„Reality is a tricky thing, my dear friends. It is defined by the consensus of those who perceive it. Look at my shirt, is it blue? Yes? it is blue because we all consider it blue. So it is blue. Nobody will convince anyone otherwise. Or can I talk you into believing it is red?“ Dr. Amir Farqim asked one of the students sitting in the front line of the auditorium, as he sat on the bench.

„Maybe if you hypnotize me or condition my brain over a long time, Professor.“ The young man replied.

„Oh yes, brainwashing. Altering ones reality. But now? Can I make you see it as red?“ He asked.

„it is blue, Professor.“ The student said and the room laughed.

„Yes, it is blue. Thank God. We all know that. So reality is safe, isn‘t it? Our consensus what blue is and that’s my shirt is blue remains intact.“ He laughed. „I am not a Professor by the way. Only a Doctor.“ He said. „Yet, you perceive me as a Professor because I hold the lecture and you are learning from me. Another thing of perception. Something our realities are not aligned on. Now I am aligning them, making consensus whole again by explaining my academic status.“ He laughed. „So is there anything that can change reality? Of course there is. Communication. Mass communication like having an audience of a hundred students or posting on instagram like you yoiung lady up there.“ He pointed at a female student who quickly put her mobile away. „A few filters and you all look like Kim Kardashians long lost sister. A bit of make up and you look ten years younger. A dye my hair, so probably half of you would guess my age five years younger than it is. Without those grey temples I have. Yes, reality can be shaped. Consensus can be created artificially. Our friends in economy got a class called marketing that is basically about that.“ He gestured. „We believe what we see and what we see is reality. So there are no doubts about what this reality entails. Or are there? How about things we are not sure of? Let#s say ghosts. Does anybody believe in ghosts around here? Please raise your hand.“ He asked. Then slowly he raised his own hand and a dozen students did the same, hesitating and getting displeased looks from their colleagues.

„You see? A dozen or so. There is a group among us and I count myself to them who believe ghosts are real. The spirits of the dead. Unseen presences lingering after the passing. most of you are good scientific skeptics and do not believe in such superstitious nonsense. Yet, what if you are wrong?“ He raised his brows. „Many of you consider capitalism as evil probably. Typical for your age. Yoiu have not made money yet.“ He said and the students laughed again. „While many people consider capitalism as a blessing. Especially those who do not have it available to them.“ He stood up now and stepped toward the students. „A flat earth? A reality to the world for centuries. The clouds are made of white wool? Photos capture the soul of men? Nuclear power is a clean source of energy? God wants us to conquer the holy land? Masturbation leads to blindness!“ Again laughter. „All of those were at some point accepted realities. Which is what I want all of you to think about today? Is reality the truth? Or is it a breeding ground for lies actually? Is a lie believed by all not a reality? And if it is a reality, is it still a lie?“ Farqim nodded. „I expect everyone to have an opinion on that next week and a three pages minimum paper on the question. Dig deep, my friends. See you next week.“ He pointed at the cock. „Also this lock might not be working properly, so that might be a lie, too. One we all gladly choose to believe, I guess. I wish you a good weekend. See you next week.“ The students all got up and some tried to tie the Doctor up in conversations which he skillfully ended swiftly. When he was almost out the door a familiar voice from behind greeted him.

„Hello old friend.“ The raspy deep voicemail and Amir Faqin turned slowly and smiled at Brockmann. The man had gotten old and was wearing worn out clothes as if he was a homeless or at least poor. Amir was not deceived by the looks. He knew exactly who bespike with.

„I thought you would be dead by now.“ Faqin said and turned to theelder man.

„Yeah, sorry to disappoint.“ He smirked. „Funny you say that, because I indeed thought you are dead.“ Brockmann replied.

Faqim raised his eyes. „Maybe we have a coffee and celebrate we are both still around to ask those questions?“ He asked. Brockmann nodded.

„Cafeteria?“ He asked.

„My bureau, maybe.“ Faqim winked.

„Sure.“ Brockmann gestured. „Lead the way.“ He asked.

„How did you get here. Are you still in Berlin?“ Faqim asked as they passed the students outside, who all kept their distance from their professor if he talked to another adult. Brockmann wondered how the future elite of Europe could be such an obedient devoured bunch of kids.

„Airplane.“ Brockmann said. „From Hamburg.“ Brockmann said.

„Oh I see. Long way for a talk. I hope it was worth it.“ Faqim sighed. Brockmann walked behind him, until they made it to the wing where the lecturers offices were. A secretary greeted Faqim friendly and eyed Brockmann suspiciously.who gave her one of those stares he was famous from. it made er look away.

