Harmonic Substitution

RED TEAM WINS

RED TEAM WINS!

RED TEAM WI-

“WHERE THE HELL IS THE MUTE SWITCH?”

I rolled over in my pod, trying to look around for something, anything to turn off the droning of the announcer.  I didn’t need to be told that I lost, I perfectly well knew that.  I already had the shame of dying to a map barrier, I didn’t want to have the game itself rubbing it in.  I found the power switch hidden in the rubber seal of the hatch, and eagerly swatted it off.  The game powered down and left the pod in darkness, letting me ponder my loss.  I suppose I had some part in losing, along with my two so-called teammates.  My friends and I weren’t really suited at all for teamwork.

                I sighed.  My friends.They didn’t seem too much like friends anymore.  We were a very closely knit group of friends back in highschool.But, ever since we all got back together after college, something had changed.  We each now had our own completely different interests and careers to take care of, and we were drifting farther and farther apart.

Austin, the guy that had chased me out of the map, had talked about setting up his own gaming studio back in high school.  Surprisingly, he actually went and did it once he got his degree.  Hell, his studio pretty much invented this arcade pod I’m sitting in, but one of his employees turned out to be a regular Benedict Arnold, and he sold the secret to Austin’s competitors, who took the idea and marketed it before Austin could get his idea out there enough for his own studio to be recognized for it.  I find that a bit of a shame, his gaming pods were much roomier than these cramped little things.  As the match has demonstrated, Austin still hasn’t quite gotten over the bitterness.

Patrick, Austin’s unlucky teammate, had been busy as well.  Since I last saw him, he had managed to become a chemistry prodigy, get hired by a prestigious chemical technology company and turn a 25 square mile area in Oregon into a chemical wasteland that nothing would be able to grow in for the next thousand years.  Needless to say, he has been fired from the company, and a guard was assigned to him by the government to make sure he doesn’t cause another catastrophe.  He would have been imprisoned, but the government spends enough money as it was, and they didn't want to have to constantly replace pieces of the prison he broke while he was incarcerated there.  They didn’t want to kill him either, since they didn’t know how radioactive his corpse would be from the Oregon incident.  I kind of figured all of that would happen, really.  I don’t know who had the lack of foresight to let him near anything that could violently explode.  Patrick’s guard would have followed him to the arcade any other day, but, fortunately for our purposes, a recent event that may or not have been poison had left him passed out on Patrick’s toilet.

Patrick always was a fan of laxatives.

Kurtis had faded off of my radar for a while when he was attempting to pursue the career of his dreams.  He claimed to have been one of the best in his occupation, but I didn't really want to check for myself.

I’m not in the business of watching male strippers.  I simply don’t have the taste for it.

         Fortunately for my innocence, a freakish pole accident left Kurtis mortally terrified of pole dancing as a profession.  He has now instead taken up the mantle of an author, but his sci-fi fantasy books haven’t sold well at all.  They’re awful.    I don’t even know why he thought “Space Chimps from the Moon” was a good idea.  He tries so desperately to keep up the deception of being a struggling sci-fi writer, but I’ve found out his dirty secret.  He was actually a bestselling erotica author, and his books get ridiculously positive reviews.  Of course, it isn’t like I’ve read any of them.   I don’t read erotica. Never would, not in a million years.  Nope, never.  I just read the reviews.  Definitely just the reviews.

No one knows what happened to Greg while we haven’t seen him.  One day, he disappeared.  No one knows where and why he went.  A few years later, he showed up on Kurtis’ doorstep, clothed in a toga and lathered in motor oil.  I’m mortified of asking what happened.  However, his puns haven’t changed.  They’re still as blood boiling and as terrible as before.  God damn, I forgot how much I fucking hated those puns.  He now lives with Kurtis in his apartment.  Kurtis has told me that he always ducks under the furniture whenever a police siren sounds off nearby.  That adds yet another reason to why I don’t want to know what happened to him.  I’m probably already on a few watchlists just knowing his name.

I have done actually pretty well in my career as an actor.  My height coupled with my natural sense of authority made me a perfect selection for many different performances on many different stages.  I was so amazingly fantastic on all of those productions that I will be on all of those theatres’ good lists for years.  Of course, none of those theatres are on Broadway, not yet.  I haven’t yet gotten a callback from a single one of my Broadway auditions.  I mean, I even baked them a cake shaped like my face, too!  How could they say no to a face cake?  Oh, and my friends often call me an arrogant bastard.

I don’t really know why, though.  With my rugged good looks, modesty would be a crime.

We had all come to the arcade just to have a nice, soothing cooldown just to relax from a mind breaking week of work.  I put off some auditions, Patrick poisoned his guard, and Kurtis put aside his “creative process”, all in the name of friendship and brotherhood.

 All expectations of brotherhood and friendship went out the window when we all decided to play the plane game together in those tiny little pods.

We decided that since Austin developed the console he should be put on the smaller team, so it would be a bit more balanced for my side. And, for some reason, I decided Patrick and Austin would make a great team together.  Obviously, I was completely and utterly wrong.

