Destinations

We could live in maybes.

Standing in the woods at night, an unspecified

age and way, but always the past.

Speaking aloud into the darkness, the trees

somehow made of sounds, implied.

The courage to speak aloud there in the woods

in the darkness alone, real words spoken

out loud, meant to be heard.


We could live in the future.

Sitting at the desk, on the chair, this

furniture all gathered and handmade from the past.

Typing onto the plastic, the smooth lines, the thin

machine. Typing into the new space, electronic

and layered and fictional. Early gray morning in winter

on the laptop computer, tired but too amazed

to let it pass without record.


We could live in each other.

The sense, the way it starts a shining

in my stomach, the barest thought of you and the

idea, the possibility, as strange and as fleeting

as words in the woods and visions of the future,

that when our eyes met we gave each other something,

even if only a shining and words to make

poems from.

"I Am The Modern Man" [version.Upgrade]

Goner pulled back the hood. The side of his head was metal. The edges laced with fine-circuitry that flickered faintly, red, blue, green.

"Okay," Max said.

Goner unzipped his jacket and took it off. His left arm was also metal, highlighted with the same almost ethereal wiring. 

Max glanced at Goner's pants. "Is that everything?" he asked, lightly, trying to relieve the tension.

Goner smirked. It felt like Max hadn't seen him in a long while, but Goner somehow looked younger. It reminded Max of the time he first recruited him; or the time he first remembered recruiting him. It was a memory that they shared in most versions.

"What do I need to know?" Max asked next.

Goner cleared his throat. Looked around at the trees, leaves catching sunlight, casting shadows. They had arranged to meet outside the city, for safety.

"I chose it," he began. "It was my call." He looked down at his metal hand. "It feels sorta real, sorta... something else. Kind of like everything else has since that day."

Max smiled. The fact that Goner was remembering the same thing as him made him relax. 

"I guess I never felt like I had really committed to this. Even when I was a soldier, then working for the private security teams, I was never really all in. And after I died... Well, I still don't really understand everything about that, or how I came back, but I know I was scared for a long time, that it would happen again. And now, with whatever is brewing with this whole System revelation... I know things are going to get weird and probably bad. I wanted to be ready. I wanted to be able to help. To really make a difference."

Max nodded. "Thanks Goner." He gave it a moment. "Do I need to know how you got it done? Who you went to for the work?"

Goner looked briefly conflicted. Max noted that the circuitry on the cybernetic modifications didn't flicker in sync with Goner's reactions, which was good; it would be too big of a tell.

"No," Goner said. "Not yet anyway."

"Ok, cool. Let's try and get in touch with Frank and Angst. They missed you."

The Beautiful Majestic Sorrow

It's been several days now and I still don't know what the hell happened. I keep seeing posts on my twitter feed but they are so random and confusing and I can't make heads or tails of any of it. Professor Mox says it's all part of the crisis, and tendrils still seep through this "reality" or "our version of it" and pretty soon it will all be part of a forgotten memory. He explains it's like having a real vivid dream and then it disappears once you are wide awake and her mind has wiped the board clean and you are struggling to remember what the dream you had was all about.

It's hard for me to explain it. But, I feel I have to write it down and get it out there. I think whatever the hell happened that "static residue" of other dimensions bleed through. Like take this buffoon of a billionaire that is suddenly a presidential contender? There's no way in hell I thought he'd be able to even run but now he's on the tip of everyone's tongue. I'm not sure that I'm in my own version of life at the moment. Maybe, I've phased into a realm that is completely similar to my world.

Like a Twilight Zone episode and maybe just maybe I'll phase back into it.

Who am I kidding?

I think my mind will eventually accept this domain and then sweep these thoughts under a rug.

MORGANFOKKER SAYS THAT THERE ARE THOUSANDS OF YOU

Versus

"That's not what I meant!" Angst said. "And don't you dare say 'I know what you're thinking'."

Frank rubbed his eyes. "I told you, it's off right now. Listen, I'm just concerned you're not factoring in all the variables."