„Concerned I have a gun to kill you?“ Brockmann asked. „That was why you were relieved I came by plane, right?“ Brockmann said as he entered the small bureau.

„I know what your job was.“ Faqim said. „I remember they told me that it was a rare occurrence you delivered my alive.“ He smiled and sat down at the desk. Files were everywhere. Books at the walls, but truly the room was dominated by files and a small couch was the only place Brockmann could sit.

Faqim turned to a strange machine that looked a bit like a pyramid nad pulled what looked like a metal capsule into the top of it. Brockmann eyed him suspiciously.

„Lungo or Espresso?“ Faqim asked.

„Coffee.“ Brockmann answered.

Faqim nodded and activated the pyramid which seemed to be some sort of coffee machine. Brockmann gave a disapproving grunt, but turned his attention back to Faqim.

„Sp you have not brought your gun.“ He smiled and opened the drawer to his left. He got out some papers and then looked for something.

„No, but why would I? I simply took yours.“ Brockmann replied, got the small automatic from his pocket of his coat and lay it on the knee.

Faqim laughed. „They always did not value enough. You made this whole thing an art. So do we have our coffee and then you shoot me, or do you just shoot me now or how is this going to go down?“ Faqim asked.

„You knew I would not kill you the moment your secretary saw me. I am not send to do so. I want answers.“ Brockmann raised his brows. „At leaset I did not plan to do so. You might convince me otherwise.“

„I try not to.“ Faqim said and folded his hands. Then he turned and took the small cup and put it in front of Brockmann on the desk. Brockmann leaned forward and wished it did not show so badly how much his back hurt as he did so.

„So you got questions?“ Faqim asked.

„Why are you still alive?“ Brockmann asked. „You betrayed us.“

„You ex-spies should never have joined Nocturne. Really, everything is black and white and black and white for you. I did no betray you. I did not agree with the scientific policy of our organisation, so I cooperated with one that followed a more promising approach. That was all. After you caught me in Frankfurt I was brought to London and explained my concerns to the Director. He partially agreed and let me go, after making certain demands to secure the knowledge of the Nocturne Society. At least that was my hope. When I got busted by British cops a day later and arrested for theft of several antique books I realized he would not let me go so easy. My knowledge was too valuable to kill me, so they locked me up. Westgate. You know what kind of people get detained in Westgate?“ He laughed.

„So how does a criminal become a lecturer at a Swedish university?“ Brockmann asked.

„I got out when I was found innocent after review of my case.“ Faqim said. „I guess there was no more reason for the director to keep me locked up, after ... you know. The Event.“ Faqim shrugged.

„The Event.“ Brockmann grunted. „So you were in prison when it happened?“ Brockmann asked.

„Yes. So please can you tell me what happened? Exactly? You were still member of the great Nocturne Society when it all went down, right?“ He leaned forward.

„I hoped you could tell me.“ Brockmann said.

„No, I have no idea. But you guys must have investigated?“ Faqim laughed. „Brockmann, you must know!“

„No. I do not. Nobody did. Over night the flow of reports simply dried up. No more monsters or supernatural occurrences. All subjects we investigated seemed gone.“ Brockmann shrugged. „It was simply over. I got orders to go into sleeper mode after a months. I was reactivated last months.“ Brockmann made a tortured grimace. „I reactivated myself.“

„It is gone, is it? The Society. I tried to contact people. They all seemed to have turned their back on this. Many I could not find anymore.“ Faqim sighed.

„It is not over. Something happened and I try to make sense of it. Not everything vanished. The Society is not completely gone, either.“ Brockmann said. „Well, it is mostly gone.“

„What happened to all the stuff? The books, the centers, the research?“ Faqim asked.

„I do not know.“ Brockmann replied. „A lot was secured I was told, but no idea if that is true.“ Brockmann said. „It seemed worthless at the time probably.“

„What a crime. All this knowledge.“ Faqim leaned back. „But yes, the society was meant to investigate and not archive. I guess it makes sense it could no longer be kept up. What would you have done?“ Faqim said and Brockmann took a sip from the coffee. It was actually surprisingly good.

„Yes. It was a global event.“ Brockmann said. „Japan, US, everywhere they seemed to have gone.“ Brockmann said.

„An extinction event. Some of those species were around for as long as mankind itself. I traced signs of Morgol activity back to ancient Babylon once.“ Faqim laughed. „So what is your theory. From one knowing leftover to the other.“

„I do not have one. A bit above my paygrade.“ Brockmann said. „What is yours?“

„Reality adjustment.“ Faqim said. „What I told my students there, we both know it is bullshit. There are things out there that can adjust reality against the will of humans. there are much more dangerous things out there than human minds, much more capable things. Someone or something found a way to erase all of them from existence. Every creature and every subspecies that existed. Every power and artifact.“

„Not the artifacts.“ Brockmann said. Faqim raised his eyes and stared at him. „We found a book. A book that can be used to create monsters. It works just fine. Me and my partner hunted one down in Hamburg.“

„How very dangerous for something like this to exist in a world completely ignorant to it‘s existence.“ Faqim said.

