Category: Writing

… can wait a bit.  I have other things bubbling up.

To be continued.

I managed to ‘walk’ back to my office.  I walked for about 6 blocks in LA before I pulled it off though.  And the ‘blocks’ in LA are flipping humongous.  My legs were burning by the time I managed to find my way back.  Good thing too, because I felt a small measure of panic when I tried the first thousand times with no success.  How I did it so quickly the first time is beyond me.

Just lucky?  As soon as I managed to step back onto my street, 17th by the way, I pumped my fist a few times like Rocky.  Its the eye of the tiger, its the thrill of the fight, risin’ up to the challenge…  of our survival?  No that’s not right.  Eh, close enough. It felt like survival once I got back.  I mean those blocks were looooong, man.

My office was the same office that I had left, and strangely, it started to feel like home already.  That couch though, sorry Tony, but that couch will have to go.  It is just plain nasty.  If it was from the 1950’s, I would be shocked.  I was guessing it was older than the United States.  Shit was old,  and not in a good way.

Out of habit, I emptied my pockets, but found that the keys and the wallet were missing. I panicked for the second time.  I stepped outside my door again, and patted my pockets.  Wallet and keys were there.  I pulled them out, held them in my hands and crossed the threshold again.  No steam, no smoke, no magic.  One second, wallet and keys in hand, the next, poof. Gone. I stepped back out of the threshold into the hallway, and felt my pockets again.  Wallet and keys.

I am an unwitting David Copperfield with the objects in my own pockets.  I shut the door slowly while I shook my head in mild disbelief. Something to chalk up to the mystery of the Verse.  I’ll figure that one out later.  For now, I will get to work. Best place to start is to reread the open cases and talk to Tony.

PrimEstates vs Authority; V. Hale; and Miles vs Takai.  Tony said the last one was minor. Start there.

Miles vs Takai.  John Miles had incurred a damaging debt from Takai of the Angelus.  He was looking to dispute it.  Otherwise he was Colos-bound.  It did not say that explicitly, but I picked up on the gist.   Sounded like I just needed to hear both sides and pick who was right.  Simple enough, I guess.

v. Hale was odd.  It was a dispute between Michael J. Hale against himself?  How the hell did that work?  The dispute was over a commitment made to the Authority, yet the Authority was not a party to the dispute, and the commitment was not explained or mentioned.   The details were super thin, probably will have to talk to Mr. Hale myself to even get a clue on that one.

PrimEstates vs Authority was a much larger file.  A lot of pages with precedents and exceptions noted about the history of access to Prime for those that had departed.  PrimEstates was a corporation of sorts that was looking to open super high end real estate markets on Prime to the highest bidder of those off-Prime in the verse.  Essentially allowing ‘rich’ dead folks to have real estate on Prime.  Of course, the fuckers were trying to find a way to take it with them. That made no sense either, but it probably would as I went along. (I hoped.)  It seemed there were very strict rules about how Nexters (the term for Prime souls that had died and moved on) interact with Prime.  My experience was so far contrary to most of the rules cited, but then again, Chuck had pointed that out right away.

Then the 800lb gorilla slowly, meekly, raised his hand and the big question finally, somehow, managed to barge its way into my conscious thought.

Who the hell typed these briefs up?  And if I was a mediator of some sort, and we are talking trillions of souls in the whole verse, then all the fights and disputes would come to me?  How the merry hell did all that work?  I am just one guy.  Even with all the time in the world, only one guy could not solve every single dispute across all of time and space.  I flipped through the file again, looking for some secretary or typist notes.  Nada.  I grabbed the next case and did the same thing.  Nothing.  Third one, again nothing.   Where the heck did the files come from?  There was no typewriter that I had found in the office.  These things came from somewhere then.

I finally (finally) reached out and grabbed the map.

“Hello?” Tony said.

“Hey Tony. Sorry for taking so long.”

“I don’t experience time in here like that, so don’t worry about it.  You know how sometimes you get lost in thought and you don’t notice how quickly or slowly time is going by?”

