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So, if you’re just joining us, I work at a haunted zoo now. Since I’ve gotten some rest, it feels like I’ve got my head on straight, at least, so I’d like to continue where I left off.
I sat on the floor in the office after meeting the ghost until I’d settled my rattled mind (and realized I’d forgotten to ask her name, how rude is that?). I took a deep breath and got up off the floor. Walking over and falling into the rolling chair in front of the large screen of camera views, when I brought up the camera that covered the area in which I’d spotted her, she was still there, and it seemed she hadn’t moved an inch.
Sitting there, at a loss, I continued to watch her. The ghost hung around for another five minutes or so, appearing to look at a few things off-screen, though I’m not sure what. Then she walked off into the forest and left the view of the cameras. I wasn’t sure if she vanished into the ether or if she’d gone looking into the trees to look for something.
But that wasn’t the end of the job interview, so let me jump back there. It continued into what kind of animals the zoo had, with Andrew asking me how much experience I had with dangerous animals.
I took a moment to consider the question. “So, ah…I’ve been going hunting and fishing with a neighbor since I was sixteen,” I told him. “We always have to keep an eye out for gators, bears, and hogs. Then there’s snakes, of course…snapping turtles… Since I’ve lived here my whole life and been aiming for a job with wildlife for a long time, I know a lot about the animals in Arkansas in general. But good advice for all of the above is avoid them, so I’ve had encounters, but I don’t know if you’d say I have experience with them.”
“That’s fine,” Andrew said, nodding. “That’s an answer I’m satisfied with. Now, the ghost was the appetizer, Ripley; here’s the main course. To start with, the pay isn’t twenty-five an hour. It’s fifty.”
Staring in shock for a moment, I asked, “Are you serious?”
“Yeah. But that’d be weird to post online considering what applicants think we need, so I halved it.”
“That’s… Okay, why?”
“The animals are already here. You just can’t see them.”
I stared at him for a long moment, some disbelief worming its way into my expression, before saying, “Sorry, what?”
“There’s a chance you’d naturally never see them, or at least some of them,” he continued casually. “It depends on both your genetics and how long you stay on the job. I can naturally see six of them, but that’s it. Suzanne can see all of them, and more. Some are what people would label demons or ghosts. Or magic. Mostly you’d call them cryptids. The ghost was just a warm-up; I mentioned her first because it never takes more than a week to see her if you work the night shift. If you manage to handle her okay, soon you’ll be able to see the animals too. The more time you spend on the grounds, for weird reasons,” he said, wiggling his fingers in the direction of the back door, “the more you’ll be able to see.”
“So, this…this is a zoo for cryptids,” I echoed slowly. He nodded once, waiting to find out what kind of reaction I would have. I gestured vaguely around the room. “If this is a hidden camera show, will you cut me a check for showing up and participating?”
Andrew coughed out a chuckle and shook his head. “No joke. There are a ton of stories out there that have been written to death, pulverized until they’re not the Grimm stories of old and instead they’re Disney films. A lot of those stories come from what some humans have seen. There are dozens of other worlds pressed up against ours, and occasionally things come through by accident. If they’re smart, they’ll lay low and then make their way back when they can. If not, they become local folklore until someone helps them back. I’m just from London, but Suzanne is from somewhere else. She hires people like us for this zoo. Humans.”
Sighing, I shook my head. “That makes no sense. Why would she hire a muggle for a magic zoo?”
Andrew burst out laughing at that, and then waited to gather himself before he continued. “Fair point, but this is less about magic and more about animals, and you’re missing some information that will explain it. First of all, if I misjudge an employee, and they think they can make bank by outing the endangered and valuable animals we have, it’s easy to relocate the zoo.”
“Because magic?” I asked.
“Exactly,” he replied, ignoring the thread of skepticism in my tone. “That means it isn’t the end of the world if that happened, though it is a pain in the arse. But second…let me ask you a question. Speaking of reality shows, say the Discovery Channel put out a call to replace Steve Irwin when he passed. Imagine they had a line out the door,” he said with a gesture, “of people who thought they had the skill and natural talent to replace him, to take on everything he’d been doing his whole life. How many do you reckon would lose an arm, a leg, or their life, by the end of the day?”
My lips parted in surprise and I narrowed my eyes at him. “You’re saying people from…wherever…they’re just as dumb as humans, but they’re worse, because they actually think they can handle these things.”
Andrew pointed the pen at me. “Things. Exactly. You called them things. Suzanne and her friends grew up with them and would call them animals. These animals have dispositions and temperaments that we’ve studied for as long as there have been scientists. Where Suzanne’s from, they know the weaknesses of these animals, and also they’re in enclosures here, even if you and I can’t see the walls because they’re invisible things called ‘wards’. If I hire someone who’s got magic on top of all that, they’ll have almost no instinctive fear.
“Everything here is nocturnal, and every one of them is a hunter. Some of these things? Humans see them and they pass out. Not that I want you passing out, but I need someone who is scared of these things, who knows to stay out of the enclosures no matter what. Not someone who thinks they can train them to do tricks, who gets close enough for them to grab a mouthful of hair and drown them. Once, we had a night shift manager injured, and once killed, because they didn’t take these animals seriously enough.”
Thinking back to the Sea World orca incident I knew he’d been referencing, I remembered wondering how someone at that level of her profession could be so careless as I watched the video on YouTube. It made sense when he explained it like that. I hesitated before mentally throwing my hands up and going all in. “So, why put this place here, then? If they’re endangered and also dangerous, why have a zoo at all instead of just a small reserve?”
He pursed his lips, looking disappointed in me. “Ripley. You know that already. You already said as much.”
Thinking back through our conversation, I said, “The rich humans who pay top dollar to see supernatural animals.”
“Not humans,” he told me. “But people, yes, and they are rich, and they’re making donations and spending their money on a ticket here because everything we have is endangered.”
“So…”
I just let my voice trail off and my mind started to drift. Andrew remained silent, letting me do so. There’s that thing people say, ‘I believe that you believe it,’ which is just a kinder way of saying, ‘Bullshit.’ Parents say it about closet monsters. Psychologists say it to people who say they’ve been abducted and probed by aliens. I wanted to say it to Andrew.
But I also wanted a job. If it meant working overnight at an empty zoo, that was fine. When it came down to it, especially when I took the tone of our conversation into account, this was a zoo specifically focused on preserving endangered ‘animals’, and it was allegedly doing important work. Also, if this turned out to be the real deal and I started seeing the animals, I would deal with it, just like I would deal with an enclosure that had a lion or tiger or gorilla. If it came with a ghost and invisible creatures, I really didn’t see what the difference was, if I couldn’t go in the enclosures either way.
On that note, I’d like you to imagine a kid who looks at a roller coaster, watching everyone screaming and grinning as they go up and down and all around and they’re like, ‘Heck, I could do that! That looks like a blast!’
Then they get on, the first drop hits, and they realize they’ve made a terrible mistake.
“All right,” I sighed. “I can’t say I’m going to turn down a job just because it’s going to be scary. Especially not one with this paycheck.”
Andrew smiled. “Awesome. There’s an adjustment process for anyone working here, similar to a dog that gets adopted, actually. I know the general guidelines of, ‘three days, three weeks, three months’ in terms of milestones, until they finally feel they’re where they’re supposed to be,” he told me, “and you can think of your time here along those lines. I really think you’re a great fit, and once you reach the milestone of working here for three months, I’ll officially consider you our new night shift guard. And I hope you’ll stay with us for many years.”
I nodded and smiled at the flattery of an employer wanting me to work a great job for them for a long time. I’d never had a dog, but those milestones were well-known among anyone who knew animals, especially dogs. The first three days, the dog is getting to know its new digs, exploring, and decompressing. At three weeks, they’ve gotten used to their environment and are starting to get comfortable with their surroundings and the routines of the humans they live with. By three months, they know the rules and follow them, they trust you, and they feel they are where they’re meant to be. I could only hope to be so lucky.
I saw the ghost two days ago and she has yet to make another appearance (for those who are curious, I asked, and her name is Leila), and I still hadn’t seen any animals. I did hear one, though, I feel compelled to note. A growling roar sounded from the lake on occasion, echoing across the vast zoo, sending a shiver down my spine. Whatever that animal was, it sounded gigantic.
Andrew said there was apparently a group that wanted to visit for a birthday and they were offering a huge donation, so he let me know they were making an exception and that this group would be walking through the park that night. That meant I’d be watching people watching animals that, as far as I could tell, weren’t there.
It was anticlimactic. Even the three people who came for the tour just looked like people, not like aliens or something eldritch from another dimension, and I stayed in the security office the whole time. Andrew was the one giving the tour. I watched them spend about five minutes at each enclosure, the hour or so that they were there passing without incident. It was clear that they were able to see all the animals, though, since they motioned excitedly at each enclosure and spoke to Andrew, who presumably answered any questions they had.
If they could see the animals, that was that. There was still that niggle in the back of my head, from my twenty-three years of life never encountering anything like ghosts or cryptids, telling me that this was ridiculous. Waiting for someone to knock on the door, a camera mounted on their shoulder, to tell me that it was a big joke and they wanted to see how long I’d play along. But from all I saw, this was a real place with real, invisible animals.
I do carry a taser and pepper spray in my capacity as a security guard. Though it isn’t for the animals, since they’re in the enclosures; they’re actually for the rare instance of a break-in. Andrew mentioned that it had happened several times it the past, someone trying to steal an animal in the hopes of selling it on the black market. They’d been successful before, but apparently my predecessor Roger was good at his job, and mostly they left in handcuffs.
I’ll be honest, I’m not a huge fan of confrontation, but my job was to call Andrew and then confront the person, not kick their ass. That’s what the police were for, or rather, the people Andrew would call in lieu of police in certain situations.
Fifty bucks an hour. That’s the key here.
Andrew hadn’t set up direct deposit, since he was sticking with a strategy of waiting to see if I’d continue to work there once I found out myself dealing with the animals (I’ve decided I am going to just call them animals). Instead, I got an old-fashioned check after my shift every Friday. The number on the first check was delightful. I went out that evening and had a big dinner at the local diner, order my most expensive favorites on the menu and a big slice of pie for dessert.
When it came to the paychecks in general, though, I had this weird feeling of not wanting to tell my dad and brother about the fact that it was actually $50/hr. I previously mentioned that my dad, his name’s Nathan if you’re curious, works at a local grocery store. Our town has a couple food franchises, but I think its size is just short of whatever threshold Walmart uses to decide where to open. He earns $14/hr. and that’s after the tiny raises he’s gotten over the past thirteen years.
That’s not to say he’d feel bad about not making as much as me. On the contrary, he would be ecstatic for me and really proud. But, like me, he’d be suspicious. That hourly rate was the biggest hint that this was more than just a private zoo for cryptids. And as soon as that fat check cleared without problems, my dad wouldn’t be satisfied with reassurances; he’d want to come visit the zoo and look around.
I’d told him it’s a private preservation with scheduled (expensive) visits only and that it had only eleven animals, so he’d been appeased by me brushing off the idea of a visit. Also, I took a few photos of my workplace; one of the security room, one of me sitting in my chair, one photo of the many screens I watched, and a selfie where I was feigning sleep out of boredom, slouched in my chair with my mouth open in a faux snore. That let him feel like he knew where I was and what I was doing, and that I was safe.
But if I told him I was making double what he thought, my father would practically order me to quit. No job was worth my safety, he’d tell me. I was quite of the opposite opinion, however, considering how crucial any and all conservation efforts were these days. Especially with the steep extinction levels due to humans competing with other animals for space, not to mention climate change. Working in any job that helped preserve species and keep ecosystems in balance, or put them back in balance, was so important.
Then again, my father would also point out something I had realized right away: the fact was that I was working with endangered species that were not from Earth. I wasn’t helping my planet. To be honest, though…that didn’t matter to me. Especially after that talk with Andrew about why he hired a human for this job, I figured whichever dimension these animals came from had the equivalent of us, razing forests to the ground, clouding the planet with pollution, and leaving the animals with no avenue of recourse when yet more land was taken from them.
I really do hope to keep working here for a long time, though, and not just because of the money. I can’t help it; I want to know what these things were, and I want to work with them, to do the job of a zookeeper. The same way you go up to the chain-link fence to get close to a carnivore on the other side who thinks you’d make a nice afternoon snack. You just want to be closer to them, to experience that incredible, daunting feeling of being in their presence.
Unsurprisingly, it wasn’t long before I got what I wanted.
The day after we had the tour go through, I was doing my sweep when I saw the ghost again. She was sitting on a small boulder in the same area I’d seen her the first time, looking identical, blood covering the front of her slashed shirt, the wounds visible underneath. I stopped and stood there for a moment before I decided to raise my hand in a small wave.
The young woman cocked her head at me and raised a hand in the air in an imitation of my gesture, her expression showing a bit of curiosity.
She was low-key, seemingly not concerned with my presence, looking at me as a novel phenomenon in her world. I wondered what that world consisted of. Was she always here, sometimes visible and sometimes not? Or did she have another world next to ours, in the ether, where she left everything in this world behind and floated in her disembodied form? Did she still feel emotions? Was that really curiosity on her face, or was I projecting? Did she feel happiness? Fear? Did she have the option of moving on, or was she stuck here?
Many questions that I might never get the answers to. And that was assuming Andrew knew the answers, since I’d never met Suzanne Cooper and he hadn’t even mentioned that possibility. This place was clearly her baby, but I’m sure running it was a lot of work. Plus, if she was rich enough to own it, she was rich enough to have other businesses and charities to run.
When it comes to the enclosures, they’re all wrapped by a barrier of some kind, though never one that seems adequate. There was not a single place with the ugly metal weavings of a chain-link fence, and no stretches of circular razor wire. Instead, there are nice fences. Black iron, or wrought steel fencing in a similar style to the one circling the perimeter of the zoo, just shorter and with different patterns. Or a spaced picket fence, the wood stained in some tone of brown, or a split two-rail fence. As if to say, ‘This is the border of your enclosure, but we’re just letting you know out of courtesy.’
When I started to pass enclosure number seven last night, a young woman’s voice spoke, “Hello.”
I startled, unaware that I hadn’t been alone. “Oh. Hi,” I said, staring at her standing a few yards in.
She had been next to a large tree and I hadn’t seen her. This enclosure was behind a picket fence, and she walked through the large area of wild grasses and flowers that stretched across the other side of the fence. There were fewer tall grasses closer to the fence, which I guessed was because it had been tromped down by her regular pacing along it when there were visitors, or if she wanted to see the various enclosures of the zoo. Her sudden appearance was a bit weird, considering I had been expecting to see a cryptid and instead I was looking at, it seemed, an attractive Asian woman.
She wore a black kimono, the soft silk robe draped gently over her body, with beautiful patterns of cherry blossoms, more so over her left side, and red and blue birds with their wings spread. A sash wrapped around her abdomen, she wore socks and sandals on her feet, and her hair was up in those rolls that gave volume to the style.
I was no expert on any fashion, much less that of another country, so I just assumed it was all traditional Japanese clothing. Most likely, the visitors who came liked to see a certain time-honored style and that’s what she stuck with. Or maybe she played on stereotypes. That would be amusing.
“I’m Yui. It’s nice to meet you,” she spoke, arriving at the border of the fence and holding out a hand for me to shake.
I’d been standing about three yards away from her, and I’ll be honest, muscle memory tried to kick in. But I only made it two steps, my hand starting to rise, before I froze, the hand falling limply at my side. “Nice to meet you, too,” I answered, my voice quiet.
Damn. I wonder how many times that honey trap works back where she comes from.
The pleasant look on her face faded, and she lowered her hand. “You won’t shake hands with me? Isn’t that rude?”
“I mean, I kind of like my hand where it is. You know, attached to me.”
Her demure smile widened into something more amused. “I would never do something so revolting.”
Looking her up and down, as if more visual information would give me more knowledge of what she was, I asked her, “What would you do?”
“I would be less wasteful,” she said softly.
A finger of ice trailed down my spine, and I had the sudden image in my head of her grabbing my outstretched hand in an iron grip and yanking me over the fence, leaving me to sprawl on the ground. Then killing and consuming me efficiently, without a single careless step, the same way humans slaughtered pigs, using everything from the hog but the squeal. I was struck with a shiver at the idea of her consuming everything from me but my screams.
Slowly, I took one step further down the path, then another. Just as I got to a walking pace, though, I realized the woman had started walking too, in the same direction. I’d have eventually gotten to the end of her enclosure and keep going, leaving her behind, but she spoke up. “Are you leaving?”
I came to a stop, meeting her gaze again. “My job is to walk the zoo every hour. Then I’ll get back to the security room and stay there until my next walk.”
“Have you met the others yet?”
I hesitated before saying, “Just Leila.”
She blinked languidly. “That means nobody welcomed you here.”
“Andrew did.”
She didn’t reply to that. Instead, she slowly started to lean forward, and I flinched backward a few steps further as I saw insect legs start curling out from her back.
No. Not insect. Arachnid.
The eight legs ended in small ‘paws’ with tiny claws, a layer of hairs covering the leg from top to bottom, like any typical tarantula. I took two more slow steps back and my mouth went dry as the jointed legs just kept lengthening, until they were large enough to lever her off the ground.
My gaze had been on the spider legs, but my heart skipped a beat as I realized her human legs had melded together and turned into a bulging abdomen. Her skin was shifting to a carapace, eventually all the way up to her shoulders and down her arms, her fingers elongating and her nails stretching to claws. From there down, her body was that of a pale tarantula with pedipalps the size of my arms and piercing fangs in her jaws that looked like they could take my head off.
There was a moment, my vision blurring, where I was worried that I might piss myself. The part of my brain that still had its humor intact in that moment told me that I should keep an emergency set of clothes in my car, or at the very least, start wearing Depends to work.
“I show you my true form,” she said softly, her voice now raspy like an eighty-year-old after a lifelong smoking habit. “Welcome to Suzanne Cooper’s zoo. The night shift guard for many years was Roger, before he retired and the zoo moved, and I miss him dearly. What should I call you?”
I choked on my words. There was no way my throat was going to cooperate enough for me to clearly get a sentence out. Instead, I realized my legs had taken control of the situation themselves, unsatisfied with my conscious brain’s decision to stand and stare, taking steps backward. I backed up a yard, then five yards, then ten.
My mind focused on the fact that spiders don’t waste anything, and pictured my demise. I’d be wrapped in a cocoon, killed, and made nice and mushy before she had me for dinner.
The whole time, my brain was a frenzied mess, my pupils were probably the size of dimes, and I was staring at that tiny, pathetic fence between her and me. There was so much adrenaline pumping through my body that I felt like my bones were vibrating. The fence was, to my eyes, the only thing between us. The only thing keeping her from tackling and killing me. My only hope was that she’d do it quickly.
But she didn’t move. As I absorbed her innocent, polite words, the look on her face was calm, and I wondered if this was typically the way a conversation went before she devoured her prey. I wondered how many people she’d eaten. Not humans, not people from Earth, but the ones from where she came from. The fact that she doesn’t scare the shit out of those people means they’re staggeringly dumber than humans.
Finally, I rounded a corner, both relieved at having her out of my sight and worried that she would take that moment to come find me. When she’d been within eyeshot, I had at least known where she was and could run in the other direction. But I didn’t hear the sound of faint footsteps moving rapidly toward me. All was quiet, in that deep, smothering way that only an empty business in the middle of the night in small town America could be.
My hands trembling, I barely paid attention to anything but the confirmation that my surroundings were free of the colossal spider as I finally got back to the door. Grabbing the handle and letting my eyes dart around for about ten seconds and my ears prick for the slightest sound, I finally swiped my key card across the pad and went inside, shutting the door behind me and engaging the backup deadbolt.
Maybe that was why they had decided on keycards. If I was running from something and panicking, using an actual key or inserting the card like at a hotel would keep me from getting to safety considering my hands were shaking enough to mix a margarita.
Walking over to my chair, I fell into it, letting my body flush itself of terror as I looked up at the cameras. There she was, still in arachnid form, exactly where I’d left her behind that rinky-dink fence, casually looking around and slowly pacing back and forth. I stared at her as my racing heart gradually slowed, and a minute or so later she turned on her eight legs and walked back into the trees.
Whatever invisible fences the enclosures have apparently work, which is nice, because I wasn’t keen on getting killed by one of the creatures here. And that’s what brings me here, spilling out everything that’s happened so far. Because nearly passing out from terror isn’t something I wanted to deal with at work, obviously, but I keep going over what she did in my head again and again, and I feel like I reacted like a child who spotted a wolf spider on their bed. I started to worry for my overactive sense of self-preservation, at least in my capacity as an employee here.
The spider didn’t even try to hurt me, and so I was feeling a bit foolish. Even annoyed, actually, at the fact that I’d freaked out so hard and took off instead of trying to engage in at least basic conversation. I got the sense that she wasn’t at human-level intelligence, but I was never going to be able to hold any level of conversation with an alligator.
Sure, she did mention that she wouldn’t be so crass as to yank off my hand because she’d rather just have my entire corpse, but wouldn’t a wolf do the same if it was hungry? Wouldn’t any carnivore? Actually, they probably would’ve been satisfied with one of my hands. The fear here was from the fact that she turned into a giant spider. If she’d turned into Clifford, I would’ve reacted the same way, if not better than, meeting Leila.
With that, I decided I’m staying on the job. Considering how frustrated I can get with foolish people, it’s a bit hypocritical, and I’m being a bit of an idiot. But…there are definitely wards keeping them in their enclosures. Also, I signed up for creatures for another dimension, whether or not I believed in them at the time, and I will not let encountering my first one in an objectively boring way be the reason I quit.
The money is a factor, I’ll grant you. Of course it is. And I can’t spend it if I’m dead, but all signs point to surviving as long as I don’t do anything dumb. Also, yes, I’ll admit there’s a not-so-little voice in the back of my head that’s desperate to know what else is here. I never thought I’d do something like this, but finding out these things are real, I honestly do want to learn more about them.
Still, though, I decided to call Andrew at the end of my shift to ask if the pepper spray and taser I carried worked on a certain spider, as well as the other animals I’d yet to meet.
Previous

