Lost Civilization Challenge: "A Silence More Salient" -- by Joseph Leskey

A Silence More Salient

Being An Account of an Eyewitness to the Phenomenon Later Dubbed Prmnc575₁₆

by

Joseph Leskey

To look back on certain things or events in one’s life is to feel the strangeness of the truth, to look at the world through eyes that couldn’t have been your own, to experience again the dissonance with reason, to even still deny that memory, and to call your own story a fable. The past did not support it, the present hides it, the future laughs at it. I wish I could do so. I was a different person a few hours ago, and my world was a different world.

From: J. Poor <jfpoor@os.a.lcl>

Date: Mon Jun 27 2017, 13:58

Re: [Issue #00023F] Hey guys, just wanted to let you kn…

To: Ramón Pasquet <rtpasq@os.a.lcl>, Georgia Tinsley <getins@os.a.lcl>

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Hey guys, just wanted to let you know that the readings have remained consistent and elevated. Since they’re averaging 135.6 ± 0.87 [II] / 2993Hz we’re initiating a CC-priority as soon as the docker times out. We’re probably going to launch from platform 3- or 5D at 14:22. Please be there as soon as possible. Reena and Erhart are already down there.

The Tech Report, as per usual, is attached below, but there’s no need to read it. Nothing much has changed.

Warm regards,

J

--

Jerry Poor

Coordinations Administrator

Organization for Sublunary Analysis

It was cold that day, abnormally cold for June, for the part of the world where OSAHQ based its operations. I was drinking a disgusting avocado shake and walking on a treadmill, texting complaints about said cold to one of my uncles, when I received the message. I found it to be so very typical J, leaving me only twenty-four minutes to be down at the docker, looking like a human. It took me eleven just to get out of the door. When I was nearly there, J sent two hurried texts:

pushing 140ii

get here quick

I growled a bit, but arrived in three more minutes, rushed into headquarters, yelling an indistinguishable greeting at several coworkers, barged into an elevator, waited impatiently as Georgia plunged in, slammed the button for level zero, loudly greeted Georgia (high volume being required to prevail against the noise of the elevator), waited in anguish as said elevator descended, bounded out of the thrice aforementioned machine to the docking room, sprinted to platform 3D, pausing only long enough for Mr. Operator of 3D to wave me urgently on, and finally pounded to platform 5D, where J was seated, looking at his phone.

He twisted into a more convenient position as Georgia and I came, panting, to a halt. “Hey guys,” he said, “It’s not ready yet. Someone forgot to toggle the core energy reserve. Have a seat.” He looked back at his phone.

I did not have a seat (Georgia did, being more sensible than I). Instead, I worked on deciding how best to abuse J to his face, finally settling with, “Well, this is fine.” (My abuse had already failed; I sounded more like a mildly disappointed Aunt Esmeralda than anything. But I continued anyway.) “This is fine,” I repeated. “I come rushing out of my house—I was in the middle of something, I’ll have you know—”

“I’m sorry for it,” said J, flicking his phone.

“—and I spilled my smoothie all over my shirt—I had to get a new one—”

“As is decent.” Flick. Flick.

“—and I come here—and you rushed Georgia, too—”

“Hey, my job.” Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap.

“—and I come here, and you’re watching cat videos.”

“Which are essential for a well-rounded education.”

I glowered. “So, are the readings becoming focused?”

J laughed. “Well, the thing is, they are.. See…” And then he went into a bunch of technical mumble jumble about x numbers of I and half of this equals the average of that, thus proving the thing. It all amounted to, we were definitely zeroing in on something that made absolutely no normal signs of its existence. How did we detect it then, you ask? Hahaha. Magic. No, actually, it had something to do with gauging the interpolation of physical fields or something like that. Anyway, our system hadn’t really turned up much of anything to date, and I was fairly skeptical that it had now. You wonder why anyone would be looking for basically nothing? See, it was like this. J was a nutter and also a nerd and possibly also a genius. And he had tons of money that he “inherited.” So, I mean, the guy payed a very livable wage to go down in a submarine and poke around in the dirt—so a lot of people did just that (like, seven, including me). But let’s stay germane to the subject at hand.

It took a very long time for the core energy reserve to reserve its core energy or whatever, so long that I still don’t know why we didn’t just take 3D. I don’t think J really cared for 3D. He seemed biased against it. During that wait, we stared down into 5D’s hole, watching the flickering blue light, largely not conversing. Eventually J’s phone clashed and he announced, “We’re A-OK.”

