by Ramy Vance
Sandy led the Mundanes through the city. The buildings were nearly as tall as skyscrapers. As they walked farther into the city, Suzuki noticed that there were more trees than on the city’s outskirts. Many of the buildings were actually built into the sides of hulking redwood trees, stretching up the trees as if they were vines. All of the buildings appeared ancient even though, from the looks of their wares, they were trendy. “Pretty impressive for a refugee camp,” he whistled.
Hats appeared to be in vogue. Elves paraded in the streets wearing a variety of hats, ranging from small, well-constructed caps to ornate witch hats with large brims, pointy tops, and something which looked like earrings which dangled nearly down to the elves’ chests.
And everyone seemed to be in a rush. The elves hardly stopped moving, even when they stopped to greet each other. It was almost the opposite of what Suzuki would have expected to find. The few elves he’d met through MERC seemed to be much more easy-going.
The Mundanes turned a corner and stopped at a shop named Delicacies and Other Fare. It was one of the many shops built into the immense redwood trees.
Stew opened the door for Sandy and let it slam in Suzuki’s face. He turned around to casually flip Suzuki off while trying to keep from smiling too widely.
“Real mature,” Suzuki muttered, walking in behind them.
Bottles of wine and mead covered the walls. There was a display of wines and cheeses in the middle of the room. The smell of the cheese was almost overpowering, and it hit Suzuki like a wave of curds and spoiled milk. An old elf whose ears had started to droop somewhat sat behind a counter, his eyes closed. He snored quietly, murmuring in his sleep.
Suzuki and Sandy walked up to the front desk while Stew wandered around the store, picking up wine bottles and reading the labels. Sandy rapped her knuckles on the countertop and the old elf jumped. He wiped the sleep from his eyes and lazily looked at Suzuki and Sandy. “Welcome to Delicacies. Welcome, welcome.”
The elf stood and extended his hand to Suzuki. His skin was nearly translucent, but his grip was firm. He puffed his stomach out and looked ahead, trying to look impressive, adopting a regal air. “My name is Antoine,” he said. “This is my shop. These wines are the products of my family for centuries. They tell tales of elvish culture and history. Each note is a lesson in what it means to be elvish.”
Antoine leaned closer, pushing up his spectacles. He appraised the two Mundanes in front of him in the way one looks at insects. “Hmm. Neither of you is elvish. May I ask what has brought you to my humble shop?”
Sandy scrolled through her HUD and selected an item which appeared on the countertop: a coupon for a forty percent discount on a bottle of wine.
Antoine picked up the coupon and stared at it. The bit of excitement he’d first displayed drained from his face. He sat down in his chair again and sighed as if he were expiring. “Oh, this. Yes, we still honor this. What would you like to get?”
Sandy smiled sweetly, trying to infuse as much class into her pearly whites as she could. Unfortunately, the number of small cuts and dust on her face made her look more like a street rat than a wine snob. “Well, we were wondering if you could help us with that. We’re looking for something really good. A wine that says, ‘this is for divinity.’”
A bit of that previous spark lit up Antoine’s face. “Divinity, eh?” he mused. “I do have a few bottles that would conjure up those feelings, and might be in your price range.” Antoine eyed the Mundanes again, not bothering to hide his disappointment.
Antoine came out from behind the counter and the Mundanes followed him as he meandered through the store, occasionally stopping at a bottle. He would hunch over and stare at whatever bottle was before him. He muttered under his breath as he stared at the wine bottles. “Hmmm. This would be too much for them. The stories are too old and too different, but if it’s to inspire divinity, true divinity, perhaps this one. Yes. No.”
Antoine snapped his fingers and chuckled, then walked briskly across the shop to the other wall. He grabbed a bottle from one of the top shelves and held it up for the Mundanes to see.
Suzuki took the bottle Antoine offered. There was no label on it, and the glass was black so that its contents were obscured.