First of all, I wanted to thank everyone for their kind words and support from the last post. A lot has happened since then, and a bunch of context is needed, so I hope you'll bear with me as I explain the details.
***
Back during the peak of the blinking crisis, I remember having a lot of difficulty sleeping. It was common for me to average only four or five hours a night, and the little sleep I did get was marred by terrible nightmares. One in particular recurred many times.
I was only eight, but somehow I was in the driver's seat of our family's old SUV. My arms were long enough to steady the wheel, but my legs didn't quite meet the pedals. It didn't matter though, since the car seemed content to continue on at a constant pace. I looked over and saw my mom in the passenger seat. Her face was a blurry likeness pieced together from the dozen or so picture's I'd seen of her over the years. I tried to bring her into focus, not only because I missed her dearly, but because she was speaking—pleading, even. She waved frantically at me, then brought her leg up and slammed it down on the floor mat several times. I didn't understand what had her so upset until she pointed out the front windshield, and I saw we were hurdling directly toward a giant tree that had fallen in the middle of the road.
Panicking, I stomped for the brake, but my seatbelt protested and pulled me back like an invigorated dog on a short leash. I sat up and tried clicking it off, but it wouldn't budge. My breaths became hollow cries, and I felt my heart beat against the bars of its bony prison. I grabbed the steering wheel and pulled it to the left, then right, attempting to swerve off the road, but it was as if whatever kind of glue was locking up the seatbelt was also fixing the steering wheel in place.
"Mom! what do I do!?" I yelled, tears streaming from my eyes. She was yelling back at me, but it was as if there was a divider between us, and neither of us could hear each other. I turned back just in time to see the giant Oak tree meet the front bumper, and then I jolted awake with a piercing pain in my chest that radiated up through my throat in the form of a giant scream. My little legs kicked under the covers and tears rained down on my pillow until my dad ran in and knelt at my bed.
"Lauren, are you okay? Did you have a bad dream?"
I grabbed my pillow and hugged it so my face was covered, then effused a "Mmm-hmm" in a long wheeze while rocking to either side.
"Oh, honey," he soothed and brushed my hair, then the tears from my face when I would allow it.
Time would pass in silence, and when I began to get the sense that my dad was ready to leave, I'd chirp out, "stay" in that way children do when they're embarrassed about wanting something.
"Always," my dad would reply; then he'd post up on the floor with my large tomato plushie as a pillow.
One night in particular, it was deep in the night, and I had woken to a tapping sound outside my window. I was so afraid that a monster had snuck into my room while I wasn't looking that I made him lay next to me and face outward. I'd peek my eyes open every minute or so to check and make sure my dad was there, staking out the room. Eventually, he rolled in close and said something that I still remember to this day.
"Hey, baby, guess what." he whispered.
"Mmm" I mumbled.
"I think you scared the monster away."
I tried to picture this through the fog of my fatigue. Something seemed off about the statement, like it wasn't logically possible, but before I could piece together the words to express that, my dad cut back in.
"It was scared because it realized you're a superhero. And you know what your greatest superpower is?"
I shook my head, making sure to rub my forehead against his shoulder so he could sense it in the dark room.
"You're greatest power is that you get to tell the monsters what to do. Because the monsters are only as strong as the stories you tell about them. And there's all kinds of stories. Happy ones. Sad ones. Scary ones. Tell me, this monster you think snuck in, would you say he's part of a scary story?"
"I don't know," I said, confused. "Maybe"
"Hmm," he hummed, contemplating. "Well, I want you to remember this. You have the ability to tell any kind of story you want. Maybe there are monsters, but that means there's heroes and angels, too, right?"
I was beginning to doze off to the comforting sound of my dad's deep voice, but I gave another affirmative "Mm-hmm".
"So, if you're ever scared, honey, just dream up a better story. A story that will bring you peace. Do you understand?"
But I was already out.
***
I woke up the next morning to the feeling that someone was in the hotel room with me. The drapes were drawn and the only sound was the AC unit blowing cold air, but when I looked toward the dark corner of the empty coat rack, my mind conjured the face of my dad, smiling at me, chanting that same, awful line—Oh, Lauren… you know who we are.
I was no longer a child, but it took a couple minutes of cold focus before I muscled the courage to ascend from the safety of my covers and flick on the lamp light. The small amber radius extended to where my dad's feet would have been if he was standing there. But there was no one. I let out a sigh and collapsed back onto the mattress, thinking back on all those years growing up. The same man who had helped me conquer my fear of the dark was now the monster hiding in its shadow.
I looked over my shoulder and saw the clock read 10:15. My meeting with Trent was in three hours. I moaned and stretched my arms back until they knocked against the headboard, then I collapsed back onto the mattress, meditating, gathering energy like a compressed spring. All at once, I jumped up and glided over to the drapes, opening them in a single, fluid motion. I grimaced at the sunlight, but the warmth felt good against my face. I stopped by the nightstand and gulped down the final few swigs of a bottle of Mello Yello that I had purchased from a vending machine the previous night, then undressed and hopped in the shower.
The warm water wasn't enough to wash away the previous night's memories. When I closed my eyes to lather my hair, I was back in my living room, standing opposite the demon that had taken on my dad's form. His smile. His laugh. It was like someone in my head was flipping a switch between the man I loved growing up and a terrible monster. But the fear was more powerful. I heard something drop onto the tile floor on the other side of the curtain. The noise made me gasp, and I opened my eyes while shampoo was still streaming down my face. I swiped the shampoo out of my now burning eyes and squinted at the curtain, trying to see through it, but I couldn't make anything out. "I-is anyone," I started, trembling, afraid to finish the sentence. I reached out and pinched the end of the curtain. My heart was in overdrive. I swallowed, then pulled it toward me and peeked out. I scanned the room, but I couldn't see anything out of place.
It wasn't until after I finished showering and wound myself up in one of the hotel's too-small towels that I saw what had made the noise. I bent down and picked up the stub of a razor blade that had fallen onto the tile right next to the puffy, gray shower rug. It wasn't mine, and I was pretty sure hotels didn't keep unguarded razor blades just laying around. When I held it up, it occurred to me that if it had simply fallen a few inches to the left, it would have been buried in the rug, and perhaps I would have stepped on it. I stared at myself in its steely reflection. Cold. Lonely. Small. What if I—was all I was able to think before the blade blinked out of my hand.
I threw on some clothes, packed up the few belongings I had into my purse, then checked out of my room. I didn't feel safe going back home after what happened, but I also didn't want to go anywhere else. I got in my car and drove aimlessly up and down the town's streets, focusing only on the car ahead of me. Anytime I started to travel down an avenue of thought, I'd make a turn, or speed up, or hit the brakes: anything to keep my mind distracted. It was sweltering outside, but I'd turn the heat on for minutes at a time until I felt drenched, then toggle max AC until I was cool, then back to heat. I repeated the basic driving tenet "10 and 2", "10 and 2", "10 and 2" like a mantra—a chant to focus my attention on a single point, and then I pictured that point disappearing. I began to think that maybe I wanted to disappear.
I fully intended to keep going that way until 1:00, but after about thirty minutes, my meandering route had led me to St. Mark's Catholic Church, where a large group of people were gathered around a long line of tables in front of the building. I slowed down. At the front of the venue was a large, white cardboard sign which read, "Plant a Seed, Share the Joy". I wasn't sure what that meant, but my boredom had come to a head, and I rationalized that if there's any place on God's green earth that would be safe, it was this one. I parked along the closest side-street, then walked over to the church.
Rows of white tables were covered with cardboard boxes filled with small plants that were wrapped up in individual paper pots. I watched from a distance as people behind the tables carefully removed the plants, one by one, and offered them to passersby. I continued down the line, a sheep in the herd, and allowed myself to sink into childhood memories. I had somehow made it out the other end near the Narthex when I heard a woman's voice call to me.
"Hey, deary, have you gotten one yet?"
I turned and saw a small, gray-haired lady with rose-colored glasses. "Oh, no," I started, attempting to decline, then paused. The old lady grabbed one of the plants and held it out for me.
"Here," she said. "Come on, I won't bite."
As far as you know, I thought, and stumbled forward with a sigh. "Thanks," I said and took the plant. "What is this all for, anyway?"
"It's a giveaway," the old woman responded. "Staff have been growing these plants—tomatoes and garlic, mainly—so they could offer them to members of the Parish. The idea is to have the members grow the produce, then donate it to St. Mark's Food Pantry to give to those in need."
"Oh, that's actually pretty cool." I replied and inspected my plant which was at present nothing more than a small green stem. "So which kind is this one?"
"That one is—" the old lady stopped and inspected the other plants near where she had grabbed mine—"tomato."
"Tomato," I repeated. "Well, thanks again."
"Of course, dear." the old lady beamed. "We're all responsible for each other."
I nodded, then continued back through the crowd toward my car when, through the large vestibule windows, I saw a Priest speaking to a young couple. It had been a little over a decade since I had attended a service (I stopped going during High School when I started studying other religions), and I didn't recognize this Priest. He was short (just over five feet tall), bald, and African American. He wore the customary black robe and white collar, and there was something in his smile and the way seemed to be affirming the couple that made me yearn to speak with him. I considered for a moment, a bit embarrassed to be stepping back into church after all this time, but the thought of being able to burn ten minutes talking with someone who might have some insight into my situation was too tempting to pass up.
I waited near a portrait of Mary Magdalene, my tomato plant in hand, staring off at the pristine series of stained glass images portraying the death and resurrection of Jesus. About a minute in, the Priest met my eyes; he smiled, his way of telling me he knew I was waiting, then finished up with the couple and made his way over. He had a bit of an accent when he spoke—it was Ugandan, from best I could tell—and a proclivity for laughing at the end of his sentences.
"Hello, Miss, I don't believe I've had the privilege," he said and held out his hand. He leaned in as he spoke, and his smile tugged on the corners of his eyes which were already marked with use.
I shook his hand and returned what I'm sure was a weak smile. "No, I don't think so. My name's Lauren. I used to come here when I was little. It's—been a while."
"Well, I see you picked a good day to visit. If you're into gardening, that is." He remarked with a laugh and gestured toward the plant. "It's nice to meet you, Lauren. My name's Martin—Father Martin, if you prefer."
"Father Martin," I repeated, "I have a friend named Martin. It's a good name."
He laughed and said, "Thank you, I'll pass that one along to my mother. She loves the praise."
I laughed back. He carried himself in such a carefree way that I was put immediately at ease. Almost to the point where I forgot what I wanted to talk to him about. "Um," I started, attempting to word my question in a way that didn't sound like I needed psychiatric help. "I have a couple of religious questions for you, if you have time."
"That's what I'm for. Ask away."
"They're about… miracles. Like the ones in the Bible. I was wondering, do you think that miracles still happen today?"
"Miracles, huh," he started. "You mean like water into wine?"
"Kind of, yeah,"
"Hmm…" he contemplated. "Well, I haven't seen them, myself. You know, I may be a Priest, but I also have a degree in Physics. I think God made the world according to laws, right? But I do think God has the power to intervene. Yes. I just have never seen it… like … you know, the biblical type of miracles. To me, there are miracles happening all around us—miracles we can't see."
"Exactly," I responded, thinking about how no one else could see the blinks, "those kinds of miracles. What are those miracles we can't see?"
One of Father Martin's eyebrows raised and he rubbed his chin. "Well, I think the greatest miracle is the miracle of God's love which was perfected in Christ and offered to each of us. It's his power to heal even the most troubled mind. By coming into alignment with God's will for us, we can see the true purpose of this existence."
No, he's not getting it, I thought. I scrambled to my other entry-point. "What about the story of Job? God made a bet with the Devil that Job would stay faithful to him no matter what the Devil did to him. Do you think that kind of situation is possible?"
Father Martin's expression drooped into a concerned frown. "There's quite the difference between miracles and the story of Job. I suppose I see what you're getting at, though. Job's suffering is in some ways the antithesis to positive miracles. In this life, we are tested, sometimes to the point of losing everything, but even that person who has more reason to hate God than anyone else can once again find peace and eternal happiness through faith. In fact, it's often the person who is lowest in the pit of suffering that needs the Light of Christ more than anyone else."
I thought back on the first night that I prayed. It was in my moment of greatest helplessness that I reached out to God, and I thought I had found my answer in Him. But now, after what happened last night, after all these years of chaos—not merely losing things that were important to me, but my very sanity—I needed more than just blind faith. I couldn't just sit idly by and hope things would get better. I smiled at the Priest and said, "Thank you, Father, this has been very insightful."
"Of course, sister. I'm sorry if I couldn't have been of more help."
"No, I think I understand now. I've been… wrestling with something, and I think God wants me to confront it. I think I've been running away and hiding from it for so long that I'd convinced myself it disappeared."
Father Martin nodded in understanding. "Well, in that case, will you let me leave you with a prayer?"
I was a bit taken off guard by the request, but I accepted. "Sure, Father."
I watched as he made the sign of the cross, then he lifted his hands and closed his eyes. "Dear God, I am so happy to have had the privilege of meeting with Lauren today, especially on a day such as this where we are offering gifts for those who need them. You have heard her desire to confront the things that are troubling her. I ask that you bless her with strength and peace and a clear conscience, that she may overcome these challenges. God, bless us with your spirit, that we may see your hand in our lives. Amen."
"Amen," I said.
As I was leaving, Father Martin called out to me and said, "Oh, just so you know, this Friday at 7 we are having a barbecue at the Parish Center. I would love to see you there, if you're able and wanting."
Turning back, I smiled and said, "Oh, ok, thanks Father. I'll think about it."
The priest nodded, and with a smile, he sent me off.
***
I walked into the Deli at 1:00 on the dot. The customers who had arrived for the lunch rush were already cleaning up their trash and heading out. I dodged past a few of them on my way down the long, narrow path leading to the front counter. While I waited behind a couple of elderly folk who were picking which soup they wanted to pair with their Ultimate Grilled Cheese, I looked around for Trent. He hadn't sent me a picture or any way of contacting him throughout the day, so I wasn't sure what I was looking for, but I figured I'd see some man half-hidden behind a newspaper, scouting me out. Maybe I watch too many movies, I thought.
"Ahem, ma'am. You're up." croaked the teenager behind the register.
"Oh, right, sorry" I replied and stepped up to the counter. "Uhh," I muttered, scanning the menu for something that looked edible. "Could I just get…" I made sure to mouth every syllable as they were words of their own.
"We have a deal—the try two combo. Sandwich and a soup for $9.99." the cashier repeated for what was probably the fiftieth time that day.
"Yes, that sounds good. I'll do the Italian sandwich and potato soup. And a drink, please."
After I paid for the food, I wandered around the tables, hoping to find someone who looked like a Trent. I was picturing a short guy, runner's build, with long brown hair, tucked somewhere neatly away in the corner. So I was not prepared when the Hulk's stunt double growled my name from a table smack dab in the middle of the restaurant. He had a pale, square face that was spotted with freckles and a sinking property that comes with the lethal combination of stress and age. His hair was relatively short. Probably it was brown or auburn, but since it was slicked back, it looked almost black. And he wore what looked like janitor coveralls. There was even a cloth tag pinned to his chest which read, "Trent".
"Lauren?" He repeated.
"Yes, that's me." I said and took a seat across from him. I saw a brown tray on the table in front of him, and on the tray was a large, white soup bowl. It was empty and beginning to crust along the edges. He must have been here for some time already. "I didn't know where you'd be, so I was worried we might miss each other. I'm glad you found me though." I said while looking over Trent more thoroughly. His large hands were stretched out in front of him on the table. He wasn't wearing a ring, so he probably wasn't married. And his face, it was stern. He seemed like a no-bullshit kind of guy. Then I saw his eyes. They were sapphire blue—probably the most stunning I'd ever seen.
"We only spoke on the internet, so I hope you don't mind, but I usually run a preliminary test on anyone I meet who claims to have abilities such as yours." Trent said while reaching into his pocket and removing a device that had the size and shape of an electric razor. "All you have to do is look into it. It takes maybe five seconds. Ten at most."
"Oh, um, sure," I said reluctantly. "Do I just—" I asked while reaching for the device.
Trent clicked a button and released the cylindrical head which opened, revealing a glass circle about the size of an iris. "I'll hold it, just look into the center. A red cross should appear, then it'll take the picture."
"Okay…" I replied and did as he instructed, leaning my head forward to look into the device. Sure enough, a red cross appeared. "Is it…" was all I got out before the light turned blue and I saw a gray fog disperse and billow throughout the inside of the tube, extending for what I perceived to be miles. My jaw went slack and I couldn't breathe for maybe five seconds. Then Trent reshuttered the device and turned it over.
"Damn, 72." He said with a hint of shock. "That's the highest I've scanned to date." He looked back at me, more relaxed now, and muttered to himself. "How have you been able to function for this long? At this level, you should basically be half in, half out."
I rubbed my forehead, feeling a mixture of pain and frustration and fatigue and impatience which all poured out at once. "Listen, Trent," I said as sternly as I could, "I came here because you said you knew what was wrong with me and that you could help me. I get you have to make sure I am who I said I am, but now it's your turn to pay up. How do I know you know anything about my condition? You said my mom might still be alive. What does that even mean? I saw her die right in front of me. I want answers."
I waited for Trent to respond, but he only lifted his head. I turned around and saw a girl holding a tray of food.
"Um, hi, sorry to interrupt. I have an order 36 for Lauren."
"Oh, yes, thank you." I said. The worker placed the tray down on the table in front of me, and when I saw the food, I suddenly realized how hungry I was. Trent must have also realized this, because he folded his arms and said, "go ahead and eat. I'll explain while you do."
I wanted to protest, but my salivating mouth made other plans. "Fine," I said. I grabbed the metal spoon off the tray and started on the soup, bracing against the steaming heat of the potato chunks.
As I ate, Trent moved all of the items on his tray off to the side, then he flipped the tray over so it was raised slightly off the table. He took his cup and placed it face down in the center, then he rolled up a few of his used, blue mayonnaise packets and charted a track across the tray.
"What are you doing?" I croaked out between bites.
Trent ignored me and continued by ripping up a napkin into strips and placing them alongside the mayonnaise packets. Finally, he snapped ten toothpicks in half and stuck them in the tomb of a dozen overlayed napkins. "It's your diorama," he said at last.
"It's my what?"
"From the story you sent me. Your diorama. When I read about it, it gave me a good idea of how to explain the 'blinking'."
I pointed at the cup in the center. "Is that supposed to be a pyramid? Because I'm pretty sure you're in the wrong geometric neighborhood with that one."
"It's an analogy," he said.
"Of an analogy," I quipped back.
"Look," he picked out one of the toothpicks and held it out in front of me. "This could be a person, an animal, a crowbar—whatever you want. The point is, this diorama is a stand in for our universe. This is everything that exists, that we can see. Okay?"
"Okay,"
"Now, me," Trent placed a hand over his heart. "I'm not in the diorama. I don't exist in the universe."
"In the universe where a cup is a pyramid, or the actual universe?" I said, unable to control myself.
Trent grimaced.
"Sorry, keep going. I get it."
"Things pop into," Trent threw the toothpick back onto the tray, "or out of," he picked the toothpick back up, "our universe at will, based on forces," he patted his chest again, "that exist in other realms" he gestured to the room, "that are connected to our universe," he tapped two fingers against the tray. "These things could be objects, like, say, a toothpick, or entities, like the one you encountered yesterday. The blinking experience that you described aligns with the typical experience of a moderate Antenna. That's what I call people like us—Antennas; because we can pick up on signals others can't."
"We—you mean you see the blinking, too?"
"Yes, but not to the same extent as you. If all the blinks are gathered in a giant picture that you can see, I'm traversing the image through binoculars, maybe even a microscope, depending on where we are."
I thought about this. I guess it was possible there were other people like me out there, but since I had never met anyone, I didn't really consider the idea until now. And then for him to say my ability was somehow much stronger than his… "But," I started, "I haven't even seen that many blinks since I was a child. It's just more focused and malicious now."
"Yeah," Trent scratched his head, "that's the thing that got me really interested in you. Somehow you seem to be able to control it without gear, just by praying. And, look, that's all well and good, but I don't want to give you the false impression that I'm some kind of religious leader. I like to look for logical, scientific explanations for things. So that's the frame I'm coming at this from."
I took a sip from my drink. "That's fine," I said, "the truth is that's why I reached out to you in the first place. I wanted an explanation I could understand. An explanation that was directly related to what I'm going through."
"Then we should get along just fine."
I was scooping out the last potato that was stubbornly gliding along the bottom of the bowl when, out of the corner of my eye, I caught a glimpse of the old man from the line shooting up from his bench and standing in army-erect form. I felt a tingling sensation tickle the back of my neck. I didn't want to turn toward him. I knew what I'd see if I did. "Trent," I whispered, trying to tip him off.
"Huh?" he grunted. Then when he saw my expression, he snuck his right hand under the table and said, "Do you see it? Is it here?"
I cocked my head to the left, signaling toward the old man that was now facing us, but Trent didn't seem to notice him: his eyes just kept scanning the entire front of the restaurant. Then I saw the old man take a step in our direction.
"Lauuurennnn, oh Lauuuurennnn, I've been looking for you, Laurenn." The old man said in a low, gravelly voice that gave the impression he was gurgling liquid tar. I turned and saw his face. It was cold and expressionless, and a butter knife was poking out of his left fist. When I met his eyes, he smiled that horrible smile."You're a slippery bitch, you know that?" He spat. "Why can't you just stay put? Don't you get tired of running from your old friend? Or have you forgotten about me?"
"Trent," I mumbled out. "Right there."
"And this guy. You think he can help you? He's only here to help himself. If that's not clear, you really are a lost little lamb."
"Quick, give me your hand," Trent instructed.
I was silent, my eyes still pinned to the old man.
"Tsk-tsk-tsk," the demon possessed senior wagged his finger at me, taking a step, then another step, shortening the distance as much as he could while I was entranced. Then, suddenly, he sprinted forward at a speed that shouldn't have been possible for a man his age.
"Trent!" I screamed.
"Lauren, give me your hand!"
I spun around and grabbed Tren'ts outstretched arm just as the old man lifted the butter knife over his head like a pickaxe. Then I saw Trent pull out what looked like a toy gun from under the table and point it at the demon.
"Got you," Trent remarked. I braced for a gunshot, but there was no noise. After a couple seconds, I looked back and saw the old man sitting in the booth opposite his wife, his hand tremoring as he reached for his large drink.
"What did you?" I asked, but Trent was already pulling me out of my seat. "Come on, we have to go," he said, "the effect is temporary, he'll be—"
Before he could get out the last word, I saw the cup-pyramid on Trent's tray blink out of existence. The sound of a plate shattering rang out from a table up ahead. The lone woman standing there slowly turned around, smiling, with a fork in one hand and a piece of the broken plate in the other. Trent shot her with the toy gun as we ran past and then barreled through the front door.
"Where—are we going?" I asked between gasps.
"My van. It's loaded with kit."
"And then where?"
"Your house" replied Trent who stashed his gun back in his pocket and took out a key fob.
"My house? But that's where he—it appeared."
"Yeah, and that's where you banished it."
Trent waved me into the passenger seat of his RAM 3500 Promaster. I noticed right away the dash which looked more like it belonged in a new limited-edition EV than a cargo van. The ignition kicked on automatically, and I heard the beep of a sonar ping precede an English woman's voice calling out like some auxed-in GPS saying, "scanning for anomalies". Trent shifted the van into gear, and I heard the wheels sputter as we accelerated backward and whipped out of the small parking lot.
"What's your address?" Trent asked. I gave it to him, and then speaking to his dash, he said, "Car, take us to ****."
"Redirecting to ****," replied the British woman. "Currently detecting 31 novel emergences. Updating pings every 300 milliseconds. Chance of contact: 0.23%"
"What does that mean?" I asked.
"The van has sensor equipment which can detect blinks. It's much more accurate than either of us."
"And it sees 31?"
"Yes, that's not as many as it sounds." Trent said and tore past a car that blinked out of existence right as we turned onto the main street.
We drove on for another couple minutes, the Englishwoman updating the number of novel emergences every ten seconds or so. Her constant babbling eventually became a comforting background noise, and I was able to think again.
"In the message you sent me, you said my mom may still be alive." I looked at Trent to see if he would react to me bringing her up, but he remained stolid. "What did you mean by that?"
Trent thumbed his steering wheel. "I shouldn't have sent that." He said at last.
"Shouldn't have… What do you mean? You can't just say that now."
Trent took one hand off the wheel and turned toward me. "Look, we're going back to your house because we need to determine your origin point. All Antennas have them. It's a place of high energy where many realms intersect, kind of like a station, and it's the place where you first acquired your abilities. Based on everything you wrote, I'm guessing that place is where the forest where the accident happened when you were a young child. But I need to confirm it. Once I confirm that that's the place…" Trent hesitated.
"Then… what? You want us to go back there? To the place where my mom died, or at least where I think she died until you told me she might be alive but are now taking it back? That place?"
"It's the only way to—"
"Now detecting novel agent," the Englishwoman interrupted. We both perked up as she gave another update. "Net anomalies: 437. Novel Agents: 1. Chance of contact: 78%."
"Shit," Trent muttered. "Car, course correct."
"Attempting course correct to avoid collision. Attempts made: 10, 50, 75, 79… No alternate route detected. Chance of contact: 96%."
"Time until contact?"
"Time until contact: 13 seconds."
I shuddered. Looking out the front windshield, I saw cars pop out of existence left and right, opening up a clear path to the four way intersection ahead. In a blink, the streetlights all turned green, and then they vanished completely. It was as if the entire world was being stripped down bare, and all that remained was the road, boxed in by the rows of buildings along either side. In the distance I could see a large tanker barreling toward us.
"Trent,"
"I know," he replied and clicked a different button on the console which opened a new toggle for the shifter labeled "TD". He pushed the stick forward, engaging the new mode, then pressed the accelerator all the way to the ground. "You're going to want to hold on."
"What are you doing!?" I yelled, grabbing onto my seatbelt.
"No time to explain. Car, release phase lock."
"Phase lock released."
I watched in horror as the color drained from the road and buildings and sky, transforming it all into a dim tunnel, with only the headlights of the oncoming semi-truck visible up ahead. I had the sudden thought that this was all a dream, just like the ones from my childhood. I looked over and no longer saw Trent, but my mother. And then I realized this wasn't a dream. This was hell. I was being forced to relive the worst moment of my life, over and over again. Just when I thought I had escaped, I was pulled right back into that car, helpless as we approached but never arrived at our impending fate. I closed my eyes right as the lights engulfed the windshield and braced for the usual pain in my chest, for the feeling of breaking.
But it didn't come.
"Shift" was the last word out of Trent's mouth, and then I was infused with the sensation of being at the pinnacle of a roller coaster. I was suspended there for what felt like hours, but somehow I knew that not even a second had passed. Everything inside the van: the dashboard, windows, ceiling, doors, even Trent himself began to radiate enigmatic particles. They were a mass of constant motion, like raindrops falling through the air but never landing. I looked down at my hand, but it was gone. Diffused into an unknowable number of untraceable particles. The world outside, once devoid of color, was now nothing but color. When I tried to focus on a particular spot in the infinite geometric folds of whatever realm we were traversing through, I could sometimes detect a trace of our world.
The old lady from the church. She appeared as if through a window, standing behind a table, holding out a plant. Only this image was so much brighter. And the plant she was holding was pure gold. Then I'd catch a glimpse of the razor blade. It was large, many hundreds of times larger than the van, and surrounded by darkness. These ghostly images appeared like holograms or reflections that caught the light at just the right angle, then dissipated.
I stayed there, looping between the archetypes of my life for a long, long time.
***
I knew we were returning when I felt the first sense of motion. Breath filled my lungs for the first time in what felt like a day. I blinked. And then we were back in town, driving down the same road with the blue sky above. People were jogging on the sidewalk past the little street shops. The streetlights were active. I checked the side mirror and saw the tanker had just passed by.
I looked over at Trent, who met my eyes. We shared a look of knowing, and unknowing. For some reason, that was enough, and we continued on in silence.
***
We agreed to stay the night at my house.
Trent had parked a couple blocks away in front of a couple vacant houses so as not to arouse suspicion from the neighbors. Then he lugged a large duffel bag with his equipment in and set it up in the living room. He scanned the scrapbook which contained the newspaper clippings from the accident several times and confirmed that was likely my 'origin point'. I simply nodded and then went back out onto the back porch. I sat there for hours, basking in the sun. Something had changed in the past day, but I couldn't pick out what it was. Too much had happened. I had too little time to process any of it.
When the sun set, I went inside and Trent told me about his plans for the next couple days. He said he needed to run a few errands in the morning, then meet up with a couple of his associates. After that, we could begin our drive to Southern Illinois. He said it was likely that the entity that was chasing me had first tied itself to me during my childhood accident. For whatever reason, we came into contact, and now it didn't want to leave. Trent would help me get rid of it. He didn't go into many details regarding how that was to happen, but I don't think in my tired state I would have been able to understand much anyway. He had a plan, and that was enough for me. At least for a while.
After our meeting, I made sure Trent had enough pillows and blankets like a proper host, then I retired to my room. I laid down on my twin bed and stared up at the cream-colored ceiling. Then I turned and saw the participation awards for my junior soccer league stashed on my dresser. I pictured myself on the field, running with the ball, out ahead of everyone except the goalie. I took a shot, but it was blocked. Then I ran back to defend. How can such a simple game be so much fun? Was the last thought I had before drifting off to sleep.
I woke up only once during the night. It was still dark out. The room was warm despite the small, flower petal fan churning away, shifting the hot, humid air from one pocket of the room to the next. I waited in apprehension, sensing that something had disturbed me. I saw the tomato plushie peeking out at me from the slightly ajar closet door where I had stashed it so many years ago. I felt like I was missing something. Something important.
And then I heard it.
There was a tapping at my window.

