The Cat with the Greenback

"You got a C-note you can lend me?" Trump asked.

"What the heck do you need a hundred for?" Goner asked Trump. He couldn't fathom what a cat would want with money in the first place.

"Humour me," Trump stated; he sat there looking at Goner.

A few moments of awkward silence separated the two, then Goner reached inside his wallet and took out a crisp 100 dollar bill and handed it to the cat. 

"I want interest back on this," he told the cat.

"Danke," Trump replied and he picked up the bill and hoped off the seat. "Don't worry. I'm good for it."

"Don't spend it all in one place," Goner called after the cat.

"Oh, I intend to," Trump retorted.

> Dan in Plureality FINAL

I tried to stop it once. Tried to kick it. For an entire year I stopped doing magick, stopped keeping a journal, stopped writing. Stopped making connections or searching for mythology. Instead I worked a lot, I studied Taekwondo, I returned to the city that I was born in, went to bars with friends, and I went for more than a year without changing jobs or moving, a first since I turned eighteen. I was all about the body, getting healthy, being normal.

*


Ms. Amita laughs warmly. “But it was just another hit, wasn't it? Another way of making things strange. Another way of making magick.”

*


Over the next year I begin slowly integrating all my ways of doing magick together. Sometimes it is rough going, there are too many connections, too much to see and hold, too much to doubt. 

Writing a series of journals into my laptop-familiar, changing the style, even the font, to create different versions of my life unfolding. The way that Professor X from the comic and from the cartoon and from the movie are all different but all still Professor X. Either/Or having mutated into And/Or finally evolving fully into And. Plureality, fractal storm of parallel realities and identities all happening at once. Like watching an n-channel universe, living different lives by pressing the button on the magic wand. All of it occurring in the simulation being generated by our brain, mediated, everything is media, Noo Media. Designer realities. The Eschaton has ended, we're living in the Teleon. It's genesis culture. In the Aetion, where everything is always beginning, where every scene is the first scene of the movie, anything could happen. 

It's a lot to process, but I keep walking. In the wave, I can feel her behind me. 

Until I get the opportunity to submit a story about magick, an autobiographical series of articles, to a blog, and I have to look.

*


“And that's why he summoned us,” she says. “To help him pass through it.” 

Dr. James shakes his head. “No, I'm real.” His eyes are wide. 

Dr. Hannah smiles. “Yes, you are. You're real in the same way that money is real, or the government. In the same way that this desk, made up of 10-dimensional strings and empty space, is real. In the same way that 'Daniel' is real. That magick is real.” 

He looks through the mirror. “And who are They?” 

“They are the ones reading this.”


Daniel looks at Them, wondering if it has worked. He feels something like a star in his belly. And They look at him. 

'Come away, human child, to the water...'

Frank's fingers tensed around the cellphone. "I'm telling you, Professor, that something doesn't feel right. It feels like something is missing." He was pacing around the motel room.

"Of course it would feel like that," said the voice from the phone.

"No, I don't mean them... It's - I can't explain it!"

"Frank, please stay calm. You exist now in a perpetual state of discovery and absence, of lost and found. We talked about this before you received the implant."

Frank adjusted his sunglasses and rubbed the bridge of his nose. "Yeah, I get it - we gain and we lose things all the time, every time we shift... But what if we lost something... and then forgot that we ever even had it?"

"I suppose that would be either a blessing or a cruelty."

Frank stared at the table by the window, the weapons spread out on the faded faux-wood surface; the sniper rifle with scope, the pistol with silencer, the collapsible baton. The Godhammer.

The Biting Question of Winter

Frank sipped his coffee, standing under the awning of the bakery and watching the window across the street. He glanced at his watch, the time was 1:34pm. He had been watching this brownstone for the past 4 hours and yet no sign, no hint of anything going on.

His cellphone chimed; a refrain of a popular song transcended into a merriment of random tones to sound melodic.

"Hey Frank." Goner's voice. "Anything yet?"

"Nothing at all," Frank replied. He shifted in his stance, trying to maintain the feelings in his legs. "I think we got a bad lead on this one."

"You want me to spell you for a bit?" Goner asked. "You've been pulling sentry duty for a while now."

"Nah," Frank replied. "I think this lead is dead. I am going to give it another hour and if nothing then I am packing it in."

"Well, phone back if anything happens," Goner stated. "I will be waiting."

"Sure thing, bud." Frank replied. He snapped the phone shut and pocketed it. He took a sip of the cold coffee and tossed the styrofoam cup into the bin.

His attention was focused on a white van that had pulled up to the brownstone, and he saw her step out of a side door. The tip paid off tenfold.