“Are Reena and Erhart already in the sub?” asked Georgia. Obviously they would be—any moment not in the sub was a moment wasted for those temerarious twins. J replied that they were, so we descended the ladder of Port 5D, where Sub 5D floated in Puddle 5D. It was a large puddle.

We boarded the submarine as J leaned halfway through the port, snapping pictures with his phone. “Good luck!” he called. “Control’s authenticating the mission right now. Now…” The sub’s hatch slammed with satisfying automation, cutting off his voice.

The inside of the submarine was incredibly comfortable for whichever three people got to sit in the chairs. A wide control panel made of laminated wood spread out in front of a wide screen, which showed dimly illuminated water and a miniature map of the ocean with the mission route superimposed. The map indicated the destination was over forty minutes away. A display in the center of the control panel echoed this sadly lengthy time. The rest of the submarine was cheerfully furnished in some red, velvety material and fiery lights.

Soon after we entered, Reena noticed and turned her chair around. “Hey!” she exclaimed, to which Erhart turned his chair around and said, “Hi!”

We returned the formalities and I indicated in a handsome gesture that Georgia should take the third seat, an offer which she graciously accepted. I grabbed a strap attached to a cold metal pole in the center of the boat, earning myself a discharge of static electricity.

Very soon, a synthesized voice announced, “Mission 575B authenticated. Personnel aboard Sub 5D are advised to prepare themselves for initial propulsion. Communication and monitoring systems have been activated. All systems are tolerable. Scanning for transmission requests. Verifying one transmission request from J. Poor.”

J’s voice echoed through the interior. “Okay, guys, you ready?”

“Yes!” bellowed Erhart.

“Off you go.”

“Mission 575A launched. Initializing propulsion units,” the computer announced with deadly calm.

The submarine quivered slightly and began slowly but exponentially increasing its acceleration into the ocean.

“Yeaaaaaaaah!” exclaimed Reena and Erhart, swiveling their chairs to share a loud high-five. They always seemed to count a sub launch as a great personal victory. Georgia and I preferred to spend this time pretending we weren’t feeling sick.

We quickly adjusted to our normal routine. Reena and Erhart chattered happily, pointing at fish that the screen showed were swimming about us. Georgia, having recovered from her motion sickness, played around with some gauges. I watched the map glumly and shifted my weight. And ever we slid farther into the deep and the devastation that awaited us there.

Recording of Second Mission Addressing Issue #OSA-00023F

Transcribed in pseudo-realtime

by

the pinnacle of transcriberhood,

Judi Farley

~ Monday, June 27, 2017 ~

15:06:00

Computer (HQ):

Beginning to record Mission 575B. Please be advised that all communications may be stored indefinitely by the Organization for Sublunary Analysis and may be used or modified at the discretion of the same body.

Reena Inzaghi, Erhart Inzaghi:

[general conversation]

15:23:15

Computer (HQ):

Sub 5D is halfway to destination. Mission 575B is on schedule.

Reena Inzaghi, Erhart Inzaghi:

[general conversation with increased animation]

Georgia Tinsley:

Watch your foot. That lev—yeah.

Reena Inzaghi, Erhart Inzaghi:

[general conversation]

15:25:30

Ramón Pasquet:

That light’s blinking.

Reena Inzaghi:

Of course it’s blinking. I have [redacted for sake of clarity].

Georgia Tinsley:

You had better stop.

Reena Inzaghi, Erhart Inzaghi:

[general conversation]

15:43:11

Jerry Poor (HQ):

Oh, no, guys, I fell asleep—

Ramón Pasquet:

That’ll be the cat videos.

Jerry Poor (HQ):

It will not. Anyway, what did I miss?

Georgia Tinsley:

Nothing at all.

Jerry Poor (HQ):

Hey, guys, you’re almost there!

Ramón Pasquet(?):

[grunt]

15:47:09

Jerry Poor (HQ):

Guuuuuuys! YOU’RE—

Computer (HQ):

Sub 5D arriving at destination. Mission 575B is on schedule.

Whenever Sub 5D arrived at a destination, it vibrated horribly. Whenever it vibrated horribly, Reena and Erhart would spring from their seats and try to jig. I detested Sub 5D.

