The Mythniks Saga

by Paul Neuhaus

  “People call them ‘space hippies’…”

  “That’s right. You pay to rise up through their ranks. Supposedly, when you get to the top level, they crack a vault and you get to see the sacred scriptures. A bullshit tale about how we’re all descended from aliens or something.”

  “Are you sure we’re not descended from aliens or something?”

  I rolled my eyes. “I don’t wanna get into theology right now, but, even if we are descended from aliens, I doubt it’s the set the Church of Reciprocity claims it is. I never bothered reading the story. It’s on the Internet somewhere. Supposed to be bat-shit crazy.”

  “Okay, so what’re we gonna do?”

  “You’re assuming we’re gonna do anything.”

  Hope sighed a disappointed sigh. “Come on, Dora. You’re snapping right back into the place you were before—only worse. This isn’t you. And even if it was you, you’d be duty-bound to get up off your keister and pitch in.”

  “Duty-bound? I really don’t like the sound of that.” I was doing my level best not to alienate Hope too. I did have to live with her, after all.

  “Yes. Duty-bound. As a living person you’re obligated to stand up and find a fuck to give. Forget Keri is Elijah’s daughter. I think—and I’m convinced I’m right—it’s completely irrelevant. Keri is a person. A woman. A woman with whom you’ve shared experiences and a strong bond. Fuck Elijah. Elijah’s a goofball, but that doesn’t mean you should leave Keri to twist in the wind. It’s… It’s immoral is what it is.”

  I gotta hand it to Hope. She’s good at righteous indignation. She also rarely swears, so when she throws in a ‘fuck’ you better listen. But I was still torn. The talk I’d had with myself inside the pinecone still hung over me. I wasn’t sure I could muster a fuck. To give that is. It wasn’t in keeping with the “Power Dora” mandate. “I don’t know…”

  “You don’t know? You don’t know what? Whether you want to help Keri. If that’s true, I’m ashamed of you. But forget that for a minute. What about the pinecone? We already know the kind of things that could happen if I fell into someone else’s hands. I have no idea what happens if someone gets the pinecone. Maybe nothing happens, but do you really wanna wait around and find out?”

  I sat down on the edge of my couch, my hands clasped in front of me. I was overloading. Too much input from wildly different sources. I closed my eyes. “Okay, but we don’t know where Keri went. She could’ve gone to any of the church facilities in L.A.” The C.O.R. was big into real estate. They’d bought a lot of property in L.A. County back when it was cheap.

  “How many facilities have they got?”

  “Saying they’re like Starbucks would be an exaggeration, but not a massive exaggeration. They’ve got a huge recruitment center right on Hollywood Boulevard.”

  “Of course, they do. Hollywood Boulevard leads the world in cultist per capita.”

  I brought my fists up and rubbed my eyes. I opened them again and my vision was noisy. “I’m clueless. I have literally no idea where to start looking,” I said at last.

  Hope hesitated before saying what she had to say next. “Then you know what you need to do…”

  “I do?”

  “Yeah. There’s only one thing you can do. You have to go to Westwood and talk to Elijah. He’ll have more details.”

  “Huh? You were here when he was here. He wasn’t exactly a fount of information. And, despite what people seem to be thinking lately, I’m not Sam Spade.”

  The girl inside the jug made a pffting noise. “Except that, both times people thought you were Sam Spade, you actually solved the case. You don’t give yourself enough credit. When you’re on your game, you’re the strongest most self-possessed person I’ve ever met. And I’m older than you are.”

  I’m glad she shut up when she’d did. If she’d continued in “Up with Dora” mode, I might’ve screamed. I put my head between my knees and exhaled sharply. “Fuck. I really don’t wanna talk to Elijah again.”

  “Then don’t talk to Elijah again.”

  “But you just said—”

  “Don’t talk to Elijah again. Talk to the goofball that Elijah’s become. Nowhere is it written you have to treat him like the guy who was your boyfriend. He’s not that person anymore, so if you wanna hold contempt for him, hold contempt for him. Just do it while you’re pumping him for info.”

  That made a weird kinda sense. I raised my head. “That’s pretty cold,” I said.