My exposition was interrupted when a knock on my pod dragged me back to reality.  These video game pods were for the most part entirely designed to block out outside sound, so the gameplay experience could feel authentic.  Nothing short of a hard knock, like the one tapping away insistently on my machine, could penetrate my little chamber.

The knocking rang again a few more times in my chamber, gowing in sound and intensity with each passing thump.  Reluctantly I positioned myself so I could reach for the door handle, holding down the disengage button for my safety belt.  I opened the door and climbed out, and noticed Kurtis standing right next to my pod with his arm outstretched as if he were about to knock on the pod again.  Before I spoke to him, I took some time to examine the arcade room that I had climbed back into again.

The arcade was disgusting and greasy.  The entire thing was housed in an old car manufacturing plant, and it looked like it was barely cleaned since it was refurbished.  A tacky, 1980’s-esque carpet covered the floors, and some sections of the carpet were unraveling at parts, exposing the scuffed concrete below.  The entire business was crammed onto the old manufacturing floor since the offices were taken by a bunch of telemarketing companies, making the place feel all the more cramped.  The manager running the arcade devised the cunning strategy of just buying a bunch of simulation pods and jury rigging a quarter system to them.  Not like many people even used quarters, nowadays.  This arcade was probably too cheap to buy credit card scanners.  No, we had to go retrieve quarters from the bank down the street in order to do anything here.  Places like these just can’t keep up with the post-post-digital age.  It’s the 2020’s, for fuck’s sake.

I snapped back to focusing on Kurtis when he started poking me for attention.  He looked like he had something urgent to say.

“What is it, Kurtis?”  I maintained a calm and serene face, trying to inject some grace into my stance after skillfully wriggling out of the pod like a lopsided slug.  Those pods were small, especially for taller people like myself.  Those things were nightmares.

“Well for one thing, I was wondering why you were lying down in that pod for so long,”  Kurtis looked over me carefully, as if he suspected that he would find the answer on my body.  “ but that really isn’t important now.  Michael, we have a problem.”

Oh dear.  If he wascoming to me with a problem, things must be terrible.  “What happened?”

        “They’re at it again.”

***

When I arrived at the antechamber of the arcade with Kurtis, I could tell something was off.  Usually in the lobby there was a ticket exchange counter, where you could trade the tickets you got from the pods for various trinkets.  There was also a snack machine in the corner, offering a menagerie of assorted decades old protein bars to the patrons of the arcade.  I could see none of those things, or at least not in any recognizable form.

The entire room looked like a god damn war zone.  Tables were overturned, protein bars lay uneaten upon the ground, and various stuffed animals were scattered about in various states of decay, ranging from slightly torn to I-can-hardly-recognize-it torn.  I could see Austin taking cover behind the prize counter, apparently reloading a T-shirt cannon with the stuffed animals that weren’t already torn apart by his attack.  Well, there’s one of the causes of this mess.  Where could the other have go-

“YOU TEAMKILLING BASTARD!  I’LL END YOU LIKE SCIENCE ENDED POLIO!”

Oh, there he is.  From what I could observe, Patrick was dashing from table to table, angrily cursing Austin’s honor and family all the while doing so.  His face suggested he was intent on ending Austin once and for all.  It was nearly a perfect shade of magenta, his blonde hair was drooping over his face, and his beard was damp with perspiration.  Austin was barely able to hold him back as he stormed closer and closer, flipping tables to shield himself from Austin’s smoking stuffed animal onslaught.

Meanwhile, Greg was off to the side.  He looked fairly entertained.

If these two kept at it, the arcade wouldn’t last the hour.  Already, Austin was running low on his stuffed animals.  If those two got locked into hand-to-hand combat, the arcade wouldn’t last ten minutes.Patrick may be the stockier of the two, but Austin made up for that with his agility and pure stubborn grit.  Knowing Austin, he would probably lead Patrick straight to the easily breakable objects in the room.  It already looked like that fate occurred to the protein bar machine.  It was apparent that Patrick had actually punched through the glass, grabbed a handful of protein bars and threw them across the room in hopes that they would hinder his victim.  This spectacle needed to stop before they tore down the entire damn building.  Kurtis probably has a plan.  Why else would he bring me here?

I turned over to Kurtis, who was greedily examining one of the protein bars on the floor.  “Kurtis, how do you plan on stopping this?”

“I don’t really know.  I called you in here so I could take your bet.  Right now,Greg and I are betting on Patrick.  Austin may be quick, but he won’t be able to run from Patrick forever.  Apparently Greg already has dibs on Austin’s left kidney.”  Kurtis bent down, picked up one of the protein bars he was eyeing, and took a bite out of it.  Realizing that they taste like shit dipped in more shit, he spat it out, and it landed directly on my jeans.  Fucking fantastic.  I’ll probably need a new pair of jeans.  I’ll need to burn this pair.  And Kurtis too, for that matter.

“I’m not betting on anyone or taking their kidneys.  I kind of want them to survive.”  I took one of the napkins lying about on the floor and tried to pry off the glob of protein bar stuck to my pants.  The napkin then proceeded to stick to the glob of protein.  That wasn’t going to come off either.  “We need to figure out how we can get these two to stop fighting, not take bets.  No matter how stupid those two seem, they are still our friends.  I don’t want to clean up their remains.”