“Yeah.”

“That is what being an abstract is like.  No sense of time.  Just thought.  To me it could be a second since our last talk or million years.  Doesn’t matter.  What did you find out?”

“I read the cases, and then a guy named Oman stopped by.” I admitted.

“Oh, crap.  I forgot about that.  Did he explain what was going on?”

“Yes.  Seemed a little odd.” I said.

“I didn’t have a chance to look into it.  Sounded a little crazy.  But I have seen plenty of crazy in my time.”

“Yeah, I bet.”  I didn’t want to tell the saint about my little encounter with the girl at the center of that ball of crazy.

“What about the cases?  Anything jump out at you?”

“You could say so.  Who the heck writes these cases?  Am I the only Adjudicator?  How can I possibly serve all the cases that pop up?  Back in the legal system on Prime, there are millions of cases a year, probably billions.  I can’t do that.”

“True.  You wouldn’t be able to.  But the good news is the rate of cases is small.  A handful a month.  Most are minor.  The system works pretty well.  Of course, the Verse has had millennia to hammer it out.  It better work well after all that time.”

“How is a case made?  Is there a complaint box somewhere?”

Tony laughed. “Remember the career fair?”

“How could I forget?”

“There was a booth that you walked by for the Office of the Adjudicator right at the front.  It employs a couple million people. Bureaucracy at its finest.”

“Why don’t I share a realm with them then?”

“You are where the buck stops, as FDR used to say.  When something reaches you, it ends.  When you end the case, how you end it is entered back into the Office, and future issues are alleviated before they reach you.  What makes it all work is your impartial nature.  You are separate because you have to be.”

“So somewhere out in the Verse, there are millions of people supporting what I do on a daily basis?”

“Yep.”

“No pressure then.”

“None at all.” Tony chuckled.

“And these files just show up on my desk?”

“Turn around.  See the filing cabinets behind you?”

“Yes.”

“Its the first one.  The top drawer.  Pull it open.  Take the new cases out.  Put your closed cases in, push it shut.  Done deal.”

“That easy?”

“That easy.  Any questions about the open cases?”

“I think I need to track these folks down and talk to them.  So not much to ask.  Do you have anything?” I said.

“I hate to say it, but I am pretty certain I am fading. I can’t remember things.  There are gaps… about my childhood. About my life.  About everything.  Don’t pick the map up again unless you need to really pick my brain… because every time you do, I become less.”

“Great.”

“I thought you would like that.  Talk to you later, Doug.  Good luck.”

“Good luck?  I have no idea where to start.”

“Start at the beginning.  See where it takes you.  After all, you have eternity to figure it out.”

Audio Transcript, Case File: 52u334x00
Title: Gregorius v. Authority
Finding: for Authority
Adjudicator: Fernando Martins de Bulhoes::re.AUTH::re.ANGL
Plaintiff: Gregorius (aka Pope Gregory I), via Interpretor Vigilus

Adjudicator (A): State your name for the record.

Plaintiff (P): Gregory of Rome, son of Gordianus

A: Good morning, sir.

P: Good morning.

A: I have read your case stated against the Authority. What I don’t understand is why now?

P: Why now?

A: Exactly.  You have had 800 years of Authority experience, working directly, why make a case of injustice on Prime now?  Especially for yourself?  Most complaints are brought up within the first year post-Prime.

P: It took a long time for me to realize the injustice, I suppose.

A: You suppose?

P: Do you know who I am?

A: I do.  You just stated it.  You are Gregory of Rome, son of Gordianus.

P: I am Pope Gregory the First.

A: I recognize that you were a Pope on Prime.  Late 6th century… ish.

P: Where do you hail from, my son?

A: Portugal.

P: No.  When.

A: As Adjudicator, that is not relevant to this discussion.

P: It is.

A: Fine. Early 13th century.

P: Splendid.  A Christian man?

A: I am asking the questions, Gregory.  Let’s try to focus on your case.

P: It is relevant to my case!

A: Then, yes, I was. For disclosure, a Franciscan Friar.

