“As above, so below; as below, so above.” - The Kybalion

Whiteness. Overwhelming whiteness is all I experience. No thoughts, no sensations. Wait, no body.

“Please wait. Syncing” displays in black before my seemingly nonexistent eyes and I wait. By choice, I think, but I can’t change what I’m looking at either. The words dissolve and reform, one after another, in black that fades to green before dissolving all over again: Emotion, Science, Psychology, Religion, Economics, Politics, Narrative Structure. The pace speeds up so much that I start having trouble following along: Physics, Thermodynamics, Statistics, I don’t read a few while I’m trying to think what is going on with this information. Is it accessing my mind? Gauging my reactions? When I’m focused again it’s not even words anymore but I can still recognize the formulae and pictograms: f(n), a price to market size graph, an engagement graph, x2 = y2 + z2, cos(θ) = u (dot) y, p → r, A ∩ B, C5H5N5, F = G(m1m2)/r2, 1 = 1, 1/0, א… It’s stuck, aleph is half formed and still black. Suddenly it coalesces red and winks out of existence.

ERROR_OVERFLOW!!!

Flashes into being in angry red, filling my view as a queasy anxious feeling overtakes me.

I’m back. I can see my hand on the Claw, now glowing red instead of orange. Always a bad sign with technology; fun fact Cylons didn’t have orange eyes. But I’m stuck, unmoving, how long am I going to be stuck here? The grocery deliveries are fully automated. No one will find me. Then I feel it. A pulsing, no not a pulsing, a beating, like a heart, from the Claw. My vision fades to black.

The first thing I notice in the dark is that I have a body this time, I can see it and it’s my own. The second thing, wondrous as it is, is that I’m wearing silk. Mmmm. As I begin pondering spending the rest of my life trapped in a black void wearing silk I hear a noise. An alarm?

A klaxon blaring pounds into me and my vision snaps into focus on the snarling maw of a great black dragon. “Mo-other fucker!” I shout as I fall back onto my ass (my combat reactions are going to take work). My heart frantically beats fifty times or so before I realize I’m not going to die. The dragon, though lifelike in form and color, is stationary. Art. I nearly shit myself because of art. I stretch my arms and take a deep breath to calm myself as the rush dies away.

I am startled again as my attention returns to the shrill noise of what is probably an alarm. Is that because of me? I take a moment to look around; I’m at the base of an amphitheater and the only exits are among the raised seats. I’m about to take a step when I hear a door slam open and one of the exit halls lights up from within. Hey, where are the lights I’m seeing by? There is no approaching, just suddenly a woman is there, stepping from the alcove with tightened lips, and a smooth brow. She’s angry and used to it.

“Kill the noise.” She says as she descends the steps towards me. She stops abruptly and I have time to take in her ancillary features. Her hair is, well, aggressive; shaved on the sides, long and tied into a braid over the top and black as it gets. No jewelry, no makeup that I can see. She’s wearing a black blouse and at her wrists and neckline are intricate gold designs, similar in shape to those on the Claw, but her pants are brown and look worn. I expect heels to go with the shirt but she’s barefoot.

“Department?” she says.

“What?” I say.

“What department are you in?”

“Uh, I just got here.”

She sighs and tilts her head back to look at the ceiling and takes a deep breath. “What is your name and who is your supervisor?”

My brain grinds to a halt. This is a game, shouldn’t I come up with a new name? Eghck. None of the names I can think of have good memories and I don’t know why I would want a new name in the first place. Uh oh, she’s raised her eyebrow. Too much thinking.

“Ah, Grimmlaw. And uh, I don’t have a supervisor. I just got here.”

Her eyes narrow and she takes a step back, a curving in her spine makes me suddenly feel like prey, “Do you mean you came from outside the building or outside the world?”

Wow, no way to hide from that sort of question. “The latter.”

Thankfully she doesn’t strike, instead she turns her head without taking her eyes off me, and says a little louder, “I need Toric from Phenomenology, immediately.” I was so distracted by her appearance that I hadn’t noticed the man who followed several paces behind her. He hadn’t approached me but instead had guarded the entrance and now leaves.

She doesn’t look like she wants to talk. As we wait for Toric I take the opportunity to look around. Besides the dragon statue there is nothing on the floor and the wall behind me is flat. The ceiling is vaulted and I still can’t spot any lights. The balustrade behind the woman has some more of those runic designs carved into it.