“Whatever, suit yourself.  Speaking of the problem, I think it just got worse.”  Kurtis pointed over to the fight.  Patrick had broken Austin’s defences and had advanced to where Austin was hastily trying to stuff his last few stuffed animals into his cannon.  Patrick picked him up, spit on him, and threw him across the room.

Austin flew across the room, trying to latch onto something, anything to save himself as he was launched yet another certain injury caused by Patrick.  Fortunately, something was able to break his fall.

Unfortunately, the thing that broke his fall happened to be the arcade manager.

        The arcade manager was a gross mockery of the human form.  He was big, misshapen, and almost entirely drenched in grease.  His hair must have thinned out decades ago, giving the sides of his head an almost Homer Simpson-like hairstyle.  His stubble was never motivated enough to form a full beard, mirroring the man’s lack of will to improve his hygiene.  He seemed to always wear the same tank top, day after day, same grease stains and all.  I couldn’t help but cringe every time I looked at him, doubly so as I watched him struggle to get up.  Currently, his ugly face was stretched into an emotion resembling wrath, though it could easily be mistaken for constipation.

        Greg walked over to where Kurtis and I were standing.  “Could I get my bet placed on the manager, instead?”

        Austin looked up at the manager, decided that it wasn’t worth fighting him, and scrambled over to where Kurtis, Greg, and I were standing as well.  “Hello, everyone!  Hello Michael!  You don’t look too good.   Did you run into a map boundary on your way here?”

        “Fuck you too, Austin.”

        The manager finally managed to get up, and glanced around in awe at his shattered tables, machines, and counters.  His body shook in rage as he reached near-Patrick level heights of anger himself.  His beady eyes focused on Patrick, who was still glaring at Austin and taking offense at his refusal to die.

        “WHAT THE HELL HAVE YOU DONE TO MY FUCKING ARCADE, YOU BASTARD?”  The manager’s quintuple chins trembled as he yelled at Patrick, his belly bouncing about to accentuate the wild gestures his flabby arms were making.

        Patrick stood defiantly against the humanized Hutt.  “I simply got rid of your disgusting protein bars.  And some tables.  And some other things.”

        The manager’s pudgy face recoiled as if he were physically punched.  His face shuffled through a variety of emotions, trying to decide which one it should attempt to mimic.  Eventually, he settled on anger.  “YOU ARE A…”   –his tongue licked his lips as he struggled to pronounce the word he was trying to use – “...A LIUH-BILITY TO MY ARCADE!”  The manager leaned back, smug that his big word usage had put the matter to rest.

        “Liability?  We’re your only customers.Your entire arcade is a liability to public safety!”  Patrick bent down and picked up another of the protein bars, and waved it in the manager’s face.  “This thing probably has E. Coli and other completely unmentionable diseases all over it!”

        Kurtis looked down in horror at his tongue, took Greg’s shirt sleeve, and began trying to sand the surface off of his tongue.  I looked down at the glob of protein bar on my pants, and I swore I saw it twitch.

        The manager tried to look surprised.  It wasn’t too hard to guess that he knew all about the shoddy quality of his food.  “YOU DARE INSULT MY ARCADE?”  He took a notepad out of his pocket, and scribbled a small little order.  “This is a banning order.  You can never enter my arcade ever again!”The manager threw the piece of paper at Patrick, and stormed back into his office.

        “Congratulations!  You have lost one of your five fucking patrons!You can’t kick me out!  I’ll banish myself!”Patrick yelled after the manager, and glanced over to where we were standing. “Some fucking friends you guys are, too.  Not sticking up for me?  I’m disappointed.”  With that, Patrick kicked open the doors to the arcade and stormed out.

        Greg was the first to speak up.  “So, who won the bet here?  Do I still get Austin’s kidney?”

        “Wait, my what?”

        I facepalmed.  “Kurtis, can you get Greg out of here?  I don’t really know how Greg wants to cash in on his bet.”

        “Don’t worry Michael, I keep a scalpel in my pocket just for these edgy situations, not poking fun at the occasion, though.”

        “Kurtis, get him out of here.”

        Kurtis took Greg by the arm.  “I got it.”  He shoved one of the protein bars into Greg’s mouth, effectively gluing his teeth together for the next few hours.  Kurtis led a reluctant Greg out of the door, leaving me and Austin alone in the decimated antechamber.

        I broke through the silence.  “Austin, I know how the whole corporate espionage thing can get you down, but do you really need to provoke Patrick into almost killing you and whatever is nearby every time you see him?”

        Austin looked down and slumped.   “I know, I’m just stressed.  That should all change tonight, though.”

        “So you’re still planning on doing that, eh?  Is there anything I can do to stop you?”  I rub my temples.  He’s been talking about it for weeks.  I really hope he doesn’t try it.

        “I’m sorry, but I have to.  My life has no meaning anymore, not since the espionage incident.  That was my life’s work, Michael.  Things need to change, and this is the only way I will be able to do that.”

        I sigh.   “Well, I can’t say anything else, then.  Goodbye, Austin.”

        “Goodbye, Michael.”  Austin walked out of the door, leaving me alone in the annihilated arcade, wondering whether or not I’ve seen him alive for the last time.