"That's so patronizing, Frank. Just because I'm leading with my feelings doesn't mean I've lost all reason. I was the one who made first contact - maybe I have a better perspective on the situation?"

"And maybe you're too close to it! I'm just not sure taking action right now is going to make things better in the long run."

"So we don't do anything?" Angst asked.

"Now who's being patronizing?"

"What would Max do?"

"Who the hell knows? Some days he's X and some days he's Y."

"Okay, what would Maggie do?"

"'Haunted Warrior Maggie' or 'Guardian Angel Maggie'?"

Angst sighed. "Fine. I give up."

Frank sighed. "Okay, get your gear. We'll go."

Angst smiled.

CD One

MAX CUBE MUST DIE!

The Original Motion Picture Soundtrack

(interior artwork: portrait of Max looking tired/haggard. The words 'Control, Obey, Question Mark, Plureality, Noo Media, N.E.O., Help Me, Have You Seen Me?, guns, knives, magick, chaos, mythology, space, clothes, confusion, signal, try, reject, far, robots, <anarchy symbol>, towers, complex, doubt, fatigue, hunter, shift, parallel, memory, orb, demons, computer, mix, wonder, fear, maggie, lost')

Track 1: Thomas Dolby - One of Our Submarines (Extended Mix)
Track 2: Tom Jones - Sex Bomb (Remix)
Track 3: Vanilla Ice - Ice Ice Baby (Revised Mix)
Track 4: Pink Floyd - Wish You Were Here (Orb Atmosfear Version)
Track 5: Queen - Under Pressure (Rah Mix) (with David Bowie)
Track 6: KLF - What Time Is Love (Techno Slam Mix)
Track 7: The Crystal Method - Name of the Game
Track 8: The Timelords - Doctor n The Tardis (Extended)
Track 9: Sarah McLachlan - Possession (Chemical Bothers Remix)
Track 10: Richard Cheese - Baby Got Back
Track 11: Fluke - Zion
Track 12: KLF - Last Train to Trancentral (Razormaid)
Track 13: Monster Magnet - 19 Witches
Track 14: Queen - She Makes Me (Stormtrooper in Stilettos)
Track 15: U2 - In God's Country

Spilled Milk

Matt Khoob looked up from the book he was reading and over at Aggie and waited for her to speak. Her bright red hair hung to her shoulders as the sun streaked through the dark room. Providing light in the abandoned house.

"We've been here for three days now," he stated. Placing the tome on the table as he reached for the tea. "When do we move again?"

Aggie glanced at him and smiled. She had been sharpening her knife on a whetstone. "As soon as Hank and Toner return."

"Maybe they got captured?" Matt stated. "Then what do we do?"

"I guess we can cry over the spilled milk then," she replied.

Complimentarity

"Yeah, we're going to disrupt the Mayor's press conference," Dexter said into the cell. "He's been dodging questions about the school closures all week. No more."

"My sources are saying he's got a lot of corporate connections, maybe some occult ones too," Wraith's voice came back through the phone, a hint of static.

Dex's brow furrowed. "You think there's another angle to this?"

Wraith paused. "With everything we've seen, you have to wonder. And your town's not the only place where schools are being closed at an unprecedented rate."

"With a disturbing lack of public outcry."

"So...?"

Dexter sighed. "You think we should call Max. Wraith, I... I was never sure whether Max helped straighten things out or whether he just made them weirder. I know we did a lot of good, and we still are-"

"I know," Wraith interrupted. "Some days Max was Ragnar and some days he was Floki. Some days he was Longshot and some days he was Constantine. Some days he was Kirk and some days he was Picard."

"Yeah, but was he the problem or was he the solution?"

"Dexter, I still have the nightmares too, about the War. And I still wonder if any of that really happened. I guess... Well, I guess I don't really know."

Dex smiled slightly. "At least we're not alone then."

“I've Got Thick Skin And An Elastic Heart” [version.Upgrade]

“I miss the Bookstore but the food here is good at least,” Angst said as she took another bite of the curry.

Max sipped on his mango milkshake.

“So...” she continued. “If everything Control told you was true, about the weapons and costumes and the subway and all that, does that mean we were working for the Counter-System all that time?”