„Yes.“ Brockmann replied.

„But my theory has a question at it‘s core. That’s why I am very concerned about this whole thing. I mean it is not a bad thing all those dangerous things disappeared, but who made them? Adjusting the reality means whoever did that knew about every one of them. He had to either know what he erased or he found a common link binding them all together.“ Faqim leaned forward. „So tell me Brockmann, who knew about them? Who could have done this?“

„The Russians?“ Brockmann asked.

„Possible. But they were in a sorry state back then. Their Soviet Union breaking apart and all that.“ Faqim sighed. „Who else?“

Brockmann tipped on the gun on his knee and drank another sip of coffee to win some time.

„Us.“ He finally said.

„Exactly. The Nocturne Society itself knew all it needed to know to do something like this.“ Faqim smiled. „Frightening hm?“

Brockmann shook his head. „What do you suggest? A ritual and then they snapped their fingers and every supernatural entity in the world turned to dust?“ He shook his head. „We both know a ritual like this does not exist.“

„I have no idea how it was done. Above my paygrade too.“ Faqim sighed.

Brockmann sighed. „Those were not the dark ages anymore. the World had grown a less darker place. Less places to hide, less superstitious fools to worship. They were lonely, hunted, desperate. I think something hunted them down. All of them.“ Brockmann said. „Right in front of our eyes.“

„So you have a theory after all.“ Faqim said.

„Yes. A gut feeling more than a theory.“ Brockmann sighed. „We might never know. Whatever happemed, it happened thirty years ago.“ Brockmann stood up.

„An operation like this leaves scar tissue.“ Faqim said. „Whoever did this, he made sure nobody would come looking. Disbanding the Nocturne Society without ever knowing what had happened? C‘mon Brockmann, this makes no sense. One might think you guys left no stone unturned.“ Faqim chuckled. „Yet, you just stopped doing stuff?“

Brockmann looked at him. „So where should we start looking?“ He asked.

„We?“ Faqim shook his head. „I am no longer member ...“

„There is no old Nocturne Society. All we got is us. Those who remain. The question clearly was on your mind.“ Brockmann said. Faqim raised his brows.

„Well, if there are monsters showing up again whoever makes them might be a good point to start. The most obvious point to start would be the Directorate, though. The Director himself, specifically.“ Faqim said. Clearly he had been thinking about it.

„If he is still alive, how could we find him?“ Brockmann asked.

„You ever met him?“ Faqim asked. Brockmann shook his head. „He is a man with very specific medical needs. I think there are not many experts who can help him. They might be a good lead.“ Faqim said. He saw Brockmann did not like the thought. „If they made Nocturne look the other way or disband it was him they needed. He had the power to silence you guys, to mislead you.“

Brockmann gave it some thoughts. „Tell me when you found him. I will have Fornby fund your search.“

„Can we trust him?“ Faqim asked.

„Fornby? Depends with what you wanna trust him. He was no part of a global conspiracy, I am pretty sure. He is as lost as everyone else. But where his loyalties lie? Let us say the specifics of our investigation in the dark. We just tell him we look into the Event. That is enough.“ Brockmann said and turned to leave. He let the magazine of the pistol slide out of it and ejected the bullet in the chamber. Then he threw the now useless gun onto the couch and left. Faqim remained in the bureau.

On the corridor he took out his mobile. One of these useless modern „smart phones“ which he had to handle by touching the display. He saw he had one call by Simon and 27 by Fornby he had missed. He had forgot to put the mobile on loud again. He always did. Fornby rarely called at all. Something must have had happened. He quickly made his way past the secretary and when he was spüre nobody could overhear him, he dialed Fornby’s number and put the phone to his ear.

„Yes?“ He asked, as Fornby picked up.

„Where the hell are you?“ Fornby sounded anxious, agitated. How unusual for him.

„Sweden.“ Brockmann said. „What is it?“

„Sweden? Why are you not in Berlin? Check the news. The shooting in Berlin, Simon was involved. It seems he killed a man running amok in a school.“

Brockmann breathed in sharply. „He did what?“

„He killed a man who killed pupils in a school. I told him to go into hiding and all that, but the boy needs you. Right now.“ Fornby said. His voice was cold and accusing. Brockmann killed the line and dialed Simon‘s number.