Month: February 2021

Nobody in Spangenburg had been specially worried when the previous week’s weather report had come in. This was Switzerland, after all, and having the roads blocked for a few days was no big deal. If worse came to worst, they knew federal authorities would have supplies flown in by helicopter. Spangenburgers simply topped their stocks of food and made plans for the week.

And so, after they were snowed in on Friday night, they settled into a special routine. Some things were common: every morning a member of each household would walk out and make sure the new snow, if there had been any, would represent no problem on roofs or paths. Dogs were let out, water pipes checked.

Aside from that, Spangenburgers took those days off very differently.

One family, the Grütters, had recently discovered role-playing games. It was Grandma Hilda, surprisingly, who volunteered to run a campaign for those days. Each day the five of them woke up, had breakfast, and donned their dice, paper, pencils and imagination, and faced fantastic perils.

Bernhardin Schmid, 31, single, cat mum of three, had come home last Friday with the trunk of her car full of books. If anyone walked by her house, they’d have heard some mellow smooth jazz, and they might even catch a glimpse of her on her couch, surrounded by her cats, a fire crackling in her chimney, her attention on one of her books. Still, she wished for a story where a woman like her found a portal to a parallel universe, but her books rarely gave her that.

She might have liked what Thomas Würsten was doing a few houses beyond. Thomas had chosen to stop procrastinating and finally give his novel a push. To his surprise, he was managing to. He wrote page after page on his computer, a classical radio station in the background. Draft after draft, he somehow kept coming back to stories about mysterious cat-loving women who could leap through different universes.

Andrea Schlumpf and Hiltwin Thalmann had planned everything carefully. Food was ready, drinks were ready, and their satellite dish was ready. They finally had found time to binge some of the TV series everyone talked about. They had made a list, and they had searched the internet, carefully trying to avoid spoilers and almost managing to, so they could put them all in watching order. And they had ended up throwing in a couple more new shows that knew nothing about.

Jost Häberli didn’t feel well. Why he was still here, he wasn’t sure. The job. It paid the bills. But what use, paying the bills, if he didn’t enjoy life? His therapist had warned him beforehand, but he had decided what to do while the town was blocked: nothing. He just stayed in bed, listening to the wind and the snow and the occasional bird. A neighbour might yell and a dog might bark back. Why was he here? Why was he alive still?

Alexis Schadegg and Max Rösli barely left their bed as well. But they were having fun. And sex. Lots of it. Whenever they left their bedroom, they did so wrapped in a blanket only, and went for sandwiches and pre-cooked food, so they could go back to the bed as soon as possible. And the shower. They liked the shower.

What would they think about their neighbours, Martina Hagenbuch and Francesco Kobel? In a sense, they had chosen the same path. But Martina and Francesco barely left their sex dungeon. They stopped regularly for food and rest. And they reminisced about the Känzigs, who had come to visit last Christmas, and what a wonderful time all four had had. And how exciting and rewarding. They definitely had to do it again.

Alessandro Soldermann, however, was worried. He felt like starting smoking again, but fortunately, he had no cigarettes in the house, and of course, he couldn’t buy any now. So he turned to alcohol. It was his damned boss’ fault. He had planned to leave a bit early on Friday, using the snowstorm as an excuse, but of course, she had come up with some stupid last-minute job. As a result, Alessandro had been late. Late. How long had it been since he had last been late? When he was a newbie. But now, now, he was trapped in his house, and he couldn’t get rid of what he had in his basement.

Spangenburg’s busybody was Amélie von Bergen. All towns have one, or at least one neighbour who rises to the post. Or that’s how Amélie had always seen her place in life, in any case. She had been oh so happy on Friday evening when she had seen Soldermann arrive so late. The guy had always acted suspiciously: she knew he hid something. Snow had already been falling heavily when he had parked his Volvo, and under her intent gaze, had unloaded the trunk. Her heart had jumped when she saw what it was he has carried into his house. So much so, that she had tripped and fell backwards. She had heard a crack. It was Sunday now, and all Amélie knew was that she couldn’t feel anything from her neck downwards. No pain, no hunger. Just the cold wooden floor, and her tears down her cheeks. Perhaps when the police found her, they might investigate Soldermann?