Antoine pointed to the bottle and nodded as he spoke. “This is a fine bottle of elvish wine. It’s a fairly new batch, so it’ll be cheaper. Despite its youth, it still manages to convey a certain, what is the word, ”gravitas” to its bouquet. It is based on the tale of Halsheriel, a renowned elvish warrior. It is said that he once defeated an entire army of orcs by himself. That is legend. It is a fact that he was the general who led the last stand against the orc rebellion of the Third Age.”
Stew took the bottle from Suzuki. He nearly dropped it, and floundered to catch it as Antoine’s eyes nearly jumped out of his skull. Stew narrowly caught the bottle between his legs. He sighed with relief as he looked closely at the wine. “What are you talking about when you say that the wine tells a story?” Stew asked.
“All elvish wines tell a story. With each sip, the story unfolds before you. They are meant to be enjoyed in one sitting and with multiple drinkers. Finishing a bottle by oneself has been known to cause month-long hangovers filled with nightmares. I’d recommend drinking this with at least three people.”
“So you drink it and hallucinate?”
“It’s not quite a hallucination. It’s more like watching a dream that you are aware is a dream. You close your eyes and the dream plays across your eyelids.”
The Mundanes talked it over for a moment before deciding to get the wine. Suzuki paid Antoine, who packed up the bottle in an elegant box which was decorated with a fine, green silk bow. He put the box in a pink bag which had Delicacies emblazoned on it. Suzuki thanked Antoine, and the Mundanes left the shop.
Once the door closed behind them, Antoine took a seat behind the counter. He was back asleep within a couple of seconds.
Sandy took a look at her map and pointed down the street. “Next stop is a cross, holy water, and a tabernacle.”
“Those are pretty human things to find here,” Suzuki said.
Sandy hit her HUD, and it flashed a holographic image in front of Suzuki and Stew. A shop with the name Oddities and Bizarrities was circled. “They specialize in other cultures’ oddities,” Sandy said.
“Are our religions our oddities?”
“Think about it. Wouldn’t elf shit be kinda weird to humans?”
“If humans on Earth even believe in elves. No one seems to notice us here. I’m pretty sure someone would have already called a national emergency if these guys showed up in LA.”
Sandy guided them to the next store. Much like the wine shop, it was built into the side of a tree, but this tree appeared to have been dead for some time. Its branches were gnarled and dried out. The shop was painted black, its windows had red crushed velvet drapes, and the door had a gargoyle knocker.
Suzuki pulled back on the gargoyle’s nose ring and waited for an answer.
A small slot in the door materialized. Two bright red-and-orange eyes stared at Suzuki from the other side. “What’s the password?” the voice asked.
“Uh, I don’t know the password.”
There was a pause, then they heard scuffling, and the sounds of large furniture being moved and a dozen glass bottles breaking. The eyes appeared again. “Good enough.”
The slot closed and the door opened.
The Mundanes stepped into a shop of oddities indeed. Stuffed magical creatures hung from the ceiling, dangling over customers like some bizarre constellation. Shelves throughout the shop were filled with devices that Suzuki had never seen or dreamed of before. He wandered over to a shelf that was empty except for a book that he picked up. There was no title, so he put the book back down.
As Suzuki walked away, he heard a nasal voice whisper, “Hey, kid! Where you going? Come back!”
Suzuki turned back to the shelf. The book he had been looking at was sitting uprig
ht and was open. “Um, were you talking to me?”
“I was indeed. Why don’t you just come over and have a quick read?” The book had a 1920s gangster drawl to it, sounding like it was trying to sell him drugs while on the lookout for Dick Tracy.
Suzuki warily made his way back to the book. He peered at it but kept his distance. “There’s nothing written in, uh, you?”
“That’s because you have to write it. I tell the story that you want to hear.”
“How does it work? I mean you. How do you work?”
“Pick me up and find out.”
Suzuki grabbed the book. He thumbed through the blank pages, hoping Sandy and Stew didn’t see what he was doing. Then he heard a deep voice booming in his head.