Georgia, of course, was the one to correct the vibration, and she did so very professionally. Reena and Erhart, who for the first time had actually succeeded in jigging, were enthusiastically congratulating each other.

“Okay, guys,” J was saying. (I happened to be the only one listening.) “Better probe the spot marked in blue on the screen…”

Georgia was already probing the spot marked in blue on the screen.

“Anything?” J’s nervousness was palpable.

“Sand.” Georgia fiddled with some controls, as the wide-eyed twins craned their necks around her, watching.

Georgia stiffened, so I stiffened. “What?” I asked in a tone far more accusatory than I meant.

“Um. We’ve found it.”

J sneezed.

“What?” I meant the accusation this time.

Georgia gestured. “We’ve found it. There’s…nothing here.”

After all this time of happy failure, I wasn’t about to have this. “But…what?” I said again, striding over and craning my neck around Erhart. On a small screen was displayed a huge amount of multi-colored static. In the middle was a tiny black dot.

“Bug?” I suggested. “I mean, that’s hardly indicative…”

“Excuse me,” said J weakly, “mysoftware does not have bugs. Um, Georgia, poke it, maybe?”

Georgia grabbed a control column and swiveled it so carefully that my blood pressure probably doubled from the suspense. I don’t know how she kept track of the numerous displays that indicated the several different properties of the submarine’s articulated robotic arms. But she did, and she finally announced, “It seems…solid.”

“A point that is nothing is solid,” I said critically. “Makes sense.”

“Of course it makes sense.” There were some scraping noises from J’s end. “I just knew it! Allow me to experience some very great pleasure and pet myself on the back—hey, yo, fetch me a coffee, will ya? Thanks!I mean, seriously, what is more cool then this? Guys! We. Did. It.”

“We actually did it?” said Erhart after a pause.

“Yup,” said J thickly. (I rolled my eyes.)

“Speaking of which,” began Reena, “what exactly did we do?”

“We found a point in spacetime that contains an object that does not exist.” Georgia turned around in her chair, forcing the rest of us to remove ourselves from the neck-craning. I was disconcerted to see that she was beaming.

“Um, cool,” said Reena and Erhart both. “How does that work?” added Erhart.

I grunted. Georgia shrugged. “Ask J.”

“Hey, J,” asked Reena, “how does that work?”

“Okay, so long story short, I don’t know. I postulate that there is a fifth dimension and magic involved.”

“Ubercool,” Erhart gasped.

“Concise and accurate,” boomed J appreciatively. “Now, let’s break this thing open.”

“Um,” I said disbelievingly, “is this a good idea?”

“Dude,” said Reena reproachfully.

“There’s really no need for that negativity,” affirmed J. “See, life is short. And I postulate…”

“I get it, I get it, but how about I get out of here, so I don’t have to witness—?”

“No way! You know how to use a firearm. And I’ve got a little pay raise coming for you guys…”

“Fine, fine,” I said. “Squeeze away.” I went back to my metal pole and half-sulked.

Georgia squeezed. She fiddled with some knobs and squeezed again. Throttles were adjusted, buttons were pressed, switches were flipped, indistinguishable impatient words were muttered. Nothing happened.

“So what if I went out there and ate it or something?” Erhart stroked his chin, once again peering over Georgia’s shoulder.

“Not a good idea,” J said. “I wish I was down there, but you know how I like to avoid the dirty work.”

We all shared silent agreement, broken when Georgia announced, “No idea what to do next. This thing’s impregnable.”

J heaved a loud, shuddering sigh. “Okay. Okay. Relax.”

“Could you guys sit down? Please?” begged Georgia as Reena swatted at a gnat. “You guys” sat down.

J sighed again. “I guess we’ll have to move it. Get it into the sub and get out of there fast.”

“Why fast?” I asked.

“What’s that? Connection must be bad. Anyway, yep, that’s the plan.”

Georgia manipulated the controls. “Oh, made a mistake. It’s not solid; solid things go right through it.”

“Thought that sounded fishy,” J said instantly. “Okay, so now somebody’s got to go out and touch it.”

“What?” I bellowed. “That’s insane.”

“I’ll do it!” yelled Reena and Erhart.

“And you’ll get double the pay for it!” J shouted, swindler that he was.

“We’re at the bottom of the ocean,” I moaned. “Water pressure, anybody? We don’t have the proper suits.”