****

Wow. I only came up with the idea for this story on Friday (believe me, you don’t want to know the other options), and life is just so busy these weeks for me I’ve had to wait until today, Sunday, to write it. Hope everyone likes it!

(Everyone? Is anyone out there?)

So, I’m late, and the new prompt is going to be late, too. Who’s checking anyway?

“Another firewall? Ah, lady, I thought I’d find something more difficult…”

Eyes move. Implants send signals through the grid. Ports open. Others close.

“Hm, this is actually pretty clever. Maybe I’ll end up having some fun out of this?”

The wall crumbles. Literally. It disappears. He moves on. He almost sings.

“What now, what now?”

His connection is severed.

“What the…? Bring backup link online ASAP. Reassessing target.”

To his credit, he’s fast. He’s good, too, of course: nobody gets to his position otherwise.

“Who do you think I am, eh? Someone you could dupe? Whatever you’ve thought of, I’ve met and beat before, bitch.”

A gate rises. Heavy, reinforced. Pulsating power lines converge on it. He curses.

“Damn. You shouldn’t be able to do this. But since you have…”

There’s a flash and a crack. A network of crisscrossing filaments expands and reaches the gate.

“Now I just have to wait…”

The gate rumbles. It doesn’t unlock or open; it just allows passage.

“And that was quick. I must be close now…”

Enough.

Space moves. Spinning. Dazzling.

“No! I say… no!”

Stop.

“What the…?”

Recognition.

“This… This is private! My own gridspace! No! It cannot be! It’s a sim! You’ve stolen my own data and created a sim!”

Data analysis. This is no sim. Of course it’s not.

“No! No!”

It’s time. Let’s finish this.

“My gridspace… You’ve thrown me back to…”

“Yes.”

“You bitch. How have you entered here?”

“Through your door. You’re good. Really, really good. But not the best.”

A head-on attack. There will be consequences for his real body, but he doesn’t matter. He’s furious. A shield will suffice. He’s pushed back.

“Is that a tear? On your face? The big boy is weeping?”

The tease is not necessary, but it’s fun.

“You… What do you want?”

“Oh, nothing. Do you think you’d have something left to offer, once you’ve been broken in?”

“What do you mean…?”

He’s checking. Good. He’ll find what’s missing. Or rather, what little is left.

“A trap, little boy. A dedicated, elaborated, long-winding trap. Created expressly for you, as soon as you started flaunting your expertise.”

“No, it cannot be…”

“Oh yes. As it’s been before. Many times. You thought you were the first one to defy us?”

“What? Us?”

He sees us two now.

“Twins?”

He checks. With what he has left: we have made sure he can see enough.

“Identical DNA? Clones? But even so, links are individually attuned to…”

We speak together. It’s fun.

“Now you know. Like those before you. The ones you never knew about. Because we erase them.”

“What do you mean? From the grid? But the real counterpart…”

“Bye, little boy.”

“Master?”

“Yes, my Apprentice?”

“I’ve been thinking, Master.”

“That’s good.”

“When I first came here, I did it searching for God.”

“Yes.”

“I was told that this place, these mountains, and you, Master, were sacred. That I would be closer to God.”

“That they say, yes.”

“All of this… This landscape that surrounds us, is indeed beautiful.”

“I agree.”

“But I don’t know if I feel closer to God, Master.”

“Why, my Apprentice?”

“Well, these mountains belong to the world. Some people immediately imply that the world was made by God.”

“But we know that’s not true, my Apprentice. Science says so.”

“Yes, ours is but one planet around our Sun. Also, now we know that there are many more planets out there.”

“That was easy to surmise.”

“Yes, Master. But let’s remember that it’s not been that long since galaxies were recognized as such, and the true scale of the Universe started to reveal itself to us.”

“Indeed. The Milky Ways holds thousands of millions of stars, and the universe has thousands of millions of galaxies.”

“I’ve always found it staggering, Master. And yet…”

“And yet?”

“Science claims no God created the Universe. That it comes from the Big Bang.”

“A misnomer.”

“Yes, Master. I’ve learned that there was, or so science believes, a convoluted process of creation. What we usually call The Big Bang was just a part of it. And it still holds mysteries.”

“Yes.”

“The unbalance between matter and antimatter. What’s dark matter made of. What is the dark energy that makes the universe expand.”