Beth leaned over to whisper into Suzuki’s ear and licked his earlobe. With one hand, she started to hike up her shirt, her breasts aching to be released, while her other hand slowly unzipped Suzuki’s—
Suzuki dropped the book and stepped away. He checked to see if Stew or Sandy had seen him before he coughed loudly and adjusted himself.
The pages of the book began to ink themselves with a picture. Suzuki leaned over to see it. It was Beth and, from the outline, she was wearing less than Suzuki could have imagined.
Suzuki closed the book with his foot before picking it up and putting it back on the shelf.
The book shimmered and changed color as a title wrote itself on the book’s cover. “No one can hear or see it other than you,” the book said. “It can be our little secret. Whatever story you want to hear.”
Across the store, Sandy and Stew were talking to an employee at the counter. Sandy caught Suzuki’s eyes and waved him over.
“Whatever you want to read,” the book repeated.
Suzuki grabbed the book and rushed over to the counter. He tossed it down next to a vial of holy water and a large wooden crucifix. The Christ depicted on the crucifix seemed to be in excruciating pain. “Do you think he’s going to like this?” Suzuki asked.
Sandy picked up the crucifix and gave it a once over. She nodded, satisfied with the painful plight of the crucifix. “Dude, it’s his passion. If we’re going to try to impress José, we gotta show that we understand what he went through. We don’t want it to seem like we don’t think it was important.”
Stew took the crucifix from Sandy and held it up the way that children hold Christmas ornaments. “Yeah, we don’t want it to seem like we just punked out of the hard shit. He’s gotta know that we’re as hardcore as he is. And this is a hardcore crucifix. What’s up with the book?”
Suzuki shoved the book to the cashier and forced a weak smile. “Oh, this? Just a journal. I want to keep better track of my thoughts and shit. You know. Reflections and shit.”
“Uh, okay, dude.” Stew picked it up as if he were allergic to reading. “Sounds lame, though.”
The cashier rang up the Mundanes’ items, and they all forked over their coins. Once they had paid, they uploaded the items into their inventories and went back outside.
Outside, the sun was starting to set. The leaves of the trees the shops were embedded in looked as if they were on fire, the sky was all oranges and red, and the clouds were an eerie purple as the last of the day’s light faded. Suzuki sat down on the side of the street and watched the few elves who were still out walking around, enjoying their city.
“I wish we could stay longer,” Suzuki said. “It’d be cool to explore a little bit, you know. I’ve never been to another race’s city before. I mean, look at this shit!”
Suzuki gestured to the shop behind him. “There’s literally nothing like this on Earth.”
Stew ran his hands over the bark of the tree. A piece came off in his hand, and he stared at it for a moment before handing it to Suzuki. “Here’s a souvenir if you want to get all emotional and junk.”
Suzuki took the chunk of tree and pocketed it before shoving Stew away. “Fuck off,” he said. “I’m just saying. This is pretty fucking cool. We should come back and check it again. Maybe some more elf shit. I know it can’t all just be elvish shopping malls.”
Sandy nodded as she sat down next to Suzuki and watched the horse carriages go by. “Suzuki’s right. I remember when my grandpa was stationed in Japan, we used to travel all the time. See different temples and forests and things like that. It never got old. It was just, you know, not like home. It was pretty beautiful.”
Stew sat down next to Sandy and put his arm around her. “All right, if we’re going to be all emotional and shit, yeah, it’ll be cool to see something other than bars and caves. And there’s got to be a lot more than bars and caves for us in Middang3ard, no?”
Suzuki agreed. The little bit of Middang3ard that he had seen was beautiful and frightening, but that was just the tip of the iceberg. He bet there were hidden treasures in the world that even its natives didn’t know about. “Beth would have loved this,” he said. “She would have known how to appreciate what we’re doing.”
Sandy squeezed Suzuki’s knee and smiled at him. “And she will. We’ll make sure to show her everything, right?”
“Yeah. We’ll give her the whole tour.”
“Come on. We should get going.”
Sandy led the Mundanes back to the corner that they had first been teleported to. There was another public teleportation portal beside the one they had used. She stepped through it and Stew went in afterward.
