Written by Patrick D. McNamara
December 22, 2024
5:55 PM
“You’re smarter than you think, kid. You just need to work on your common sense.”
Alan took a sip from his old fashioned. His right hand which held the glass also had a lit cigarette between his index and middle fingers. The smoke dissipated into the hazy, dark room.
Peter had never been to this cigar lounge before. It was called “Eons Ago,” and the antique furniture and paintings of nude women certainly harkened back to a different era. A jazz band was performing that night from a balcony that overlooked the bar and seating area. The saxophonist, pianist, drummer, and bassist were trading solos while the singer was grabbing a drink downstairs.
Alan put his drink down and spoke between drags of his cigarette, “There’ll come a time when everything you worked for will disintegrate forever. It may outlast you, maybe even for a few decades if you’re really lucky, and only if humanity doesn’t blow itself up in the meantime. But there ain’t no way you’re going to make anything that’ll last more than a hundred years. I can tell by your tie that you don’t have your shit together.”
Peter looked down and felt the tie knot that was too close to his neck to fully see. “What’s wrong with my tie?”
“It’s amateurish is what it is. No pioneer is gonna be walking around with an Eldredge. Way too gimmicky. A Full Windsor would get you much farther. It’s a classic for a reason.”
The cigarette was spent. Alan tossed it into the ashtray, and one of his two silent bodyguards pulled a box from inside his jacket and gave him a fresh one.
“I didn’t come here to be belittled, Al. You have something I want.”
“Pardon me, Mister Serious. What kind of friendship would we have if I can’t bust your balls?”
Peter made a tight smile. Alan got the message.
“Fine, I’ll cut the bullshit. I owe you some straight-talk, especially after what you did for me in Louisville.”
The singer of the house band passed by with his cocktail. Upon recognizing Alan, he shook his hand and gave a quick, “How are ya? Good, good, Bonnie’s doing well. Catch you later,” before passing on. The jam was nearing its end, he didn’t have any more time for chit-chat.
While the patrons of the club were either orally fixated on their tobacco or consumed by the improvisatory offerings of the band, Alan reached into the pocket of the coat draped over his chair and produced an object covered in cloth. He placed it carefully onto the table, between the empty glasses and matchboxes.
“The vortex, as promised. I’ve been holding onto this thing for too long. It’s easy to abuse, but you don’t seem the type to push things too far. At least, I hope not.”
Peter slowly reached forward and picked the object up in his hands. It was solid, but appeared to be made of many small parts with space in between. He gingerly unwrapped the cloth until he could see the object within.
It was a brass cube made of many interlocking gears at odd angles. The component parts varied greatly in size, the smallest of which being no bigger than a grain of rice. Alan kept looking around the vicinity to ensure no one was taking notice.
“How do I activate it?” Peter asked.
“It’s got a switch on the bottom. It’s a little gear poking out with a ridge jutting out a bit. You’ll see.”
Peter flipped the cube upside down and found what he was looking for.
“Before you do anything,” Alan hurriedly placed a metal token in Peter’s hand that was about the size of a dime. It had an intricate image of a tree on one face and a complex series of right angles and curly brackets on the other. “Make sure you’re holding onto this when you activate it. Otherwise, you’re fucked. It’ll be completely out of your control”
“I assume you have one too?”
Alan let out a single “Heh” before revealing his own token, which had the profile of a goat’s head on one side and a Medusa relief on the other.
“You and I are the only ones holding these. We’ll be fine. Go ahead, turn it on.”
Peter glanced over at the band, who now had their singer back to lead the final verse of the song, “My baby flew away / She don’t love me no more / My baby left today / She won’t come ‘round no more…” Holding his breath, Peter turned the raised cog until it clicked into a new position.
The cogs all came to life, spinning rapidly and changing the shape of the device. Instead of a cube, it was now a polyhedron that floated above the table. There was an explosion of green strings of light that quickly formed a web of runes and three dimensional patterns throughout the room. Everyone around them froze in place, their eyes turning black, with the green light flowing through their bodies. Peter and Alan were completely untouched.