Part 1
First of all, I wanted to thank everyone for their kind words and support from the last post. A lot has happened since then, and a bunch of context is needed, so I hope you'll bear with me as I explain the details.
***
Back during the peak of the blinking crisis, I remember having a lot of difficulty sleeping. It was common for me to average only four or five hours a night, and the little sleep I did get was marred by terrible nightmares. One in particular recurred many times.
I was only eight, but somehow I was in the driver's seat of our family's old SUV. My arms were long enough to steady the wheel, but my legs didn't quite meet the pedals. It didn't matter though, since the car seemed content to continue on at a constant pace. I looked over and saw my mom in the passenger seat. Her face was a blurry likeness pieced together from the dozen or so picture's I'd seen of her over the years. I tried to bring her into focus, not only because I missed her dearly, but because she was speaking—pleading, even. She waved frantically at me, then brought her leg up and slammed it down on the floor mat several times. I didn't understand what had her so upset until she pointed out the front windshield, and I saw we were hurdling directly toward a giant tree that had fallen in the middle of the road.
Panicking, I stomped for the brake, but my seatbelt protested and pulled me back like an invigorated dog on a short leash. I sat up and tried clicking it off, but it wouldn't budge. My breaths became hollow cries, and I felt my heart beat against the bars of its bony prison. I grabbed the steering wheel and pulled it to the left, then right, attempting to swerve off the road, but it was as if whatever kind of glue was locking up the seatbelt was also fixing the steering wheel in place.
"Mom! what do I do!?" I yelled, tears streaming from my eyes. She was yelling back at me, but it was as if there was a divider between us, and neither of us could hear each other. I turned back just in time to see the giant Oak tree meet the front bumper, and then I jolted awake with a piercing pain in my chest that radiated up through my throat in the form of a giant scream. My little legs kicked under the covers and tears rained down on my pillow until my dad ran in and knelt at my bed.
"Lauren, are you okay? Did you have a bad dream?"
I grabbed my pillow and hugged it so my face was covered, then effused a "Mmm-hmm" in a long wheeze while rocking to either side.
"Oh, honey," he soothed and brushed my hair, then the tears from my face when I would allow it.
Time would pass in silence, and when I began to get the sense that my dad was ready to leave, I'd chirp out, "stay" in that way children do when they're embarrassed about wanting something.
"Always," my dad would reply; then he'd post up on the floor with my large tomato plushie as a pillow.
One night in particular, it was deep in the night, and I had woken to a tapping sound outside my window. I was so afraid that a monster had snuck into my room while I wasn't looking that I made him lay next to me and face outward. I'd peek my eyes open every minute or so to check and make sure my dad was there, staking out the room. Eventually, he rolled in close and said something that I still remember to this day.
"Hey, baby, guess what." he whispered.
"Mmm" I mumbled.
"I think you scared the monster away."
I tried to picture this through the fog of my fatigue. Something seemed off about the statement, like it wasn't logically possible, but before I could piece together the words to express that, my dad cut back in.
"It was scared because it realized you're a superhero. And you know what your greatest superpower is?"
I shook my head, making sure to rub my forehead against his shoulder so he could sense it in the dark room.
"You're greatest power is that you get to tell the monsters what to do. Because the monsters are only as strong as the stories you tell about them. And there's all kinds of stories. Happy ones. Sad ones. Scary ones. Tell me, this monster you think snuck in, would you say he's part of a scary story?"
"I don't know," I said, confused. "Maybe"
"Hmm," he hummed, contemplating. "Well, I want you to remember this. You have the ability to tell any kind of story you want. Maybe there are monsters, but that means there's heroes and angels, too, right?"
I was beginning to doze off to the comforting sound of my dad's deep voice, but I gave another affirmative "Mm-hmm".
"So, if you're ever scared, honey, just dream up a better story. A story that will bring you peace. Do you understand?"
But I was already out.
***
I woke up the next morning to the feeling that someone was in the hotel room with me. The drapes were drawn and the only sound was the AC unit blowing cold air, but when I looked toward the dark corner of the empty coat rack, my mind conjured the face of my dad, smiling at me, chanting that same, awful line—Oh, Lauren… you know who we are.
I was no longer a child, but it took a couple minutes of cold focus before I muscled the courage to ascend from the safety of my covers and flick on the lamp light. The small amber radius extended to where my dad's feet would have been if he was standing there. But there was no one. I let out a sigh and collapsed back onto the mattress, thinking back on all those years growing up. The same man who had helped me conquer my fear of the dark was now the monster hiding in its shadow.
I looked over my shoulder and saw the clock read 10:15. My meeting with Trent was in three hours. I moaned and stretched my arms back until they knocked against the headboard, then I collapsed back onto the mattress, meditating, gathering energy like a compressed spring. All at once, I jumped up and glided over to the drapes, opening them in a single, fluid motion. I grimaced at the sunlight, but the warmth felt good against my face. I stopped by the nightstand and gulped down the final few swigs of a bottle of Mello Yello that I had purchased from a vending machine the previous night, then undressed and hopped in the shower.
The warm water wasn't enough to wash away the previous night's memories. When I closed my eyes to lather my hair, I was back in my living room, standing opposite the demon that had taken on my dad's form. His smile. His laugh. It was like someone in my head was flipping a switch between the man I loved growing up and a terrible monster. But the fear was more powerful. I heard something drop onto the tile floor on the other side of the curtain. The noise made me gasp, and I opened my eyes while shampoo was still streaming down my face. I swiped the shampoo out of my now burning eyes and squinted at the curtain, trying to see through it, but I couldn't make anything out. "I-is anyone," I started, trembling, afraid to finish the sentence. I reached out and pinched the end of the curtain. My heart was in overdrive. I swallowed, then pulled it toward me and peeked out. I scanned the room, but I couldn't see anything out of place.
It wasn't until after I finished showering and wound myself up in one of the hotel's too-small towels that I saw what had made the noise. I bent down and picked up the stub of a razor blade that had fallen onto the tile right next to the puffy, gray shower rug. It wasn't mine, and I was pretty sure hotels didn't keep unguarded razor blades just laying around. When I held it up, it occurred to me that if it had simply fallen a few inches to the left, it would have been buried in the rug, and perhaps I would have stepped on it. I stared at myself in its steely reflection. Cold. Lonely. Small. What if I—was all I was able to think before the blade blinked out of my hand.
I threw on some clothes, packed up the few belongings I had into my purse, then checked out of my room. I didn't feel safe going back home after what happened, but I also didn't want to go anywhere else. I got in my car and drove aimlessly up and down the town's streets, focusing only on the car ahead of me. Anytime I started to travel down an avenue of thought, I'd make a turn, or speed up, or hit the brakes: anything to keep my mind distracted. It was sweltering outside, but I'd turn the heat on for minutes at a time until I felt drenched, then toggle max AC until I was cool, then back to heat. I repeated the basic driving tenet "10 and 2", "10 and 2", "10 and 2" like a mantra—a chant to focus my attention on a single point, and then I pictured that point disappearing. I began to think that maybe I wanted to disappear.
I fully intended to keep going that way until 1:00, but after about thirty minutes, my meandering route had led me to St. Mark's Catholic Church, where a large group of people were gathered around a long line of tables in front of the building. I slowed down. At the front of the venue was a large, white cardboard sign which read, "Plant a Seed, Share the Joy". I wasn't sure what that meant, but my boredom had come to a head, and I rationalized that if there's any place on God's green earth that would be safe, it was this one. I parked along the closest side-street, then walked over to the church.
Rows of white tables were covered with cardboard boxes filled with small plants that were wrapped up in individual paper pots. I watched from a distance as people behind the tables carefully removed the plants, one by one, and offered them to passersby. I continued down the line, a sheep in the herd, and allowed myself to sink into childhood memories. I had somehow made it out the other end near the Narthex when I heard a woman's voice call to me.
"Hey, deary, have you gotten one yet?"
I turned and saw a small, gray-haired lady with rose-colored glasses. "Oh, no," I started, attempting to decline, then paused. The old lady grabbed one of the plants and held it out for me.
"Here," she said. "Come on, I won't bite."
As far as you know, I thought, and stumbled forward with a sigh. "Thanks," I said and took the plant. "What is this all for, anyway?"
"It's a giveaway," the old woman responded. "Staff have been growing these plants—tomatoes and garlic, mainly—so they could offer them to members of the Parish. The idea is to have the members grow the produce, then donate it to St. Mark's Food Pantry to give to those in need."
"Oh, that's actually pretty cool." I replied and inspected my plant which was at present nothing more than a small green stem. "So which kind is this one?"
"That one is—" the old lady stopped and inspected the other plants near where she had grabbed mine—"tomato."
"Tomato," I repeated. "Well, thanks again."
"Of course, dear." the old lady beamed. "We're all responsible for each other."
I nodded, then continued back through the crowd toward my car when, through the large vestibule windows, I saw a Priest speaking to a young couple. It had been a little over a decade since I had attended a service (I stopped going during High School when I started studying other religions), and I didn't recognize this Priest. He was short (just over five feet tall), bald, and African American. He wore the customary black robe and white collar, and there was something in his smile and the way seemed to be affirming the couple that made me yearn to speak with him. I considered for a moment, a bit embarrassed to be stepping back into church after all this time, but the thought of being able to burn ten minutes talking with someone who might have some insight into my situation was too tempting to pass up.
I waited near a portrait of Mary Magdalene, my tomato plant in hand, staring off at the pristine series of stained glass images portraying the death and resurrection of Jesus. About a minute in, the Priest met my eyes; he smiled, his way of telling me he knew I was waiting, then finished up with the couple and made his way over. He had a bit of an accent when he spoke—it was Ugandan, from best I could tell—and a proclivity for laughing at the end of his sentences.
"Hello, Miss, I don't believe I've had the privilege," he said and held out his hand. He leaned in as he spoke, and his smile tugged on the corners of his eyes which were already marked with use.
I shook his hand and returned what I'm sure was a weak smile. "No, I don't think so. My name's Lauren. I used to come here when I was little. It's—been a while."
"Well, I see you picked a good day to visit. If you're into gardening, that is." He remarked with a laugh and gestured toward the plant. "It's nice to meet you, Lauren. My name's Martin—Father Martin, if you prefer."
"Father Martin," I repeated, "I have a friend named Martin. It's a good name."
He laughed and said, "Thank you, I'll pass that one along to my mother. She loves the praise."
I laughed back. He carried himself in such a carefree way that I was put immediately at ease. Almost to the point where I forgot what I wanted to talk to him about. "Um," I started, attempting to word my question in a way that didn't sound like I needed psychiatric help. "I have a couple of religious questions for you, if you have time."
"That's what I'm for. Ask away."
"They're about… miracles. Like the ones in the Bible. I was wondering, do you think that miracles still happen today?"
"Miracles, huh," he started. "You mean like water into wine?"
"Kind of, yeah,"
"Hmm…" he contemplated. "Well, I haven't seen them, myself. You know, I may be a Priest, but I also have a degree in Physics. I think God made the world according to laws, right? But I do think God has the power to intervene. Yes. I just have never seen it… like … you know, the biblical type of miracles. To me, there are miracles happening all around us—miracles we can't see."
"Exactly," I responded, thinking about how no one else could see the blinks, "those kinds of miracles. What are those miracles we can't see?"
One of Father Martin's eyebrows raised and he rubbed his chin. "Well, I think the greatest miracle is the miracle of God's love which was perfected in Christ and offered to each of us. It's his power to heal even the most troubled mind. By coming into alignment with God's will for us, we can see the true purpose of this existence."
No, he's not getting it, I thought. I scrambled to my other entry-point. "What about the story of Job? God made a bet with the Devil that Job would stay faithful to him no matter what the Devil did to him. Do you think that kind of situation is possible?"
Father Martin's expression drooped into a concerned frown. "There's quite the difference between miracles and the story of Job. I suppose I see what you're getting at, though. Job's suffering is in some ways the antithesis to positive miracles. In this life, we are tested, sometimes to the point of losing everything, but even that person who has more reason to hate God than anyone else can once again find peace and eternal happiness through faith. In fact, it's often the person who is lowest in the pit of suffering that needs the Light of Christ more than anyone else."
I thought back on the first night that I prayed. It was in my moment of greatest helplessness that I reached out to God, and I thought I had found my answer in Him. But now, after what happened last night, after all these years of chaos—not merely losing things that were important to me, but my very sanity—I needed more than just blind faith. I couldn't just sit idly by and hope things would get better. I smiled at the Priest and said, "Thank you, Father, this has been very insightful."
"Of course, sister. I'm sorry if I couldn't have been of more help."
"No, I think I understand now. I've been… wrestling with something, and I think God wants me to confront it. I think I've been running away and hiding from it for so long that I'd convinced myself it disappeared."
Father Martin nodded in understanding. "Well, in that case, will you let me leave you with a prayer?"
I was a bit taken off guard by the request, but I accepted. "Sure, Father."
I watched as he made the sign of the cross, then he lifted his hands and closed his eyes. "Dear God, I am so happy to have had the privilege of meeting with Lauren today, especially on a day such as this where we are offering gifts for those who need them. You have heard her desire to confront the things that are troubling her. I ask that you bless her with strength and peace and a clear conscience, that she may overcome these challenges. God, bless us with your spirit, that we may see your hand in our lives. Amen."
"Amen," I said.
As I was leaving, Father Martin called out to me and said, "Oh, just so you know, this Friday at 7 we are having a barbecue at the Parish Center. I would love to see you there, if you're able and wanting."
Turning back, I smiled and said, "Oh, ok, thanks Father. I'll think about it."
The priest nodded, and with a smile, he sent me off.
***
I walked into the Deli at 1:00 on the dot. The customers who had arrived for the lunch rush were already cleaning up their trash and heading out. I dodged past a few of them on my way down the long, narrow path leading to the front counter. While I waited behind a couple of elderly folk who were picking which soup they wanted to pair with their Ultimate Grilled Cheese, I looked around for Trent. He hadn't sent me a picture or any way of contacting him throughout the day, so I wasn't sure what I was looking for, but I figured I'd see some man half-hidden behind a newspaper, scouting me out. Maybe I watch too many movies, I thought.
"Ahem, ma'am. You're up." croaked the teenager behind the register.
"Oh, right, sorry" I replied and stepped up to the counter. "Uhh," I muttered, scanning the menu for something that looked edible. "Could I just get…" I made sure to mouth every syllable as they were words of their own.
"We have a deal—the try two combo. Sandwich and a soup for $9.99." the cashier repeated for what was probably the fiftieth time that day.
"Yes, that sounds good. I'll do the Italian sandwich and potato soup. And a drink, please."
After I paid for the food, I wandered around the tables, hoping to find someone who looked like a Trent. I was picturing a short guy, runner's build, with long brown hair, tucked somewhere neatly away in the corner. So I was not prepared when the Hulk's stunt double growled my name from a table smack dab in the middle of the restaurant. He had a pale, square face that was spotted with freckles and a sinking property that comes with the lethal combination of stress and age. His hair was relatively short. Probably it was brown or auburn, but since it was slicked back, it looked almost black. And he wore what looked like janitor coveralls. There was even a cloth tag pinned to his chest which read, "Trent".
