by Hunter Blain
“What’s up, Special Agent in Charge Baker? Doing good, man. How ’bout yourself?”
“Welp, first, it’s Director Baker now, and I’ve changed branches. No longer in the field.”
“Really? That’s awesome!” I said joyfully, always happy when people I considered friends did well in life. “Who ya with now?”
“I now oversee the globally funded Nexus of Reality Management and Liability.”
“Nexus of...rea...N.O.R.M.A.L.? That’s actually clever as hell, man.”
“Thanks. They let me come up with the name.”
“You said it’s worldwide?”
“That I did. All the civilized countries of the world are a part of the organization at some level, with the intent of keeping our reality in check.”
“Well, it’s funny you should say that because I have a question about the year 2020, which I am only just now hearing about.”
“I can assume what you are going to ask and will come right out and say that there were bigger pieces in play that needed to be, shall we say, shrouded from the public at large.”
“So you guys blamed it on the politics of the US?”
“Actually, no. That part was filled in by the population at large without our intervention. We had actually given the people too much credit and crafted a much more elaborate narrative that involved aliens. We even released classified CIA documents containing literal proof of extraterrestrial life caught on video by the various militaries of the world.”
“Holy shit, really? And no one took the bait?”
“Welp, we have deduced that it goes right along with mundane human’s disregard of all things supernatural. You can show someone absolute proof of something beyond their understanding, and their brains will fight to the death to disavow any such evidence.”
“Hmph,” I puffed out while placing my free hand on my hip and glancing up at the ceiling in thought. “I knew mortals tried to reason away supes, but I didn’t know that extended to aliens, too.”
“Is it that hard to believe?” Director Baker asked.
“Oh, no. Makes perfect sense, now that you mention it.” I lowered my gaze back to my phone and continued my original thought. “So what were you guys trying to hide, if I may ask?”
“Hmm,” Collin began, obviously choosing his words carefully. Once again, I had to remind myself that the man I was talking to was a government agent tasked with keeping Earth’s most important secrets. “Ah, okay,” he began, putting emphasis on certain words, “The Nexus of Reality Management and Liability was created when, let’s say, a spillage occurred.” His silence rang out, waiting for me to catch on.
“What sort of spillage?” Locke asked, stepping forward and crossing his arms, tilting his head as he intently listened.
“Welp, it bears repeating that there is only so much I am allowed to divulge, even to allies in the know such as yourselves. But what I can say is that there has been an influx of Mandela Effects with no known origin.”
“Like Cheez-Itz!” I called out, snapping my fingers before pointing at Locke. “We were just talking about this. We remember there being a Z at the end.”
“I would say it is an odd coincidence that you noticed one of the phenomena, but I think claiming it as a random occurrence would diminish your observation of the universe at large.”
I stared at my phone for a moment before tilting my head, scrunching my face, and letting out a, “Huh?”
“He’s complimenting you on catching a change in the matrix rather than simply stumbling upon it or dismissing it entirely, John,” Locke explained.
“Oh! Right! I, ah, I knew that. Yup.”
“Please, go on,” Locke encouraged Director Baker.
“It behooves the entire world to stay blissfully unaware of things like slippages. Hence, we created a distraction for them to focus on, never anticipating mankind’s collective imagination filling in the blanks so wonderfully.”
“Reminds me of that awesome movie, Inception, starring that Leonardo, um, da Vinci guy...”
“Not to be confused with the world-renowned painter, Leonardo DiCaprio,” Locke said under his breath as he picked up his coffee and pulled from it.
“Huh?” I asked. A split second later, it came to me. “Oh, Lilith damn you, Locke. You knew what I meant.” An idea came to me, and I excitedly asked Director Baker, “Hey! Maybe that’s another Mandela Effect!”
“It isn’t.”
“Pfft,” Locke spit out his coffee and began choking from laughter.