“You are not at the bottom of the ocean.” J’s tone was severe. “You are at the bottom of a river—hadn’t you noticed? And there are suits, right under the chairs.”

“Well, all right, then,” I said, “but I’ll be the one to touch it!”

“No way!” said Reena. Erhart shook his head emphatically. Georgia turned a knob.

“Yes, I will. See, if this thing turns out to be a supercharged bomb or something,” I growled, “maybe I’ll get blown to bits and you’ll get to survive.”

“Oh,” said Reena.

“Now you’re just scaring them.” J sounded shocked.

“Okay, deny that this thing is going to explode.”

“That denial would be scientifically imprecise,” J admitted delicately.

“See?” I heaved a package from under one of the seats. “What do I do with it?”

“Here.” Georgia flipped a switch and got up from her chair. “Let me help.”

It was probably a quarter of an hour before I was suited up in that ridiculous, clumsy, bulky excuse for an object, and it was another few minutes before Georgia had helped me over to a hole in the floor. It was mere seconds before she shoved me into it and sealed a cover over my head. At least there was a little red button that was labeled EMERGENCY ESCAPE. And a radio turned on in the suit, so I was able to complain.

“Look, how long am I going to be in this stupid thing? What is this stupid thing?”

“It’s a simple ejection capsule,” said J, sounding concerned. “We obviously can’t just chuck you out a door, so…”

“I have a feeling there’s a better way to do this.”

“I’m shrugging.” J still sounded concerned. This wasn’t good.

“Look, if nothing happens soon, I’m going to push this little red button…”

“Oh,” said J, in a suddenly bright voice, “that’s all for the placebo effect, man. It will stop you from being claustrophobic.”

“I am so going to sue you tomorrow.” I tried to stretch, but even if I had room, my suit wouldn’t budge. “This is the worst job I’ve ever taken. And isn’t this a bit of overkill if I’m just going to the bottom of a river?”

“Don’t worry. I’ve just got us situated,” said Georgia irrelevantly. “One, two, here we go…”

“Undocking ejection capsule 5DA.” The voice of the computer reverberated unpleasantly in my sorry imitation of a helmet. Suddenly, my entire world seemed to spasm, the ejection capsule opened wide, and I was falling slowly to the riverbed.

Ramón Pasquet (O):

You’d think I would have been trained for this.

Jerry Poor (HQ):

Hey, you’re alive, man, and doing great. Honestly was worried for a bit, but we are doing good. Yeah. Big load off my mind.

Ramón Pasquet (O):

I can’t move.

Jerry Poor (HQ):

Sure you can. Now just get as close as you can to that blue dot.

Reena Inzaghi:

What’s it like down there?

Ramón Pasquet (O):

Loathsome. Oh, thanks for that, anyway, whoever made it so that I can see—if somewhat schematically.

Georgia Tinsley:

Totally welcome.

Jerry Poor (HQ):

Okay, so you should see the blue dot.

Ramón Pasquet (O):

Pulsing very noticeably, with arrows pointing at it.

Jerry Poor (HQ):

Right. So I want you to just get there and touch it.

Ramón Pasquet (O):

I’m trying.

Erhart Inzaghi:

[whispering] I wish I was down there.

Reena Inzaghi:

[whispering] Me too.

Ramón Pasquet (O):

[grunt] Mm. I think it’s closer than it loo—oh, yeah, I think I’m there. So, I just touch it?

Jerry Poor (HQ):

[squeal] Yes!

Ramón Pasquet (O):

——! It’s got me. Um, guys, really. Help! What is—?

Georgia Tinsley:

Going on? Right. The dot’s expanding like crazy.

Jerry Poor (HQ):

[excited scream]

Ramón Pasquet (O):

[long string of words that don’t need to be repeated]. Thanks for noth—

Georgia Tinsley:

Ramón! Um, he just disappeared. The—um, Jerry!

Jerry Poor (HQ):

[squeal] What?

Georgia Tinsley:

I think we’re all about to be sucked up and—oh boy.

Reena and Erhart Inzaghi:

Yeeeeeeeaaaaa—

(Your favourite transcriber):

Here I was blasted with huge amounts of static, and we appear to have lost connection with Sub 5D.