***

        Patrick stormed through the rain after his exit from the arcade.  He was wandering about in the downtown sector, looking for something interesting to do since his friends had so rudely refused to back him up against that pigof a man.  Why hadn’t they done anything?  Has their friendship really deteriorated this far?

        He continued along the sidewalk, lost in thought.  The rain didn’t really bother him.  He always enjoyed regular, non-acidic rain.  It usually isn’t even radioactive, unlike many things in his life.  Ever since the “Oregon Incident”, he hasn’t been able to piss normally.  He’s had to put it in fucking lead containers to make sure the radiation didn’t cause someone cancer or something.  The life of a mad scientist was a hard one, indeed.

Patrick was so wrapped up in his contemplation that he didn’t notice the figure that had stepped behind him until it began to speak.

“Patrick Jenkins,I presume?”

Patrick whirled around and reached to grab the mysterious figure by the neck, but the figure was too quick, stepping back to avoid Patrick’s grasp.  Furthermore, the timely dodge of the figure disrupted Patrick’s balance, causing him to fall squarely onto his ass.

“Who are you, and why do you know my name?  I’m warning you, I can and will piss on you.  It won’t be pretty.”

“I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear that last bit.  My name is Disc-  er, Dinsmore, yes, Dinsmore.  I have a proposition for you, Mr. Jenkins.  MayI interest you in some forbidden knowledge?”

Patrick got up, dusted himself off, and examined  the figure once forbidden knowledge was mentioned.  The mention of the forbidden always piqued his interest.  Dinsmore was tall, reaching at least six feet.  He was clad in a trench coat and fedora, the fedora hiding all recognizable facial features.  Yup, this guy looks like he would have some forbidden knowledge on him.  That, or he could be a rapist.  Now that I think about it, maybe I should keep walking…

Patrick couldn’t bring himself to pass up forbidden knowledge, however, be it given by a rapist or not.  He looked Mr. Might-Be-A-Rapist in the spots where he would have his eyes had they not been covered, and motioned for him to continue.

“Ah, so you are interested.  Allow me to hand you this artifact.”Dinsmore reached into his pocket, and, contrary to Patrick’s expectations, did not pull out a chloroform rag, instead pulling out a dusty old book.  He shoved the book into Patrick’s hands and stared expectantly at him as the crazed scientist examined the tome.

The book was probably centuries old.  Patrick was afraid that he might cause it to disintegrate by opening it.  Five hexagonal gems were arranged on the cover in a pentagon, with a single gem embedded in the center.  The title of the book, “Equinomicon”,  was stamped upon the cover. Patrick looked up, and glared at Dinsmore.

“You’re not a magician, are you?  If I had a nickel for every magician I’ve castrated,” --Patrick narrowed his eyes--”I’d have two nickels.”

Dinsmore’s eyes widened and he took a step back.

“Well, er, don’t go summoning everything at once!  I would recommend the satanic circle on page fifty to start you off.  It has some very interesting results.   Well, it was nice meeting you, au revoir!”With his point made and book delivered, Dinsmore ran back into the alleyway he came from, leaving Patrick to wonder what just happened to him.  Against his better judgement, he decided he was going to take the advice of the Not-Rapist and check out page 50 before throwing the book away.  What a strange fellow, Patrick thought, he almost sounded a bit like Q.  I wonder if he gets told that a lot…

Patrick shrugged off his mental wanderings, and made a beeline for the block his apartment complex was on.  He had some work to do.

***

A candle dimly flickered in its magical grip as the light it radiated danced along the cavern walls.  A single alicorn draped in a drab cloak stopped for a moment to steady her magic.    The dim glow of the candle illuminated the runes carved into the limestone walls of the chamber, etched long ago by unicorn enchanters not wishing the room to be accessed by anyone wishing it harm.  The alicorn could sense the magic pulsing  just beneath the surface of the runes, gently casting a faint glow in response to the light it was receiving from the candle.

The alicorn gazed around the dark room, took a deep breath, and pressed her horn to one of the glyphs.  The glow became brighter in response, making the candle nearly useless in its entirety.  The alicorn set the candle down as the runes set along the circular room became brighter themselves, the magic of their enchantment being enhanced by the alicorn’s touch.  Revelling in the illumination of the forgotten spells, the alicorn took hold of the cloak she was wearing with her magic and cast it off, laying it to rest next to the candlestick.

Princess Celestia looked around the now-lit chamber, examining the contents that were revealed by the golden light of the spells.  A single pedestal sat in the middle of the room, seemingly carved out of the rock itself.  Celestia muttered a few magical prayers to herself, strengthening the enchantment further.  She could not risk any form of evil penetrating the chamber while she was performing the ceremony, especially that of Discord.  She gripped the pedestal with her magic, and began channeling her spells into it to begin the ceremony.

Luna had burst into her bedroom chamber in the middle of the night a week ago and had quite rudely shoved her out of bed to tell her the news.  Discord was gone.  He was corrupted.  He was out of control.  She had failed.Her magic faltered.  She had tried so hard to change him, make him see the magic of friendship.  She even used her most powerful set of artifacts to try and benefit him.  It seemed monsters like him could never be changed, not even by the Elements of Harmony.  She shook her head.  She shall not be corrupted by thoughts such as this, especially when she was conducting a fickle ritual like the one she was performing.  With renewed resolve the alicorn channeled her might into the plinthe, causing a single gemstone to rise out of it.

