by Nina Post
Charlotte grabbed her purse. “I’m going on an errand. Back in half an hour.”
Kelly didn’t look up. “Mm-hm.”
Right after Charlotte left there was a knock by the open door. Whoever it was, it couldn’t be worse than Charlotte.
The Chaos Demon Loophole
aum. Kelly suppressed a groan. The last thing she needed was a visit from the board president.
He flashed his perfect teeth in a wide smile and looked misleadingly avuncular in creased wool pants and a green shawl cardigan over a blue gingham shirt.
“My favorite interim building manager!” He spread out his arms as he approached her and she gave him a look that made him clear his throat and sit across from her desk.
“Good morning, Raum. What can I help you with?”
His forehead wrinkled. “Oh, I thought we could talk strategy before the board meeting tonight.”
“I’m still working on my management report.”
“Fine, fine.” He rubbed his jawline with the back of his curled-over fingers, and Kelly knew he wanted to complain about something.
“I’d like you to look over the lobby plant lease issue. Forcas and I are a tad at odds over it, but I’m confident I can persuade him.” He gave her his best charming smile.
“Will do.” Kelly didn’t really care what they were at odds over or what Raum wanted to do with the lobby plant. There’d be enough of that at the meeting.
“And can I see an early copy of the holiday party schedule?”
“Sure, I’ll print you one.” She brought up the file and printed it. “Anything else?”
“There’s one more thing. There is a noise problem in this building that must be stopped at any cost.” Raum leaned back and emitted a long, beleaguered sigh, and ran his hand over perfectly groomed brown-and-gray hair. “And I’m not talking about the five hundred years of continuous construction on the unit right above mine, which you fooled that telepresence robot manager into approving.” He chuckled. “I barely notice it anymore, to be honest.”
She doubted that.
“It’s almost pleasant, really. Soothing.”
She really doubted that, but it was a satisfying piece of revenge for the previous apocalypse he tried to cause. “That should teach you not to mess with me. And to stop finding loopholes to unbind yourselves from the building.”
“Lesson learned. But I would like to negotiate that down a smidge, for good behavior.”
“We’ll see.”
“Regardless, there is an important issue I need to bring to your attention. There is this sound, this infernal booming cacophony that’s like one of those giant gongs, and it’s been happening every night, all night. I’m not exaggerating: it is quite literally for eight hours a night. Every. Single. Night. I am at my wit’s end. I can’t sleep. My eyes are puffy!” He splayed his fingers under his eyes. “Look at this.”
“It’s barely noticeable.”
“You’re too kind, but it’s a travesty.”
“Perhaps you and the Jackal could join forces to find the best eye cream.”
“He hears it, too?”
“No, he’s having some personal issues right now that are affecting his sleep.”
“Well, I can hear it with earplugs in, and it is veritable kryptonite to my white noise machine.” In a chiding tone, he added, “And if I weren’t physically bound to this building, I would consider moving into Ultra-Amenity Tower. Have you seen their lounges? They have one for the fitness center! And have you seen their fitness center? Between you and me, I wish I could have been cast down into their club room. If I could get re-bound, believe me, I would try to arrange it.”
Kelly wished Raum were their problem. She hadn’t actually looked at Ultra-Amenity Tower’s list of amenities, but they had a lounge for the fitness center?
“That noise has been tormenting me for three nights in a row. I can’t take it anymore!”
“Do you know which unit it’s coming from?”
“Well, Kelly, there’s the rub.” Raum entwined his fingers. “The nature of the noise makes it difficult to pinpoint the unit number. The front desk staff has been useless. I call and complain and they insist on knowing the exact unit number, and they tell me they can’t find the source. No kidding! That’s what I told them in the first place!”
A large part of Kelly’s job involved hearing complaints from residents: a death worm won’t stop screaming, there’s a scorch mark all along the hallway carpet, there’s a wall coated in a pink gel, the Enim giants broke the elevator or a treadmill again, someone’s not picking up after their death worm, and on and on.