Jerry Poor (HQ):

[incoherent panicked sounds]

I don’t know what happened in those few minutes of torture. My senses were vivid, yet they abandoned me. I comprehended perfectly, but could not understand. The river seemed to be an almighty force, but one brought low by whatever power took me from it. In essence, in that moment I was undone and then suddenly, painfully, I was whole. Two angry spots burned in my vision as if I had been staring at so many suns, but they were shaped precisely like eyes. I was lying on a path, a schematic cloud of dust around me. Immediately, the earth began to shake, and dust clouded my vision, but I could see an enormous shape strike the ground some meters away. More dust. I thought I could barely breathe for the dust, until I remembered that I was wearing the stupid suit. Which seemed to be running out of oxygen.

I heard a hissing sound and then a loud creaking, followed by a pop, and people were shouting, “Ramón? You there?”

“Yeah, yeah. I’m here. You here?”

“Yeah. We’re going to rescue you.”

“Okay, go ahead.” More oxygen gone. But, in a surprisingly short amount of time, somebody was ripping my helmet (and, seemingly, most of my head) off, and I could breathe quite a bit more freely. My natural vision seemed strange after the faux vision the suit afforded me. I started trying to pull off the rest of the suit, but Georgia battered my feeble attempts away and finally managed to restore my glorious freedom. I believe I was very expressive of my genuine thanks.

Reena and Erhart stood staring at me in a sort of scared relief, both clutching the other’s arm. Not for the first time, I pondered why such basically kids as they were ever allowed to sacrifice themselves to the pseudoscientific expeditionary whims of a madman.

“Where are we, do you think?” asked Georgia, looking around.

“In a tiny little ball that doesn’t exist,” I growled, standing up and slightly kicking the heap of suit. I glanced around. “Oh, look at that. You can still see the river.”

My companions all gazed upwards.

Georgia blinked. “Well, that’s normal.”

“Yeah,” said Erhart.

“Totally,” breathed Reena.

“Okay, everybody. Let’s see.” I looked around. “J? J? You there?”

“I’m—yeah,” he squawked faintly.

“I can barely hear you.”

“Well, you’re about a hundred times louder. Interesting effect. What’s it like in there?” His voice got louder as he said this.

“I don’t know. Dusty. I think some grass once grew here.” I peered at the spot. “That actually kind of looks like a stone wall in front of us.”

“It does!” exclaimed Georgia with no small amount of exhilaration. I couldn’t see what was so exciting.

“No way!” Reena turned to Erhart.

He stared at her in amazement. “We’ve found Atlantis.”

J cleared his throat. “Actually, I very much doubt that Atlantis exists.”

“Dude, what?” I said. “Anything’s possible now.”

“Yeah, sure, but I’m very skeptical. More importantly, what’s past that brick wall?”

“Stone.”

“Oh yeah. That.”

“Well, there’s, like, a tree. And…hold on. Come on, guys.” I began walking towards the wall—cool, calm fellow that I was. As we reached it, a fog seemed to fall away, and we looked down upon the ruin of an ancient city.

Jerry Poor (HQ):

Guys? Guys? Can you hear me? I’m tuning this up. The signal has gotten…strangely modified. I—oh!

Georgia Tinsley:

[static] So we’re definitely in Atlantis.

17:23:48

Ramón Pasquet:

Just because it’s a city doesn’t mean it’s Atlantis. I’m pretty sure Plato invented Atlantis as a philosophical device.

Jerry Poor (HQ):

Wait,a city?!

Erhart Inzaghi:

How do you use Atlantis as a philosophical device?

Reena Inzaghi:

Why would you use Atlantis…?

Jerry Poor (HQ):

Um, guys?

Ramón Pasquet:

The Ancient Greeks were a bit odd.

Georgia Tinsley:

Although, admittedly, using an island as a philosophical device is not really very unconventional.

Ramón Pasquet:

That wasn’t really—but, look, guys, Thingy City now, Greek dudes later. We should stay busy so we don’t start thinking about the fact that we can’t get back home… [muffled voice]

Georgia Tinsley:

[muffled voice] Guys, did you see where he went?

Jerry Poor (HQ):

Where who went?

Reena Inzaghi:

Well, frankly, this is a pretty amazing experience.

Erhart Inzaghi:

And scary.

Reena Inzaghi:

Well, yeah, that too.

Georgia Pasquet:

Hey, J, you there? We’re standing in a place that looks like it hasn’t had vegetation for almost two billion years.