The Heart of Canterlot.

It was brought here centuries ago, when the Unicorn Council fled from lands unknown to settle in Equestria.  The location of it has been kept under wraps for generations.  Not even Luna knew where the chamber lies, though she has had her suspicions of its existence.  No, the only person that knew of its existence that was alive to visit it was Celestia.  She came in this chamber only when she needed to check on the status of her nation.  Discord’s reappearance meant that she also had to secure it, to make sure that he could never harm what the stone maintained.

The crystal finished its ascent and cast its glow, filling the confines of the chamber with a spectrum of light.  It was multicolored, never settling on the same hue for more than a second.  Celestia approached the crystal, cautious of the magical defenses that were surrounding the plinthe and making the air almost vibrate in its intensity.  She took a deep breath, charged her magic, and pressed her horn to the stone.  Celestia felt through its magic,  probing the crystal for any magical tamperings.  She could sense no foreign presences warping the crystal internally, so she wrapped up her probing and examined the crystal carefully for external warping.  The gem, in addition to keeping Canterlot’s impossible physics in place, was also a sort physical manifestation of the level of chaos in Equestria.  By examining how much it deviated from its usual dodecahedron frame, one could tell how badly Equestria was suffering from forces of chaotic intent.

It was then that she noticed a lump on the side of the crystal.

It was hardly noticeable, really.  A slight bend in the normally perfect surface, only noticeable to a trained eye like Celestia’s.  The slight imperfection, however, told Celestia all she needed to know.

Discord was planning something, and it was big enough to bend reality itself.  She must move swiftly to counter his plans.  She stepped out of the range of the plinthe holding the Heart, and reinstated the defensive enchantments, causing the Heart to shimmer back out of existence.  She pressed her horn to one of the wall runes again, this time taking away the magic she gave it earlier.  The glyphs were put out, one by one, until only the candle was casting any form of light. With a swift flourish, Celestia picked up the candle and draped the cloak back over her body with her magic.  She had to send off a message to Twilight.

The Elements of Harmony might be the only thing able to stop the coming storm.

***

        The fact that Patrick had been drawing a pentagram on the roof of his apartment complex for the past hour might have struck him as odd had he not been blinded by the promise of eldritch abominations and hidden knowledge.  His quest for arcane secrets, seeded within him by Dinsmore, had led him to follow the man’s instructions to the letter, even going to far as to start off on the ritual he suggested.

        He stepped back, charcoal in hand, and examined his handiwork.  It was a rather simple design, really.  All he had to do was start from the center, and draw six matching rays extending from that central point.  The real problem that had puzzled Patrick, however, was the symmetricality of it.  The dusty old tome that he had received told in painstaking detail what could happen to the performer of the ritual if the symbol was not absolutely perfect.Not that Patrick believed that bullshit, of course.  He was a man of science.It was hard, but the reward was worth it.  Patrick almost drooled at the implications of his actions, most unlike his usual logical self.  Forbidden knowledge, stuff only hinted at in the dreams of the wildest scholars, would be all at his disposal!  In the case of this specific symbol, all he had to do was spill goat’s blood over the glyph, mutter a prayer, and light a candle in the center of the circle.  Then, a spirit of chaos would come forth and answer any requests within their power.  Patrick had to word his requests carefully, however.  Even the smallest loophole could be enough to hang himself.        Patrick steadied himself and retrieved the goat blood he had collected from the local butcher.  The look the butcher gave him when he asked for a bucket of goat meat, threw out the goat meat, and kept the blood from the cuts was one of the most confused looks he had ever been given, and he had caused the lot of confused looks.  Gently, he poured the gory contents of the bucket over the symbol he drew, and placed the candle in the center of the puddle.  With his chin pressed to his chest, he lit the candle and began to chant.

“Chaotic Powers of the Night,

Visit me in Shaded light,

Gather round my candle's flame,

And impart to me your veiled secrets of shame”

Patrick chanted the mantra a couple more times, and squeezed his eyes shut in anticipation of the ceremony.  Very slowly, he peeled open his eyes to behold what had happened.

He saw a nearly burnt out candle in the middle of some congealing goat blood, but the ancient eldritch abomination was nowhere to be seen.  He turned to his tome and looked at the chant.  I said every single word correctly, Patrick thought, what did I do wrong?Was I actually tricked into performing magic?  That Dinsmore character was a magician!  I should have castrated him when I had the chance…

What Patrick did not notice, however, was the goat blood slowly starting to shift in a circle around the candle.  When Patrick finished imagining his fantasy of Dinsmore being impaled on a stake, he looked down and saw the ritual taking place.  Patrick yelped and hid behind a row of empty flower pots.