  “So, it’s cold. Sometimes, to get through, you just gotta do what you gotta do.”

  She had no way of knowing it, but what she’d said was in line with my new “Power Dora” philosophy. I stood up about as reluctantly as I could and grabbed a jacket off the hook by the front door. I started to grab Hope, but I noticed something behind my desk. It was the canary yellow flier I’d stuck to the bulletin board about a month before. It advertised the Church of Reciprocity’s Conclave of Universal Consciousness. An outdoor festival to be held at the Parthenon Restaurant between Los Angeles and Las Vegas. Obviously, it was the “convention” Keri teased her father about. It was one day away.

  I snatched the flier, picked up Hope and made for the Firebird.

  Here’s a detail about that flier I might not have mentioned. Bloop featured prominently along the entire right side. If you’re not aware, Bloop is the mascot of the Church of Reciprocity. He’s a cute purple alien, and he was designed—sometime in the early 1960s—by a former Disney animator. He is, in point of fact, adorable. The Church has made as much money from Bloop merchandise as they have from bilking their flock.

  Anyway, I felt ambivalent as I realized the Conclave of Universal Consciousness was probably gonna be a bad scene. The feeling didn’t jibe with the friendly spaceman who was inviting me to attend.

  3

  Road Trip

  My stomach was burning all the way from Malibu to Westwood. The whole idea of what I was about to do didn’t sit well. I’d turned into a superhero in my last two forays away from the trailer. Although there was some satisfaction in doing the things I’d done and not dying, I didn’t want to press my luck. Also, being a superhero is, I suppose, like being the frontman in a band. It comes with visibility and visibility was the last thing I wanted right then. I had butterflies. The same kind of butterflies you get when you’re in the doctor’s office waiting to get your test results. It was an awful way to feel.

  I probably should’ve stopped for lunch, but my belly scoffed at the idea. My anxiety gave me tunnel vision. I stared at the road and was barely there until I pulled up in front of the Wiener house. After I parked the Firebird on the street, I went around and got the backpack I used to carry Hope around with me. Like it or not, I was motivated now to keep a closer eye on her. As I got into the harness, I slapped myself lightly on my right cheek. I realized I’d probably be going into yet another dangerous situation soon, and I couldn’t afford to have such a divided mind. Although, I hoped I wasn’t about to get into another dangerous situation.

  As I slammed the trunk and turned toward the house, a voice startled me. “You came!” it said. I pivoted, ready for action, but it was only Jack, Elijah’s identical twin brother. The one with the foul ball divot in his head. I say “only Jack” but seeing him right then wasn’t a good thing. My nervousness red-lined. “I’ve been waiting, and you’re finally here!” he said. He wasn’t angry; he was overjoyed. That didn’t help.

  The last time I’d talked to Jack, he told me he’d always been in love with me—even when I was dating El. My body went rigid. “Hi, Jack,” I said, barely audible.

  “How’ve you been? I heard about what you did for Keri and El. Say, did you hear Keri’s missing and she’s in some kind of cult? That’s bad. It’s really, really bad. Is that why you’re here? Are you gonna help reprogram Keri? That’s what they call it, right? Reprogramming? Sometimes I get my words confused. For a whole week, I said ‘eggs’ when what I really meant was ‘television’. I’d be all like, ‘Hey, d
id you guys see that thing on the eggs last night?’ and nobody called me on it—which is really funny, but also kind of annoying. If I’m saying ‘eggs’ and I mean ‘television’, someone should point it out, am I right? I guess they just figured that’s divot-head being divot-head. I would’ve much rather they told me. I mean it’s better for me and them. You probably would’ve told me, wouldn’t you?”

  “I probably would’ve told you,” I mumbled.

  “Yeah, I thought so. You’re a straight shooter. No bullshit. It’s one of the things I always liked about you. Or should I say loved about you?” He put on an affected grin. He was proud of his less-than-elegant transition.

  I shifted uncomfortably from one foot to another. “About that…”

  He leaned in, wide-eyed and expectant. “Yes? Are we having the talk now? The one you promised we’d have? I’ve been waiting. Very patiently. I didn’t wanna crowd you. I said to myself after I saw you last, ‘Don’t crowd her, Jackie. She needs her space. It’s a lot to take in’.”

