Enter the Flesh

Frank adjusted his tie and gave Angst a wink and then he stood and turned to face the Fleshmates. He hated to do this but there was no other option; maybe this might buy some time. There were over a dozen Fleshmates who were all stepping out of their hiding places and showing their metallic faces.

"You sure you know what you are doing?" Angst asked him; she winced from the severe pain she was in.

"No," Frank replied. "I'm making it up as I go along."

"Sweet," Angst replied. Though she couldn't move, the sword-blade had pinned her to the ground. "Remind me the next time someone says this will be a milk run to pound their face in."

Frank held up his hands, showing that he had no weapon.

"You time is up meatbug," the Fleshmate leader said, stepping forward with a huge freaking gun pointed at Frank. 

"Meatbug?" Frank asked.

"You need no question us," the Fleshmate leader replied. He had stopped about three strides away from Frank. "Just your reign is nearly over."

> Dan in Plureality 5

The sun's going down of the Aran Islands off the coast of Ireland. We're sitting on the rocks of a beach, our backpacks propped beside us. Nowhere to go. He rolls two cigarettes and passes me one. I take out one of our enchanted matchbooks, fashioned during the six hour ritual that we began this trip with. The sigil inside is for shelter. I strike the match and we light our cigarettes. Before we've finished smoking them a woman has walked up to us from over a hill and invited us to spend the night in her cottage.
*

She turns to him. “Now Dr. James. Surely there's something of merit going on here?” 

Dr. James frowns. Suddenly he drops his file folder on the desk and marches towards the door to the room. Daniel startles slightly when he enters and Ms. Amita frowns. Dr. Hannah follows him in, looking apologetic. And They keep watching. 

“Daniel,” Dr. James says. “In attempting to delineate the effects of your addiction you have so far done little more than show me that you have a penchant for telling stories. I ask you, what is the point of them?”

*


I'm visiting with a friend from the small town I lived in during the summer of the year 2000 and I take the chance and tell her about what happened to me that week in August.

About how I starred in a this reality-tv show called 'Spygame'. It was a lot like that show 'The Mole', but this was before that came out. I was clear with her: I explained how I was aware that my biology spent the week laying in bed, walking along the river listening to a walkman. But I can remember everything that happened on the show. I can remember guesting on Letterman after it was over, with the other three finalists. I remember talking with her afterwards about being on the show, only she doesn't. I even told her about the time in my apartment, once the summer was over, when a song from the 'Spygame' soundtrack came on the radio and I cried and cried, I missed the other people from the show that badly. 

I was so nervous telling her. I even became insistent, almost shouting at her even though she was listening quietly. And then she smiled and nodded and said that she understood. And she told me a beautiful, sad story about being haunted by the first horse she had to put down when she was younger. 

It was like sex, like tantric sex where orgasm isn't the point.

*


Dr. James shouts, “Then what is the point?” 

“You tell me,” I say.

***

In Like Flint

Wraith moved in the night like a song from a radio, drifting out into the dark where words cannot be seen. She was dressed in black, her black hair tied into a ponytail and a mask over her face.

She came up to a fence and leaped over the 14 foot high barrier like a leaf in the wind. She landed on her feet on the other side and continued to move, paying no heed to the sentries on patrol because she was part of the night and moved right before them in plain sight. They did not blink or acknowledge that she had gone past.

She came up to the outside security doors and her fingers danced over the console, and the doors majestically opened. She slipped inside, just a blur to the security cameras. The watchmen on duty didn't even register the fact that the doors were breached. Wraith's fingers danced open another door and she was in. A smile cracked her serious face since she knew that she had still had the magic, the power, the moves.

She stepped into the hallway and moved off to one side. "I'm in," she spoke softly into the throat mic. "Time me."

The Pursuit of a Trivial Matter

Frank made the leap across the street; the 60 foot gap was what he needed to distance himself from his pursuers. He landed on the roof of the other building, rolled and came up with both guns blazing. He was firing in the direction he had came from.