“I honestly don't know, Angst.” He looked at her. He still trusted her and knew that she trusted him but things were different now.

Crow entered the restaurant, looking like a young black woman with short pink hair. Max waved and explained to Angst that Crow had arrived; only Max could see her. Angst slid over to make room in the booth.

“I've got news,” Crow said as soon as she was seated. “Maggie was being held in a System facility. I don't know how They got her, but it does conform to her recurring Initiation arc.”

Angst watched a serious expression come over Max's face as he stared into the air beside her. His beard made him look older, more worn out.

Crow continued. “She got out though, like she always does. Apparently she was locked in a vault of some kind but she eventually escaped. By tearing the doors off their hinges. Big doors. Metal doors.”

Angst saw Max's eyes widen slightly, the hint of a smile.

“And when the guards opened fire on her... the bullets bounced off of her. She punched a hole in a wall and leaped into the sky.”

Now Max was smiling.

“No idea if They were experimenting on her or if this is the result of all that Angel/Demon magic she used to be into. And no clue where she ran to.”

Angst watched Max pull out his wallet and gesture to the server for the bill. He asked the space beside her, “Do you have the location of the facility?”

Road Trip

Stretched out on the roadside, it's relaxing.

The car about 20 feet away. We could

be victims or snipers. Laying there perhaps

after the event or before it, possibly

an effect or possibly the cause.

You roll over onto your back and

let your head roll to the side so

your eyes fall into mine and

your hair falls over your face and

a car drives past, going down the road.


Your fingers tap the stereo when we're driving

and songs skip like stones over the water.

I've got the window cracked to ash my cigarette

and the wind is blowing your hair over your face

and you don't mind.


Eventually we take to leaving monuments,

small tokens, at the spots where we stop

on the roadside to stretch out and relax.

Once a pop can with a smiling face punctured in its side

by your penknife. Once a receipt from last night's motel

folded into a shape, improv origami. Things

like that anyway. Because it feels like that

with you. Like a fairy tale, like one

of those modern fairy tales.

Office Spacetime

Marshal glanced around and noticed that he and Javier were alone in the office. “Any leads?” he asked.

Javier waved him over. “I’m running a Mask,” he explained as he tapped at the keyboard, letting Marshal know it was safe to use the computer. The screen changed colours and a new graphic appeared.


“I found these buried in the tags of Launchpad’s incoming emails," Javier said.  "I’m going to check Altar’s next.”

Marshal scanned the list. He didn’t recognize the data:


Delta Fox
Charlie Ten.7
Angel Cake 1.7
Indigo
Elephant Cobra

“I think they’re tracking Versions,” Javier said. “Think about it: wouldn’t a master-list of all variations of plureality make controlling them all that much easier? In fact, they probably couldn’t have achieved their spread of influence without having a trans-variable method of structuring and coordinating their activities. Sure, it’s creepy but you can see how useful it would be…”

Marshal nodded. He saw the appeal but there were implications, if it was even possible. Versions weren’t just parallel realities; the existence of parallel realities was a variable within a given version, a sub-criteria. Not all versions contained parallel realities.

He pointed at the screen, the list of data. One of the lines stood out:


5102 PARAPLEX

“What’s that, Frank?”

Javier stood up quickly, looked nervous. “Who’s Frank? Marshal, what’s-“

Marshal grabbed Javier and took him down, an elbow to his throat. “Who are you?”

“I-I’m the Counter… Your Counter c-contact…”

Now Marshal stood up, releasing Javier. He looked confused.

The Writing On The Wall

It was 30 degrees in the shade. He had been skateboarding around town waiting for a signal and decided it was time for a rest.

Darius sat on the edge of the road, skateboard at his side. He took took off his headphones and wrapped them around his Digital Audio Player.

He was sipping a cola when he happened to glance up at the wall across from him and saw the graffiti.

MAX KNOWS TOO MUCH

Underneath that someone else had added in red spray paint:

THEREFORE HE MUST DIE!

Crisis Gallery Update

Crisis Gallery