“Incredible.” Peter stood up and walked up to one of the green ribbons hanging in midair. He slowly tried to poke it, but the ribbon bowed away from his finger. He looked down at the token, which was glowing orange.
“Isn’t it? The vortex is a quantum rasterizer, analyzing the surrounding area and letting anyone holding a regulator—that’s the coin I gave you—bring the space into a pocket dimension with frozen time to manipulate it. I’ll show you.”
Alan stood up and headed toward the bar. He reached his hand out and the web of light warped, along with the swinging bar door. It stretched upward into an arc that he casually walked under.
The web moved around him as he proceeded. The bartender was motionless, typing something into the computer in the corner. Alan perused the many spirits on the wall before outstretching his hand again, and ribbons of light cradled one of the whiskeys from the top shelf until it was carried down to him.
“That, my friend,” Alan said as he removed the cork, “Is some real magic.” He poured the brown liquid into his mouth and took a few swallows, wincing as the whiskey went down. He turned back and let go of the bottle behind him, which was caught, recorked, and placed back on the shelf by the green light.
“What, um, can you do with this?” Peter walked up to one of the bodyguards and inspected his face. His dark skin was now ghostly pale, like it was made of wax. Surely the lack of blood flowing in this copied version of a human body was contributing to his odd appearance.
“It all depends on what you want. Lookin’ to rob a bank? Sneak into a top secret briefing? It’s as easy as flipping that switch. What did you say you were trying to do again, steal an artifact from a private collection? The vortex will let you do that, no problem.”
Alan moved back to the table, and the bar went back to its original form. “This is one of my most prized possessions. I’m sure you can see how powerful the vortex can be. Do you have the payment we discussed?”
Peter reached into his pocket and pulled out a velvet ring box. Before he could present it, green light snatched it out of his hand and pulled it toward Alan. He willed the light to open the box, and he saw what he was hoping to find inside.
“William Tecumseh Sherman’s signet ring. I can’t believe it’s right in front of me.”
“I’m sure you know the story behind it. The dark power he used to destroy the Confederacy is still imbued in the metal. I’ve been holding onto this one for years.”
The lid to the box closed and Alan grabbed it, carefully stowing the relic in his leather bag. “So much potential… you have no idea how happy you’ve made me, Peter.”
“So that’s it, then? I can go? How do you even turn this thing off?”
Peter spun the metal frame of the polyhedron with caution, nearly blinded by the orb of green flame in the center to which all the light was connected. He held his token in his left hand as he searched for the switch with his right. He found it in a tightly wound lattice, but as he went to flip it back, the token slipped from his grasp and into Alan’s hand.
A wave of nausea washed over Peter. He looked wild-eyed at Alan as he felt his limbs seize up. He was able to muster some words in his shock, “Al… What are you doing…?”
Alan calmly spun the device until the switch was facing him. “I’m impressed that you got your hands on this ring. It’s a shame that I have no use for you anymore. You already know too much, I don’t want any loose ends who can talk to the police once I start using my new toy.”
The sensation of spinning overwhelmed Peter. He had no idea which way was up. He stumbled backward into one of the ribbons of light and felt like he was being electrocuted, falling to the floor on his back.
“Don’t worry,” Alan picked his cigarette up and took a drag from it. “You won’t die just yet. Since your consciousness traveled to the pocket dimension, your mind will stay right here inside the vortex. I’ll make an excuse about you being too drunk to stand properly in the bar, carry you to my car, and drive you out to the marshes. Once we get there, I’ll link you two back up and fit you with some nice cement shoes. How does that sound?”
Peter tried fighting his vertigo to stand up, but Alan willed the light to pin him to the floor.
“Fuck… you…” Peter grunted as Alan placed his finger on the switch.
Alan waved mockingly. “See you in a few hours.”
With a slight movement of his finger, Alan shut the vortex off. The web of light in the room became unstable and collapsed inward, and the polyhedron did the same. Alan collapsed with it, and soon, they were both gone. The dimly lit room, with the ghosts of bartenders, musicians, and patrons, were all that remained.
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