The Pawn of Presents Passed

Frank pulled the sedan into the parking garage and got out. Opening open the trunk he pulled out a gun and tucked it into the back of his pants. He slammed the trunk down and walked away from his car. His cellphone rang.

"Frankay!" the voice said.

"Scott," Frank replied.

"Can't a guy call on his old friend?" Scott asked.

"You ain't my friend," Frank replied coldly. "I'm here."

"That's cool," Scott's voice dropped the friendly tone. "Go to the roof."

"This better be good," Frank said.

"Would I steer you wrong?" Scott asked, knowing that answer all too well.

"This better not be a wild goose chase," Frank said. He pushed the up button at the elevators.

Awakening the Beast

Pain racked his body as he fell to the ground. His head bounced off the asphalt of the parking lot, and he was sure that there was another cut there, but he couldn't feel it at the moment. His body was beyond the point of registering pain, it was channeling it.

He picked up his head and began to crawl.

"You guys better go while you have the chance," he said to the thugs around him.

"Yeah right," one said.

"Whatever," another one replied. "Any last words?"

Not yet, he thought.

There was a trio that stood around him and they kicked him a few times when he was down. He was beyond feeling the pain now, he wasn't sure were he was at. His mind was somewhere else.

Just about there, he mumbled.

"So big man, you think you are tough now?" a voice laughed. "Come on and teach me a lesson."

"I would," he sputtered out. "But, right now I have a pressing engagement to tend to. Once I am finished there then I will come back and teach you guys a lesson."

"Think he's going loco?" another voiced asked.

"Beats me," another one chimed in. His voice held an edge of hatred that consumed him.

"No," the first one corrected. "Beats him."

They all chuckled over that, and continued with the kicking. They didn't realize that they were waking the beast within and would pay the ultimate price for it.

"You boys were warned," Akimoto said.

> Dan in Plureality 3

“You were correct, Dr. Hannah. The subject was psychologically unstable years before he started toying with the occult.” 

Dr. Hannah stares at Daniel intently, invisible to him behind the mirror. “The whole thing reads like a description of shamanic initiation. The initiate gets sick and they enter the Underworld where spirits torment them. With the aid of helpful spirits the initiate heals themselves and returns to the world having learned magical lore. That's a very simplified version, but it maps.” 

Dr. James arches an eyebrow. “Are you suggesting that the subject was just acting out a story?” 

“In a sense. Maybe. Except that according to our files, Daniel didn't learn about shamanism and the initiation myth until reading about it when he was 24 years old.

*


I feel a little silly. Arrogant. Nervous. I'm trying to relax, like Ms. Amita said. I can't help wondering what They are thinking. 

I remember that night when I came home from work – I had a great job working for a role-playing game company – and my girlfriend at the time had prepared a pathworking ritual for me in our apartment. Within her circle, surrounded by talismans, guided into and through trance by her words, I journeyed to the Celtic Land of the Dead and amongst the misty and shadowed tombs I summoned my greatest fear... and it was doubt. Doubt that any of these things that had happened to me for all these years were real. A vision doubting the reality of visions.

*


“Why don't you tell us what it's like when you are fixing?”

*


I'm at my childhood backyard picnic table with Detectives Kay Howard and Frank Pembleton from 'Homicide: Life on the Street'. They're showing me a sheet of paper with hieroglyph-style drawings on it, figures on the shore of an ocean, the word 'GODDESS'. As we talk I realize that I'm in a dream and I ask Frank, needing to know if he's only a figment, if he can see me. Really see me. 

He nods and taps his forehead. 

Weeks later I'm dreaming of a cottage, quaint and pastoral. The interior is lit with candles and I'm swimming in shadows with a woman, making love with her, our forms intermingling, we're moving like quanta into and around each other. I'm in the kitchen alone and I call out and an older woman, matronly and smiling, appears. I see a word: 'KAY'. 

When I wake up I reach over to the cardboard box beside my bed, unthinking, and grab the book on Celtic magic. Flipping, unthinking, to the dictionary of gods and goddesses, a section I haven't read yet. 
  
Kele-de, spelled phonetically, KAY-lay-DAY, an ancient goddess of sex and mystery. I've never heard of her. 

Years later, I'm sitting in the garage on my great-uncle's farm – I've just moved here to help take care of him – smoking with my father's cousin, who I've only recently met. He's recounting his practice of Tibetan chanting, looking at the statues of the gods lining the temple walls. I take a chance, enough humour in my voice to cloak my desire, and say:
“Wait until the day that they look back.” 

And he says, deeply and gleefully, “They have.”