“What’s your name?” I ask her.

She chuffs as a response and does not engender further communication. I think about moving a little but with the barest hint of taking a step her eyes widen and start searching my body. Neck, groin, knees. I think I’ll stay put.

As I’m standing here silently, growing steadily more bored, I wonder for the thousandth time if my decision to cultivate a keen intellect over a clear mind was the correct decision. All those monks and hippies claim ‘no-thought’ is a great benefit but I’ve never desired their lives. Shouldn’t the mind match the life? Won’t those same people claim that diversity in all forms is paramount?

Finally! I can hear shoes in the hallway and a man walks through into the light of the room. He’s black, bald, and the tie at his neck is half undone. His focus is on me, but when he sees the woman he stops and tightens his tie. He descends to us and I notice his scalp and neck are covered in those same runes, tattooed.

“Who’s this Kacela? He’s not my department.” His voice is crisp and there’s an accent I can’t place; British, French, Mediterranean?

“Says his name is Grimmlaw. He’s another category seven.” Again that accent, something about the way the m and the l next to each other was pronounced.

Toric’s eyes widen a little and he takes a sharp breath and nods, fatalistically it seems to me. He reaches towards me, slowly, and pokes me in the chest. And then he just deflates; he lets his arms fall, hunches slightly, and releases a breath I didn’t know he was holding. Kacela is still watching me so I keep still. He takes another breath to steady himself and straightens, holds it for a moment, then releases as he places first one then two palms on my chest. Is he checking my heart? Do I have a heart?

“He’s Human.” He says, stepping away.

Both their postures relax and for the first time since she arrived Kacela takes a moment to look away from me. “Who summoned him?” Toric asks and Kacela only shakes her head slowly in response.

“How did you get here?” Toric asks me directly and my mind jams again. Hello person, -smile- this is all a game I try in my head, nope. You’re not real, do you mind if you treat me as the most important person for a while? no.

My hand goes through my hair reflexively, “Well, that’s a little hard to explain. There’s this… Well, where I’m from there’s this… thing, called the Dragon’s Claw and-”

“Oh! Dragons. Well that makes sense. Good, good. Hmm” Toric seems relieved and I take a moment to look at the dragon art piece next to me again. How is anything that comes from that good? “You’ll have to come with us for a while. Rules, you know.”

Figuring it’s better to stick with the plot than go wandering off alone I shrug, “Ok.”

Toric spins around sharply, “Clear a path to my lab please.” He says to no one and starts moving. Kacela snaps her attention back to me and I get the hint. I follow.

I’m not much of an architecture buff. Sure, I know what certain pieces are called and to what styles they belong (sometimes) but I don’t know any architects or why they chose what they did. But when I say the architecture is weird I mean weird. Everything, absolutely everything, the floors, the walls, the ceilings, even the glass is adorned with bas-relief sculptures, like a coin. There are animals (that’s a fish, an octopus, a lion, bear, goat), many I’ve never seen before (why does that dog have six legs?), people building (great pyramids with hundreds of people around them, tall towers juxtaposed against mountains), or hunting (spears, knives, bows), and I’m pretty sure that one is of sciencing. But weirder than that is it’s all made of the same material; a kind of stone. Even the glass, which I guess isn’t glass, fades naturally from the marbling stone to clear transparent without a seam in sight. I’m so lost in the works I don’t notice I’ve come to a halt until Kacela coughs pointedly. I start walking again but my head is on a swivel the whole time; no two are the same.

It takes a couple minutes to get through the labyrinth of desk spaces, all empty, and hallways, curiously devoid of doors, before we enter a room where a microscope, telescope (and is that a seismograph?) are visible amidst a bunch of other machines of unknown function. Toric sits me down at a machine with two joysticks and a reel-paper feedout.

“Please use the polar reconciler.” Toric instructs, with a tone that seems to imply I should have any idea of what’s going on. Kacela is at the door, facing out. “Please, it’s very new. It doesn’t take as long as you’re used to.”

Well, nothing doing. I grab the joysticks but they don’t move. However, the printout immediately starts flowing and I can see it from where I sit. A waveform, quite artistic, flows from within the device. After about a minute (no it doesn’t seem to change if I try to move the sticks) the printing stops and Toric tears it off when I drop my hands.

“Well that’s odd. You’re cycling good, high for a human even. But your entrainment ability is nil and your attenuation is only minimally present. Strange to see attenuation without entrainment. No matter, I’ll get you started on entrainment tonight, after dinner.” He says while studying my chart, changing the rotation a couple times.