  The blood sluggishly rotated around the candle and began eating away at the roofing of the apartment.  Patrick scrambled back over to the ongoing ceremony and stared at the spectacle, watching the candle fall into the sinkhole he had created.  If that blood ate through down to the apartments below, he would have a hell of a time explaining why it happened.  The blood was eating a noticeably deep hole in the apartment, but Patrick had noticed something peculiar.  By now, the hole should have reached the rooms below.  However, it had instead been expanding out of Patrick’s line of sight.  It was a hole, but it didn’t lead where it was supposed to lead.  He could not see the bottom anymore.

He was forced to back away from the hole once again when he heard a rumbling sound coming from deep within.  Something was coming up.  He cleared the hole just in time to see a pillar of smoke shoot up from the hole into the sky.  He was sure his escapade hadn’t gone unnoticed, but Patrick couldn’t really bring himself to care right now.  The magician was right.

The smoke, instead of spreading out over the city like it would in any other normal situation, collapsed in on itself, and began coalescing and forming the shape of a dragon.  Or, at least, something that resembled a dragon.  The smoky form looked to be a bit like a platypus, seemingly assembled from the leftover parts of a butcher shop.  The outlines of many different animal body parts came together to create this monstrosity.  Patrick rubbed his hands together.  Now this was an eldritch abomination.  The smoky form opened it’s mouth, and spoke in a voice that Patrick could recognize all too easily.

“Ah, so you followed my advice and used the chaos summoning circle.  Now we can begin.”The familiar voice of Dinsmore flowed from the apparition’s mouth.  Patrick was flabberghasted.  So this was where Mr. Most-Likely-a-Rapist would go for the rape.

I motherfucking knew it.

“Oh, you fucker.  I should have suspected you all along.  You’re a magician!Stay right there, I’ll go get my rusty hedge clippers for you.  Prepare for castration!”  Patrick rushed for the rows of pots, reaching for the hedge clipper that he stored under them for special occasions such as this.  However, he wasn’t able to go far when Dinsmore sent smoky tendrils to lash him down.

“Let go of me, you magical fiend!  I know your tricks!  Magic doesn’t exist!ANDNO MEANS NO!”Patrick struggled as Dinsmore laughed, tightening the unhappy scientist’s restraints and turning him around to face the shadowy form.

“There is no need for castration, my friend.  I’m only here to help.  You summoned me seeking to discover what has never been discovered by mankind, yes?  Then allow me to assist you.  I am the god of chaos, Disco-”

“I know who you are, Dinsmore!  You can’t fool me anymore with your pseudonyms!”  Patrick was still struggling against his bonds, but he had relaxed a slight degree, as if the very mentioning of the unmentionable calmed him.  His shoulders slumped in defeat when he realised he couldn’t break free.  “But, I am still interested in your wares.  You say you know the unknowable?”  Patrick saw Dinsmore smile in response to his inquiry.

“Why, of course!  My good friend, I can teach you of elements that mankind has never even thought about discovering!”Dinsmore procured a contract and pen, and put them in front of Patrick.  He loosened the restraints, causing the curious scientist to be quite rudely dropped onto the ground. Patrick picked up the pen and looked at the contract.

“What is this?”

“Oh, you know, just the usual liability papers, simple things.  Just in case the knowledge kills you, you know.  Forbidden knowledge tends to do that.”

“So a bit like a Terms of Service agreement?”

“Sure!”

“I’m not fucking reading this.  Where do I sign?”

“Just sign right here, on the dotted line.”

“The one next to all those pictures of skulls and crossbones?”

“Yup, sign away!”

“Wait, is this written on human skin?”

“Never you mind that.  It’s not the contract you’re examining, after all.  You wish to examine the never examined!  You wish to know things that would make the minds of lesser men melt by even thinking of learning it!  You don’t need the frivolous things.  I mean, honestly, who cares what I print the contract on?  It’s legally binding, either way.  Take your time.”

Patrick picked up the pen, and with a flourish, signed on the dotted line.  He then handed the paper back to Dinsmore.

Dinsmore glanced at the paper.  “What in Tartarus is this wavy line supposed to be?”

“My name, of course!”

“Oh, I think I can see at least a few recognizable letters.  Well, it’s good enough for me!  Allow me to show you to your portal!”Dinsmore gestured to the goat blood pit that extended down into infinity.  Patrick’s eyes widened.

“You don’t expect me to slide down there, do you?”

“No, I only need you to look over the edge.  From there, you can observe the knowledge I told you about.”

“Ah, like this?”  Patrick went down on his knees and gazed into the hole.  The hole seemed to have no end in sight.  He wondered if there even was an ending to it.  “So, what elements will I learn about, Dinsmore?”

Discord smiled.  “Well, you see there are six of them.  A bit of a bundle deal, if you may. “

“Ooh, sounds promising.  What are they called?”

Discord’s smile grew larger.  “Oh, just the usual.  They are Honesty, Kindness, Loyalty, Laughter, Generosity, and,” --Discord’s grin reached inhuman proportions-- “Magic.”

Patrick’s head snapped around  “Wait, is this a fucking moral story?”  His eyes bulged.  “Wait, did you say MAGIC?”

He tried to struggled back from the hole, but it was too late.  Discord already had a foot resting on his back.

“While I would love to have you stick around and castrate me, I have some more errands to tend to.Allons-y, human!”Discord extended his leg, and pushed Patrick into the hole.  Chuckling, he slithered over to the hole and looked  down. He watched the retreating form that was Patrick as he fell down the hole, screaming curses all the way down.