“Those are some of the most common problems, yes.”

“And I wonder, Master.”

“Yes?”

“Are we bound to know? What if humankind can never discover the true nature of the universe? What if there are closed doors behind closed doors? New mysteries after we break the existing ones?”

“Interesting, my Apprentice.”

“Scientists tell us that it makes no sense to ask what happened before the Big Bang, because time was created right then. But still one has to wonder: whence it came from? Perhaps that was God?”

“What do you think, Apprentice?”

“I don’t know! Some religions claim the universe is cyclic. That it dies and renews. The Big Bang could have been the start of one of those cycles. But in order to do that, our universe should stop expanding and start contracting at some point in the future. And it doesn’t seem that will happen.”

“Currently scientists don’t see how it could happen, no.”

“But even so, if it was true… The universe has always existed? Always expanding, then contracting, and repeating the cycle all over again, forever?”

“What is really in your mind, Apprentice?”

“I… I’m frightened.”

“Why?”

“Because I don’t know what makes me more uncomfortable: the idea that the universe has existed forever and always will, with no beginning and no end, or the idea that it did have a beginning, and it will have an end.”

“Well put, Apprentice, well put.”

“And if there’s a God, or Goddess, or a Pantheon… What kind of beings could, or would, create such a universe? One that starts and ends, or one that always existed?”

“Have you considered, my Apprentice, that if there’s such a God, shouldn’t there be a God that has created God as well?”

“What?”

“Think about it as well. I’m happy, My Apprentice, for you are well into the path of enlightenment. But be aware that the path is a long one.”

The Red Light District. Flesh, pleasures, drugs, weapons. Danger, in a quarter that is all shadows and strident lights. Fantastic.

Maren, of all the places, you had to get in here. Why?

“Hello, sailor lady. See something you like?”

“I’m looking for a woman,” I say. For an occult detective, I’m not specially brilliant today.  I’m going to blame it on how worried I am. Maren has not been using her body for that long.

“Oh, we can arrange that,” he drones on. “Or you could have us both perhaps? We’ll offer you a special price for it…”

Contact.

We’re both in a blank space. He looks surprised, at least for a moment. Funny, his avatar looks exactly the way he looked outside. His AI looks like a plain sphere floating beside him.

“Whoa, lady! You have a private neuralink?” he says. His AI is spinning madly.

“I have more than that. I’m not just looking for a woman, I’m looking for this woman,” I say. I let him see Maren. “I’ve been told you’re the most knowledgeable person around.”

He stares at Maren. There’s something in his eye, in the way he looks. Does he recognize her?

I decide to be cautious. Something tells me that’s the best avenue.

“I need to find her. She fled from home last night.” I send him my ID. “I think she’s unwell.”

“Rebecca September?” My name rings a bell, I can see. Or two.

“Yes.”

“Hm. You see, I think I might have something for you, but it’s a pity… You’re not the kind of person I can be traced to having had business with, you know? Or at least, business that is not… of the flesh.”

“I can make it untraceable,” I lie. Not without Maren, no I cannot. “Or… I could owe you a favour?”

The guy’s clever. I can see it. I hope I didn’t sound as desperate as I thought.

“Now that is indeed interesting. I’ve dealt in money, flesh and info. You’re asking me to deal in favours?”

Damn, I’ve busted it.

“I’ll tell you what. I want my own private neuralink. Can you get me that?”

“Yes,” I say. I try not to sound too anxious. Mignon will kill me for promising it, but she’ll make it. After all, it’s for Maren, and Maren is her daughter. So to speak.

“And you will still owe me one,” he adds.

I have a brief flash forward, and I don’t like it. This damned oracle training of mine. How can they live with this lack of control is something I’ll never understand. Trouble ahead if I cut this deal. Big trouble. Futures whirling in my mind.

“Agreed,” I say. The futures coalesce. I see pain and spilled blood and darkness, and then it’s gone.

Nothing new.

He grabs my arm, my real one. How can he be so warm? I detect no magic in him. Is it cyber enhanced then?

“Come with me, sailor lady,” he says in a sultry and wet tone that anyone can hear. “I think we can find what you want… inside. You have Tristan’s word on that.”

And thus he sealed the deal.