The Bearded Men
I head to the same doorway that Urik lead me to the other night. This time I notice a small intercom. I press the 'talk' button and wait. There is not reply, just a click as the door unlatches. I push through.
I find Urik in the same booth as last time. He's accompanied by two others, both with beards. One has a long thin beard and wears small dark sunglasses. The other has a neat but thick beard, his hair parted on the side. They are all drinking Campari.
"Xul, welcome," says Urik, "these are my colleagues. Don't bother asking their names, for they won't even tell me". I take a seat and find myself sitting in front of a gin and tonic. A quick glance up at the bar and I spot the Munster-esque barman.
"Let me begin" says the thick bearded man. "Urik has told us much about you, Xul, and we feel we have much to impart that you will find useful, but let's first clear a few things up. Firstly, ignore all pagans, wiccans, witches, and other esoteric types, for they know not what they are talking about. Secondly, there are a handful of operatives who you are to trust, for they have connections to you that run deeper than language. Do you understand?"
"I think so" I reply. I try to compile a list of operatives on each side of the fence.
"The pagans, warlocks, whatever they call themselves, they're barking up the wrong tree, but I admit that they're close to the right one, closer than a lot of others". says thin beard.
"What tree?" I ask.
"Tell me Xul, what do you think of the nature of reality?" interrupts thin beard. I think this over for a few moment, a then reply.
"I have often imagined reality as a scab. Remember when you were a child and you fall over and graze your knees and elbows, and eventually a scab would form. Invariably you'd pick away at the edges as the scab began to crack, and beneath would be a gooey layer of plasma. I often think of the world, as we perceive it, is a hard crusty scab. But our reality floats on a unseen layer of plasma, a fluid and much more malleable world".
"That's certainly an interesting analogy" says Urik, "a little disgusting, but certainly beautiful. Imagine if you could pick away at the scab and begin the see the plasma. You wouldn't want to rip the whole scab off, because you'd be sure that what's under there is certainly not pleasant, and besides, you're quite accustomed to the scab and would like to keep some of it there - but your curiosity permits you to remove little corners of it. Imagine if you were able to catch a peek at the fluid reality that exists beneath ours".
I'm lost in thought, hypnotised by the premise he's laid before me. Urik catches my dazed look and pulls my attention back down the Earth. "Xul, this is the very crux of what we're dealing with here. This is what Furriskey's men have been assigned to investigate. The person or people who have hired Furriskey believe that Neurocam has the ability to peer into this reality. Not only that, they're working towards a way of quantifying it, chemically".
"Extreme... Chemical... Solutions" I murmur to myself.
"Well, this is our suspicion" says thin beard. "We believe Neurocam are in the research and development stage of such a product, and that Furriskey, or at least the people who have hired him, are either trying to stop them, or steal the data".
"We would like to meet with you once a week to discuss what Furriskey has asked of you" says Urik, "Would you be up for that?".
I reply that I would, and then remember the email about 'the bunker'. "We're very interested in the bunker too," replies thin beard, "but it's getting late now, and we have places to be. Good evening, Xul".
We bid farewell and I make my way back out to the dingy alley and then head home.
I find Urik in the same booth as last time. He's accompanied by two others, both with beards. One has a long thin beard and wears small dark sunglasses. The other has a neat but thick beard, his hair parted on the side. They are all drinking Campari.
"Xul, welcome," says Urik, "these are my colleagues. Don't bother asking their names, for they won't even tell me". I take a seat and find myself sitting in front of a gin and tonic. A quick glance up at the bar and I spot the Munster-esque barman.
"Let me begin" says the thick bearded man. "Urik has told us much about you, Xul, and we feel we have much to impart that you will find useful, but let's first clear a few things up. Firstly, ignore all pagans, wiccans, witches, and other esoteric types, for they know not what they are talking about. Secondly, there are a handful of operatives who you are to trust, for they have connections to you that run deeper than language. Do you understand?"
"I think so" I reply. I try to compile a list of operatives on each side of the fence.
"The pagans, warlocks, whatever they call themselves, they're barking up the wrong tree, but I admit that they're close to the right one, closer than a lot of others". says thin beard.
"What tree?" I ask.
"Tell me Xul, what do you think of the nature of reality?" interrupts thin beard. I think this over for a few moment, a then reply.
"I have often imagined reality as a scab. Remember when you were a child and you fall over and graze your knees and elbows, and eventually a scab would form. Invariably you'd pick away at the edges as the scab began to crack, and beneath would be a gooey layer of plasma. I often think of the world, as we perceive it, is a hard crusty scab. But our reality floats on a unseen layer of plasma, a fluid and much more malleable world".
"That's certainly an interesting analogy" says Urik, "a little disgusting, but certainly beautiful. Imagine if you could pick away at the scab and begin the see the plasma. You wouldn't want to rip the whole scab off, because you'd be sure that what's under there is certainly not pleasant, and besides, you're quite accustomed to the scab and would like to keep some of it there - but your curiosity permits you to remove little corners of it. Imagine if you were able to catch a peek at the fluid reality that exists beneath ours".
I'm lost in thought, hypnotised by the premise he's laid before me. Urik catches my dazed look and pulls my attention back down the Earth. "Xul, this is the very crux of what we're dealing with here. This is what Furriskey's men have been assigned to investigate. The person or people who have hired Furriskey believe that Neurocam has the ability to peer into this reality. Not only that, they're working towards a way of quantifying it, chemically".
"Extreme... Chemical... Solutions" I murmur to myself.
"Well, this is our suspicion" says thin beard. "We believe Neurocam are in the research and development stage of such a product, and that Furriskey, or at least the people who have hired him, are either trying to stop them, or steal the data".
"We would like to meet with you once a week to discuss what Furriskey has asked of you" says Urik, "Would you be up for that?".
I reply that I would, and then remember the email about 'the bunker'. "We're very interested in the bunker too," replies thin beard, "but it's getting late now, and we have places to be. Good evening, Xul".
We bid farewell and I make my way back out to the dingy alley and then head home.
posted by xulsolar23 at 9:17 AM
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