“FUCK YOU, DINSMOREEEEEEE!”

*THUMP*

“One down, four to go.”

***

        Greg would have been enjoying his evening had it not been for the tuba.  He was simply reclining on a chair in the music room of Kurtis’ penthouse apartment when it started playing, all by itself.  Greg didn’t even know why Kurtis even bought a tuba.  He hasn’t touched it since he purchased it.  Once Kurtis came into his mysterious fortune, he started buying the most frivolous of things, claiming it to be “vital for his creative process”.  Greg didn’t even know what his creative process entailed, the only thing he wrote was shitty science fiction.

Maybe the mystery musician was a long dead wealthy tenant of the apartment.  Do millionaire ghosts exist?  I bet theywould just brag about the boollions of cash they have.  Heh.Greg shook his head and walked over to where the tuba was playing.

        The tuba wasn’t even playing decently.It was playing a rendition of Beethoven’s Fifth Symphony,  if the symphony were to be played by a monkey with asthma.  Greg didn’t quite know what he should do with it.  Maybe he should get a muzzle for it, or put it outside.

        The tuba kept playing.  Greg went back to writing his life’s work, a novel composed entirely of puns.  Maybe if he were to ignore it, it would go away.  He waited…

And waited..

And waited…

But, the tuba didn’t stop.  It kept playing it’s horrible rendition of Beethoven’s fifth, driving Greg to contemplate suicide.  Maybe I should just confront it, Greg thought, maybe I can make the tuba see reason.

“Excuse me, Mr. Tuba, but I need you to be quiet, so I can resume my life’s work.”

Greg patiently waited for a response, but it seemed the tuba had no mercy on

him, and it continued to ruin a perfectly good song.

        “If you continue, Mr. Tuba, I will be forced to seal you up with a tuba glue.”

“Oh for *GASP* fuck’s sake.”

        Discord popped into existence behind the tuba, red in the face and wildly panting.  “I am trying *GASP* to transport you here, you know.  The least you could *GASP* do is not make puns.”  Discord pressed his lips to the tuba, and drew in his breath.  Greg felt the air in the room rush into the tuba, pulling him in.  He struggled, but to no avail.  He had one last thought before he was sucked into the tuba.

Well, this is just tubad.

***

        The cold, unforgiving wind ripped through the air like a dull knife.  The night was a cold one, a record low for the city.  Pedestrians would find themselves drenched by the cold, bone-soaking downpour that poured down from the skies.  They all skittered about, seeking asylum from awning to awning, porch to porch, trying to keep themselves the slightest bit comfortable on their way to their homes.

        All except for one figure, who was standing at the top of one of the city’s many skyscrapers, contemplating the weight of the action he was about to perform.  He swept back his soaked hair and looked down upon the populace, marvelling at their miniscule size from his perch atop a gargoyle.

        Austin stood up, and doubted his resolve for the third time that evening, gripping the wing of the gargoyle to steady himself.  He didn’t expect the weather to be that bad.  When he planned this, he was expecting clearer skies, to add to the poetics of his actions.  It didn’t really matter now, though.  He dragged himself all the way up here, he had no reason to haul himself back down because he was too doubtful of himself.

Austin sighed, let go of the gargoyle’s wing, and allowed himself to fall off.

The winds screamed in Austin’s ear, a cry he ignored as he plummeted to the ground.  Pedestrians looked up and stood stunned below him, and then started screaming.  Others averted their eyes, not wanting to see his guaranteed to be gory fate on the sidewalks below.

Austin squinted his eyes shut.  Just a few more yards.  Any time now…

The world slowed down around him, and Austin was able to make eye contact with a small boy, maybe around six,  who was staring with a look of horror on his face.  Austin did a quick salute, and came to a stop almost at his eye level when the bungee cord reached its full extension.  The kid screamed as Austin was snapped back up by the extended cord.

        Austin let go of the tension in his body and relaxed.  Ok, that was intense.  I was kind of expecting it to break on me.Austin let his arms hang loose, and he allowed himself to enjoy his time.  It felt as though he had fallen from the building without anything to catch him, and that he was willingly letting himself fall to the ground in a self-driven suicide.  He shivered as the rain pounded and sliced at him.  Maybe he shouldn’t have jumped in the rain.

        Austin couldn’t have seen the shadowy apparition curling around the bungee cord, wielding a borrowed pair of rusty hedge clippers.  Discord chuckled to himself, and, with a clean snip and a snicker, cut the cord.

Austin glanced to his left, and saw the cut end of his rope fall down past him as he reached the peak of his climb.

He panicked when he realised he was hurtling towards the ground without anything to save him.  He closed his eyes, anticipating the end.

...And he lost consciousness.

***

        Kurtis swished around the drink that he had ordered at one of the seedier bars in town.  He glanced at the patrons, most of whom were trying to cover their faces while gulping down their questionable drinks.  He had found this little dive while investigating for material for one of his previous books.  He had returned here whenever he needed to escape from his public life and drown his melancholy in alcohol.