P: So to you, I should be well known.

A: (audible sigh) Pope Gregory the Great.

P: Indeed, my son.  I was canonized.

A: I fail to see how this relates to your case against the Authority …Gregory.  And please remember, it is my choice as to how this plays out.

P:  Of anyone, you should understand.  I was a devoted monk.   A very devoted man of God.  I prayed with most of my time.  Sometimes forgoing food, drink, and rest.  I prayed for the world, for the sick, the poor, the unwanted.

A: Like the sick dying monk you threw on the manure pile out of spite?

P: That story is always taken out of context. He was not dying, he was dead.  It was meant as a symbol.

A: It just happens to be in the file.  Please continue.

P: I was devoted to finding the truth of God.  The Godness of God, if you will. I expected to see a vision of the greatest Creator of all.  Not necessarily understanding Him, but communing with Him, in my own way.  I argued for Him, I fought intellectually for Him, I wrote works for him… long dialogues about the very nature of faith and belief in the Creator.

A: I have read some of them.

P:  Then you know!

A: Know what?

P: Its all a lie!

A: How is it a lie?  Your belief in God paid off didn’t it?  You found that God exists.  How is that lie?

P: Yes, he exists.  But…

A: Let me remind you, as Adjudicator, it is my duty to understand the facets of your case, and lay out the decision that will set precedent in this matter for all future matters that may arise.   It seems your case has reached my desk because no one has any clue on how to riddle the twisted logic for your claim.   A claim… let’s see here, I have it right here… ah.  A claim that, and I quote, ‘The Authority should publish its truth on Prime as not to mislead billions of individuals that the concept of Heaven and Hell not only do not exist in absolute terms, but that the life after death is mostly subjective from person to person.  The absence of absolute truth in this has slighted every man of faith since the dawn of creation.’

P: Those are indeed my words.

A: You are not the first to demand some form of Prime education effort as to the so-called afterlife.   That has been well addressed in precedent and most would consider the matter closed.  So, on that alone, it would have stopped your claim immediately.  What tripped the office up is the last line.  The absence of absolute truth being presented as an act of transgression against you personally by the Authority.

P: It is an act of transgression!  I was lied to!  For the last 800 years, I have been lied to!  There is no heaven!  There is no hell!

A: You have seen the Authority.  You have worked for it for 800 years.

P: I have. With faith and diligence.

A: So what is the problem?

P: The problem is that I spent my entire human life praying, with an expectation of a heaven on the other side of the veil.

A: So have many others.  That is not a slight against you, but a choice you made.

P: And that doesn’t bother you?

A: I try not to think about it.

P:  We have been lied to.  There is no heaven.  There is no hell.  I could have spent my entire life doing evil things and the result would have been the same.

A: True. You expect recompense for your faith.

P: Yes! For all this I expect recompense for my faith!

A: Your case is dismissed.

P: What?!  You cannot do that.  I was a Pope!  I am a Saint!  I demand the rewards I was promised!

A: Yeah, well… news flash.  You are not the only saint in the room.  I suggest you suck it up, your grace.  Just because there is not a heaven or a hell where we are at does not preclude them from existing. As I was told, as you were told, this is just the next step.

P: But…

A:  Perhaps, your grace, you should focus on doing the right thing all the time, and let the rewards seek you out.  That way you are not wasting everyone else’s time.

P: But…

A: Speaking of, you will be charged for my time. Have a good day.

P: Now, you wait a minute… Friar.  I was a Pope!  I demand answers!

A: Then I suggest you take to your knees and start praying.  It might help.  Never know…  Maybe this time you will actually get an answer.

First task, and what I should have asked Chuck, but forgot.  Learning to travel…? Jump? Teleport?  Fucking transportation magic?

Pop quiz hotshot: What do you call jumping out of your bed in the morning and having your morning coffee in LA a thousand of miles away?

Answer: Fucking impossible.

My first attempt was to try to go from my bed to the desk.  I stood there for a minute, with my eyes closed tight trying to imagine moving through space and time like a ghost.

