turn to a sort-of frown. "And then it's off to somewhere else."

"Oh," the waitress replied; she kept her friendly tone. Though she knew her luck was always bad and that she was cursed to be alone. She gave him a perky smile and headed off to the next booth where two gentlemen were sitting and chowing down on some food.

Max typed on the laptop. He typed in the name of the waitress, 'Kelli', and following, 'will win some money and live the cozy life'. He hit the Enter button and smiled.