"Lauren?" He repeated.
"Yes, that's me." I said and took a seat across from him. I saw a brown tray on the table in front of him, and on the tray was a large, white soup bowl. It was empty and beginning to crust along the edges. He must have been here for some time already. "I didn't know where you'd be, so I was worried we might miss each other. I'm glad you found me though." I said while looking over Trent more thoroughly. His large hands were stretched out in front of him on the table. He wasn't wearing a ring, so he probably wasn't married. And his face, it was stern. He seemed like a no-bullshit kind of guy. Then I saw his eyes. They were sapphire blue—probably the most stunning I'd ever seen.
"We only spoke on the internet, so I hope you don't mind, but I usually run a preliminary test on anyone I meet who claims to have abilities such as yours." Trent said while reaching into his pocket and removing a device that had the size and shape of an electric razor. "All you have to do is look into it. It takes maybe five seconds. Ten at most."
"Oh, um, sure," I said reluctantly. "Do I just—" I asked while reaching for the device.
Trent clicked a button and released the cylindrical head which opened, revealing a glass circle about the size of an iris. "I'll hold it, just look into the center. A red cross should appear, then it'll take the picture."
"Okay…" I replied and did as he instructed, leaning my head forward to look into the device. Sure enough, a red cross appeared. "Is it…" was all I got out before the light turned blue and I saw a gray fog disperse and billow throughout the inside of the tube, extending for what I perceived to be miles. My jaw went slack and I couldn't breathe for maybe five seconds. Then Trent reshuttered the device and turned it over.
"Damn, 72." He said with a hint of shock. "That's the highest I've scanned to date." He looked back at me, more relaxed now, and muttered to himself. "How have you been able to function for this long? At this level, you should basically be half in, half out."
I rubbed my forehead, feeling a mixture of pain and frustration and fatigue and impatience which all poured out at once. "Listen, Trent," I said as sternly as I could, "I came here because you said you knew what was wrong with me and that you could help me. I get you have to make sure I am who I said I am, but now it's your turn to pay up. How do I know you know anything about my condition? You said my mom might still be alive. What does that even mean? I saw her die right in front of me. I want answers."
I waited for Trent to respond, but he only lifted his head. I turned around and saw a girl holding a tray of food.
"Um, hi, sorry to interrupt. I have an order 36 for Lauren."
"Oh, yes, thank you." I said. The worker placed the tray down on the table in front of me, and when I saw the food, I suddenly realized how hungry I was. Trent must have also realized this, because he folded his arms and said, "go ahead and eat. I'll explain while you do."
I wanted to protest, but my salivating mouth made other plans. "Fine," I said. I grabbed the metal spoon off the tray and started on the soup, bracing against the steaming heat of the potato chunks.
As I ate, Trent moved all of the items on his tray off to the side, then he flipped the tray over so it was raised slightly off the table. He took his cup and placed it face down in the center, then he rolled up a few of his used, blue mayonnaise packets and charted a track across the tray.
"What are you doing?" I croaked out between bites.
Trent ignored me and continued by ripping up a napkin into strips and placing them alongside the mayonnaise packets. Finally, he snapped ten toothpicks in half and stuck them in the tomb of a dozen overlayed napkins. "It's your diorama," he said at last.
"It's my what?"
"From the story you sent me. Your diorama. When I read about it, it gave me a good idea of how to explain the 'blinking'."
I pointed at the cup in the center. "Is that supposed to be a pyramid? Because I'm pretty sure you're in the wrong geometric neighborhood with that one."
"It's an analogy," he said.
"Of an analogy," I quipped back.
"Look," he picked out one of the toothpicks and held it out in front of me. "This could be a person, an animal, a crowbar—whatever you want. The point is, this diorama is a stand in for our universe. This is everything that exists, that we can see. Okay?"
"Okay,"
"Now, me," Trent placed a hand over his heart. "I'm not in the diorama. I don't exist in the universe."
"In the universe where a cup is a pyramid, or the actual universe?" I said, unable to control myself.
Trent grimaced.
"Sorry, keep going. I get it."
"Things pop into," Trent threw the toothpick back onto the tray, "or out of," he picked the toothpick back up, "our universe at will, based on forces," he patted his chest again, "that exist in other realms" he gestured to the room, "that are connected to our universe," he tapped two fingers against the tray. "These things could be objects, like, say, a toothpick, or entities, like the one you encountered yesterday. The blinking experience that you described aligns with the typical experience of a moderate Antenna. That's what I call people like us—Antennas; because we can pick up on signals others can't."
"We—you mean you see the blinking, too?"
"Yes, but not to the same extent as you. If all the blinks are gathered in a giant picture that you can see, I'm traversing the image through binoculars, maybe even a microscope, depending on where we are."
I thought about this. I guess it was possible there were other people like me out there, but since I had never met anyone, I didn't really consider the idea until now. And then for him to say my ability was somehow much stronger than his… "But," I started, "I haven't even seen that many blinks since I was a child. It's just more focused and malicious now."
"Yeah," Trent scratched his head, "that's the thing that got me really interested in you. Somehow you seem to be able to control it without gear, just by praying. And, look, that's all well and good, but I don't want to give you the false impression that I'm some kind of religious leader. I like to look for logical, scientific explanations for things. So that's the frame I'm coming at this from."
I took a sip from my drink. "That's fine," I said, "the truth is that's why I reached out to you in the first place. I wanted an explanation I could understand. An explanation that was directly related to what I'm going through."
"Then we should get along just fine."
I was scooping out the last potato that was stubbornly gliding along the bottom of the bowl when, out of the corner of my eye, I caught a glimpse of the old man from the line shooting up from his bench and standing in army-erect form. I felt a tingling sensation tickle the back of my neck. I didn't want to turn toward him. I knew what I'd see if I did. "Trent," I whispered, trying to tip him off.
"Huh?" he grunted. Then when he saw my expression, he snuck his right hand under the table and said, "Do you see it? Is it here?"
I cocked my head to the left, signaling toward the old man that was now facing us, but Trent didn't seem to notice him: his eyes just kept scanning the entire front of the restaurant. Then I saw the old man take a step in our direction.
"Lauuurennnn, oh Lauuuurennnn, I've been looking for you, Laurenn." The old man said in a low, gravelly voice that gave the impression he was gurgling liquid tar. I turned and saw his face. It was cold and expressionless, and a butter knife was poking out of his left fist. When I met his eyes, he smiled that horrible smile."You're a slippery bitch, you know that?" He spat. "Why can't you just stay put? Don't you get tired of running from your old friend? Or have you forgotten about me?"
"Trent," I mumbled out. "Right there."
"And this guy. You think he can help you? He's only here to help himself. If that's not clear, you really are a lost little lamb."
"Quick, give me your hand," Trent instructed.
I was silent, my eyes still pinned to the old man.
"Tsk-tsk-tsk," the demon possessed senior wagged his finger at me, taking a step, then another step, shortening the distance as much as he could while I was entranced. Then, suddenly, he sprinted forward at a speed that shouldn't have been possible for a man his age.
"Trent!" I screamed.
"Lauren, give me your hand!"
I spun around and grabbed Tren'ts outstretched arm just as the old man lifted the butter knife over his head like a pickaxe. Then I saw Trent pull out what looked like a toy gun from under the table and point it at the demon.
"Got you," Trent remarked. I braced for a gunshot, but there was no noise. After a couple seconds, I looked back and saw the old man sitting in the booth opposite his wife, his hand tremoring as he reached for his large drink.
"What did you?" I asked, but Trent was already pulling me out of my seat. "Come on, we have to go," he said, "the effect is temporary, he'll be—"
Before he could get out the last word, I saw the cup-pyramid on Trent's tray blink out of existence. The sound of a plate shattering rang out from a table up ahead. The lone woman standing there slowly turned around, smiling, with a fork in one hand and a piece of the broken plate in the other. Trent shot her with the toy gun as we ran past and then barreled through the front door.
"Where—are we going?" I asked between gasps.
"My van. It's loaded with kit."
"And then where?"
"Your house" replied Trent who stashed his gun back in his pocket and took out a key fob.
"My house? But that's where he—it appeared."
"Yeah, and that's where you banished it."
Trent waved me into the passenger seat of his RAM 3500 Promaster. I noticed right away the dash which looked more like it belonged in a new limited-edition EV than a cargo van. The ignition kicked on automatically, and I heard the beep of a sonar ping precede an English woman's voice calling out like some auxed-in GPS saying, "scanning for anomalies". Trent shifted the van into gear, and I heard the wheels sputter as we accelerated backward and whipped out of the small parking lot.
"What's your address?" Trent asked. I gave it to him, and then speaking to his dash, he said, "Car, take us to ****."
"Redirecting to ****," replied the British woman. "Currently detecting 31 novel emergences. Updating pings every 300 milliseconds. Chance of contact: 0.23%"
"What does that mean?" I asked.
"The van has sensor equipment which can detect blinks. It's much more accurate than either of us."
"And it sees 31?"
"Yes, that's not as many as it sounds." Trent said and tore past a car that blinked out of existence right as we turned onto the main street.
We drove on for another couple minutes, the Englishwoman updating the number of novel emergences every ten seconds or so. Her constant babbling eventually became a comforting background noise, and I was able to think again.
"In the message you sent me, you said my mom may still be alive." I looked at Trent to see if he would react to me bringing her up, but he remained stolid. "What did you mean by that?"
Trent thumbed his steering wheel. "I shouldn't have sent that." He said at last.
"Shouldn't have… What do you mean? You can't just say that now."
Trent took one hand off the wheel and turned toward me. "Look, we're going back to your house because we need to determine your origin point. All Antennas have them. It's a place of high energy where many realms intersect, kind of like a station, and it's the place where you first acquired your abilities. Based on everything you wrote, I'm guessing that place is where the forest where the accident happened when you were a young child. But I need to confirm it. Once I confirm that that's the place…" Trent hesitated.
"Then… what? You want us to go back there? To the place where my mom died, or at least where I think she died until you told me she might be alive but are now taking it back? That place?"
"It's the only way to—"
"Now detecting novel agent," the Englishwoman interrupted. We both perked up as she gave another update. "Net anomalies: 437. Novel Agents: 1. Chance of contact: 78%."
"Shit," Trent muttered. "Car, course correct."
"Attempting course correct to avoid collision. Attempts made: 10, 50, 75, 79… No alternate route detected. Chance of contact: 96%."
"Time until contact?"
"Time until contact: 13 seconds."
I shuddered. Looking out the front windshield, I saw cars pop out of existence left and right, opening up a clear path to the four way intersection ahead. In a blink, the streetlights all turned green, and then they vanished completely. It was as if the entire world was being stripped down bare, and all that remained was the road, boxed in by the rows of buildings along either side. In the distance I could see a large tanker barreling toward us.
"Trent,"
"I know," he replied and clicked a different button on the console which opened a new toggle for the shifter labeled "TD". He pushed the stick forward, engaging the new mode, then pressed the accelerator all the way to the ground. "You're going to want to hold on."
"What are you doing!?" I yelled, grabbing onto my seatbelt.
"No time to explain. Car, release phase lock."
"Phase lock released."
I watched in horror as the color drained from the road and buildings and sky, transforming it all into a dim tunnel, with only the headlights of the oncoming semi-truck visible up ahead. I had the sudden thought that this was all a dream, just like the ones from my childhood. I looked over and no longer saw Trent, but my mother. And then I realized this wasn't a dream. This was hell. I was being forced to relive the worst moment of my life, over and over again. Just when I thought I had escaped, I was pulled right back into that car, helpless as we approached but never arrived at our impending fate. I closed my eyes right as the lights engulfed the windshield and braced for the usual pain in my chest, for the feeling of breaking.
But it didn't come.
"Shift" was the last word out of Trent's mouth, and then I was infused with the sensation of being at the pinnacle of a roller coaster. I was suspended there for what felt like hours, but somehow I knew that not even a second had passed. Everything inside the van: the dashboard, windows, ceiling, doors, even Trent himself began to radiate enigmatic particles. They were a mass of constant motion, like raindrops falling through the air but never landing. I looked down at my hand, but it was gone. Diffused into an unknowable number of untraceable particles. The world outside, once devoid of color, was now nothing but color. When I tried to focus on a particular spot in the infinite geometric folds of whatever realm we were traversing through, I could sometimes detect a trace of our world.
The old lady from the church. She appeared as if through a window, standing behind a table, holding out a plant. Only this image was so much brighter. And the plant she was holding was pure gold. Then I'd catch a glimpse of the razor blade. It was large, many hundreds of times larger than the van, and surrounded by darkness. These ghostly images appeared like holograms or reflections that caught the light at just the right angle, then dissipated.
I stayed there, looping between the archetypes of my life for a long, long time.
***
I knew we were returning when I felt the first sense of motion. Breath filled my lungs for the first time in what felt like a day. I blinked. And then we were back in town, driving down the same road with the blue sky above. People were jogging on the sidewalk past the little street shops. The streetlights were active. I checked the side mirror and saw the tanker had just passed by.
I looked over at Trent, who met my eyes. We shared a look of knowing, and unknowing. For some reason, that was enough, and we continued on in silence.
***
We agreed to stay the night at my house.
Trent had parked a couple blocks away in front of a couple vacant houses so as not to arouse suspicion from the neighbors. Then he lugged a large duffel bag with his equipment in and set it up in the living room. He scanned the scrapbook which contained the newspaper clippings from the accident several times and confirmed that was likely my 'origin point'. I simply nodded and then went back out onto the back porch. I sat there for hours, basking in the sun. Something had changed in the past day, but I couldn't pick out what it was. Too much had happened. I had too little time to process any of it.
When the sun set, I went inside and Trent told me about his plans for the next couple days. He said he needed to run a few errands in the morning, then meet up with a couple of his associates. After that, we could begin our drive to Southern Illinois. He said it was likely that the entity that was chasing me had first tied itself to me during my childhood accident. For whatever reason, we came into contact, and now it didn't want to leave. Trent would help me get rid of it. He didn't go into many details regarding how that was to happen, but I don't think in my tired state I would have been able to understand much anyway. He had a plan, and that was enough for me. At least for a while.
After our meeting, I made sure Trent had enough pillows and blankets like a proper host, then I retired to my room. I laid down on my twin bed and stared up at the cream-colored ceiling. Then I turned and saw the participation awards for my junior soccer league stashed on my dresser. I pictured myself on the field, running with the ball, out ahead of everyone except the goalie. I took a shot, but it was blocked. Then I ran back to defend. How can such a simple game be so much fun? Was the last thought I had before drifting off to sleep.
I woke up only once during the night. It was still dark out. The room was warm despite the small, flower petal fan churning away, shifting the hot, humid air from one pocket of the room to the next. I waited in apprehension, sensing that something had disturbed me. I saw the tomato plushie peeking out at me from the slightly ajar closet door where I had stashed it so many years ago. I felt like I was missing something. Something important.
And then I heard it.
There was a tapping at my window.