Raum put his hands to the sides of his face like horse blinders. “I thought the source was two floors under the penthouse floor, on my corner, but the noise is so deep and so mercilessly invasive that it is impossible to narrow it down to one unit. Someone from the front desk has been investigating every night this week, but they haven’t gotten any further than I have. The tenant, probably a renter—heck, probably one of those MoltAway hosts—should at least be heavily fined by now! I cannot be the only resident he’s driving out of their mind.”
He put up his hands. “Frankly, I’m completely baffled as to why the entire building isn’t rioting over it. We need to ban the MoltAway service entirely. It’s a menace to our quiet enjoyment.”
Raum shook his head, sat back, and crossed his legs. “How is Af? I saw him in the mail area the other day, and he said something about quitting the board.”
Kelly squinted. “Really?”
“You didn’t hear anything about that?”
“No.” Though he had seemed distracted lately. “But you know, Raum, he’s only a member-at-large, so he doesn’t even have a specific position. He was never that committed.” Actually, Af hated being involved with the board and felt zero commitment.
“Well, when you’re dating the Angel of Destruction and Anger—and you and I know that Af keeps a lid on it, which has to be exhausting—you have to expect some erratic behavior.”
“He’s on a kind of hiatus from that.”
“I mean, we’re all being punished, you know?” Raum laughed, a high-pitched sound. “I was cast down. Rejected. Exiled. Do you have any idea how that feels?” He leaned toward her again, hands outstretched.
“Yeah, I went to middle school.”
“I don’t know what that is, but it sounds awful. Look, I still have the to-do list I made.” He half-stood to pull his wallet out of his front pocket, retrieved a small slip of paper from the wallet, and handed it to her.
She read it. (1) Mate with beautiful women and beget giants that will wreak ruin upon the human race, (2) Destroy whatever city we’re in, and (3) Inflict bloodshed and destruction upon humanity and subjugate what remains.
“I was angry. Really angry.” Raum barked a laugh. “Angry at…” he gestured toward the ceiling, scowling. “Angry at myself. Angry at humans. To be honest with you, Kelly, I wanted to destroy the world.” He laughed again, dry and bitter. “At least the city! That’s what I do, is destroy cities! That’s why Af and I should be better friends, but he’s always been so aloof. He probably looks down on me because his scale of wrath and ruin is so epic, even though you’d never know it to look at him, with that thick, marigold-colored hair, that preposterous eye color, and all that height. Bringing down a global city is no small feat. I don’t know why he’s so snooty about it.”
“He’s not snooty,” Kelly said. “And he has no desire to destroy the world, or anything else. It’s a title and doesn’t have much to do with him on a personal level. Look Raum, I have to work on some things. I’ll look into the noise problem and send out a complaint letter, OK?”
“Yeah. Fine. I get it.” Raum put up his hands and headed for the door. “See you at the board meeting!” He waved on his way out the door.
Kelly started a three-hundred sheet print job and tried calling Af. No answer. She turned her worry into a ball of wool and gave it to a small crab to knit into a crab sweater and
claw cozy.
When Kelly got home, Af wasn’t there, not that she necessarily expected him. Her father wasn’t there, either, which didn’t surprise her. Her father had kept his lab in the storage room in the first underground parking level of Amenity Tower instead of moving it back to the old SSI headquarters, and worked late into the night, every night, especially lately. He valued the privacy and quiet of the large room; apparently, residents rarely accessed their stored items. She had even checked the key fob records to look at resident use of the room, which was low, but she was still trying to get him to set up the lab in the SSI building where she lived.
The SPs worked on some kind of gigantic project in the TV room at the south end of the building while “The Cluck Snack Cartoon Hour,” on every hour, played on the TV. She counted heads: Dave (the angel in charge of the protection of water insects), Kermit, Firiel, Rochel (in charge of finding lost objects), and Tubiel.
Tubiel left the room and suited up, which meant he had a bird to save.
