Nonentity (2 page)

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“If anything was possible and you had no limitations, what kind of fantasy world would you construct?” Lorna said to me one afternoon.

I hesitated. “Hard to say. Is there any point in thinking about that? Better to stay in the real world, as intolerable as that can be.”

We were at an outdoor café table. Pedestrians shuffled past on a nearby sidewalk. A city street belched disruptive noises. Wind moderated a blazing sun.

It was the fourth meeting between Lorna and me. Our friendship had not flowered into a storybook romance, due in part to her oddball questions.

“Has it occurred to you, Sebastian, that the real world might not be so intolerable? The possibilities far exceed our conditioning. What if we explored our imaginations independent of that conditioning? What if we entertained the allegedly impossible, the officially unthinkable? Might we transform reality into fantasy?”

Suppressing a sneer, I said, “Now your ideas are bordering on sedition.”

“Ideas don’t border on anything. They are spaceless. They exist and thrive and spread, unfenced by artificial lines on maps.”

“Maybe so, but they are powerless on a practical level. The world is what it is regardless of any ideals we try to superimpose over it.”

Lorna stared past me.

“Okay,” I said. “Your way of seeing things has appeal. No matter how sordid the world gets, your outlook remains as sunny as the day itself. I suppose I should admire and even envy you for that. But I can’t go where you go philosophically. I just don’t have the disposition.”

“Maybe those pills you take have something to do with that – those thought stoppers.”

“Come on, Lorna. You know that I am required by law to take those pills. It’s not my choice. I do whatever is necessary to avoid trouble.”

“Which is your prerogative. I respect that. But those pills diminish your ability to grapple with unconventional ideas. Don’t you want better control over your natural faculties?”

I said, “Not if it backfires. How useful will my faculties be if they get me evaporated?”

“A fair question. You don’t have to stop taking the medication to counteract its effect.”

“Oh really? What are you suggesting?”

“Well, I prefer not to reveal too much just yet. What I have in mind you must experience with a blank slate.”

I shook my head. “Cryptic.”

“Let’s just say that I have a friend you should meet. He can do wonders that will expand your consciousness beyond anything you’ve witnessed. I’d like to introduce you, have you undergo a session with him.”

“A session? What does that entail?”

“Come and see,” she said.

“I don’t know.”

“Come on. Be adventurous, Sebastian.”

I was no match for her persistence.

On another scorching afternoon eight days later, we rode to the countryside in a powder blue cab. We sat in the back on reupholstered seats of faux leather. Our driver wore a captain’s hat and a matching black jacket. He was short, plain-faced, nameless, and silent. Lorna was gorgeous in a lacy white gown. I was an eyesore: spiky hair, faded shirt, wrinkled trousers.

She said, “Do you like working for the government?”

“Not exactly,” I said. “I mean, it’s not very interesting work. I don’t hate it. There are worse jobs out there.”

“What do you do for them?”

“I edit films. It’s not worth discussing.”

“You streamline propaganda.”

“Shhh. Be more discreet,” I whispered, nodding toward the driver. “People sometimes report things they hear.”

“Are you kidding? He wouldn’t do that. Hell, this cab of his isn’t even registered.”

That bothered me. The Permanent Regime mandated the registration of all vehicles under its jurisdiction.

“Damn it, Lorna. Why the hell didn’t you tell me that before I got in this car?”

“I didn’t think it was worth mentioning.”

“Not worth mentioning! I suppose breaking the law is ho-hum to you. It’s unnerving to me. I can’t stand being caught off guard.”

“Well, I’m sorry,” she said. “Had I told you about it in advance, you probably would have backed out of this altogether.”

“You’re damn right I would have. Taking risks in a police state is insane. I’m tempted to tell the driver to turn around and take us back.”

“Please don’t. Let’s keep going. I’m sorry I wasn’t more up front with you.”

I grunted my displeasure and turned away, peering out a window. The hills outside were majestic, rolling gracefully one by one. The green of those hills sparkled – though not as vibrantly as Lorna’s green eyes. I returned to those eyes. My frustration dissolved.

As my nerves settled, the cab darted off the road, veering down a dirt path into a heavily wooded area. The terrain was rugged. We bounced around and I repeatedly banged hard against the roof and side of the car. The vehicle could have easily slammed into any of the trees along the path. I yelped involuntarily.

Lorna grabbed my right hand and said, “Don’t worry. The cabbie is an excellent driver. He’s driven through this forest many times.”

“Maybe so, but it feels like my innards are trying to leap out of my body. A warning would have been nice.”

“Sorry. Now you know. We’ll be there shortly.”

We traveled four or five miles into dark and spooky woods. Small creatures hopped trees we barely dodged. I stopped watching. Lorna didn’t bat an eye.

We entered a large opening that housed a dilapidated barn. A significant portion of the roof was caving in. The red paint on the walls had chipped away, rendering the building formerly red. Patches of unevenly mowed grass filled the front yard. Our cab parked by a purple mailbox, the back half of which had burned away. Lorna and I exited the vehicle.

I said, “What are we doing at this hellhole?”

She answered with a mischievous smile.

We approached the barn via a stone walkway. Countless cracks marred the path. The front door lacked a doorknob. Her knock elicited a sound suggesting the structure might collapse. There were hurried movements inside.

She knocked on the door again. “Come on. Open up.”

“Who is it?” a shaky male voice called from the other side. “If you’re looking for a payment, you’ve come to the wrong place. Please disperse.”

“It’ll be your money or your blood, Mr. Lambert,” she said, almost laughing.

“My money or my blood? Dismal alternatives. Do you have a third option?”

“The third option is that you open the door.”

“I don’t typically make my home available to strangers.”

“Strangers?” she said. “You’ve known me practically all my life. Don’t you realize who you’re talking to?”