My baby is 5 months old and completely refuses a bottle (we've tried everything). I'm going to start sippy cup and honey bear straw training in a few weeks. We have a weekend trip to Las Vegas planned when she will be 8 months old. My parents plan to come to our house to babysit. She sees them a couple times per month so she knows them but is not super familiar. I'm nervous about leaving her overnight two nights because of the bottle thing. How good are the odds that she will get the hang of sippy cups or straws within a few months? If she doesn't, would they be able to mix breast milk with baby food and spoon it to her? Also do you think she will be ok with the grandparents she knows semi-well? The trip is really important to my husband as there are four other couples going and he doesn't want to be the odd one out without a spouse

Okay, I know this is gonna attract some hate, but bear with me.
First off, I want to say: Hades 1 is one of my favourite games ever. I have just under 1000 hours on it, I've done everything, and while I'm not as good as some players, I'm running 30 heat consistently without losing.
I'm also a professional games designer, and while that doesn't make my opinions valid, I think I have an okay idea of general design principles.
So I've been playing Hades 2, and so far I'm not really loving it. Obviously this is still the Alpha, and theres a lot of stuff that needs to be changed before the proper release - some stuff is minor, like boon balancing, some stuff I just find baffling as a design decision (Eris "blessing"), and some stuff I appreciate might just mean the game isn't aimed at me - and thats fine.
But the major issue I have is this - the game is slow. Painfully. It seems like one of the aims of the design team was to make the game a bit less "twitchy", which is fine if thats what you want. But theres a mechanic which is compounding this and making combat honestly tedious for me.
Magick regen.
Okay, for me to explain this properly, you need to understand a big issue that hades has - that is, that melee combat kinda sucks. I want to quote Dacookieman from this subreddit, discussing Polyphemus: "Yeah it's just impossible to capitalize on openings as melee because of how all of his attacks work. If you try to play slow then mobs build up and because the hitboxes from cyclops are often overlapping the enemies they also have the same issue of not being able to capatalize on openings without taking damage. It's not quite as bad w the mobs but together it makes melee builds very brutal."
Dacookieman hits the nail on the head precisely here. Last night, I ran a build where I fought Polyphemus with the axe and zero magick regen 5 times, and consistently got wrecked. On the 6th time I was lucky enough to actually get a magick regen boon, and I destroyed him without taking a single hit.
This is obviously a HUGE difference. So why is the magick regen so important here? Because I can just stay the hell away from him.
Polyphemus , as mentioned above, is absolutely horrible against melee because of his attack pattern and wonky hitboxes. On the other hand, if you stay away from him? He can't do squat. He's like a tortoise with a chainsaw strapped to the back - dangerous yes, but easily defeatable by just moving away.
Polyphemus is far from the only boss with this issue. Almost all bosses have this problem to some degree (except Eris and Charybdis, possibly). Chronos 1st phase is especially bad. For these bosses, the consistent theme is "if you stay far enough away we cant actually hit you".
So this means that the best strategy is - time and time again - stay at range. And that means, ideally, you want to get some magick regen and a decent ranged cast. Then you just sit back, launch your omega casts over and over, and slowly destroy your opponents. And they can't really do anything to stop you.
Of course, the omega casts will cost magick, so the answer to this is to get some sortof magick regen - ideally Demeter, Apollo, Zeus or Hestia. And magick regen takes time, so this means your gameplay pattern looks like: Cast - run away - wait/regen magick - approach - repeat.
Its a horrible gameplay mechanic. It reminds me of FPS games in the 2000s where regenerating health was a thing and the "best" tactic was, after clearing a room, to just afk for 5 minutes while you got your health back.
And, because I know theres a bunch of people who insist on posting this, no, I do not need to "git gud". Being good or bad is irrelevant to negative design patterns.
There's also a ton of grind in this game (which, seperately, I'm not a massive fan of), but I want to add in here that I shouldnt be required to grind unlocks to be allowed to have fun. I genuinely enjoy doing Hades 1 fresh file runs - theyre hard, but I never feel like I'm unfairly punished. Hades 2 seem to have this attitude of "well, you're only allowed to have fun once you've put in ~20 hours and started unlocking the necessary upgrades".
When you design, you need to reward players for the patterns you want to see in the game. Doom "fixed" the health problem by allowing "Glory kills", ENCOURAGING the player to get knee deep in demons - the best gameplay choice was to play the game in the way the developers intended. At the moment, in Hades 2, the best gameplay choice is avoiding combat as much as possible and only jumping in briefly to throw out a spell.
This is also not helped by many of the areas being considerably larger, meaning that you have much more space to run away to.
Hades 1 didnt have magick, but it did have a god gauge. The god gauge powers up by damaging enemies - the gameplay loop you want to encourage. (also taking damage, but thats still promoting engaging enemies)
As the quote goes, "given the opportunity, players will optimize the fun out of a game". The optimal way to play Hades 2 is also the least fun way. Maybe you dont want to play optimally, thats fine. And maybe you think the game is fine the way it is - if you enjoy it, power to you. But for me, coming from the high intensity action of Hades 1 into this feels like I've been wading through honey. Sure its sweet, but its slow - and ultimately exhausting.