Doctor Who I am not, and a TARDIS I do not have.

So I took the Jedi approach and waved my hand and tried to feel it out.

Abject failure.

Then I tried the comic book approach and just tried jumping with a little will behind it.

More abject failure and a sore ankle.

Then I swore loudly, ran towards the wall, and soundly broke my nose.

…

Sigh.

…

Once I got the bleeding under control, which was completely lost on me to begin with; since I was dead, and had no need for blood in the first place.  Just like I had food and drink, but no need to crap it out.  Why the hell did I need blood?  That is like having snot run down your face.  Ghosts don’t get colds.

Of course, I guess I wasn’t a ghost.  The more I thought about it, the more it made sense.  I thought I was dead, but on Prime, everyone would see me and I could interact with everyone.  So that made me a zombie or a vampire, right?  Undead.  Except my body was fleshy and real.  Not dying and falling off, and I sure did not have any sort of hankering for flesh.

At least not yet. (Although steak sounded good.  But that is not human flesh, so it doesn’t count.)

I wonder if I could get laid.  Hmmm, getting off topic.

I walked over to desk, pinching the bridge of my nose and hoping it wouldn’t bruise and swell up.  It felt tender, but I had worse.  Much worse considering my last couple days. But it still hurt.

I grabbed a notebook from the drawer, a little black thing that said Moleskine on the back.  It was blank, just soft gray lines on creamy offwhite paper. A looked high and low for a pen, but I couldn’t find shit.   I would have to pick one up.  I also grabbed the little slip of paper from under the blotter with all the odd writing on it and tucked into the flap inside the black cover.

I looked down my front, made sure there was no blood, and headed towards my front door.  With a twist of the wrist, a flick of the other to close the door behind me, I patted my pocket and felt a key.

Everything fits.  I pulled it out anyway and tried in on my door.  Yep, everything fits.  How convenient the universe seemed to be after I had died.  It would be a lot easier if the universe was like this for everyone from the get-go.   I bet there was some insipid rule that governed how the key appeared in the first place.  I wondered if all the lost keys in the world were actually just being re-appropriated.  That would be funny.

I hobbled down the stairs on my sore ankle, and out the shared front door.

Into the brightest motherfucking sunshine I had ever felt.  It was like crazy bright.  Maybe I was actually a vampire.  Any moment I was going to burst into flame.

I looked down the street and saw nothing but apartments and small houses.  I looked down the other way, and saw more of the same.  I was on a main street of some sort, with store fronts dotting the street on both sides for a ways in both directions.  To my left was the coffee shop and market that Chuck had mentioned.  A couple stores down was a used clothing boutique, and past that a jazz club of some sort.  Downtown, or at least what I thought of downtown since it had all the tall buildings was directly down to the west? of me.  South?  Mountains are that way.  Denver was east of the mountains?  That would make that west.

So downtown Denver was west of me.  Yay.  I knew I was going to travel someday.

I headed to the boutique and found a case of some used decent sunglasses.  I picked a 1950’s style of Oakley beatnik shades… something dark, and brooding.  Like what my vampire nature deserved.  (Yeah, I am definitely not a vampire.)

“That will be the 22.50, sir.”  The lady at the checkout said.

I patted my other front pocket and felt a wallet.  No shit.  The universe just thought of everything didn’t it. I pulled the billfold out and found credit cards for a Doug Gates. (No paper trail my ass. I had credit cards.)  It also had a handful of different denominations.   I pulled a couple of twenties out and handed it over.

“Nice day out there.”  The lady followed up with as she took my money.

“Yeah, it is.  Really bright.”

“Hence the sunglasses.” She quipped.

“Hence the sunglasses.” I mimicked kindly.

“New to town?” She asked. Her name tag said Candice. Actually it said, HI, MY NAME IS CANDICE.  The all capitals really sold it.  Not at all like someone screaming right in your face, ‘HI, HOW ARE YOU, DO YOU LIKE THE COLOR BLUE?’