“Tonight!” Kacela barks in surprise catching us both off guard. She crosses the distance fluidly and with one arm tugs Toric away from me. Whispering, though not quietly enough, they converse. “He’s NOT coming home with us. What about Emmaline? She’s only a baby.”

“He has no entrainment, I’ll just lock the door, she’ll be safe. Besides you know the rule for category seven: minimal contact, maximum integration.” Toric’s words send a flash of eyes wreathed in fire across my brain and my chest gets tight. Just a little nudge and here I am. Another world. Machinations unknown whirl about me and I don’t even have the option of getting out. How screwed am I? No, it’s just a game. Nothing can affect you. The thought calms me. Mostly.

“Read these for a while.” Toric says as he passes me a couple fliers and a book. “We’ll have an early dinner so you’ll have plenty of time to get started.” Kacela returns to the door, giving me an appraising once over as she does.

“What time is it?” I ask, wondering how much I’m going to have to read if he’s giving me a whole book. What kind of game makes you read books?

“Hmm, active mostly, maybe afternoon nap if you’re into that.” Is his flat response as he turns to look through a microscope. I notice he’s not wearing a watch and there are no clocks. Or lights. Still no lights. Were the programmers just lazy and didn’t feel like making light sources?

The first flier is apparently my future occupation,

“The Diamond Causeway and You

Fantastic opportunities await those who build The Diamond Causeway.

Unlimited access to materials and space gives you the room to create what you want

as we strive to connect our great empire.

With its unique raised design, we will bypass the forests

with the style and beauty you can take pride in.”

I’ve seen job postings like this before. Usually at the companies boasting about their ‘competitive atmosphere’ and bargaining away your benefits with the opportunity to work on such a monumental thing or in such a special place. Odd that they say bypass and not save though.

The second flier is about my new home,

“The Great Planar Empire of Physicality

Our empire boasts the largest domain with the grandest works.

Every city is a breath-taking wonder that takes a lifetime to experience.

The seat of our government, The Great Plane of Ether,

connects and binds us all in united purpose and benefit.

Be you drawn to Earth or the Sun your home is with us.“

The propaganda is a little thick so it’s hard to get a read on what sort of government we’re looking at. An empire, apparently, but there’s nothing about its structure present. ‘The Great Plane of Ether’ might indicate a ruling class though.

The book is where the true meat is; Basic Alchemical Transmutation Theory by The Initiate. It takes a moment for me to dive through my occult studies to find what I’m looking for: The Kybalion by the Three Initiates. Is this meant to be a previous work or perhaps they split up? Either way I find the contents immediately recognizable. Everything vibrates, boring (not to mention validated by modern physics), and by changing the vibration you can change the substance. It’s all flowery prose of nonsense for a few (quite a few) pages while I notice that despite everything they’re using the english language (gotta cave to the audience I guess), until I get to chapter five ‘Entrainment’.

“Entrainment is an art and a science. First, you need to know what plane you’re faced with. Second, you need to know what plane you’re going to change to. Last, you need to determine what change to affect to result in the desired plane.”

I must have missed something. Sure a vibration could be described as happening on a plane, even without defining an axis system you could still delineate somewhat. I flip back through the pages, then forward. Nothing. No measurements, no axis systems, just three vague references to three planes. Matter, Ether, and Energy. In that order and from lowest to highest vibration.

Science my ass. “Excuse me, how do you measure vibration?”

Toric straightens up and looks at me with a confused expression, “Measure vibration? Why would you need to measure vibration when it’s so obvious?”

Now I’m confused. “What do you mean obvious?”

He smiles and approaches me, “I forgot you’re new to this. It’s quite easy. The vibration is matter, energy or ether. Surely you can tell the three apart?” He sounds like he’s explaining something simple to a child. Kacela glances over but looks away when I notice.

Ether as separate from energy and matter? Sure, a gravity field fits the bill. But energy as separate from matter? Uh oh. Do they have atomic theory? What about quantum mechanics? I need to find out, this could be huge. “Is light a wave or a particle?”

Toric looks confused, hurt, and then indignant. “I don’t know what game you’re playing. Light is energy. It vibrates at a higher frequency than matter or ether. It is not a wave or a particle. I think you should read the book slower.” he turns, shakes his head a little and returns to his microscope.