  “It is a lot to take in. I was just— “

  “I mean I wouldn’t know how to handle it If some chick I knew was suddenly all like, ‘Jackie! I love you! I’ve always loved you. Run away with me!’ I might be severely freaked. Although, who knows? Maybe I’d call her by the wrong noun and she’d leave, and she’d be all confused. Old divot-head’s maybe not the best at the interpersonal stuff. Come to think of it, I’m not sure I was worth a damn pre-divot, but you take the hand you’re dealt. It doesn’t matter if your cards are lousy if they’re the only cards you’ve got.”

  I glanced briefly from Jack to the Wiener house. Suddenly, being with Elijah was the better option. It hadn’t even occurred to me this awkward scene might take place, but I was off my game. Since Jack lived in the little house next-door to El’s, I should’ve expected to see him.

  Jack knew about Hope from the old days, so he wasn’t surprised when she interjected. “Hey, Jack,” she said.

  Jack brightened even more—which was a neat trick. Even when he was professing his undying love to you (and waiting for you to reciprocate), he was generally sunny. “Hope!” he said. “My god, Hope, I didn’t notice you there. God, it’s good to see you! What has it been, fifteen years? You know, I always liked you. You were always the yin to Dora’s yang. You always rounded off the edges. I wish I had a yin. I never had a yin. You really should look for people that’re different than you to be your friends. They can be strong where you’re weak, and you can be strong where they’re weak. That way, together, the two of you can almost make one whole person. That’s how I’ve always thought about it. I don’t think anyone’s complete. We’re all partial, if you know what I mean. It’s integrating with others that fills us out. Does that make sense?”

  “It makes perfect sense,” Hope said. “In fact, I agree with you. Here’s the thing, though… Dora’s been sick. She’s been laid-up at the house for a good while. Hasn’t had any visitors. Hasn’t really gotten out much. Now this thing with Keri’s come up, and she feels like she’s gotta pitch in. Even though she’s not a hundred percent. She’s too polite to say it, but I’ll say it for her: she’s not up for any serious talks right now. All she wants to do is find Keri and go back to bed. Maybe score a little chicken soup.”

  Jack rolled his head and adopted an aren’t-I-a-doofus expression. “God, look at me, prattling on and on about nothing with you sick and trying to do work. Derp. Of course, of course. Go. Do what you gotta do. We’ll talk later.”

  I nodded, a little dumbfounded. I muttered, “Okay, Jack. Thanks, Jack.” I threw in an affected cough to sell the lie.

  As we walked away from him toward Elijah and Keri’s, he said, “You take care now. Vitamin C! Get some vitamin C!”

  Once we were out of earshot, I muttered to Hope over my shoulder, “Gods, thank you. I thought I was hosed.”

  “You’re welcome. Although I wanna point out that Jack is a really nice man, and you owe him a follow-up.”

  “Like I don’t know…” I replied wearily.

  I had to knock three times at El’s house. When he finally came to the door, his hair was tousled, and he had a day’s worth of stubble. He could barely keep his eyes open. “Huh?” he said.

  “Why’re you sleeping? It’s the middle of the day.”

  “Probably because I didn’t sleep in the middle of the night. Or the beginning or the end of the night either. I’m worried. I’m really, really worried.”

  I stared at him, trying to puzzle out where his head was. Some kind of action—any kind of action—would’ve been better than sleep. For a moment, I thought he wasn’t worth helping, but I remembered I wasn’t there for him. “Get dressed. I know where Keri is.”

  He awoke in an instant. Had he been waiting around for someone to come and rescue him? The thought made me nauseous. He got out of the way, allowing me to enter. “Hang out here,” he said. “I’ll be ready in two seconds.” Then he ran up the stairs to his bedroom.

  While I waited, I looked around. The foyer was just as I’d seen it last with one exception. All of the photos of Addie had been taken down. I guess finding out your wife/mother is a petty Vengeance Goddess didn’t sit well with the Wieners. I barely had enough time to process the woman’s absence before El reappeared. He was wearing the same t-shirt. He’d just changed out of his sweats and into jeans. He hadn’t combed his hair. “Where is she? How’d you find her? What changed since I talked to you?”