> Dan in Plureality 6

He throws up his hands and storms out of the room, returning to the other side of the mirror. Dr. Hannah lingers for a moment, looking at Daniel, looking at Them, then she joins him. 

“You should calm down,” she says. 

“Why? We're trying to cure his addiction and he can only answer my question with a flippant deflection.” 

“I don't think it was that at all,” Dr. Hannah says. “I think it was the truth. As much as he understands it anyway.” 

Dr. James stares hard at her. She returns his gaze, her eyes soft. And says, “Feedback.” 

In the room, Ms. Amita smooths her skirt. “I'm sorry if that was uncomfortable, Daniel.”

*


When I was 24 I found a book called 'The Shaman's Body' that talked about the deathwalk, a ritual during which the shaman has to avoid being shot by his fellow warrior-priests. If the shaman is confident, is impeccable in thought and action, he can walk directly in front of the others, slowly and evenly, without being hit. 

The meaning of the phrase 'the crow road' in the novel turned out to be death. The crow road is the deathwalk.

*


“What's going on?” he asks, staring through the glass, his voice soft. “It's all just stores, right? Just TV shows and games and comics...” He looks back to Dr. Hannah. “It's not real, is it?”

*


At the Hillside Music Festival, my friends and I camping, pretending that every time we go down to the island where the bands are playing we are entering Faerieland. Drawing cards from the Faerie Oracle deck to see who our guides are for each trip. Gathered by the picnic table beside the road leading to the gates, I offer each of them the deck and watch their faces as they study the cards that they pull. Watching them as the hit takes, feeling like a dealer.

*


Dr. Hannah squints slightly. “Oh. Oh, I see. I think I understand now. He's not here to be cured of the addiction. He's here so that it will spread.”

***

The Nook

The skateboard rolled down the sidewalk, its passenger a young kid in a overcoat; he was dressed in black jeans and had on a white shirt. Over the shirt was a necklace with a cross dangling out from it. He had several buttons on the overcoat, and he really looked like a scraggy haired kid, but he had that wise-beyond-his-age look about him.

Darius stopped in front of the Neve's Nook and kicked up his skateboard. He tucked it underneath his arm as he strolled in. Neve's Nook was a breakfast place; it opened early and closed just before lunch.

"Morning Darius," the waitress said as she saw him step through the door. She grabbed a paper off the counter and handed it to him. "You want the usual?"

"Sure thing," he replied, sitting at a table. "I want to shake things up this morning and start with some toast."

"Living dangerously, are we?" the waitress joked and gave him a wink. She turned behind the counter and hit the order's up bell.

Darius opened up the paper and began reading the morning headlines. He thought that he heard the sound of stone on glass, and he glanced around the Nook. That's when he spotted Twofeathers outside the window, looking in, like a ceramic gargoyle. He gave her a concerned look and she motioned her head to the back door.

Darius got up and said to the waitress, "Be right back." He left his overcoat on the chair and the paper unfolded on the table as a sign to others that the table was occupied. He headed for the back door.

"What's going on?" Darius asked as he stepped outside and saw Twofeathers perched on a garbage pin.

"I really don't know," Twofeathers replied. "Just that I have a sense of foreboding."

Darius' eyes widened; he knew when Twofeathers had an uncanny knack of predicting danger. He nodded at her, "What about the others?"

"I haven't contacted them yet," she replied. "I was just about to head over to Dex's."

"Well, let me finish my breakfast and we shall round them up," Darius stated. He turned back to go inside - Twofeathers was just about to ask something but before she could open her mouth, Darius finished, "And yes, I will save you some of my hashbrowns."

It's a Good Thing Aqua Didn't Study the Laws

Aqua concentrated. Her eyes closed and she focused on the task at hand; she didn't know if she could do it. But in a situation like this it was best to try rather than not do anything at all. 

"C'mon. You can do it." 

She felt a curious sensation and then she opened her eyes. She was actually hovering 1cm off the floor. It was a weird sensation and she could sense that her equilibrium was off-center, trying to take in the new sensation and feeling as well. 

Hold on for a few more seconds. 

She fought the urge to panic, and then she let her mind go and she landed on the ground again. Overcoming the weird feeling, she looked up to the side of the pit in which she was trapped. 

Okay let's do this again.

Short and to the Point

Pretty George was in his den, sipping on a cold beer and watching a movie on the screen before him.

His phone rang and he hit the talk switch.

"What's your pleasure," he said into the earphone.

"Hey Pretty," a voice said. "I need a favor."

"I can get you one of those but it's going to cost you," Pretty replied.

"How much?"

"If you have to ask how much then you can't afford it," Pretty said and he hit the end switch.

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.