Wade held Jasmine in his arms as he flew a low height down the long road to another section of the staryard, Tina on his back and Nathan and F right behind them in the air. Together, the five glided across the base grounds, taking care as to not irritate the aerial security during their search for the meeting room. Being outside for the flight, the group considered it a blessing that Wade's 'enhanced cooling unit' allowed his body to tolerate the breaching sun in the still cloudy sky, which, according to F, was dangerous to drones like her due to the inefficient cooling she and disassembly drones like her suffered from. Given F's physical fault, she had to fly under shady areas in order to safely traverse the base at day.
Originally, Wade and his friends had planned to walk to the meeting zone, but after running into a trooper experiencing a health mishap, the group did what they could to help the distressed officer. By the time he was brought to the medical ward by other soldiers, Wade found that him and his team would be at least a few minutes late if they kept on their way with their walk.
Deciding to speed things up, Wade, understanding the concern for performing such an effort, opted to carry the Fowleys around the base to the meeting area. Reluctantly, F decided to come along, carrying Nathan in a similar manner that Wade was carrying Jasmine. Taking notice of the time on his HUD, which read, "9:47 AM", Wade scouted for the building he and his friends were directed to. "8072" He said to himself, the number being for the building that would house the imminent meeting.
"They said it was down here, right?" Wade asked aloud to Tina before stopping himself in mid-air, the girl holding onto him tightly as he tried to speak over the growing sound of a retrofit Apache flying overhead.
Looking about, Tina nodded as she spotted the target building. "Yes, I believe that's the one over there!" Pointing past his head, Wade followed her finger to a large building ahead at his right. The structure was moderately tall, only about two stories high, with several soldiers and officers going in and out of the building. Wade smiled as he noticed the target number, as well as the big, bold words describing the building's designation. "8072, Briefing Center B"
"Good eye, honey. Hang on!" Continuing his low glide, Wade zoomed towards the building's entrance before stopping just meters above the ground, his two friends close behind as they slowed down as well. The troopers around them initially looked startled by the sudden arrival of Wade and his group, but quickly regained their composure as Wade hovered still above them.
"At ease! Just visitors." One of the soldiers declared as they identified the newcomers, who touched down before Wade let Jasmine down to her feet, Tina hopping onto the ground along with her.
Putting his hands up, Wade apologized for his swift surprise. "Sorry for the scare, we got delayed for a meeting we're invited to."
The soldier gave an understanding nod as he replied to the former worker drone sternly. "I can see that, just be a bit more careful next time, Mr. Carter. You gave the boys here quite a scare."
Wade returned the gesture in embarrassment as F put a hand to his back, chuckling at his efforts as Tina questioned the officer. "Is Mrs. J in there? She's the one who called for us."
The guard gave his reply as Wade and Tina pulled out their IDs for clearance. "Yes she is, Miss. The meeting's set to begin in under ten minutes." Checking the two drones' IDs, Jasmine and the others pulled out theirs as well, the watchman motioning another trooper over to verify the group. Once the guard finished checking the five's cards, he nodded in approval as the watchman spoke once more. "You're clear to enter."
"Thank you Sir, again, sorry about that spook back there." Wade replied with a smile as the trooper gave one of his own, the disassembly drone and his allies making their way towards the office door before stopping upon the call of a voice.
"Hey, Felice!" Wade turned to find the origin of the voice, F doing the same as the two quickly spotted a quartet of soldiers walking excitedly towards F. The disassembly drone glanced to her friends with a smile before turning back to the approaching entourage.
Wade examined the four troops as they got closer: Two human men, one woman, and a male worker drone. One of the male soldiers had short, blonde hair, and a small scar to the right side of their face. The second man bore a tan skin tone and had black hair, with blue strips that went down slightly in a mullet style. The woman bore a set of long, dark green hair, with the hair going down and over her left shoulder. As for the worker drone, he wore the standard green soldier helmet, single eye visor and all. He had no hair on him from what Wade could tell, and bore a pair of whiteish purple eyes on his visor.
As F walked over to the soldiers, the same one that called to her spoke again. "Felicity, I didn't expect to see you around here today! Where you been?"
The girl soldier interrupted his initial chatter. "Hang on Carlos, do you even know if she remembers us?"
"Aye, don't she have one o' them memory locks, or sumthin?" The drone added in a heavy Scottish accent.
F waved her hand as she replied to the group. "Easy, everyone. Thankfully I still got my memories, courtesy of my technician back at Central." Lowering her hand, F let down her usual persona as she gave a wide smirk to the soldiers, clearly pleased to see them. "Good to see you guys around here."
The soldiers gave light cheers to F as they all embraced her, the group having a surprise reunion as Wade and the others watched in surprise. These must've been F's old colleagues from when she was in the service, Wade thought. Quite the coincidence for them to be here at this base of all places.
Not bothering with the convenience of the matter, Wade shook the thought off as he and his friends watched F and her old friends breaking the hug, Tina wrapping an arm around her boyfriend as the second male human spoke to her in what the two discerned as Spanish. "Ay, who your new friends, F?"
"Oh, these guys?" F replied in the same language, quietly startling Wade and the others as they had never heard her speak like that until now. Glancing over to Wade, F motioned him and the others to come over. "Everyone, these are some friends I made in the past few days. Wade, Nathan, Tina, and Jasmine." She pointed her hand to the four as she said each of their names. "I met the boys here during my time on Ceres. Jasmine and Tina here are sisters."
The four soldiers gave various forms of excitement, ranging from hearty laughs to low woops and even a whistle from one of the guys. As F stood next to her old teammates, they each introduced themselves to Wade and his friends. The blonde soldier went first. "Well, it's a pleasure to meet you all, name's Carlos, Lieutenant Marksman."
"I'm Private Alvaros, good with close-range and stealth operations." Said the tan soldier with a salute.
"Sergeant Lucia Vasquez, usually the one who leads this bunch around these days." The female warrior stated with a humorous smirk.
"And Corporal Duncan Wallace, at your service!" The soldier drone stated proudly as he saluted to the bunch in front of him, who gave warm smiles as Wade shook his hand.
"Quite honored to meet you all, seems you have quite the history with F." The former worker drone said as Carlos patted F on her back.
"Oh, we do! She's the one who took charge when we didn't! Did you all hear of the Pasting of Nola VI?" Jasmine and Tina gave nods of affirmation while Wade, not as familiar with such history, held his hand up in a questioning manner.
"I think, wasn't that the battle where the Navy just barely held the outpost in that system? From the Stryker Clan?" Wade asked as Carlos nodded approvingly to him.
"That's right, and if Felice weren't there, WE would've been the ones getting pasted!" Carlos' statement brought victorious cheers and "oorahs" from the group, F letting a blush loose as she chuckled at her team's praise of her efforts.
"Well, that's not wrong." Although she didn't want to break off from her friends and discuss the past few years since they'd last met, F remembered the briefing. Clearing her throat, she continued. "And as much as I'd like to chat about the good times, I've been called to a meeting here, as have Wade and his crew."
The soldier group gave understanding looks to F as Lucia spoke up. "Thought so, Carl here was real eager to see you, though."
"Maybe we can talk after the meeting?" Nathan proposed as the soldiers collectively nodded in agreement, F readying a smartcomm attachment before turning to face her friends again.
"We're probably getting low on time, you all go in, I'll catch up in a sec." Wade nodded in acknowledgement before taking Tina's hand, the lover drones continuing towards the briefing center as Jasmine and Nathan followed behind them.
Passing through the door, the four guests observed a short hallway, which seemed to split into two paths as they came closer to the other end. Looking to a sign on the wall above, they saw arrows pointing to two separate areas, "Primary Briefing Room; Main Lobby + Secondary & Tertiary" Going to the right, they entered the moderately active lobby, several officers walking and standing about in mass chatter. Walking over to the desk up against the wall to their left, Wade and his group waved a hand to the occupying attendant.
"Welcome, what do you need?" The desk attendant asked as Tina raised a finger to reply.
"We're here for a meeting, Mrs. J called us here."
The attendant nodded in understanding before directing an arm towards the other end of the room, where a single door stood. "She should be in the second briefing room down that way."
"Thank you." Tina replied warmly before she and Wade began walking towards the door, their friends behind them as they proceeded into the room.
The room beyond the door was quite sizable, a large circular table occupying the middle with several chairs surrounding it. The walls went up a few meters, with four whiteish blue lights illuminating the room. On the wall opposite to Wade and Tina were three monitor screens, all of which showed the USN in bright blue. In several of the seats were faces both familiar and unfamiliar, several men and women in varying styles of uniforms conversing about quietly or taking notice of the recent visitors. Standing up near the monitors were three people: A decorated officer whom Tina identified as a ship captain, and the so-called operatives, Tessa, albeit as a hologram, and J.
Walking slowly into the room, Wade gave a low wave of his hand as he tried to hide his nervousness. Noticing his shyness in front of the officers, Tina held his hand and rubbed his arm comfortingly while returning a pleasant smile to the staff in the room.
"Ah, Wade, Tina. Glad to see you all here." J stated with a smile as she scanned the group, raising a digital eyebrow as she noticed one missing guest. "Or, most of you, I see. Did F run off somewhere?"
Wade shook his head as he replied to his fellow disassembly drone. "Oh, no. She just ran into some old friends, she should be back-"
"Right now." F finished aloud as she entered the room, seemingly having heard Wade speaking about her absence. The warrior drone fast walked to Wade's team, taking a seat near them as they prepared to do the same. "Not too late, are we?"
"Not at all." The standing officer answered as the group took their seats, Wade and Tina sitting next to each other as they got comfortable. The captain examined the lot for a moment, glancing to J as he asked about them. "So, these are the ones you helped rescue from the Mojave?"
"Yes Captain, and they helped us out greatly in turn. This is Wade Carter, one of the captured drones whom became a disassembly drone before we could mount the rescue. The luckiest one, if you ask me." Motioning her arm over the others, she continued. "And there's his girlfriend, Mrs. Tina Fowley, and her sister Jasmine." Smirking to F and Nathan, she finished her friends' introductions. "And these two are Serial Designation F and Mr. Nathan, whom I've heard were once under your ranks."
The military captain gave a welcoming smile to the five as they returned the gesture, eyeing F and Nathan specifically before speaking to them. "Indeed they were, we still have records on their contributions to the colonies." Eyeing F, he continued. "Though, in Mrs. F's case, I won't blame her if she doesn't remember us. We've been very well aware of JCJenson's 'memory suppression' protocols when it comes to their DDs."
F laid back in her seat with a smug look as she replied to her former superior. "Well, my friend on the station's a good tech gal. She's... waived that hindrance from me."
"I see, that means your still with us, am I right, Mrs. Lee?" Unlike her friends next to her, F was not startled by her original name being said aloud, rather smiling proudly as she saluted to the captain. "Good to see you again."
"Pleased to be here, Sir." F replied as she lowered her arm, glancing to her companions next to her as J spoke up.
"Everyone, I'd like you to meet Captain Preston Mitchell, commander of the USNV Vickers down at the stardock."
Wade gave a respectful salute to Preston as he spoke first. "It's an honor to meet you, Sir."
"Thank you, Mr. Carter. I've heard about your efforts from J, you did an admirable job back there, son." Wade failed to hide an embarrassed blush from the compliment, but it quickly faded as a beep sounded from a small device on the table. It was swiftly silenced by the captain as he tapped a button on the small, pyramid shaped timer, then facing Wade's group before continuing. "Though, as much as we could use some small talk, it'll have to wait till later."
"Indeed, we're running late at this point." Said another officer, a highly decorated member of the base with dark skin, dark grey hair and a thin beard. He immediately won the attention of everyone in the room as he spoke up. "I'm General Hugh Hood, overseer of this base. I'm certain you know some of the reasons you're here with us, correct?"
Wade nodded as he spoke to Hood. "Yeah, it's cause of those rogue agents from the JCJenson corporation." Glancing to J, the corporate drone nodded in affirmation before speaking herself.
"Tessa and I spent the last hours of yesterday evening clearing up the matter with General Hood, along with several other officials stationed here." She stopped as the middle monitor behind her flashed with a banner at the top, reading, "INCOMING TRANSMISSION", and in place of the USN emblem was a textless version of the JCJenson logo. Below the profile image was another two lines of text. "N. Jenson (Company Exec); Comms Source: Yottrite IV"
"And also told our boss about what happened here too, he wanted to give his say on this ordeal." Looking to the general, J asked him, "May I put him on?"
Hood only gave a nod of approval to the corporate drone before she picked up a remote on the table and tapped a button, accepting the call as the picture shifted to show a middle-aged man in a pristine-looking business suit on the screen.
Wade and Tina glanced to each other before J introduced their guest on the screen. "Ladies and Gentlemen, the CEO of JCJenson: Mr. Noor Jenson."
Jenson gave a pleased nod to his subordinate as he spoke to J. "Thank you for the pleasantries, J. I see we are ready to discuss our plans on dealing with this 'recall' disaster I've bore witness to on the news this morning?"
J nodded as she replied to her boss. "Indeed, I've explained to General Hood here about our efforts yesterday, and, as of recent, we've just received a message from a source we believe to be close to the company."
Mr. Jenson looked down to J attentively as he spoke to her. "Well, that's quite intriguing news, J. Do you have this message available for us to view?" J and Hood both nodded in affirmation, but didn't get an immediate reply as Jenson gazed to Wade and his friends. "...And I presume these are some of the drones rescued from one of the factories?"
Again, J nodded to her superior before explaining her colleagues. "Yes Mr. Jenson, the two drones at the front in particular were among those taken by the Administrator and their subordinates." Pointing an arm to Wade and Tina, she introduced the drone couple. "The disassembly drone here is Mr. Wade Carter, a brother to his-technically speaking-owner, the late Ron Carter. The latter helped us recover Wade during an initial raid inside the Nevada facility." When bringing up Ron, J gave an apologetic look to Wade as to show she did not mean to be offending on him and his brother's relationship. "And this is his romantic partner, Mrs. Tina Fowley. I heard she and her sister Jasmine are pilots."
Jenson looked over the two drones as his obedient employee described them to him, quietly sighing as Wade and Tina returned the gaze with nervous smiles. Once J finished, Jenson spoke to Wade. "I... would say it's a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Carter. But, given recent events, I don't hold fault to you for feeling frustrated at me for my... former subordinate's actions."
Wade shook his head lightly, taking Jenson's light apology with a faint smile as he replied to the CEO. "Actually, I don't. The only person I have such feelings put towards is," He hesitated for a moment, his anger at Dr. Halloway returning for a short moment before he eased himself. "..That bastard Halloway."
"The feeling's mutual, Mr. Carter. Dr. Halloway has been trying my patience for years now, especially with you and your fellow disassembly drones." Looking to J, then F, he returned his gaze to Wade before questioning him on his new body. "I don't know if J has told you of this, but if there's one truth my company has admittedly not held up to for a while, it's our quality. Recently, some of my research staff here made blueprints for an upgraded variant of the disassembly drone design. It's intended to fix several faults we expected to be nonexistent previously, most notably that atrocious cooling unit."
As a schematic pulled up on the left monitor, everyone glanced to the improved design before F spoke up about it. "If I may ask, Mr. Jenson, how big of an improvement is this new cooling unit supposed to be?"
"Good question, F. Frankly, it's supposed to do away with the issue entirely. Saves us from sacrificing enormous supplies of oil for the poorly built unit in the previous iterations. We even tested it with a repaired drone just a few days ago, and it worked flawlessly." Then, glancing to Wade again, he questioned the former worker drone on his new form. "Speaking of, how does your enhanced body feel, Mr. Carter? I'm certain it feels better to not have to-"
"Actually, Mr. Jenson," Wade interrupted, pulling out one of his canteens as he answered the CEO on his upgrades. "I guess Halloway changed up the blueprints, cause unfortunately this new cooling unit didn't cure the overheating problem. I... kinda learned that the hard way." Wade glanced to Tina apologetically, still feeling bad from her seeing him eat the corpse of the dead murder drone back at the factory.
The corporate CEO grimaced in frustration as he took in Wade's statement, already intolerant of the head researcher's actions as he replied. "...I was worried about that, Edgar always likes to run things his own way, making excuses for that 'Administrator' he watches over." Taking an agitated breath, he continued on with his spew on the two culprits of yesterday's events. "It was only because of all the very impressive creations and enhancements she and her research team provided that I tolerated them for so long, but this..." Sitting up straight in front of the camera, Jenson finished sternly. "J said the Administrator... Cyn, I believe? She was apparently something worse than we presumed originally, and I'm very inclined to believe so after yesterday."
"As well as the program tied to the Administrator, the AbsoluteSolver." J clarified before receiving an agreeing nod from Mr. Jenson, standing corrected on his placing of blame.
Raising a hand, Nathan asked about the supposed plans. "Yeah, about this "Solver Project", what do we plan to do about that?"
"Good question, Nate." Tessa replied as she crossed her arms before looking to Jenson and beginning her explanation. "Initially, we were going to investigate the other factories spread across Earth in order to get some more info on the Administrator before things get worse. But, just this morning, it seems someone else saved us the trouble." Just as Tessa neared the end of her sentence, J held up the remote again, tapping a few buttons before the left monitor shifted to show a slightly grainy video onscreen.
The video only showed a single being, a worker drone, dressed in a chrome suit and bearing a set of yellow eyes. Behind them was what appeared to be a vacant room, a few shelves holding many books within them standing still in the back. The drone's visage indicated they were filled with immense anxiety, terrified of being caught as they spoke quietly to the camera.
"I can only hope someone gets this in time, they're gonna be on me once they find out the transmitter screens are down!" Turning the camera, he showed what appeared to be a large factory room, several more of the mysterious conveyor belts like at the factory slotted next to each other. It was hard to discern every detail due to not only the window reflection, but also the dark lighting in the inactive conveyor room. Filming the room beyond, the drone continued. "Dr. Halloway's a madman, he's got more of those stolen drones being brought here and he's going to be overseeing it in the afternoon tomorrow! I've seen what happened back in Nevada, I can't take this any longer! I'm at coordinates ##.######, -###.###### Please, send someo-"
The suspicious, partially scrambled transmission immediately cut off to static, leaving Wade, Tina, and their friends with confused expressions as Tessa spoke up. "Yeah, that caught me by surprise too."
"So, that guy says they got more drones being sent 'there', but... where is there, exactly?" Jasmine asked with immense curiosity.
"I was hoping you'd ask that, Mrs. Fowley." The technician replied as she glanced to J, who tapped a few more buttons on the remote before speaking over her boss-friend.
"While the transmission itself isn't much to work off of, our friends from Comms over here managed to intercept the signal earlier, and even better, discern where it originated from." As J started her explanation, the screen shifted once more to show a large city, with one skyscraper highlighted in red as it was zoomed towards on the screen. "That scrambled audio wasn't a simple glitch, it was intentionally done so as to hide key information for us to uncover. Upon cleaning up the message, we managed to recover a set of coordinates, which direct to this structure here, in San Francisco."
Wade and his friends stared at the building in shock, examining the tall structure as it stood over the shorter buildings in the city. Tina broke the silence in her gaze. "So, this is another factory? It looks... terribly different from the one we got out of."
"Not exactly, Mrs. Fowley." Mr. Jenson answered, Tina and the others looking to him as he continued. "THAT is the Administrator's main laboratory, its location was kept on the down low so other authorities and terrorist groups wouldn't find out what the buildings true purpose was." Sighing, Jenson completed his reply. "But, with this recent mistake of Halloway's, that place has lost all purpose for us at the company."
Wade raised a hand to speak. "So, we're going to pounce on that place? Get Halloway before he runs off again?"
"Exactly." General Hood replied as he looked up to Mr. Jenson. "This whole 'recovery/recruitment' effort has gotten out of hand all across Sol. We've gotten countless reports of people being killed because of this, be it the brutal robberies here in Nevada or the bloodbath on Ceres. Even if Mr. Jenson refuses to cooperate, this has become a dire matter for us now. One way or another, this insanity will be stopped with due haste."
The CEO nodded in acknowledgement before explaining his own plans for the mission. "Speaking of cooperation, upon seeing what was happening at Earth, I ordered a detachment of our corporate starships in orbit at the time to depart for Sol in order to help with investigating the situation. They're not warships, but they are well-armed. I'll dispatch them to your authority upon concluding this call." Glancing to Wade and his team for a moment, Jenson continued. "As for the mission, I may not have much of a say, but let it be known that you have my blessing to do whatever it takes to end this madness. I don't care what you do with Halloway or any of his lackeys, or what happens to that facility down there... I want that program shut down."
"Thank you for the extra hands, Mr. Jenson. We'll make sure this Administrator is dealt with." Hood replied gratefully as Wade sat firm in his seat, Tina and the others following suite.
"General?" The former worker drone said aloud, catching Hood's attention before he made his request. "I know I'm not a soldier, but I want to help with dealing with Halloway and his grunts. After what he did, after losing my brother, I can't rest until I see that man stopped."
Tina raised a finger as well. "As do I, Wade could use a hand with those people, and given how we did during our escape run out of that place, I think the two of us make quite the duo." She glanced to Wade with a smirk as she referenced their combat prowess when flying together.
Nathan and F stood up before the latter gave her own request. "Sir, I wish to take part in this mission as well. I can also recommend Wade for you too, as I fought alongside him during the factory raid."
"Wouldn't mind giving a hand myself! And I'm sure my pal Kurtis would love to help, he's here at the base too!" Nathan added with a confident smirk, the group's determination encouraging Jasmine to stand up as well.
"I'd like to help too." She stated simply, a smile on her face as the general and his companions observed the five guests.
Admittedly, Hood knew it would be a bit absurd to allow these people to take part in an operation which would certainly involve bloodshed, especially considering most of them merely had civilian status at the moment. But, upon careful evaluation of the five, their desire to see this problem dealt with, and the fact that some of them had experience on the field...
He paused his train of thought as Captain Mitchell spoke to him. "General? I read up on the Fowleys' files when we recovered Mrs. Jasmine here, they provided service in their early careers." He smirked to the pilot sisters as he finished adding his say. "And to be frank, we need more people like them here. The records we have of them showed them to be damn fine pilots."
Tina blushed at the praise from Mitchell as she spoke to the general. "That is true, we uh... did get discharged for our... 'fancy maneuvering'."
"Sir?" Jasmine said, the general's attention on her as she added to the conversation. "Even if our flying is a bit out of protocol, Tina saved a lot of people on that starjet a few days back. I can promise you, she's an excellent woman to have at the wheel."
Glancing to Wade again, Hood took in his face, one of begging desperation as he spoke once more. "Please, Sir. My brother, the troops he brought from the Coalition, Halloway's gotten them all killed cause of this. I want to do this. I HAVE to do this, at least for them."
The good general took a deep, quiet breath, considering his decision once more before finally revealing it to Wade and his friends. "Mr. Carter, Fowleys? I'm probably making myself a fool for saying this, but you're permitted to assist us in this mission."
The drone couple contained their gratefulness in the form of ecstatic grins as Wade replied to the general. "Thanks, General. We won't let you down."
"And Mrs. Lee?" Hood said as he glanced to F, who returned the gesture as he told her, "You're technically under Mr. Jenson's authority, whatever his answer is, it's mine as well."
Bringing her yellow-orange eyes to her CEO, F awaited Mr. Jenson's answer. "F, yes? I heard Mr. Hood call you by a different name just now, I assume you have some experience with the army?"
The warrior drone nodded as she explained herself. "I once inherited the name of Felicity Lee, Mr. Jenson. I served under the USN Defense Forces before joining the DD Division." Then, glancing to the military staff near her, she finished with, "I had hoped to provide my enhancements to the Force one day."
Jenson gave a hint of a proud smile as he finally gave his decision. "Well, it seems you'll finally get that chance. From now on, even after this mission on Earth is over with, you're hereby dispatched to serve under the USN."
F admittedly couldn't hide her excited smirk as she flung a salute to her now former boss. "Thank you Sir!"
Looking up to Jenson, General Hood asked the CEO, "Mr. Jenson, how long until your ships can reach Earth?"
Jenson glanced down at his communication console as he answered the military leader. "At max speed, their Ion drives should be able to bring them into orbit in as little as one to two days. I believe there should be some ships within the system that could help as well."
"Signal them when you can, Mr. Jenson. We could use all the help we can get from them." The CEO nodded to Hood as he stood firmly to the viewer, the general turning to face Wade and his colleagues. "And Mr. Carter? We'll be mobilizing our forces immediately after this meeting concludes. It'll be a minute, but I want you to gather whatever items and belongings you'll need for this operation. Be ready to head to the flight pads in no more than three hours."
"Understood Sir!" Wade said with a salute, Tina, Jasmine and Nathan giving their own as Jasmine raised a finger.
"What about the area around the lab? That place looks like it's in the middle of the city."
J raised a finger as she told Jasmine and the others about their resolution of the civilian obstacle. "Shortly after reporting our findings on the transmission, Hood told us that they were sending in some teams to clear out the civilian population within several miles of the facility. Once we get there, it should be of no concern."
Jasmine sighed in relief as Tina spoke up. "So the people should be safe from any sort of danger?"
"Correct, Mrs. Tina." Preston answered before continuing. "Given the resistance Halloway and his men showed during the Coalition's raid, they most certainly won't hold back there."
"One more thing, Sir." Nathan asked. "The Coalition's going to help us out with this too, right?"
"You can count on it, Mr. Nathan." The Vickers' captain replied as he looked to J, then to Jenson as he spoke further. "I met the leader of the Coalition's detachment working with us when I was introduced to J and Mrs. Elliott here, they intend to see this conflict finished. I highly doubt they're willing to sit back and let us do this by ourselves."
"And their help will be much appreciated." Hood added, everyone's attention returned to him as he looked to Tessa, curious eyes scanning her holographic form. "And Mrs. Elliott, if I may. Do you mind heading down here to assist us in our investigations later on?"
"Funny you say that, General. I'm almost done with my own snooping around on the JCJ up in orbit, Cyn has some small departments of hers aboard, and I thought I'd gather some more intel before coming down." Glancing to Mr. Jenson, she saw him giving an understanding nod before returning her gaze to the military staff. "I should be down there by the evening, judging by where you're located."
"Do what you must, Mrs. Elliott. We could use whatever you find." Hood replied firmly as he turned once more to the JCJenson CEO. "Thank you for your time, Mr. Jenson. We will get to the bottom of this."
"It's my pleasure, General." Glancing to J and Tessa, he spoke to them once more. "J? Contact me when you've finished with Halloway and his Administrator."
"It'll be done, Mr. Jenson." The obedient servant answered before saluting firmly, receiving a final nod from her boss before he ended the transmission.
With their off-world guest out of the way, Hood looked to Wade and his friends, J, Tessa and Captain Mitchells sharing the gaze with them as the general spoke to them in finality. "Well, you know what comes next everyone. You're all dismissed for now. And remember, landing zone by 1300."
"We'll be there Sir." Wade said with a nod as he and his friends stood up, pushing in their chairs before making their way out to the door.
As they neared it, Wade stopped for a moment as they heard Hood call to one of his friends. "And F?" The soldier drone looked to the general as he continued. "Before we depart, would you mind changing your uniform? I believe it could help with identifying you from the other disassembly drones more easily." Glancing to J, then back to F, he finished with, "I recall hearing about the most formidable drones having clones prepared, yes?"
"Correct, Sir. I'll stop by the nearest barracks while I can." F replied before turning back to the door with her colleagues, Wade opening the door for them all as they passed through. After them, Wade passed through himself, shutting the door to the meeting room as he returned to the lobby.
Walking about together, F spoke to Wade and the others. "Well, that went smoothly. I'll be heading down to the barracks, then head over to your place to help out."
"Actually," Wade replied, raising a finger up as he asked his fellow murder drone, "You think you could bring your friends over? We could get to know each other while we're getting ready."
F glanced to Nathan with a smile before returning her eyes to Wade. "I could see about that. You're gonna like them, I can promise you that."
Taking Tina's hand, Wade walked with his girlfriend alongside Jasmine and the others, nearing the hallway they came through as they prepared for the walk back to the apartment.