He motioned to the bartender, who slid down another drink.  He caught the drink and peered at the suspicious objects swirling around in the glass.  Kurtis was trying to drown out a bit of guilt.  He knew he should have helped Patrick with the manager, but he couldn’t bring himself to do it.  He didn’t do what he was supposed to do.  Friends stick up for friends.  If they stop doing that, are they no longer friends?

“You seemto be looking rather down, my friend.  Care for a drink, on me?”Another patron sat down in a chair next to him.  Kurtis put down his drink to appraise the figure, and to see if he looked like the kind of person who would make good on his offer.  The figure was clothed in a trench coat and fedora, matching the traditional attire of most of the people who filtered through the bar.  However, his voice seemed almost welcoming, assuring Kurtis that the man wasn’t a usual patron of the bar.  He decided to talk to the man.  Maybe he has some nice stories that I could make into a novel.

“Ok, I’ll bite.  But, before you do that, could I get your name?”

“The name’s Dinsmore.  Care telling me what has you down?”Dinsmore motioned for the bartender.  “Waiter, can we get an Applejack Danielsover here?”He handed the drink to Kurtis.

“Well?”

        “Well, it all started when my friends and I went over to the arcade to have fun together…”

***

                        My car coughed up another cloud of smoke from under its hood as I coaxed it to turn on with my sledgehammer.  Satisfied with my hasty mechanical job, I pried open the rusted handle to the driver’s seat, and climbed in the car.  The decayed leather seat creaked and groaned under my weight as I gently settled myself into it.  I don’t want to fall through it, like I did with the passenger seat.  I glanced over to the deformed springs that used to make up my passenger seat and shuddered.  I did not want to experience that again.

Rummaging through the glove compartment, I pulled out my GPS, and suctioned it to the underside of my windshield.  In this city, even if you were familiar with it, you could end up stumbling upon backroads you’ve never even known existed.  It’s wise to keep a GPS on you, in case you end up on a one-way street and become forced to take an alternate route.  I press the power button, and the GPS sparks to life.  A feminine, British voice reverberated from within the device

“Hello, you’ve activated the ATMOS GPS navigation system.  A new update is available.  Do you wish to download?”

I arched my eyebrows.  The model of GPS I use went out of service ten years ago.  Why would it be updating this late past its decomission?  Oh well, I thought, an update is an update. I held down the voice recognition button and spoke into the microphone.

“Yes, please download the update.”

                    The GPS menu screen disappeared, and was replaced by a progress bar trudging its way across the screen.  “Ninety-five percent remaining.”

                    While the ATMOS was updating, I took the liberty of withdrawing into myself to think of the events of the evening.

                    Patrick’s telling off to the manager would probably get us banned from the place for good.  We had some incidents there in the past, but nothing that big.  I sighed.  It was getting extremely difficult to establish a steady gathering place for the five of us.  Whenever we got together somewhere, sooner or later someone would be fighting with someone else, and we end up destroying half of the area.  Last time, it was between me and Kurtis.  The time before, it was Greg and a pair of skis.  I didn’t know how much longer I could put up with them.

                    I mean, I could acknowledge that we were all very good friends in high school.  That can be freely admitted.  We stood up for each other, and our shenanigans were almost legendary.  But, we all moved on.  We fought and we bickered.  We changed.  As much as I hated to admit it, we were no longer really suited to be friends anymore.

That thought scared me.

“Update 1.337 is complete.  Would you like to plan your route?”The voice coming from the ATMOS startled me, as it was completely different from the one that I had usually heard.  Instead of the female British accent that shipped with the system, I heard the sinister and mischievous voice of what sounded like an old fashioned supervillain.  It must have been a part of the update.

                    “Yes.  Plan route home.”

“Did you say, ‘Man the harpoons’?”

                    My palm sought out my face.  The update didn’t seem to change the voice recognition errors.

                    “No.  Plan route home.”

“Planning route home…         Take the next left.”

                    I readily complied with the navigational device.  I didn’t quite know the route home from here, and I’ve navigated home with the GPS on other occasions like this, so I had no reason to mistrust it.  I cut over to the left, annoying the cars behind me, who gave me generous amounts of insults to both me and my family.

“Take the next right.”

                    The next right took me into a run down looking neighborhood.  The only man walking along the sidewalk spotted me and took out a knife, flashing it menacingly in my direction.  I took the hint and took the next right, following the guidance of the ATMOS.

“You have reached your destination.”

                    I looked around.  This definitely wasn’t where my apartment was.  The ATMOS had led me into a dead end alleyway.  “ATMOS, plan a new route.”

“I’m sorry Michael; I’m afraid I can’t let you do that.”The GPS had never referred to me by name before.  “I’m sorry, but you have reached your final destination.”

                    A white gas sluggishly poured from the air vents into the driver area.  I tried to unfasten my seatbelt, but the fastener wouldn’t budge.  I held my breath as to not breathe in the noxious fumes, but the acrid stench of it pierced through my defenses.  The edges of my vision were beginning to get fuzzy.  I wouldn’t last much longer.

                    As I lost consciousness, I heard the mocking voice of the ATMOS one more time.

“Don’t worry Michael, when you wake up, you’llfeel simply fabulous.”