Suzuki took a second, turning to admire the sunset. It was beautiful, so different from a sunset on Earth, yet still somehow similar.
He only wished he could share it with Beth.
Chapter Eight
Suzuki showed up at the designated party site in the middle of the afternoon. Stew and Sandy had already been there working for a few hours. They had rented a house in the MERC encampment a couple of blocks away from the Red Lion. The furniture had been moved out of the house’s living room so there was an ample amount of free space.
The Ark of the Covenant had been set up in the middle of the room. It was something Sandy had paid a bit extra to have built for them. It was straight out of the Old Testament: a gold-covered wooden chest with a cherub on each corner.
Candles were lit around the Ark of the Covenant and incense was burning. The room smelled heavily of myrrh.
Suzuki walked through the room as he tried to take it all in. He felt like he was in church, or at least his idea of church. He hadn’t attended much when he was younger. He’d gotten the gist of what was going on, though. Suzuki approached Stew while the barbarian was hanging up the Christmas lights. “Where the hell did you get these from?” Suzuki asked.
Stew pointed over to Sandy, who was tending to the incense burner. “That was all Sandy. She’s taken care of all of the small things.”
“I thought we were going with the Nativity Scene?”
Sandy jumped off the ladder she was using to hang Christmas decorations from the ceiling. “Oh, this is better. It’s meant to be a Christmas Mass. You know, like a Catholic Mass. Super-ritualistic. I figured that would help show how important all of this is. I’m calling it Happy Belated Christmas Birthday Day.”
“And you think he’ll dig it cause it’s a Mass?”
“Yeah, you know, cause of the whole ritualist part of it. Rituals aren’t easy to do. At all. I’ve been reading about some of the ritualistic magic that MERCs use, and it’s out of control. I figure if we go the extra couple of…whatever you’d go…it’d be pretty obvious that we were serious.”
“And you guys have told José about all this?”
Stew and Sandy looked at each other. It was obvious from their blank faces that they hadn’t bothered to tell José about what they were planning for him.
Sandy laughed as she wandered over to the Christmas tree in the corner of the room. “I thought you could tell José, Suzuki. You know, since you’re the unofficial leader of the Mundanes. Leader talking to leader. That kind of thing.”
Suzuki walked over to the Ark. It was covered with candles
that were leaking wax onto its golden surface. There was a Nine Inch Nails CD sitting in the middle of the candles. Suzuki picked it up and held it for Stew and Sandy to see. “And what the hell is this?” he asked.
Stew grabbed the CD from Suzuki and put it down with the tenderness one would reserve for a newborn child. “This,” Stew started, “is The Downward Spiral by Nine Inch Nails, the literal definition of gothic industrial music. This album was revolutionary. After this album dropped—”
“All right, I got you. Why is it there?”
“We have the cross and holy water; that CD represents the nails used to crucify Christ. You know, symbolically speaking.” Stew gave Suzuki a smile that the warrior-mage was sure the barbarian had used on his teachers when trying to pull a fast one. “It’s the whole fucking thing. How could José not be into this?”
“And I have to bring him here?”
“Yep, O Fearless Leader. You’re our only hope.”
Suzuki looked at the hodgepodge of religious iconography. The room looked like something a kindergarten class would have organized for a Christmas pageant. Granted, there was a lot more gold than children could afford. The look was earnest, at least. Sincerity was as abundant as the Christmas cheer in the room.
Suzuki leaned over and casually blew out the candles. “Guess I’ll go grab José.”
“You got the easiest job,” Sandy called from across the room. “I didn’t see you having to hang anything.”
Suzuki threw his hands up as he made his way toward the door. “Yeah, whatever. I’ll take care of it.”
It was the middle of the afternoon, so the Red Lion was practically abandoned. Suzuki walked to the bar, where Wendy was sitting, having a drink. She lazily looked up at him as she sipped her beer. Suzuki took a seat next to her and waited awkwardly until she paid attention.
Wendy downed the last of her beer and put it on the counter. “Can I help you with anything?”