Jerry Poor (HQ):

Yep, but I don’t—

Ramón Tinsley:

More like eight hundred.

Gergia Pasquet:

That’s stretching it a…

Ramón Tinsley:

No, eight hundred. It looks like it hasn’t had vegetation for eight hundred years. J, you there? Maybe he can’t transmit. I wonder if he can hear us?

Jerry Poor (HQ):

Well, wonder away, then! I’ll just have some popcorn and listen to the podcast. [snorts in a highly offended sort of way]

Ramón Pasquet:

Well, J, if you can hear us: all around there’s evidence of absolutely ancient stone buildings, some crumbled old walls, a well. Great streets. I’m so hungry. [muffled voice] This whole place is in, like, a huge dome of water. Which is mildly alarming—but. No sign how to get out of here.

Renna, Erhart Inzaghi:

None.

Georgia Tinsley:

Oh, come on guys. There’s always… [muffled voice] Here, Reena, here’s a spare suit. We’ll fi…

Jerry Poor (HQ):

Hang on…why is she talking about a spare suit? Hey, you, get over here and listen to this. No, it will not give you extra…Shhh.

Ramón Pasquet:

My question is, where is all this light coming from? [muffled speech] There they are; must…

Erhart Inzaghi:

I don’t know.

(?):

[thud] [whispering sound]

Georgia Tinsley;

Hey, look. There’s a whole meal laid out here.

Reena Inzaghi:

There’s…bones.

Erhart Inzaghi:

And dust. Is that a whole…?

Georgia Tinsley:

Yes, definitely. Left in haste too. Ramón, what do you think?

Ramón Pasquet:

Um. Yes. Technically, this place is kind of giving me the creeps. Let’s try and find a way out of here, shall we? J can [redacted for sake of clarity]if he wants, for all I care, but I’m going up.

Jerry Poor (HQ):

[splutter] [splutter] Well, well. That’s a nice way to talk about your boss. Seriously.

Georgia Tinsley:

Going up? And how will you do that?

Ramón Pasquet:

No idea. Come on. [murmuring sound]

Erhart Inzaghi:

Raaaaaaamón…

Reena Inzaghi:

Raaaaaaamón, where’d you…

Georgia Tinsley:

[murmuring] Come on [murmuring] he won’t come just because [murmuring]—thing, right?

Ramón Pasquet:

Yeah, right. Erhart, better not wander off.

Jerry Poor (HQ):

Oh my.

Georgia Tinsley:

I thought I saw a shadow move—over there.

Ramón Pasquet:

Okay. Stay calm. [murmuring and whistling]

Georgia Tinsley:

Where can Ramón possibly be?

Jerry Poor (HQ):

I am so not calm, it’s not even funny. Like, if anyone laughs, you’re basically sacked.

“…not calm, it’s not even funny,” J whispered.

“What?” I asked, but he didn’t answer. But I was suddenly distracted, for a shadow shifted suspiciously, just exactly between two derelict buildings, where I could barely see it. I reached down and smartly held up my handgun. Georgia, who was beside me, grimaced and drew away, never being much for noise. Reena and Erhart clung to each other and halted.

“Oh, fine, just stay here. I’llgo brave the danger. Cheer me on.” I held my firearm at arm’s length, slightly tilting it like a pro. The stone crunched loudly under my feet as I walked forward, listening to everybody breathing behind me, hoping that the shadow wouldn’t reappear.

It did, wavering on the stones and disappearing again. I gulped. Fear pumped through my veins, seeming to crowd out the blood and making my body feel lifeless. It was an irrational and exaggerated fear, I thought—but something in those ancient wrecks and the ambience of impossibility nurtured my terror.

Still I walked on. No amount of sense could be associated with how far that distance of six or seven meters to the far side of the first ruin became. Breathing deeply, I forced myself to walk past it, and I turned. I felt a jolt of adrenaline before I even comprehended what I was seeing with my unnaturally focused vision.

It was Erhart who stood before me, casting a shadow. I stared dumbly. He looked innocently back. I could not help myself, and I quickly looked back to where my companions stood. Where all of my companions stood. With a gasp, I felt my legs stumbling backwards, but the impersonation had vanished. I glanced back at my companions again. A shadow flickered next to them. There were two Erharts standing there. One of them was baring its teeth hungrily and reaching out towards the more Erhart-like one. In horror, I started forward, calling “Look out!” in an embarrassing croak. Reena and Erhart both understood me and whirled around, immediately freezing in terror. I bowled past them. The impersonator was running. The shadow it cast was that of no human—or any other nameable thing.