“Hey, Tubiel. Going out?”
He nodded and strapped on his goggles.
“Are those new patches?”
He grinned and nodded. On his leather jacket, he had a new Cluck Snack patch, and on the sleeve, a patch with three chickadees.
“Do you want me to take you?”
He nodded enthusiastically. “Where’s Af?”
He shrugged.
“Let’s go. Get a hat and gloves.”
He had his regular jacket on, so she pulled a coat over him.
They walked a short distance to a park that abutted Ultra-Amenity Tower, with an acre of green space surrounded by retail and residential townhouses and condos. The bitterly cold wind ripped around the towers and she noticed with a groan that Tubiel hadn’t actually taken a hat. She took hers off and pulled it over his head while both of them walked, and it sat rakishly askew because he hadn’t slowed down.
When they reached the middle of the park, she said, “Af would love this weather.” Af kept the temperature in his condo at a steady 62 degrees, and liked opening windows in the winter. Tubiel stopped suddenly and tugged at her sleeve. When she looked down, he handed her a letter. On the envelope was her name in Af’s cursive. Oh no.
“Did Af give this to you?” she asked Tubiel in a low voice.
He gave her a sheepish look.
“When, today?”
He indicated yes.
“And you remembered when I mentioned him?”
He shrugged and gave her a rueful smile.
She unfolded the letter.
Dear Kelly,
I know you must be horrified at the very existence of this letter—it can’t be anything good, is what you’re probably thinking. And you’ve probably noticed that I wasn’t around today.
After what the chicken said, and after the death wormery incident, and after all the hassles of living in Amenity Tower, the mantra thing tipped some kind of scale in me. Remember that so-called guru who sold me that mantra for $5000? I’m following him, and I’m going to find him, and I’m going to get my money back. I’m renting a car and using the chaos demon loophole to unbind myself for the trip, which could be a terrible idea because I found the demon on Craigslist and can’t be more than twenty feet from him at all times.
This trip could well be the most annoying experience of my human lifespan, but it’s something I need to do. I turned my phone off because I didn’t want you to talk me out of it. If I had heard your voice, I might not have left. But it will be back on soon, so we can talk.
Love, Af
“Are you kidding me?” Kelly muttered.
Tubiel gave her a look, both sheepish and concerned, hurried to the right side of the park, near a tall, wide stairway, and looked carefully by a retail space under construction. In the back of the empty room, a soft light glowed. She figured the construction crew had left a light on.
“What are you looking for?” She raised her voice over the sound of the shearing wind.
Tubiel walked in a crouch by the ground, and finally gestured her over. A yellow warbler huddled by the wall. Tubiel gently cupped the tiny, puffy, cold-looking bird in his hands and put it in a brown paper bag.
“Nice job. Is that the only one?”
He nodded. She heard a noise from the retail space and looked through the pane glass front. In the back corner, a familiar-looking man read on a chair by the light.
With a buzzing sound, the door clicked. An invitation.
She looked at Tubiel. He shrugged.
Slowly, she opened the door, and kept it open, letting the sharp wind gust through, rustling plastic sheeting that sounded like a parachute opening.
A voice rang out from deep inside the empty space. “Shut the door, Kelly, would you?”
She guided Tubiel inside and shut the door behind her.
“Mr. Black?”
Mr. Black was one of the three executives of Special Situations International, which used to be housed in the top floor of the art deco office tower where she lived. The office in which she paid bills and ordered Cluck Snack deliveries used to be Mr. Black’s office. A former elite orienteer, and officially retired from Special Situations International (from what she could tell, Mr. Black was fond of entering contests with a non-cash prize.
“Don’t tell anyone I’m here. It’s nice to get away from Mr. Yellow and Mr. Orange for a bit. They grate on me after a while. Mr. Yellow is always psychoanalyzing me and everyone else, and Mr. Orange keeps making this smacking sound before he says something.”
“Does this connect to—” She gestured vaguely.