Wade's visor beeped to life as his alarm system went off, the murder drone's clock showing the time, "8:00 AM", changing to his green-yellow eyes as he woke up. Tina's visor activated as well, the drone girl's own alarm activating she awakened from slumber with Wade.
Stifling a yawn, Wade looked to Tina as he rubbed her back, easing her as she rose upright. "Good morning, sweetie."
"Morning, Wade." Tina replied quietly as she looked to Wade, the two drones smiling warmly as they took in each other's presence. Noticing they were both almost completely bare of clothing, the two drones blushed as Wade began to move off the bed.
"Well, I should get something on." The former worker drone stated as they touched down on the floor, Tina grabbing her green shirt from the counter as she tried to get dressed as well.
"So should I." Tina said back as she put the shirt on, memories of their recent night together still fluent in her mind as she slowly walked over to the kitchen.
The last hours of the past night had been calm for the most part, Wade and his friends detailing their tragic capture, the loss of his brother Ron, the rescue of the drones, and finally, Tina and Wade's miraculous escape from the factory before returning to the base. After the chatter in the bar, the group split off to go their separate ways for the time being, Jasmine going with Wade and Tina to help them into her place before leaving them to watch it while she went to get some food for the next day. During their quiet stay in the apartment, Wade and Tina made small talk over what to do in the future before having what humans would call a... very pleasant night together.
And now, with the new day approaching, the drone couple had to get ready for whatever came ahead. Walking over to his clothes on one of the vacant chairs in the living room, Wade picked up his shirt, slapping it on him before glancing to Tina, who merely wore her copper brown pants and green shirt from yesterday. Smiling at his girlfriend, Wade spoke to her as he turned back around to continue redressing himself. "Seems Jasmine went out somewhere this morning. I don't see her anywhere."
Tina listened to Wade as she inspected the counter, noticing a small sticky note lying on it as she took hold of it. Tina could tell it was left by Jasmine, given the handwriting. The note said, "Morning you two! Went to get some food I forgot to pick up, I should be back shortly after you wake up. - Jasmine"
The pilot drone smiled as she read her sister's note, then turning to the living room to speak to Wade. "She went to get some breakfast, we should expect her to come back any minute now." Opening the fridge, Tina grabbed two cool cans of oil, one for herself and another for Wade. Setting the cans down on the counter, Tina closed the fridge before taking hold of the cans again, taking them with her to the living room where a fully dressed Wade now resided at.
As Tina took a seat next to Wade on the couch, the disassembly drone examined his built-in smartcomm, trying to add all the still active contacts he remembered off the top of his circuits as he spoke to Tina. "It's gonna be hard, being my own person without Ron." Chuckling, Wade smirked at Tina, finding himself unsure at his own words. "Or maybe I'm just overreacting."
Tina chortled at Wade's inconfidence as she tried to bring him some, handing him one of the oil beverages as she spoke. "I think you'll do fine, honey. I've run into some disrespectful humans in my life too."
Wade nodded in understanding as he took a sip of the oil, the sound of the front door opening catching the drones' attention as Jasmine walked in. Carrying a paper bag full of food items, the human pilot spoke aloud. "Morning, you two! Just had to finish an errand I screwed up last night."
"Oh, it's not a problem for us, Jass." Wade replied as he took a sip of his oil, Tina looking over to the kitchen wall as she listened to her sister.
"How was your night? You lovers passed out on me when I came in, so I just rested on the couch." The lover drones gave looks of apologetic concern as Jasmine walked back into the living room, the woman noticing Wade and Tina's faces as she continued speaking. "It's nothing, though. I slept well."
"I hope so, we didn't mean to take up the whole bed." Tina responded as she gave a blush of embarrassment, Wade nodding in agreement as Jasmine replied back.
"I did, really. Besides, you two deserved the bed after all you put up with yesterday. Gotta have some place to blow some steam."
Wade and Tina smiled at Jasmine's comment, then blushed as Wade questioned about her phrasing. "Wait, you mean that as a euphemism or...?"
A knock at the door shut up the discussion, Wade standing up as he offered to handle the visitors. "I'll get the door." Tina nodded as he walked over to the apartment entrance, checking the small peephole before opening the door. Looking down, he saw two beings: a human and drone soldier whom he assumed were from the Coalition given their specific body gear.
While he took notice of the militia duo, the drone soldier spoke up to him. "Good morning, we're looking for a..." He lifted up what appeared to be an ID card, Wade glancing at the object as he heard the drone continue his question. "...Wade Carter? We heard he resided here since last night." Looking to Wade again, the drone stopped himself upon finishing his sentence, then picking himself up as he spoke further. "Come to think of it, you look like him."
Wade smiled warmly as he spoke to the two guests. "That's right. You need something?"
"Eh, more like the other way around, actually." The drone soldier replied as he handed Wade the ID, the former worker drone taking it in his hands as he glanced over it. The ID showed him from when he was still a worker drone, but was thankfully untarnished from the factory as Wade held it tightly. Before he could speak, the human soldier handed him a pouch carrying what Wade presumed were a few more of his personal belongings. The drone soldier spoke once more as Wade took the pouch. "We found these while scavenging the storage bays at the factory, we've been heading around delivering them back to those they belong to."
Wade smiled brightly before finally speaking in a grateful tone. "Thanks, Sirs. If there's anything I can do to help, just let me know."
The two soldiers nodded as the human one replied. "Just doing our job, Mr. Carter. Have a pleasant morning." With that, the troopers departed the apartment complex, leaving Wade to himself as he shut the door.
Heading back inside, Tina and Jasmine looked to Wade as the former spoke to him. "Who was that?"
"Just some boys from the Coalition, and just like Nathan said, they finally found my ID!" Wade answered before showing the card off, Tina grinned happily as she saw it, Jasmine giving a simple smile as he spoke further. "Feels good to have it back, I think that was what was keeping me down a little yesterday."
"Well, at least you won't have to worry about that anymore." Tina replied as Wade put the card in his pocket, taking his seat again before setting the pouch at his legs. Taking notice of the pouch, Tina asked, "What's in that? Battery candy?"
Wade shook his head as he began pulling out the items inside the bag, speaking to Tina as he examined them. "Oh, no, looks like some more of my belongings." Once he was done, Wade put the pouch on the couch's cup holder, on the space behind the drink holders themselves. The items were other various cards and papers with various personal information of Wades written on them, along with Wade's wallet. Wade found it almost comical that the items were all separated from each other, rather than being inside the wallet after getting cleared out.
Tina seemed to agree with Wade's thoughts as he began reinserting the cards into his wallet. "Well, that's silly. They just put everything in that little pouch instead of putting it all back in that thing."
Wade chuckled as he put his ID into the frontal window pocket of the wallet. "Yeah, guess they had to clear every little part of it before sending it off." As he finished restocking his wallet, Wade glanced to the pouch before continuing. "Besides, that IS a nice pouch."
"It sure is." Tina replied before taking another sip of her oil can, Wade putting his wallet away as she spoke again. "On another subject, however, you think we should go see if Nathan's around? Him and Kurtis could come by and have some small talk."
Wade nodded as he started to speak, but stopped as Jasmine spoke first. "Actually, I ran into F earlier while at the market. I heard from her that Nathan was going to be joining her for a date later this afternoon." Glancing to Wade, she finished with, "So he might be already busy for the moment."
Taking his own oil can, Wade shrugged his arm as he replied. "Eh, no problem with that. Don't wanna kill a growing relationship, now do we?"
Tina chuckled lightly as she agreed with her boyfriend. "Indeed, if it were us, they'd probably do the same fo-"
The chatter stopped as another knock sounded at the door, Wade moving to get up again as he glanced to the ladies in confusion. "Another visitor?"
"You think it could be F?" Tina made a wild guess as Wade approached the door, glancing out the peephole in slight surprise before opening the door.
Wade felt as if their talk about the Ceres couple had been a form of summoning as he saw F and Nathan standing at the door, bearing strangely serious expressions as they were greeted by the former worker drone. "F! Nathan! Funny timing, we were just talking about you. Come on in, have a seat."
As the two walked past Wade, F pat him on the shoulder as she spoke to him. "As much as I'd like to visit Wade, I'm afraid we're not gonna be here long, nor are you and the Fowleys."
Wade raised an eyebrow at her reply as he followed Nathan and F, the two simply standing in front of Tina and Jasmine as Wade returned to the living room. "Oh?"
"We're leaving? Should we get dressed and pack our things ASAP?" Tina asked with mild concern as F replied to her.
"Yep, you're on the ball with getting ready, but we're... not exactly leaving." The disassembly drone's words brought a confused face from Tina as Nathan clarified his crush.
"We got a call from J, just as we were heading to one of the diners here." The two drones paused for a moment, glancing to each other as they almost spewed out about their date, but shook it off as Nathan continued with little hesitation. "She told us that Tessa had intercepted some kind of transmission, one that might help us clear up this situation with the company faster than we initially thought."
F gave an affirming nod on Nathan's explanation before adding to it. "Her and J are playing host to a meeting held by the general stationed here, and she wants us to attend." Glancing over Wade and the Fowley sisters, she finished the explanation with, "They especially want you two to come as well, given what you both went through."
Wade and Tina gave blushes of embarrassment at the news, honored by the invitation but also a little uncomfortable with their elevated status as they glanced to each other. After taking a moment to process what they heard, Wade broke the silence. "Well, I did make that promise at the factory, and to J and Tessa earlier... and I intend on acting on said promise." Looking to Tina, his girlfriend gave an agreeing nod as she stood up with him.
"Glad to hear it. We don't have to be in that much of a rush, though, the meeting doesn't start until 10." F stated, Wade and Tina both glancing at the clock to check the time before looking back to their murder drone friend with nods of acknowledgement.
Standing up from her chair, Jasmine stretched as she announced her goals to the room. "Well, in that case, I should hit the shower."
"Right, I'll get myself fixed up too." Tina replied as she looked to Wade, the two sharing warm smiles before heading to the kitchen. Noticing the still unstored items on the counter, Tina spoke aloud. "Jasmine? You mind if Wade and I help store the groceries in the cabinets here?"
"Sure, thanks!" Jasmine answered in a grateful tone as she went off to the bathroom in the back of the apartment, Tina glancing to Wade as she began to take some food out of the bag.
"I'll get the refrigerated stuff." Wade stated simply as he took some items out of the bag, Tina putting her chosen food stuffs into one of the cabinets as they worked to unload the fresh consumables from Jasmine's errand.