“Ugh, whatever, guys!” I threw up my hands in frustration before regaining my composure. “Okay, so you are saying that since people are figuring out that Sinbad didn’t star as a genie in a movie called Shazaam that you had to fabricate a ton of bullshit to draw their attention?”
“Another perfect example,” Collin said with a smile in his voice.
“Hey!” I barked, pointing a finger accusingly at my phone, “Don’t change the subject.”
“Yes, John. Because there was an alarming amount of spillage into our world, we had to distract the masses. Though, to be fair, we didn’t anticipate things would go as far as they did.”
“Yeah, seriously,” I drawled, rubbing at my eyes. “Locke was saying there was almost another war of some type or another? The hell was up with that? And what was up with the toilet paper shortages?”
“Not my department, thank God,” Director Baker admitted.
“Oh, while I have you on the line,” Locke began. “What was with the Republicans and Democrats almost starting another civil war? I-I-I’ve always been curious to know.”
“Once again, not my department.”
I had to speak up at that. “Wait, so people were actually ready to go to war with their neighbors...over something as mundane as what political party they identified with? The United States? The first-world country United States? You can’t be serious. Wha-wha-what did the Libertarians do? Buy popcorn and peek out their windows while placing bets and snickering? Lilith, I’m so thankful that I don’t care about politics. Shit sounds unnecessarily stressful.”
“Actually, it would have been nice to have you here during that time, John. There were more than a handful of politicians on both sides that easily fell within your moral compass of ‘correcting,’” Locke said with air quotes. “Oh, that reminds me, I still have that list of pharmaceutical CEOs and politicians to go over with you. Though that section of the list is getting out of control.”
“Guys, if there isn’t anything else that pertains to my department...I really should get back to work. What I oversee is leaps and bounds more important than the illusory politics of individual countries, even the United States,” Collin said, annoyance in his tone.
“Dude, isn’t it, like, 4:15 in the morning or something?” I asked, glancing at the clock on the stove and then mentally smacking my forehead for not just looking at the phone that I literally had open in front of me.
“I do not sleep anymore. Don’t need it. And what I do is of vast importance.”
“The spillage,” I said just above a whisper as I thought on his words.
A feeling of unease started building in my core, like a growing tide that inched higher and higher onto the shore.
Locke must have felt it, too, because he spoke up.
“What caused the spillage?”
“That, I’m afraid, I cannot answer at this time.”
“How did you manage to course correct?” I asked, bouncing off of Locke’s excellent question.
“N.O.R.M.A.L. works with various allies across the world, where the FBPI only operated mostly within the continental United States.”
“Did Hecate help?” I asked out of nowhere, prompting Locke to shift his weight where he stood. Director Baker took a few moments to think on my question.
“I can neither confirm nor deny that,” Collin said with an emphasis strategically placed within his answer.
“Shit,” Locke breathed out, covering his mouth with his
palm before letting it slide off, his facial hair rustling against his skin.
“What?” I asked Locke, anxiety blowing at the building tide of unease creating capping waves of worry that pounded on the sands of my mind.
“I’ll tell you later,” Locke said as he returned his gaze to my extended hand. “We appreciate your help, Collin.”
“Hey, while we have you,” I began, “we are moving on to the last warlock stronghold in Germany.”
“That is good to hear.”
“But, um, there are some interesting new, ah-ah-ah, monsters we have encountered.”
“I’m listening.”
I explained about the were-pires with near immunity to silver and the ability to teleport.
“That is interesting,” Collin said to himself.
“Yeah, but here’s the thing: they are susceptible to sunlight.”
“How many are there, do you think?” he asked.
“I mean, we only saw one, but when I last spoke to Taylor a few years ago, he told me that weres had been going missing all over the place. So I’m just guessing there are probably more than just ol’ Stripe Face from this morning.”
“Stands to reason. But it’s also better to assume the worst and prepare for it rather than being blindsided,” Collin said with a sigh. I think I had just added a whole massive pile to his In-Box.
“Collin,” Locke spoke up.
