A DARKNESS PALE

ACTIVE

…Dec was trying to get away into the pure vibrations, and found going back was going forward…

Active

He left the church to confront the trick. You confronted the trick. You were deliberate, and that neutralized it and cleared the memories out of your head. You addressed what was in your head instead of letting it pull you down. None of it was real, but the only way to separate yourself was to be active about it.

The courtyard was empty.

There you go, he thought. There it is. The hum agreed with him, the hum telling him where to go, where the real was. But there was still static, still shit getting in the way, needing to be addressed. The kid, talking to the kid. The mansion on the hill.

He walked and the city lights became more concentrated. He’d stop from time to time to consult the map in his pocket. The intensity of the rain stayed the same. He was getting wet and grimy. He didn’t mind. He was Dec Baglavitti and in Aspen he’d taken walks everyday, weather permitting. He was walking into the past, into who he was so he could erase who he was because none of it was real. None of it was real.

A few hours and he was at the top of the hill in Angeleno Heights. Bones dripping and the guy on the stairs pointing the rifle, saying, “Hey, easy.” When he recognized Dec he said, “Hey,” like he’d accidently discovered gold. “Man, we’ve been wondering what happened to you. You gotta get out of those clothes man, that shit will absorb through your skin.”

Here he was. He had no idea why except he had to get through it. Be done with it. 

The bathroom was resplendent porcelain with a brass shower spout that dropped directly from the ceiling. The man who’d shown him in said, “Sorry, but I’ve got to stay with you. Vic’s orders.” And turned his head away.

Dec wiped himself dry with one of the fluffy towels. Vic. Vic was the Milk Man. The Milk Man was trying to trick him. All of this was a trick. The trick was not to fight it. Time wasn’t real if you were active and aware. Be aware, be actively aware and there would be no memories.

A girl peeked down at him when he from the top of a set of stairs. She looked spaced out. She looked content. He was here on a gig. Hallways. He couldn’t remember what the gig was and that was fine. He was here. He was nowhere.

Vic’s office was one of many identical doors. The crown molding atop the ceiling looked like whipped cream. Vic sat behind a formed concrete desk that was artfully melted in several places. A battery resembling a trashcan lid was attached to the side. Dec saw his kit bag on the desk. He had no idea what was in it. This was good. This progress.

Vic gazed at Dec, full of curiosity and interest. “I thought you were going to come back.”

“Uh uh,” Dec said.

“And you’ve got not much more to say, have you? After you left I started thinking about it and I realized you hadn’t actually said much.”

He was trying make him remember and become distracted, not feel the vibration. Dec stood there and waited, confident and patient. Acknowledging the trickster was the way not to get tricked. Feeling the vibrations. In touch with how the vibrations were real but nothing else was.

“It doesn’t look like you got yourself all that cleaned up. It makes me think you’re not doing so good at taking care of yourself. John, can you get a tarp for the chair so he can have a seat.”

“No,” Dec said, holding Vin’s gaze, thinking if he kept his gaze on Vin one of them would more quickly cease to exist.

“Fair enough. I’m just trying to help. And I apologize for the guards – they’ve got to be here. I don’t like it when unpredictable stuff happens. It’s just a safety thing. Safety first.”

Dec gave a resigned nod. He keep looking at Vic until he couldn’t remember why. There was nothing to understand, there was nothing to explain, there was nothing to declare. He flexed his shoulders and let the vibration do its thing. The room shifted. The walls changed to a sticky sherbet orange. On a mahogany desk there was a different shiny new laptop and the large battery was gone. This time he noticed the temperature change, the rattle and grind of an air conditioner. The man at the desk was talking, but the words burbled out of his mouth like he was under water.

He didn’t know who this guy was and he didn’t know who he was. He knew he was in a mansion, and he didn’t know why. There was something specific about this mansion. He would remain tricked and distracted until he addressed the specificity. The vibrations would not lead him anywhere until he was more fully forgetting. 

The room shifted. The man’s face was rosy with fascination.

And Muscle stood by the door.

Dec looked at Muscle. He knew who Muscle was. He knew who he was. Another trick to be confronted head on.

…The vibrations become even more pure…