Context 4 year old boy is sweet as honey Very good boy Fun always a smile on his face. Today right before bed starts getting rambunctious and hits me Punch after punch maybe 50 hits Sometimes we laughed sometimes it hurt sometimes he was angry
At one point he hit me hard I bear hugged him a little too hard but kind of was like don't keep hitting me Keep in mind I took 100 punches before I did this
We had fun but man he can hit and all in all it was a fun night.
This is more of a cool stuff happened post But I did get a few good hits on him just to show whose the boss still.

The Halloween Update Part 1 In October 10 The Halloween update arrives bears will have costumes and they will give a new item Say hello to the broken Halloween Key Piece This a item black bear, brown bear, mother bear, scientific bear, polar bear and gifted Riley and bucko bee will give this item will be used to unlock a new place known as the Trick Or Treat Town Here you can trick or treat in houses gaining rewards there a small chance to give nee items most of of the time it will give candy trick or treating can also give bond to your bee or grant boosts. Here a list of some new items (there will be more soon) Sugar candy Frozen honey blocks Pumpkin drink Reaper bee egg Broken Halloween Key Piece Fortune wheel of jellybeans Pumpkin Convertor Skeleton spiders in a jar Cobwebs Pineapple candy Gummy dipped in honey Strawberry lollipop Basket of Blueberry candys

The soft spring breeze, warm, tinged with a whisper of citrus. Is that a hint of yuzu in the air? The trees bloom and bear the sweetest flowers, petal after petal filled with nectar… revealing just how beautiful they were born to become.
They say a woman’s youth and beauty is like the blossoming of one Springtime- fast and fleeting, over in the blink of an eye. But oh how remarkable it is to witness her beauty at full bloom.
Why is it then, that I still feel like I am blooming? Years and years of weathering the elements, yet still I bear petal after petal, blossoms of citrus, gardenia, rose, honey, nectar.
Who’s to say I won’t remain sweet for decades to come? After all, dried up fruits do indeed taste sweeter.

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I'm playing singleplayer Ragnarok and I want to get to honey...but I play with two specific mods that are making it very hard to get honey;

1. Ark Additions
   
2. ARK: Monsters Apocalypse REBORN!
   

Situation:
West of viking bay (if I got my directions right) is where Deinotherium herds spawn...worst part, it's two herds, near king's gulch and I'm afraid of going through pines's valley (or the bonelands heh) cause of how close the herds are and I know how fast the backwards-tusked bastards are!
I could go through the great plateau from the north...but two Bazelgeuse live there and I think there is a third one I'm forgetting, I haven't fought the monsters so I'm not sure how strong they are but I assume they are very OP since they go BOOM.
Rocky cliffs? No chance, absolutely filled with Bazelgeuse and Vaal Hazak.
I could go to the Coniferous Forests haven't scouted that place but if it means I have to go through the swamp then I'll cry, no one likes the swamps.
All the animals I have is, a small pack of dilos, 1 Tek trike, 1 Tek stego, 2 Tek parasaurs, 2 anky (1 is Tek), 2 Pteranodon and 1 dire bear.
What should I do? What creature must I tame and breed, i thought of taming Deinotherium but I've heard there is a limit to how many I can tame.
I thought of taming a male Tek anky and make a small heard of Tek ankys to go through it or tame a flock of argys and let them handle it. Need advice here cause I wanna reduce casualties as much as possible. ...also which of the monsters would make a good tame to possibly help.
Thank you for your time and I'm sorry if this sounds pure nonsense.

Hi! I am newer to crumbl and realizing that my taste is a bit different than some. This week the animal cookie one and funfetti one were so ridiculously sweet to me that I think I’ll toss the remaining ones. While I liked the classic pink sugar, again so sweet that I didn’t love it.
I have loved the chocolate cake, blueberry muffin, honey bear one (sweet but loved).
I’m looking for people who do cookie reviews that I guess find a lot of the popular ones to be too sweet. Would love to follow you if this is you. Thanks!

Barron, Laird. “Vastation,” The Beautiful Thing that Awaits Us All and Other Stories (Night Shade Books, 2013)
“He had still been Randolph Carter, a fixed point in the dimensional seething. Now, beyond the Ultimate Gateway, he realised in a moment of consuming fright that he was not one person, but many persons.”
“There were “Carters” in settings belonging to every known and suspected age of earth’s history, and to remoter ages of earthly entity transcending knowledge, suspicion, and credibility. “Carters” of forms both human and non-human, vertebrate and invertebrate, conscious and mindless, animal and vegetable. And more, there were “Carters” having nothing in common with earthly life, but moving outrageously amidst backgrounds of other planets and systems and galaxies and cosmic continua.”
“No death, no doom, no anguish can arouse the surpassing despair which flows from a loss of identity. Merging with nothingness is peaceful oblivion; but to be aware of existence and yet to know that one is no longer a definite being distinguished from other beings—that one no longer has a self—that is the nameless summit of agony and dread.”
H. P. Lovecraft – “The Gates of the Silver Key”
Preface:
When I volunteered to do a write-up for our year-long Laird Barron reading, Greg casually mentioned –slyly, one might say– that he had been planning to cover “Vastation” and would I like a crack at it instead? “Sure,” I said. “I like a challenge, why not?” My wife has left me. No one comes to visit me in this place where I have been taken. Even the rats and fleas, so ubiquitous in the rest of the institution, give my cell a wide berth. They know something is wrong. My thoughts spiral; I write in circles. It is possible that in a previous life I was a detective attempting to construct a timeline from a serial killer’s wall of thumbtacks and string. I will have my revenge on Greg.
Another Preface:
“Vastation” is actually a very straightforward story. You only need to familiarize yourself with the works of H. P. Lovecraft, read a little weird fiction literary theory, and stumble across an old interview between Laird and Greg. “Vastation” is what you get when you bludgeon Lovecraft’s stories over the head and throw their remains down a deep well into the Laird Barron cosmos. To crudely rearrange a few of Laird’s thoughts from the above-mentioned interview:
“Time is a ring… the universe is dirty… it’s all about stomach acids and semen and blood and effluvia… there’s even theories that it’s a cellular structure. [I]f you can get to the edge of the universe… If you were able to travel in your physical form, like superman, out to not the edge of the universe but the edge of all creation… you would cease to exist because there’s no room for you to exist there.”1
You drop Randolph Carter’s, “moment of consuming fright,” his epiphany at the end of everything that he is all living things, into Laird’s vision of an unending, hungering, ouroboros of time and space, and we have the premise of “Vastation.”
Two more points.

1. In reading many, but not all, of Lovecraft’s stories alluded to in, “Vastation,” I have learned that old Howie loved to write about characters living through the ages, living multiple lives, and taking numerous identities. The most prominent after, “The Gates of the Silver Key,” would be “The Case of Charles Dexter Ward.” Attention should also be paid to “The Whisperer in Darkness,” because it is the first appearance of the Mi-Go, who I believe to be the inspiration for Laird’s Pod People. 

2. The author and critic John Clute wrote a wonderful piece on the concept of vastation in regards to literary horror. He defines it, in part, as, “… a laying waste to a land or a psyche; a physical or psychological devastation; desolation… the even more disintegrative moment when the accidents of goodness are shaved mercilessly from the unsalvageable central core of the wicked.” In other words, vastation is when the illusory fabric of reality is pulled out from under the feet of the protagonist or narrator, exposing the absolute horrors beneath. In most horror or weird fiction stories vastation occurs gradually throughout the text or once at the climax. In “Vastation,” it happens endlessly. 

Summary and analysis:
“Vastation” is, as Laird once put it, “a “6000-word monologue from an unutterably mad superhuman” (UMS). Like Randolph Carter, he—and UMS does think of him/itself as a he, more on that later—knows that in some impossible sense he is all people, all living beings, throughout all of creation. He lives countless lives. He knows the future and the past, albeit imperfectly. He knows how to jump his consciousness from one body to another, how to travel time, how to manipulate biology on a molecular level. His knowledge and powers and nearly godlike. In death, in sleep, or simply by staring into his own left “freakish eyeball,” he visits the infernal blackhole known as Ur-Nyctos, the “the quaking mass at the center of everything,” and “portal to the blackest of hells.” There, he shatters into quantum nothingness before reconstituting somewhere else along the ring, and he knows it will never stop. World without end, lives without end, vastations without end.
Things get darker. Completely insane, UMS spends eternity killing himself, killing his friends, getting killed by his friends, and participating in the occasional apocalypse, all the while somewhat aware he is everyone he has ever killed and everyone who will ever kill him. Every turn of the ring is the same story from a different angle, like UMS riding a train at night, looking at his reflection in the dark window.
“Vastation” begins with the answer to an impossible question. Where does the story of someone unshackled from cause and effect, imprisoned in an eternally looping cosmos, start? How did UMS become the unutterably mad superhuman? Laird throws so many red herrings at us. Does the story begin in Chicago, when UMS dies at the hands of his personal Judas, Pontius Sacrus? Or in Crete, when he claims to have been a mere flea, or human, and beholds Ur-Nyctos through the keyhole in the potter’s hidden room (shout out to “Jaws of Saturn”)? Or when he abandons his distant-future body to be taken over by the Pod People? None of these moments contain UMS’s origin because they have happened before and will happen again ad infinitum. In “Vastation,” there are no first times. Laird solves this paradox by burying a plot point from “The Gates of the Silver Key” in the first words of “Vastation.”
“When I was six, I discovered a terrible truth; I was the only human being on the planet.” Notice, UMS did not say, “when I was six years old.” I spent weeks wondering what that meant. Then I noticed that Laird twice calls time traveling “tripping back.” It seemed oddly specific and turned out to be a phrase from “The Gates of the Silver Key,” in which, after Randolph Carter experiences the Zen-through-cosmic-horror epiphany I quoted at the top of this write-up, he beseeches Yog-Sothoth—because of course Yog-Sothoth makes an appearance— for even greater forbidden knowledge. Yog-Sothoth tells Carter, “what you wish, I have found good; and I am ready to grant that which I have granted eleven times only to beings of your planet—five times only to those you call men, or those resembling them.”
Five men, making Carter the sixth human, or sixth being resembling a human. “When I was six, I discovered…” The previous five are Pontiff Sacrus and UMS’s other friends.
About Pontiff Sacrus, I also spent an embarrassing amount of time obsessing over him. It may be of interest to know that high priests of ancient Rome were known as the College of Pontiffs, that the most prestigious position in the college was held by the Rex Sacrorum, that Ted is short for Edward, and that Edward Hutchinson is a necromancer who lives many lives and a significant character in “The Case of Charles Dexter Ward.”
By the way, the other time Laird stamps his foot and stares pointedly at the reader is when he employs the term “essential saltes.” It’s from “Charles Dexter Ward,” which begins with the following quote:
“The essential Saltes of Animals may be so prepared and preserved, that an ingenious Man may have the whole Ark of Noah in his own Studie, and raise the fine Shape of an Animal out of its Ashes at his Pleasure; and by the lyke Method from the essential Saltes of humane Dust, a Philosopher may, without any criminal Necromancy, call up the Shape of any dead Ancestour from the Dust whereinto his Bodie has been incinerated.”
So, UMS is damned to eternal life and eternal vastation. He, understandably, is insane. He whom the gods would destroy, they first make mad. Denials, contradictions, and possibly flat-out lies fill his monologue. Again, it’s in the first sentence. “I was the only human being on the planet.” He has to tell himself this. The knowledge of what he always will be, what he always has done, what he always will do., is too terrible for him to bear. He denies his infinite identities with the solipsist problem of other minds. He cannot be other people because other people are fungible, mere cheap Xerox’s, fleas; he is the only real McCoy. This is especially true of women—I said we would return to gender. While humanity in general is “grist for the mill,” women are either mentioned in passing or, in the case of UMS’s wives, described as inhuman automatons.
Think about it. Even though, on an infinite loop, he has done everything, been every human, has been/will be Beyoncé releasing her country album, Joan of Arc leading her men into battle, Martha Stewart receiving her sentence, and Bathory forcing some girl—who is also him—to kick stars, UMS never describes a single life he has spent as a woman. I think this is UMS grasping at an identity. It’s not that he necessarily hates women more than any other aspect of his universal selves so much as he is clinging to his gender as a self-defense mechanism. He is an individual because he flirts with Macedonian honeys. He is himself and not the wives he is tired of fucking, who are artificial anyway, even as they react to him with the very human responses of fear and suicide.2
Returning to the big picture, UMS’s cosmic gender identity issues are just the micro in the macro. Every timeline, every epoch, in “Vastation” is a story of committing murder to avoid forbidden knowledge. UMS’s wife kills herself rather than spend another night next to him as he dreams of Ur-Nyctos. UMS kills the potter before he can finish explaining how his wheel-device works—get it? — and then kills iteration after iteration of himself before he discovers the bloody peephole in the potter’s hidden chamber. He’s accused of witchcraft and imprisoned in a different well where he cannot share his knowledge of the past or future with anyone except other aspects of himself who mock him from the mouth of his prison. He reveals nanotech and genetic engendering to humanity, then commits global genocide to erase this knowledge. Again and again, UMS tries to keep humanity and himself from forbidden knowledge he cannot escape, murderously, scrambling back from the edges of vastation, forever failing.
There’s so much more. Any person who doesn’t miss the days when he went to sleep at a reasonable hour could write a dissertation on “Vastation.” I haven’t even TOUCHED most of the Lovecraft Easter eggs I found. I had a blast working on this, but this is me holding my gloves up and yelling, “no mas, no mass.” I’m going to bed.
Discussion:

1. Gordon van Gelder famously told Laird that he had bought “Shiva, Open Your Eye” (Laird’s first professional sale) because he wanted to see what Laird would do next. Ten years later, Vastation saw publication in Cthulhu’s Reign and has been called something of a reincarnation of “Shiva.” What similarities do we see? 

   1. I suspect, but could not find enough support in the texts, that UMS’s ascendancy into superhuman status, or his visits to Ur-Nyctos—if there is a difference—is what awakens the Old Ones, drawing their attention to pitiful humanity. He does seem to do his best to avoid them. Thoughts?
   2. If anyone has any thoughts about what Laird was referencing when UMS pushes his best friend off a bridge I would love to hear it.
   3. Does Laird deny UMS a name because he is everyone?
   4. “After I made me, I crushed the mold under my heel.” That’s some sort of pun about the fungal Pod People, right?
   Footnotes / references
   
2. from an interview between Greg and Laird which took place on June 23, 2021.
   “There was one theory, if you can get to the edge of the universe, somehow get to the leading, bleeding edge of reality, it’s actually, it would compress you to, basically it would get narrower and narrower. You would get flattened. If you were able to travel in your physical form, like superman, out to not the edge of the universe but the edge of all creation, it acts just like a blade… you would cease to exist because there’s no room for you to exist there.
   And that was one theory. But the other theory was--you know how a fountain works? You’ve got a base of water and it shoots up, and it looks like a different stream of water coming out of the angel’s mouth, but it’s just the water cycling. It’s the same water going through. That was another theory about the universe. It is constantly going through itself. If you recycle the water through the fountain, or you pull a slinky through itself, or a sock, it just constantly turns into itself over and over again.
   …maybe it’s not always 100% the same, because the slinky moves left or right a few millimeters. Unless you have it on a machine going through the same exact angle at the same speed, possibly there’s: this time it went through like this; maybe it wobbled a little bit. That’s how we could get the idea of free will. That determinism vs. you can have a little control over your destiny…
   Time is a ring… the universe is dirty. Look at the processes of all--there could be life forms out there that are very clean and just made of light and music…[b]ut generally speaking, it’s all about stomach acids and semen and blood and effluvia and all this stuff. So I was like alright, it’s an organic--the universe is very organic. There’s even theories that it’s a cellular structure.”
   
   1. Anyone interested in this type of analysis might want to check out Julia Kristeva’s theory of the abject.