“Stop, thief!” I commanded impulsively. It contorted and in a moment was upon me. Smashing its hand with bestial ferocity into my shoulder, clawing at my back, and lunging at my throat, it sent me to the dirt, rolled over me, and headed with surreal dedication towards Erhart, ragged croaks bursting from its gaping mouth.

“Help!” he moaned. I rolled to a crouch, picked up my pistol, and began firing like half a nutter, while Georgia sensibly ran from the scene and Reena and Erhart screamed. The thing took the first two bullets happily enough and flung itself upon its quarry, who began shouting in panic about doppelgängers.

Suddenly, J’s voice broke through the confusion in my mind: “Doppelgängers? What? Come on, guys…”

“J!” I bellowed. “Get us out of here, now!” I didn’t care at the moment that the execution of such a request would be critically implausible.

Reena, heavily in tears, threw herself into the brutish creature, pummeling both it and her brother with fist and elbow. I stood still, considering, looking over at an apparently petrified Georgia for helpful insight that was not forthcoming. Without warning, a hand like a talon sliced across Reena’s face, knocking her heavily to the ground. There was no blood, but she did not move.

Neither Erhart could best the other, it seemed at first. Erhart gave his opponent some surprisingly sensible wallops about the jaw, and his opponent gave him some erratic shoves about the chest, and nothing much happened from either move. But, suddenly, Erhart gave a cry for a reason I couldn’t see, and he fell to the ground as motionless and unwounded as his sister.

J’s voice suddenly cracked into my ear, and the monster paused, looking towards Georgia, who became even more petrified. “Hey, guys! I was just looking up Plato, and maybe you arein Atlantis…”

“Hold on,” I interrupted. “I don’t think you’re J.”

“What?”

“I don’t think you are. When has J evercorrected himself? Or looked up history while on the job? Tell me, what’s your favorite food?”

“Caesar salad,” replied the voice. Which was correct, but I didn’t encourage it.

“Yeah,” I said, channeling my innate dogmatic character, “but who is your mother?”

“I never told you that, so that’s not a very good test.”

“True. How’s this?” I sprang forward and connected my fist forcefully with the back of the frozen monster’s head. I heard J’s voice snarl and the beast whirled around, but it was my face that stared at me.

Suddenly J’s voice returned, weakly: “Ramón, can you hear me? You were right, of course, that…” Something whispered and I couldn’t hear J speak. “What did you do? What’s the test?” J’s voice suddenly finished.

“Nice try, buddy. I’m a whole lot less scared of you now that you’re a failure. Now, what did you do to the Inzaghis? They appear to be unconscious.” My face blinked at me. That false body turned and sprang across the road, striking at Georgia. She stared at it for a moment, ducked, and rammed herself bodily into its chest. It overbalanced, collapsing and becoming one with the dust.

“There is some great evil at work here,” I muttered dramatically, mostly to calm myself down.

“You’re telling me. Look behind you.” Georgia pointed. Behind me was a scene that was peaceful enough—except for one thing.

“Is it just me,” I mused, “or is that an enormous pirate ship sailing through the sky just there.”

Georgia made a doubtful noise. “I don’t know…it’s a bit heavy for a pirate ship, I think.”

The ship came forward alarmingly fast. Its shadow advanced and then was upon us. I barely had time to think about the fact that the shadow wholly disregarded the angle of the light before the ship suddenly banked and dived directly at Georgia and I.

“Run!” I shouted. But it was already too late. I found myself submerged in endless fog and a lone figure came stumping along on an obligatory wooden peg. He did not look at me but continued to stump, swinging his skeletal hand. I gulped.

Suddenly, behind me, a harsh voice said, “Strange, isn’t it, what some persons will do for attention?”

I slowly turned, but only saw more fog and another voice, again behind me, said, “What do you here?” And then I heard Georgia and Reena call my name loudly, and the fog disappeared. Georgia was staring at me open-mouthed—which was unnerving—and Reena remained unconscious—which was still more unnerving.

“Did you?” I said.

“Do what?”

“See the pirate and the fog and hear…”

“Um…nope.”

“Bother.” I kicked a stone and looked around for a pirate ship that no longer existed.