Great, a civilization without quantum mechanics quite possibly without atomic theory. No fiber optics but there should still be microprocessors, right? Maybe not, I wonder if Toric would mind if I took apart the polarity reconciler.

Before I can ask, he gets up and turns to me, “Alright, let’s go home for night.” No idea how he’s keeping track of the time. He leads the way back through the complex and Kacela brings up the rear. This time there are other people around, but still many empty desks. Most are like Kacela and Toric, a few tattoos, hair of all varieties, builds on average with what I left behind. They’re working at microscopes or other machines I don’t recognize, writing in journals, talking, walking, lost in thought. Mostly normal. It barely feels like a game. I could be back in the office taking off early from work.

When we get outside I stop for a moment for my eyes to adjust. The sky is a brilliant sea of colors as the setting sun paints a full horizon of cirrus clouds with bright pinks, reds, and oranges. And the buildings are like modern art on a fantastic scale. There are statues, a couple double helix higher than the Empire State building, and the bas-relief sculptures are still adorning every surface in sight. As night settles on the city, arches of lit glass, neon maybe, arc along the streets, lighting the roads and casting sharp shadows. But it’s eerily quiet. There are no cars, no planes, no machinery making any noise. Just the occasional murmur from a passerby or the clack of shoes on stone.

As we make our way away from the building we came from (no signs anywhere either) Kacela joins Toric in front of me and they join hands. They’re talking quietly and pointing to the clouds every now and then when suddenly a horn sounds in the distance and everyone in sight freezes. A second horn calls mutely, but closer, again and everyone leaves the road to stand against a building. Several more frightened looking people actually go inside.

We’re standing against a building when a horn sounds again, much closer, and Kacela suddenly turns to Toric, “Wait! How much can he attenuate?”

Toric’s mouth drops open but he recovers with a jolt, “Shit! Not enough. I should have remembered. We need to get him inside!”

“Not enough time. You, get behind Toric and attenuate as much as you can.” Kacela says pointing at me and moving in front of Toric.

“What?” I ask helplessly as I move behind Toric. No one answers and there was nothing in Basic Alchemical Transmutation Theory about attenuation.

We’re standing silently for about ten seconds before the first fish swims by. In the air. It’s just floating there like fish were always meant to be in the air. No explanation for its presence or ability to fly. It doesn’t have wings and it’s definitely not flapping hard enough with its little fishy fins. After that, a school of fish swims by and Kacela drops into a kind of fighting stance; arms loose at her sides and pulled up slightly, weight on her toes and knees bent.

Then the sharks show up. Sharks are scary through an aquarium tank but that’s nothing to having them glide by in the sky mere feet away. Deadly predators moving with liquid speed and nothing to protect me. But they pass by, chasing the fish. Until the horn sounds from just out of sight and She appears, naked, astride a shark the size of a bus. Her hair is golden and stretched out behind her, tangled in the curling ram horns that sprout from her temples and frame her face. The fading red glow in the sky suffuses her hair making it look like a flame trails behind her. The locks curled around her ebony horns make a vibrant nest of gold-red fire and her face stands out all the more. As she lowers the hunting horn from her lips she turns to look at me while she goes by. I stop breathing as her eyes, straight from the advertisement, track me.

Two sharks peel off from the group and head straight towards us, side by side. The instant they reach Kacela, she whirls her arm up through the head of the first and then down through the middle of the second. As pieces and viscera of shark splatter the wall to either side of me I look back up to the woman on the shark and I realise something. Her eyes are not full of fury, it’s joy.

As the last of the sharks pass us, Kacela slashes her arm through the air and blood flecks the street, leaving her arm clean. Toric and Kacela embrace and I give them privacy. After a couple minutes Toric gives me a wave and we continue on. They’re talking in hushed tones again, but I catch a few pieces of conversation.

“He’s going to go wild. You saw her look at him.” Kacela says, holding tight to Toric’s hand.

“So? You came back.” he responds.

“She didn’t look at me like that”

* * *

When we enter their home Toric steps aside onto a small landing at the base of the stairs and faces me, “Do you mind helping Kacela with the cooking?”

“Not at all.” I respond.