“The hell lodges? Yes. I discovered this empty retail space where I can read in peace. I was expecting another gelato cafe or sub shop or gift boutique, but imagine my delight when I discovered it’s going to be a French restaurant. It will be convenient to have one to pop into. The hell lodges do not currently have a French restaurant.” He lowered his book and looked up dreamily. “I do hope they have salmon en croûte. That’s one of my favorite dishes.”
Kelly half-listened. Af on a road trip with a chaos demon? And he would be spending—she quickly calculated it in her head, even though she had no idea what the end point would be—at least fifteen hundred dollars, presuming he was paying for two people, because he was like that, and would net thirty-five hundred. But apparently, it was important to him to do this.
She made a frustrated sound. After what the chicken said. He still wasn’t going to tell her.
“What’s that?”
“It’s—never mind.” At his look, she added, “All right. One day, the Cluck Snack chicken shows up at Amenity Tower and apparently whispers something into Af’s ear. He won’t tell me what the chicken said and refers to it again in this letter. Doesn’t he know that drives me crazy? Was it bad, was it good? Does it have to do with what he’s doing? I have no idea!”
Mr. Black put down his book. “Well, I should be heading back. I have to fill out some paperwork at the treehouse for the Pothole City Underground Walkway Stop Kyasanur Forest Disease Half-Marathon. First prize is a high-end shredder.” His voice raised with enthusiasm. “You don’t feed the paper in the top—you drop in a stack of papers and it feeds and shreds them automatically! I have to win it.”
“You could buy one.” Though their financial situation was a complete mystery to her.
“Oh no. That wouldn’t be nearly as gratifying. You should try it.”
“I’ll go with you, if you don’t mind,” she said and looked at Tubiel. “Should I take you home first?” He shook his head and pointed west. “You want to go on your own?” He nodded. “OK. If you want, you can see if Archie’s still working and go back with him.”
Tubiel nodded and left with his bird.
Mr. Black led her to a unisex restroom in the back and indicated a wall that seemed completely normal, but when he waved his hand through it, she could see it was ripply and insubstantial. They stepped through the opening and were at one of the hell-lodge landscapes,
with bright-gold quartz sand, a darkening, violet sky, and a smattering of small, white-trimmed wood lodges.
“It’s not dark yet?”
“Time’s a little different here,” Mr. Black said, gesturing to his left with raised brows. “I’ve got some IPA at the treehouse, if you want to hang out.”
“I think I’ll go to the video bar.”
“Suit yourself. See you around!”
She gave him a nod and Mr. Black was on his way. Going deeper into the hell lodges, she walked across two more landscapes, one with moss and soft grass and a mint-green sand, and one with cerulean quartz that had a cool, visual wave effect. It started making her feel nauseous until she reached another landscape with apricot-colored sand and slim, white trees. In the distance loomed the Megahit Video Store & Bar.
Half of Megahit was a video store, the kind that had completely disappeared in her world, and half was a bar. A TV played from their wide selection of movies. The bartender, a black, sequined bear, came up to get her order.
“I’ll have an Alas, Babylon.”
The bear nodded, grabbed a glass, dropped a sugar cube in it with a plick, dashed in some bitters and a splash of water, muddled it as he rotated the glass, added an ice cube with a muffled plink, and filled it with a small-batch bourbon made a few barrels at a time at a hell lodge: Mr. Black’s Single-Barrel, Hell-Lodge Bourbon Whiskey.
She was familiar with the movie they had playing above the bar. It was about two highly-technical hired killers (Michael Fassbender and Rose Byrne) who take jobs at a Middle Ages reenactment farm after a gig goes bad, and hide from two ambitious rivals (Mads Mikkelsen and Anna Faris) sent by their disgruntled and violent client (Lee Pace).
She took small sips of her Alas, Babylon, pacing herself, and watched the movie, crushed that Af left without telling her in person. She didn’t want to be home, not yet. He didn’t always stay over, or vice versa, but it was enough that sleeping without him would be hard.