“Look at how well-preserved some of these buildings are,” said Georgia. “I’m going to peek inside that one.” She pointed at a building that was in decent shape, and proceeded towards it.

“Nothing else to do,” I grumbled, looking down at Reena and Erhart, who looked perfectly content in their insensibility.

In a moment, she screamed, startling me half to death. I galloped across the road and into the remnants of the building’s door, sending them crashing to my feet. “What?” I inquired loudly.

Georgia pointed at what looked to be some tattered old fabric hanging on a wooden peg.

“I thought it was…I don’t know,” she explained helpfully. “This place is very inconsistent, isn’t it? Here, cloth and wood, and in other places, dust.”

“Well, yeah, I suppose, and here’s a book.” I gestured at a table hidden in the corner of the single room.

Georgia stared at it disbelievingly. “What? There can’tbe a book. I mean, surely…time period, ruin, decay. Oh, it’s open.” She was over in a flash.

We both frowned, staring at the book.

“What’s it supposed to say?” I asked.

“Well, it’s in Italian. Which I think is pretty odd.”

“Definitely,” I affirmed.

“It says something like—the author says that ‘they’ are waiting—whoever ‘they’ are. The king’s mad.”

“There was a king here?” I asked, raising an incredulous eyebrow. “And is that mad as in mad or mad as in loony?”

“Loony, I think.” She read some more and laughed. “No, this can’t be right. It’s making it sound like the king is eatingthem. That creates some gruesome imagery I didn’t really want right now.”

Just then, I heard a door slam. Startled, I turned and stared aghast at the door that stood where I had barged in not three minutes earlier. “Hey, Georgia…” I said weakly.

“‘He is coming,’ it says,” she murmured. “And this…ew! This looks like a large bloodstain. And wait a minute. There’s a royal seal, I think, pressed…” There was a loud crashing noise behind me, and I whipped around once again to see Georgia lying sprawled on the floor. My jaw dropped pretty well, and then I looked up at the book, which was slashed to ribbons. The door opened, and I was falling into a depth without bottom or surface.

Jerry Poor (HQ):

Life is goooood…life is fiiiiine…things are goooooooing reeeally welllllll. I don’t know why I wouldn’t be haaaaaarrrpy…

(Yours truly):

Can you please stop singing? It’s super hard to transcribe.

Jerry Poor (HQ):

Yeah, no worries, don’t really like singing. But this situation is really messed up. Um. Oh. Right. I want some clarity on this situation, everybody. Find out every detail you can. Should have told you to long ago. That’s the thing about being boss, you know…oh, never mind.

14:32:10

Reena Inzaghi:

Oh, here he is. [She said this very creepily. It legit sent chills up my back even though I’m a transcriber.]

Georgia Tinsley:

[whispering] J…J…can you hear…?

Jerry Poor (HQ):

Yeah, yeah. I can—

Georgia Tinsley:

Don’t believe a word of it. [static]

Jerry Poor (HQ):

Okay, but did that mean “I don’t believe a word of it” or “Don’t believe a word of it, Jerry”? Oh, have you? That’s great. I want you to pull it away from that stupid, um, nothing.

Ramón Pasquet:

Hello.

(Several persons):

Ramón?

Jerry Poor (HQ):

I am your master.

Jerry Poor (HQ):

Hang on. Wherefore usest thou mine admirable tones? Speak up, onion-breathed deceiver! I require immediate rectification to this insult. You will answer for this cheek until I am duly satisfied.

A bunch of voices that sound like Jerry Poor (HQ):

[confusion of speech]

(?):

[screech] [static]

Jerry Poor (HQ):

Man, that’s cool. Oh, hey guys, if you can hear me, I was just told you’re still alive in the sub.

Georgia Tinsley:

No, we’re out here looking for Ramón.

Ramón Pasquet:

I’m

Yours truly:

ramon will never be found

I finished reading this text. “Ramon will never be found,” I murmured. All was silent in the office. Judi’s coffee mug hung undisturbed on its rack. I held my breath and listened for any noise, but there was none. The sun beamed in through a window, mocking the inactivity. But the silence is over. A loud crack of laughter from J has broken it. The ambience of the room changes with it, becoming more natural. I turn back to the desk.

Ramón Pasquet:

In three years the world will be shattered, as I am.

I stare. And now I am leaving the room. J laughs again.