I would have responded, ‘WHY YES, I LOVE THE COLOR BLUE IN ALL ITS VARIANTS AND THE SOUNDS OF A BABY CRYING WHILE SHITTING ITSELF.’  But that would be rude, based on nothing more than a simple name tag that poor Candice had no control over.

“I am new to town. How did you know?” I said.

“You had a lost look on your face when you walked in.  Also, you just look like you are from out of town.”

“How’s that?”

“I don’t know actually.  You just do.”  She smiled.

“Thanks for the glasses.  Do you have the time?”

“If you need a watch, there are some over in that case.” She winked.  “It is 11:30am.”

“Uh, thanks.  This will sound stupid, but what day is it?”

She looked at me funny for a moment, then smiled widely again. “Its Tuesday.”

“I guess a watch would be a good idea.” I admitted.

After I bought the watch and equipped my new purchases, I started strolling down the street.  The restaurants and bistros had people sitting down and eating, folks in suits and dresses, ties and scarves, the world continuing on, just as it had before I died. It was kind of comforting in a way.  Having everything just seem normal.  After the madness of the last couple of my days, it was downright pleasant.

I stopped in a little cafe, picked up a newspaper, some food and drink and sat down.  The date put me at about 8 months since I had passed on, which wasn’t a big surprise.   Things hadn’t changed much.  Price of gasoline was a concern, people were still fighting in the middle east, and there was some sort of bake sale occurring this weekend to support the police alumni association.  Welp, super duper.

All in all, the world was still the world.  I ate my scone and drank my coffee and started writing everything I could think of into the small black notebook with my freshly stolen pen from the clothing store. It wrote very nicely.  Of course, maybe it was the paper in the notebook.  Whatever it was, it felt nice to write my thoughts out in some sort of order I could rearrange and play with later on.

I vomited what I remembered of my internal dialogue from the night before.  I listed my facts, my options, my assets and my liabilities.  I tried to separate everything out on to four different pages, and then I went through and I ranked everything.  Crossed things out here and there as I went.  I triple checked the little scrap of paper for more clues.  Not much to be found.

And the Travel thing was still number one.  Dammit.

I had to call Chuck.  I didn’t want to, the guy was obviously busy.  But I did.  Right there in the coffee shop.  Probably looked like I crazy, mumbling to myself.  I tried to talk with my inside voice, but that wasn’t working 100%.

Ooooh! Plot twist!  All the crazy people on Prime are actually dead people making mental phone calls!  Too bad that wasn’t true, it would make finding friends easier.

“Doug?” Chuck said.  A voice in the back of my head.

“Chuck!  Sorry to bother you, but how do I travel?  You know the spinning, twisting teleport thing you do?”

“Yeah, we kind of skipped over that part of the training.”  Chuck admitted.  “You didn’t ask the aspect locked in your map?”

“Ah, no.” I said.  Shit, I forgot the map. Again.  I bet Tony was pissed.

“Its easy, just focus on where you want to go. Just like making this connection.  But instead of a person, its a place.  You do that, and you will slip right through.  As you get used to it, you can flair it up however you want.”

“And if I haven’t been to the place?”

“Just aim for it.  Most of the time, you will get it right.  And if you don’t, you will be close.  Just try again.”

“Sounds promising.” I said sarcastically.

“You landed your realm in Prime, something that I thought was impossible, so I doubt you will have a problem with it.  Just practice, dude.  Chuck out.”

And he was gone.  I grabbed my notebook and pen, noticed that absolutely no one even noticed my strange behavior and headed back to my place. While I was walking back in the sunshine, I thought about the other cafe that Oman had taken me to.  I remembered the alley and the green sign, and the…

And there I was. I didn’t notice the transition, or the feeling of movement.  One step I was in Denver, the next I was in LA.  It had been seamless.

And there she was, standing in the cafe at the register, punching furiously away at the point of sale terminal.  It was the lunch rush, she was obviously busy.  I pulled my black book out and looked at my notes.  Her name was Imaria. Daughter of Oman, the Angel.  How do you break the ice with a daughter of an Angel?