I’m hoping cooking is the same as the real world, at least, as I follow Kacela past the stairs and into the kitchen. Again, things look familiar: I spot counters, sink, stove/oven, and refrigerator. Though the latter is adorned with carvings of foods; grains, fruits, vegetables, and very realistic meat. As Kacela is pulling things out I hear Toric say “Goodnight” to someone in the hall before he returns with a baby, swaddled in a blanket and looking around with bright blue eyes and a tuft of auburn hair. He turns her to face us and says, sweetly, “Say hello to mommy and Grimmlaw, Emmaline.” who giggles and raspberries a hello. I smile (the mirror neurons are particularly strong when faced with children) and wave as they pass.

“Do you know how to cook?” Kacela asks as she fetches a knife from a block.

“Yes, I think.” is my answer as I wash my hands. Kacela nods curtly.

“I want you to peel these,” she points to a pile of root vegetables that look like green carrots, “ and wash these,” she waves at a bowl of mushrooms, “and dice the lot.” She leaves me a knife and pulls a pot, already half full of scraps of food, from under the counter.

As I get to work I can hear Toric in the next room speaking a combination of baby-talk and gibberish while Emmaline coos in response. I’m not half done with the first green carrot when Kacela starts humming. Her voice seems to come from deep within her chest, strong and clear, and with the range of an opera singer. The melody itself is haunting, somewhere between a hymn and a dirge. She never breaks stride in the tune as she cuts up meat and mixes spices with oils. I can’t bear to interrupt her to find out what it is we’re about to eat. When I finish with my task she swipes the lot into the wok with the meat and tosses it a few times. Without stopping her humming she points over my shoulder at a cabinet which I open to find dinnerware (I can take a hint). I bring the cups, plates, and silverware into the next room where a large circular granite table seats five and Emmaline is in a highchair of dark wood. Toric takes the plates and lays them out while I follow behind with the cups and silverware. He sets me opposite the three of them. Better able to converse I guess, but also a very us and you vibe. Must be that minimal contact.

Kacela arrives with the food and a pitcher of water and I take my seat. There’s a flurry of motion as we all get food and drinks and start eating. The food is excellent, the meat succulent, the vegetables both savory and sweet. The spices used in the oil give everything a somewhat cinnamon and nutmeg flavor.

I let the adults sit in silence while Emmaline blows raspberries for a few minutes before I speak up, “So, who was that woman with the horn?”

Kacela looks at Toric but he doesn’t look back. “That was Shzume, scion of the hunt, battle, and blood.” He says as Kacela returns to feeding mashed vegetables to Emmaline.

Where do you go from that? What question isn’t answered by battle, blood, and hunt?

“Is she human?” I figure now would be a good time to get the phylogeny cleared up.

“In a way…” Toric trails off. He sets down his fork, “She is not a part of The Empire, that’s what matters.”

I decide to appear satiated by this information, “Hm.” And a nod will suffice. Toric seems rather establishment friendly but I’m not sure about Kacela. Something in the way she worries and looks to Toric for guidance, but silently, makes me think she doesn’t want something known. But why do I need to know? Is it my natural curiosity or am I more like my creation, Hal, than I want to admit? Always seeking that edge of truth to use for gain.

After dinner Toric takes me to a guest room with a bed and an easy chair with a side table. He brings with him two nearly identical rocks. Holding up one he says “This is a rock.” The other, “This is a geode. Hold one in each hand and let it suffuse your hand. Get a feel for the differences and when you can tell them apart try and make the rock feel like a geode. That’s entrainment. I don’t expect you to get far on your first night but just do that for now and we’ll run you through the polarity reconciler again tomorrow to see what kind of a learner you are. Do you have any questions?”

I can’t think of anything he’d be able to answer other than “Just, how do I turn off the lights?”

“Oh, just take the rocks out of that box when you want them to turn off.” He says as he points to a box on the floor by the door.

I try entrainment for about an hour before I give up, empty the box, and lay in bed. I’m starting to drift off to sleep when suddenly I’m sitting at my table, hand on the Claw, with the lights off. I give a surprised shake and stand up so fast I knock over the chair. Yes! I can move!

The Claw is pulsing several shades of purple and throwing enough ambient light for me to find my way to the light switch. I look at the clock; 8:00. I’ve been gone all afternoon. My nerves are shot by the experience, making me twitchy and more than a little excited about being back in the real world and moving again. I brush my teeth and take a shower to calm down before settling into bed to work through the detective novel I’m half way through. I get tired enough to sleep so I turn out the light and stare up into the darkness. Then, as I’m having trouble sleeping, one last unsettling thought slips through to my mind.

I’m not hungry.