***

I, Robot Fighter

Aqua stood at the top of the platform looking in the direction that her companions had walked away. She had volunteered to stay behind and keep an eye on their backs, and to make sure that the train was safe as well.

Seconds turned to minutes. Minutes turned to agonizing minutes. But, like the good dragon she was she would wait until she heard word from her friends. She was leaning up against a pillar, clenching her fist while waiting for any word.

She tilted her head to listen when she heard the faint sound of marching; she turned to the direction it was coming from. And she spotted row after row after row of sentry bots marching towards her. She cracked a smile and clenched her fist.

"Showtime," she whispered, and she strolled out to greet them.

Twofeathers' Impromptu Meeting

Twofeathers was knocked for a loop, sending her crashing through a wall and she skittered across the floor. The little imp took a hit and she was feeling no pain whatsoever. It took her a few seconds to shake off the dizzying effects.

When she opened her eyes to see, standing over her with a concerned look on his face, a man in a white robe and a tall hat, looking very surprised indeed. The man's men stood around him to see a little demonic beast picking herself up. All of them looking very much shocked by what they saw.

"We could use some help here, Two!" Dexter's voice could be heard from the other side of the hall. It sounded like all hell had broken loose.

"Don't worry," she said to the fellow in the tall hat, "I'm turning Catholic."

And then she took flight and back out through the wall that she came through.

You Want Fries With That?

Darius sat in the booth of the restaurant; he was sipping on a cola and occasionally chomping down on some fries. He had been in an heated argument earlier and was now cooling down. The bible sat on the table in plain sight. His attention was focused on the building across the street.

"Say, Dare," Goner stated as he slid into the booth and reached over and took a fry. "It's been a long while, bro."

"Goner," Darius replied with a smile; he hadn't seen his friend in a long time. "What's happening?"

"Oh, nothing much at the moment, just enjoying my downtime. Figured you'd be here," Goner answered as his hands went across the table and he took another fry. He glanced across the street to see the church standing. "Ever the sentinel, eh?"

"It's my territory and must be protected," Darius said; he tapped the bible with his forefinger. Goner cracked a smile. "You never know what evil will happen if you let your guard down."

"Don't I know all about that," Goner replied; his eyes caught a movement up the steps. A heavily robed figure going up to the doors. "Darius." He swung his head to motion out the window.

Darius caught the motion and glanced out the window. He swore underneath his breath. He reached inside his front pocket and took out a five dollar bill and placed it on the table, he grabbed his bible and slid out the booth.

"No rest for the wicked," Goner muttered as he slid out of the seat and on the way he grabbed another fry.

> Dan in Plureality 2

“His behaviour at that point,” Dr. James says, “is clearly rooted in a very basic dualism: science vs magic. For some reason he's undergone an epistemological crisis and chosen fantasy over reality.” 

Dr. Hannah tilts her head. “Maybe... You may be right, superficially. I bet that he thought of it in the same way when it happened to him. But the addiction is already apparent before all of this ritual and spell-casting. He was already invoking Captain Picard, to use their terminology, although he didn't understand it as such. He was drawing power from the rational, philosophical, moral world.” She points to her copy of the files. “Look, he even stopped smoking during that period. Once it was spent, once he'd processed the charge, he went looking for his next hit in the occult.” 

Dr. James' brow furrows. “So it didn't star there.” 

Ms. Amita shifts in her seat. “Daniel, I think it might be helpful for you to tell us about the year that you turned eighteen.”

*


For weeks I've found it harder and harder to think straight. My thoughts and emotions are in constant chaotic flux. I stay up all night, skip classes. All the drawings I've been doing, more than usual, have been of these twisted figures, anguished and tortured. In one of them I'm standing in the suit I wear at work – I sell men's clothing part-time after school – and dark, firery monsters pull at one side of me while airy, shining beings pull at the other. I keep noticing three crows on the walk home from school. I start to think that they're watching me. 

I write a story where a girl inducts a thinly-veiled version of me into a secret society. I have a crush on a girl but she's interested in another guy. At night, walking home from work, I often stop in a park thick with trees and call out to faeries, hoping they'll show themselves to me, and take me away.

My friends and classmates and teachers begin to notice my behaviour. Some of them ask if I'm alright, most find it eccentric and performative. After I see Jacob's Ladder at the local rep cinema I'm barely coherent for a week. 

Laying in the bathtub for hours, wandering around downtown, laying in bed, I imagine being visited by three people who teach me secret knowledge. They're in league with the crows. I know that I'm just making these things up but I can't stop. I can't stop making connections between random events, can't stop seeing people as incarnations of archetypal forces, can't stop feeling fucked up. 