“Go ahead, Locke.”
“Would you mind if I called you in the morning to discuss these new creatures? I have already sent word to the Council and am expecting some sort of reply sooner rather than later.”
“Why, yes. Yes, that would be fine. I’ll send you my contact information.”
I stood holding my phone out so the two could carry out the conversation, feeling like a middleman between two higher-ups who were talking about stuff above my paygrade. Not sure why I felt that way, but I did.
Locke looked up at me as Collin let silence hang in the air.
“Alright. Thanks, Collin. Talk soon,” I said before hanging up.
“That...that was rude.”
“What?” I asked, feigning ignorance.
“You just hung up on him.”
“I did? Anyway, what about Hecate?” I asked, changing the subject.
A lightsaber sounded and I looked down to see a text from Collin.
“Call was disconnected. If there was nothing else, I bid you farewell this early morning.”
I instantly felt guilty, so I texted him a less-than sign and the number 3 to form a heart shape, refusing to use the still popular emojis.
Looking up from my phone, I saw Locke patiently waiting for me to finish my heart-shaped apology.
“I need to visit the Council,” Locke informed.
“Okay, when do we go?”
“I should, ah, probably go alone, John. If it is official Council business, I mean.”
“Hey! I’m on the Council now. Didn’t you hear?”
“Mm-hmm, just like you’re also working for the government too, right?”
My mind opened Adobe—pirated—and pulled up two scenes in the movie editor. While wearing a green, see-through visor and holding a chewed-up cigar in his teeth, my mind completed the editing process and hit play.
The first scene showed then Special Agent in Charge Collin Baker clarifying that I would only be working with the US Government and not for it, and that it was an important distinction. Dwight Schrute from The Office came to mind, always getting corrected about his title being “Assistant to the Regional Manager.”
The next scene was Hecate pulling a Star Wars and informing me that though I was on the Council, I wasn’t to be granted the rank of warden.
“Wait a sec...Hecate did say I was on the Council.”
“Right. I’m willing to bet you’ll receive a 1099 in January.”
“I, ah...I don’t understand what you said.”
Locke only shook his head as he pretended to look out the window, refusing to elaborate.
Tiny Tim was sprawled out on the floor, his head resting on his front legs as his eyes shifted back and forth between Locke and I, wordlessly pleading that someone pay attention to him.
I crouched down and leaned against the center island, letting my butt rest on the cool tile. Tim sprang into action and walked the few steps to me with his tongue lolling and his tail wagging. As he approached, I picked him up and set him in my lap as I rested my head against the wood of the countertop frame. My hand began stroking him from head to tail on autopilot.
“Anyway. Why don’t you get some rest or maybe go check up on Depweg and Magni?” Locke suggested as he downed the rest of his coffee, knowing he would need to fully wake up now.
Ignoring his suggestion, as I wasn’t ready to see Depweg even after two years, I said, “Just tell Hecate I said...I don’t know...something.”
“Got it.”
Locke disappeared out of the kitchen, leaving me to stare at my reflection in the sliding glass door while my hand continued to glide over Tiny Tim.
Lifting my left arm, I opened my phone and typed a message to Hayley. “What’s your ETA on the next house?”
“GPS says around seven hours.”
“Got it. See ya then,” I typed back before setting an alarm on my phone for six hours and forty-five minutes.
My eyes roamed the glass door in front of me, looking at the distorted view of the kitchen that was darkly lit. Hayley was right; it was totally a dude’s place. At least I had let my friends decorate their rooms however they wanted. Of course, when I say let, I mean I didn’t care and only told Locke what was important to me, such as the underground section of the home resembling the 1989 Batman Batcave. I trusted my wizard friend to handle all the other mundane details with Collin.
My eyes landed on a white pad that sat in stark contrast to the matte black fridge. Turning my gaze, I leaned down and craned my neck to look at the word calendar on the refrigerator.