I walked into the cafe, decent sort of place, a thousand of them in LA I would think, and the hostess looked me over coolly.

“Table for one?” She asked.

“Preferably in her section?” I said meekly as I pointed her out.

“Oh sure.”  She said sarcastically. Then she turned as Imaria walked by. “Hey May, you know this guy?”

Imaria/May turned and looked me over. “Nope!” She called as she sped away.

“You get all creepy, I will have Jorge kick your ass out.” The hostess warned.

“Its not like that at all!” I protested. “She is a good server, that’s all.”

“Uh-huh.  And the fact that she is stacked and friendly as hell has nothing to do with it.” The hostess lifted an eyebrow.

“None at all, promise.” I tried to give her my best smile.  I probably failed.

“Fine, that table right there.  Help yourself.”

“Thanks.”

“Don’t mention it.  Like ever.”  She turned away to go pluck her eyebrows or something.

I sat down and watched Imaria/May go about her business with her other tables as discreetly as I could.  Perhaps coming and sitting in her section was a bad idea.  I probably should be working on my actual cases, not checking on a cute waitress. But then again, she was cute. So I had that going for me.

She sped by and dropped a menu off. “Be with you in a sec.  Water?”

“Yes, please.”

The menu was standard fare.  Chicken this, hamburger that, pretending-to-be-healthy-salads, pasta, and a smattering of texmex americana.  I decided on the BLT, since I had a scone not even fifteen minutes ago.  Something light that I could dissect and play with to kill some time while I tried to figure out where to start.  I would just have to be charming.

After all, that had worked out for me so well in my past life. I was so charming my last girlfriend had dumped me for some dude she met at a Walmart checkout line.  It wasn’t meant to be anyway, she was Russian.  Nice body, but the worst attitude about personal appearance.  Fit right in at Venice beach.  More cali than the locals, as I would tell people.  But she had at least taken the time to get to know me a bit, so it still hurt when she walked out.

“Hello, my name is May, and I will be your server this afternoon!  Here is your water.  Ready to order?”  She had snuck up on me as I was lost in thought about Russian hoes.  So of course, my smooth plan went right out the proverbial window.  And hit the street.  And rolled.

“Uh… um… recommend anything?”

“Oh, I like the Cobb Salad, but it isn’t really a salad.  More like a kitchen sink with some lettuce at the bottom.  You have to have a big appetite to hammer that one down.   The best light fare is actually the Chile Relleno.   Real lightly fried, so not greasy at all.  Our head cook, Jorge… its his mother’s recipe.  Super tasty.  Pretty healthy too.  Stuffed with chicken, peppers, onions and just a little cheese to bring it all together. Its heaven.”  She sighed.

“Then that is what I will have.” I said.  I made eye contact with her and noticed her eyes were a brilliant green, with flecks of turquoise swimming about.  They were cat’s eyes.  I handed her the menu a little more slowly than what was probably considered natural.

“Do you wear contacts?” I said sheepishly.

“Optometrist are you?” She smiled, tucking the menu under her arm.  “Nope, no contacts. Anything to drink or you good with water?”

“Just water is fine. Thanks.”

“No problem.” And off she went.

Someone else delivered the chile relleno, and when she checked on me, my mouth was full.  So that opportunity was shot.  The next time she came round, she refilled my drink, and asked if I wanted anything else.  I tried to think of something witty or funny.

“Sorry about the eyes thing.  They just caught me off guard.  …Shiny.”

I failed.  BOOM.  SPLAT. CRUNCH.

“Shiny?” She asked.

“Very.” I think my insides wanted to implode and take me with them.  God I am an idiot.  Stupid, stupid, stupid.

She smirked… and then grinned!  “I like that.  Shiny.  Well you have a good day.”

I think the implosion feeling was getting worse.  I am pretty sure I was going to take my table and the surrounding ones as well in the blast.

“Thank you.”

I paid the check with a huge obnoxious tip and got the hell out of there.