One night I'm out by myself for coffee. I have a moment of clarity where I realize that there is no way that these mysterious teachers can be real, no way that they are ever really going to come for me - I guess that I thought they somehow were. But I can't have imagined exactly the course of events that will happen. Then I start to imagine that they are at home and that they suddenly become aware that I have psychically predicted their surveillance of me. I feel very anxious and leave the restaurant. As I walk home I imagine them getting ready, getting into their car, driving to intercept me. 

When I walk up my street there is a car parked in front of my house. I don't recognize it as belonging to any of the neighbours. Two people are in the front seat making out, so I can't see their faces. The third one could be hiding in the back. Feeling strangely calm, I hurry inside. 

Over the next few weeks I start to feel that the connections I'm seeing between things are fascinating. That the deep, mythical structures behind the behaviours of everyone I meet are exciting. That maybe the secret knowledge is true. And that maybe the real world is just as cool as a comic book.

***

Strangers Passing

Danny Leung dropped from the fence and landed in a squat; he had scaled the chain-linked fence that surrounded a LEGACY compound. He thought that he saw some movement in here as well, but he wasn't too sure. It could have been the moonlight shadows.

I'm slipping with age, he thought as he sneaked up to a shrub. He really didn't want to be caught in here without a search warrant, and he really didn't have probable cause. LEGACY was so tight with the government, it was hard to tell who was really in control.

For the past two days Kowloon had been hopping with secret information about a mysterious shipment that the LEGACY warehouse had received, and he just wanted to see for himself. With pistol drawn he moved towards the edge of a building. He blended into the shadows as two armed sentries strolled by.

They weren't really concerned about a breach; they were talking about some game that had gone on the previous night. Really lax in their job, secure in the knowledge that whoever was dumb enough to break in wouldn't ever make it out again.

It's going to cost them.

Danny made sure that the coast was clear and then proceeded to follow the wall; he nearly made it to the corner of the building when someone dropped down right behind him.

Damn.

"Don't fret," the voice said. "You must be Danny."

"How?" a stunned Danny spat out like a schoolboy.

"We have the same mutual friend," the woman said as she removed her mask. Her long raven hair seem to shine in the moonlight. "He's your friend on a flight."

Danny's eyes narrowed; he didn't know what to make of the whole scene which was unfolding like a deck of cards at a Vegas casino. He didn't know whether or not this woman was on the level.

"How did you know I was going to be here?" Danny questioned, ready with weapon to strike and flee.

"I learned never to question an order because I really don't want to know," she said with a sense of irony. "I was told to assist someone of importance right here, right now, and that there was going to be hell to pay."

"How can I trust you?"

"I'm Wraith," the ninja introduced herself.

Of Element's Gone

The assault force shifted into overdrive; the element of surprise disappeared when two of their members came through a window covered in throwing stars. No more subtlety, it was move and make your presence well known now. Dressed in black and in the cover of darkness they moved.

"Force Blue now!" someone said into a mike. "Element gone. Full bore time."

Three men came up to a door and kicked it open and began to scan the room. They weren't expecting to find Aqua hiding in plain site. She dropped to the floor and spun around like a top, taking the intruders out at the knees. One of them pulled his trigger and a spray of lead perforated the floor and into the ceiling in a connect the dots of death.

"Damn," Frank said as he stepped into the room and kicked one fellow in the head, pistol whipping another one who was starting to get up. "We have to move now!"

"Right with you, Boss," Aqua said as she flipped herself upright. Her over-sized gauntlets on her hands ready for serious action. "How many?"

"There's about four dozen," Trump said as he hopped down from a shelf. He had come in through the attic portal. "All of them armed and ready for some serious action."

"Thanks for the update," Frank replied. He took a quick glance out the window to see a series of black vans and unmarked trucks about. He checked his pistol and grabbed a few mags off the table and put them in his jacket pocket. He called up the stairs, "Goner. Angst. Let's bamboozle!"

Just Like Television but Without the Tele

Angst spun crazily down the rope, the leather gloves burning as she did. Though she had controlled her fall she was still going to feel the effects of it; they were cutting this one pretty close. Right now she was on an adrenaline rush and the pain would have to wait until later.

"Where are you?" Frank's voice came through the earjack.

"Somewhere between here and there," Angst replied in a whisper. She unhooked herself from the rope and moved into the air-vent. "Keep your pants on."

"Get a room," Goner's voice interjected. He was waiting for Angst to clear the shaft before descending.

"Maybe later," Angst shot back and laughed. "Ain't that right Frank, baby!"

"Come on, folks," The Professor's voice was stern. "We are still on the clock on this one."

> 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.