The bullets hitting their mark, catching two of his pursuers in mid air, and sending them straight down to where the street below. A third one was hit as well, sending him from his safe trajectory. And then he bolted once again.

Two down. Three more to go, Frank thought.

A Spin of a Coin

The coin spun on the table, twirling around, spinning itself into a three dimensional ball. It moved around the table before it began to slow down and the coin, still full of inertia, kept spinning but it was a mad wobble now.

"Any bets?" Goner asked.

"Heads," Frank replied not looking up from his paper.

Goner watched the coin spin like a lunatic in a madhouse. Angst was sitting across from him; she was sipping away at her soda. Frank was beside her, a paper folded up to the crosswords section and using a pen he was figuring out the clues. While Aqua sat on the stool at the counter, eating fries and sipping a malt.

Goner's coin finally rested on heads.

"That's five in a row you called it," Goner says. "Maybe we should be doing some downtime in Vegas?"

"I love Vegas," Angst chimed in. "So alive and full of colour."

"That's a thought," Frank said. "Maybe if we get the signal."

Goner looked at Frank and smiled, "Well, we could wait for the signal in Vegas."

"Don't count on it," Angst interjected, she looked up at Frank and gave him a wink.

"We're here for a reason," Frank said in a leadership sort of tone; he wished something would happen shortly as well. They'd been hanging around for several days now, waiting for a sign.

Goner picked it up and he spun the coin again asking, "Any bets?"

"Heads," Frank replied.

> Dan in Plureality 4

When I was traveling in England the second time, when I was 23, I went into a bookstore in Chelsea and found a book called 'The Crow Road', so I bought it. Two days later I was in Cornwall with guy who had picked me up hitch-hiking and invited me to camp with his friends in a quarry that one of them owned. We were walking down the road along the coast at night, on our way to the country pub. Talking about books, and I noticed the crows, blacker than the night, lining the field to our left, and he didn't, he was talking about books.

And he said: “One of my favourite books is 'The Crow Road'. Have you heard of it?”

*


Dr. Hannah smiles. “Very cool.” 

Dr. James snorts.

*


Working in the bookstore during my stay on the farm, everything easily becomes about work, about paychecks, relaxing after work, small talk. That morning, before we open the doors to let in the customers, I glance at the New Age section, my attention caught briefly by a box-set of runes. I remember reading the runes, I wonder at everything implied by the runes and what they imply about the world. But I cannot feel it, cannot find it in the stark mall lighting, the stream of people, the economics. 

Later in the shift a man buys a box-set of Faerie Oracle cards; illustrated by Brian Froud. As I turn the box over to scan it I see the author's name, who wrote the commentary. Jessica Macbeth, and I remember being picked up by Jessica while I was hitch-hiking in Scotland when I was nineteen, her taking me to an ancient cairn and teaching me my first meditation technique before dropping me off in Oban and saying goodbye.

*


“Fine,” he says. “They are interesting stories. But frankly I don't see the point of them.”

*


A girl that I worked with at the bookstore named Kaye lends me over 30 hours of videotapes, all the episodes of 'Roswell' to date. I watch them continuously for a day and a half. Like brainwashing. These stories of aliens disguised as humans trying to relate and survive in their small town. Sure it moves me. 

The last time I did a total immersion run like that was when I read Grant Morrison's 'Animal Man' straight through. Later that summer a RPG character I was playing became self-aware and now gets calls and emails from fictional characters in the game.

*


“Again, the recurrence of TV, of role-playing games. The pathology is clear to me, Dr. Hannah. I'm still unsure of the value of these stories.”

***

Wraith's Wrath

The ground seemed to shudder and heave, knocking her off balance. And that was a rare thing to do. Wraith lay on the ground looking up at the night sky. She flipped herself back upright and scanned the perimeter; she knew that she was totally caught off guard and that could have cost her a life.

She didn't know what the heck was going on but she intended to find out. The next ripple didn't catch her off balance since she expected it. The ground shook like a wave lapping up to the shore.

"This cannot bode well," she whispered to herself.

She spotted the sentry nestled up along the ridge; she knew that she was getting close to the compound.

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.