  “She showed up.”

  “She showed up? At your place? Why? How’d she look? Was she okay?”

  “I’m not gonna lie to you: She didn’t look good. That haircut doesn’t suit her. Also, she looked like she was drugged up. And not in a good way. She came to steal. She tried to steal Hope, but she dropped her. She got away with my magic pinecone and my bass guitar.”

  Elijah tried to take all of that in. “You have a magic pinecone?”

  “I did. Not anymore. I’ll tell you about it on the way.” I turned and opened the door for us both.

  As we stepped out onto the front porch, my ex- said, “When did you take up the bass?”

  “I didn’t. It’s a replica of the Gene Simmons KISS bass.”

  He nodded as he locked his door. “That’s cool. What does Keri want with Hope and a magic pinecone and a Gene Simmons bass?”

  I got into my side of the Firebird and reached over to unlock El’s door. I set Hope on the floor behind me. “I don’t know why she wanted the pinecone. The pithos is super-powerful. I think she took the guitar because it was shiny and neat.”

  “Right. Where we headed?”

  “To get some Greek food.” I set off, angling us toward Las Vegas.

  Unfortunately, since it was Friday, a lot of Angelenos were headed to Las Vegas. On any given weekend there’s a steady stream of cars Sin City-bound. Nonstop and without traffic, the trip takes about five hours. We were only going about halfway, so two and a half. As soon as we got on the highway, I knew it wasn’t going to be two and a half. The panic I felt talking to Jack resurfaced only worse. Jack wanted to be my lover, but Elijah had been my lover fifteen years prior. I gave him sweaty palms and he gave me a flip-flopping belly. So far, I wasn’t taking Hope’s advice very well. I wasn’t treating El as a just a means to an end. I told myself that things only have power over me if I let them, and it was time to let “Power Dora” make her debut. “Power Dora” continued to wait in the wings, still shy of the spotlight. Finally, Wiener broke the silence and his question was just the right level of inane for me to refocus. “What’s a magic pinecone do?” he said.

  “It’s a virtual reality magic pinecone,” I replied.

  That tripped him up. He was trying to visualize what I meant. “You, what, hook a headset to it?”

  “No, it’s an analog virtual reality magic pinecone. If you hold it in your hand, you get transported into a simulation of ancient Greece. Greece the way I remember it from childhood.”

  He nodded. “I gotta be hon
est with you: That’s way cooler than a Gene Simmons bass guitar.”

  “No argument. But it’s a simulation of ancient Greece the way I remember it with one important difference…”

  “Which is?”

  “It was designed and built for Pan.”

  “Oh.” Elijah had met Pan a few times, so he knew about the satyr’s interests. He sat back for a moment as all the possibilities washed over him. “So, I have to assume…”

  “Yeah.”

  “There’s gotta be all kinds of…”

  “Yeah. It’s ancient Greece by way of Larry Flint.”

  “Right. What the hell would Keri want with that?” He said it with just the sort of discomfort you would hope for from a dad worrying about his daughter’s interest in something unsavory.

  “Full disclosure: I did not show the pinecone to Keri at any point. I didn’t even know she was aware of it. In fact, she’d’ve had no reason to be aware of it. Which means she was sent to get it by someone else. Someone from the Church of Reciprocity.”

  “What would a bunch of space hippies want with a sexy pinecone?”

  “Remains to be seen. Also, I wanna backpedal and address why I had the pinecone in the first place. Before you ask.”

  “Okay.” His expression was blank. Based on it, I couldn’t decide whether he’d been about to ask or not. Didn’t matter.

  “Pan didn’t give it to me as a gag gift or, worse, as something he intended for me to use. He gave it to me when he fucked off.”

  His eyes widened. “Pan fucked off? I wouldn’t’ve seen that coming. He was so… fun-loving. So full of gusto. Pan was sort of disgusting, but I liked him.”

  “Yeah, me too.” That felt weird saying. It also felt weird when I remembered I’d used Pan as a booty call several times. I decided not to mention that part to El. “He got depressed. He felt like his time had gone. He gave me the pinecone, the commemorative Walking Dead plates and a copy of The Great Gatsby.”