“I could try to narrow it down, which might take a while. Can you wait?”

“No. Stop clowning around and open the damn door.”

The man inside said, “Lorna! What a magnificent treat. To behold your effervescence is like landing on an exotic planet. To converse with you is …”

“Just let me in.”

“I’ll get right on that.” The door opened slowly.

Before us was a man who looked like he had emerged from a tsunami. He was roughly forty. His hair was three different shades of brown and in dire need of a comb. He wore bent glasses without lenses. A lime green stain covered most of his beige necktie. His violet shirt clashed with his orange slacks. He was gangly, about six and a half feet tall.

“Oh dear Lorna,” he said, without spotting me, “you are more ravishing than I remembered. You must come around more often. It has been ages since we got together.”

“I was here less than three weeks ago.”

“Three weeks? Holy smokes. Conception of time is beyond me. The last ten years were over in six and a half minutes. The next hour could be a lifetime.”

Lorna gestured toward me. “Lukas, aren’t you going to ask about the fellow I brought here today?”

The man looked at me and jumped back. “Who are you? What are you up to? Why …”

“Lukas,” Lorna said, placing a hand on the man’s shoulder, “calm down. This is the friend I told you about, Sebastian R. Flemming the Third. He’s safe.”

I stuck my hand out toward him. “It is an honor to make your acquaintance.”

He ignored my hand. He scanned me up and down with his left eye, then his right.

“I’ll trust you, dear, and assume he’s not dangerous,” Lukas said.

Lorna looked at me. “Lukas likes to keep to himself. There was an incident here several years ago. He was …”

“Oh, let’s not get into that,” said Lukas. “Sebastian isn’t interested in my past horrors.”

She said, “Sorry. Invite us in then so we can get started.”

“Ah yes. Where are my manners? Too much time in isolation. Ever think about that, Sebastian – how a hermit can completely disregard social mores?”

“No. I’m a bit of a loner myself, but I guess I never considered that.”

Lukas said, “You should never guess unless you fully understand the question.”

“Alright,” said Lorna. “Let’s move this along.”

“Follow me to my office.”

The three of us walked down a narrow corridor. The walls were decrepit, large holes scattered all along. The wooden floors creaked ferociously. A couple mice scurried away from us as we neared the end of the hall.

We came to a door with a rusted nameplate that read: Lukas Lambert, Parallel Universalist. Below the nameplate was a painting of an hourglass with a blue circle on its lower half.

Lukas grinned. “This is where the magic happens.”

He opened the door. We entered a room consistent with the rest of the building. Thousands of papers and half-eaten plates of food were strewn about a barely visible carpet. Tattered clothing sat in moth-infested piles. A dead-rodent stench fouled the air.

“What is all this shit?” I blurted out.

Lukas said, “Rubbish. I should scrap every last bit of it. Know why I don’t?”

I shrugged.

“Because somewhere in this trash is the all-encompassing equation that has been a mystery throughout the ages. Do you get what I’m talking about, Sebastian?”

“No clue.”

“It’s that secret combination of numbers and symbols that will condense this whole lunatic universe into a single mind-blowing formula. It has to be in here somewhere. Once I find it, I will cease being a laughingstock to those egg-headed schmucks wasting away in university laboratories. No more will the so-called bright lights of science snicker at me from their unnecessarily lofty perches. No more will they dub me a crank. No more …”

“Alright,” Lorna said. “Sebastian doesn’t need to hear you rant about your peers.”

“I have no peers. Point well taken, however. Let’s get on with it.”

Lukas kicked papers and clothing out of his way, clearing a path to a desk in the back. He reached inside a drawer of the desk and pulled out a remote control device. He rolled two flat-backed chairs to a spot a couple feet in front of the desk.

He motioned to one of the chairs. “Please have a seat, Sebastian, so we can commence with the festivities.”

I sat in the chair as he went to a set of cabinets against the wall behind the desk. He took a strange headpiece from the top cabinet. The back of the headpiece resembled a catcher’s mask. The front had two skinny red lenses jutting out about ten inches from the eyes of the gear.

Sitting in the chair across from mine, he waved the headpiece in my face. “Do you have any idea what I hold in these overworked hands of mine?”

“Should I?”

“Yes. But not just you; the entire civilized world should know about this fabulous contraption. They will – someday.”

“What is it?”

“This is an SRF-3, the ultimate in perception-discombobulating technology. Tell me, Sebastian: Are you familiar with the art and science of parallel universalism?”

“Parallel what? Never heard of it.”

A broad smile formed on Lukas’s lips and I sensed that I was no longer dealing with a disheveled quack. “I am a proud parallel universalist. Didn’t you see the shiny nameplate on my door? Weren’t you impressed?”

“I’d like to say I guess I was, but I guess I shouldn’t guess.”

“Whoa – total mindfuck alert!” he said. “That may be the most brilliantly ignorant thing I’ve ever heard.”

“Please, no more questions.”

“Alright then. Enough large talk.”

He pressed a button on his remote control. The lights dimmed. He pressed another button. A dissonant mix of psychedelia and Gregorian chant filled the room. The “music” was increasingly hallucinatory and jarring.

Lukas slipped the SRF-3 over his head. He turned toward me. The long lenses on the headpiece rotated, emitting tiny blue laser beams that pierced my pupils. A blue blotch consumed my sight. The bizarre background music faded out. It was eerily silent for about eight minutes. Then I felt myself being pulled violently across a harsh pavement. I screamed out, but my voice was mute. My body came to a halt. The blue blotch dissolved. I saw a door hanging in a night sky. The door opened and a ferocious ball of flames hurtled through it – the most earth-shattering image I had ever seen. The blue blotch overtook my vision once more.