Decimate. dec-i-mate
Verb
1.Kill, destroy, or remove a large percentage or part of.
2.HISTORICAL — kill one in every ten of (a group of soldiers or others) as a punishment for the whole group.
“Heh,” I let out as I returned to my sitting position while staring at the glass. “Decimate them,” I said in a bad guy British voice. “No, wait. I’m really peeved; octomate them. Mmm, yes. Then we shall have tea and crumpets.”
Looking down at my watch to see how much time had passed, I saw my alarm read six hours and forty-four minutes.
“Eyah,” I puffed out in annoyance. I thought for sure at least a couple hours had gone by.
Picking up Tiny Tim, I grunted as I got to my feet and casually sauntered to the front entrance.
It was grand, with an impressive stairway on either wall that led up to the second floor, where we kept the entertainment.
Ludvig had requested a fully stocked gym, and I assumed Depweg would be in full agreement with that, so it was built with every kind of machine needed for the burly men. Though I did take note that a large portion of one corner was dedicated to strongman lifts, like the giant stone Atlas Balls.
“Heh, balls,” I said to myself as I walked.
Moving down a section of the house made to resemble a movie theater, I stepped into the impressive auditorium with stadium seating enough to fit forty people. There were four rows of ten seats, with everyone knowing that mine was the front-and-middle seat. How did they know, you may ask? Well, I had my name lovingly stenciled on the headrest, which had honestly been a mistake. If I didn’t have my beanie on for some reason and wanted to watch a movie, resting my head against it proved to be annoying at times. I could feel the elegant stitching pushing into my head. I wanted to bitch about it, but lacked the conviction considering I had requested it be done. Plus, it was my name. On top of that, it was rare I was without my trusted beanie anyway.
Feeling particularly lazy, I pulled the giant beanbag from the corner of the room and
dropped it right in front of my seat. The thing came up to my chest and was five feet in circumference.
Turning to face the giant, curved movie theater–quality screen, I plopped down heavily with an accompanying sigh as my body repositioned the contents of the bag around. Tiny Tim continued to rest against my chest where I held him with my arm.
Once comfy, I moved my hand from the warm puppy and opened my phone to select a movie.
I hadn’t fully created a list of movies I had missed since my vacation in Faerie, but would know what I wanted to see when I saw it.
The Batman appeared alongside my copies of Batman, Batman Begins, and Batman Returns, and I hit play. I had tried to watch Edward as Bruce Wayne before, but it had been more of an attempt at distraction when my friends had gone on a mission to fight Ulric during the day.
“Ulric,” I breathed, “...bastard...”
I shook my head a few times, trying to relax my mind and enjoy the movie that had begun to roll its opening credits.
Tiny Tim’s slow, steady breathing and the super comfy beanbag let me drift off to sleep before I realized what was happening.
9
Locke - The In-Between
Locke was dressed in his formal brown robes that signified he was an official member of the Council, though at the bottom of the totem pole. On his left breast was the symbol of the Council, similarly stitched in brown, which was also a showcase of his relatively new membership status. Brown was the base of the organization, similar to how earth was the foundation for, well, everything.
Above the color brown in rank was the blue of water, followed by the green of life. After that was the red of fire. Those in crimson were power hitters meant to destroy all who would challenge the sanctity of the Earthen plane. Parallel to the red cloaks were the wardens, adorned in gray. Where those clad in red were the military of the Council, the gray cloaks were its police, keeping order without destroying when appropriate. However, the wardens were able to operate as judge, jury, and executioner as they saw fit when in the field.
Next up the chain were the gold cloaks who sat directly on the Council. They each oversaw different aspects of the supernatural community in much the same way most governments operated. In the Council’s chambers rested a circular table with chairs placed around in the shape of a pentagram. Some thought the five-sided star belonged to the Devil, but they were mistaken. The pentagram had been used for centuries by various peoples—even by the Christians to represent the five wounds of Jesus. Some have said it also represents the five senses of man.
