Chapter 9

“I won’t be able to help you,” LT said.

“This is not a game, LT,” I said. “This is a matter of life and death.” It felt that urgent. Maybe it wasn’t, but Shackleford’s warning that we could die here lingered in my mind, and I suspected death was due to lingering, not due to any specific demon or threat.

“It always is,” LT said.

“I need help getting out of here,” I said.

“I know,” LT said.

“You know I need help, or you know how to get out?” I asked. My cellphone began to ring. I didn’t even look at the caller ID. “LT, Loxy, how do I get out of here?”

“I won’t answer that,” LT said, clearly.

“You ‘won’t’ answer that?” I asked, confused. I mean, she was being precise. She wasn’t saying ‘can’t’ answer that, or wouldn’t answer that.

“You want me to answer that?” Loxy asked, glancing to the phone, soliciting a laugh from the audience.

“No! Don’t be obtuse! I need clarity. Why won’t you tell me how to get how of here?” I asked.

“Jon,” LT said, a tone that suggested I should know better. “You accepted a challenge. Giving you an answer would be cheating.”

“Really?”

“Really!”

I thought about it, and the likelihood of death changed the equation for me. “I don’t consider it cheating. I see it as helping a friend.”

LT was amused. “I see that you see that, but, sorry, prime directive is in play here, and this is your Kobayahsi Maru, and how you face death is just as important as how you face life.”

“Oh, don’t you dare quote Star Trek to me. I introduced you to Trek, and you know very well that Kirk cheated,” I began.

“And there were consequences,” LT pointed out.

“But this isn’t just a game, actual death is involved here,” I said, as histrionic as William Shatner.

LT bit her thumbnail. “Umm, there might be a way to tie your last line to a line from Princess Bride,” LT mused. “Maybe you should try that again, so the connection is better.”

“OMG, Loxy.”

“Jon, I will not help you here. That’s clarity,” LT said. “This is not like helping you complete your homework. This is not like helping you build a new skill level, or advising you on how to improve video game performance. This is a pass fail exam, where passing gives you access to licensure, where you can do some actual harm if you don’t know what the fuck you’re doing, and so you need to figure this out. You need to pass on your own merits.”

“Fuck ferrets!” I snapped. “Merrits! Ferrets and merit, fuck fuck fuck. I am scared. I want out. I didn’t ask for this! I’m clearly not ready.”

“Then you should have declined,” LT said.

“How the hell do you suddenly have boundaries?” I asked. She seemed confused. “No, really, Loxy. You will fuck anyone anywhere. Hell, you were fucking me the first day we met before you even had a clue who I am on the inside. And, now, facing death and having a solution, you’re not going to share?”

If this was really a sitcom, this is the moment in the episode, in the season, where everyone becomes aware that Loxy is a serious contender for an award. The range of emotions that crossed her face covered the whole gambit from love to hate, but the two I prominently registered was anger and sadness. I thought I heard ‘maybe you don’t deserve to live’ and at the moment of hearing it, I wasn’t sure if it was one of my own tapes, or the voice of my mother, or someone in the audience who was pissed that I might yell at Loxy, or do anything that might otherwise cause her pain. Indeed, the audience gasped in shock, mirroring Loxy’s hurt. The phone kept ringing. The ‘maybe you don’t deserve to live’ echoed in my head, and the modifier ‘maybe’ caused me to think this was my own brain, my own tape. I was spiraling down into my own hell.

“Jon,” Loxy said. Her voice put a halt to my spiraling. It was evident that she was pushing patience and love. “I am feeling disappointment.”

The problem with speaking with anger is you can’t take it back. I was angry at myself and feeling regret. She did not deserve that, and as a sentient being, a human, she had every right to declare her own boundaries without being judged.

“I so can’t be here right now,” LT said. “I need to walk. Figure this out.”

LT departed the scene, without me saying a word. The phone continued to ring. I pushed speaker phone and before mother had a chance to speak, I yelled, “What?!”

“Are you telling at me?” mother demanded.

“What? You never heard me yell at you before?”

“Usually you don’t start with the attitude until ten minutes into the call…” she said, honestly reflecting.

“Well, maybe I am tired of waiting, pretending things are okay and until I hit my tolerance threshold for your bullshit. Maybe I should have given you everything I got years ago. Or, maybe, I am having a really bad day and this has nothing to do with you, but you’re going to make it about you anyway, so why don’t you go stew and fuck yourself without my help,” I said, and ended the call.

Ending the call ended the memory and I found myself back on the playing field, missiles flying in all directions, but at the moment, I wasn’t the target, so I took the opportunity to hide behind a broken pillar. The playing field might have been an ancient Greek temple, now in ruins, but I was think this was the opening set on the TOS episode “City on the Edge of Forever.” The one intact part was a pool with an unsung fountain, which was clearly the focus of the game. Someone made a run for it, trying to get to the fountain, but was overwhelmed by shots fired at him from all directions. He went down, shy of his goal. Meanwhile, as everyone was focusing on him, another person slipped in and dived into the pool and was gone. The gate was down, I thought to myself, again thinking about Ender’s mantra.

Having no tricks up my sleeves, and no strategy other than to run towards the perceived exit, I got up and ran. Not only did I solicit the furious fire of frustrated mages, but I got a few disparagements hurled my way, like, “fucking freshman!” I got as far as I could and brought my shields back up. It sounded like a hail storm on a cloth convertible top, but visually it was an aurora borealis ripping around me. I felt heat, so I pushed energy into the shield, and, once again, the world changed.

I found myself in a nightclub, with a forties feel. If this was a memory, this was not my memory. And there were people moving through the world, but none were immediately recognizable. An orchestra began to play a familiar tune, drawing my attention to them. I was mesmerized and petrified at the same time. I was clearly in the forties on Earth, but the band was comprised of the aliens from the Cantina Band in Star Wars, with bulbous heads and large eyes, and might have been mistaken for the grays, or perhaps a related species. The clarinets was crisp and clear. The light came up on a female, her back to me. Her dress was stylish, her hand drew up an exposed leg, thanks to the slit in the dress. Her hand paused at her hip as she turned. It was LT.

“When they begin, the beguine,” she began to sing.

‘OMG, Magnum,’ I thought. This was a memory. “OMG, Magnum,” also a memory, Higgins voice. This was the scene from Disney’s ‘the Rocketeer’1991. I told myself I don’t have time for this, but I was absolutely certain, if Jennifer came up to me, I was done for, and she better not be on that damn rocking horse from that other movie, or she and I were going places. I needed to get out of here! Where did I put that rocket pack? The memory of it came to me, but could I trust my memory? I mean, ‘Figrin D'an and the Modal Nodes’ were playing Big Band with a touch of jazz, and clearly, that wasn’t in the movie.

I told myself to not think so much, just follow the memory. I turned to proceed in the assumed direction, saw a man with a gun, and detoured into the restroom, hoping he hadn’t seen me. A black man in a tux asked if I would like a towel. I did a double take.

“Jarli Tau!” I said, both shocked and relieved. “What are you doing here?”

“It’s like 1940ish America,” Jarli said. “Do you think I could be hanging out there with you white folks. Would you like a towel, Sir?”

“Is this a dream?” I asked.

“OMG, Jon, have you really forgotten everything I have taught you?” Jarli asked.

“Is this a dreamscape?”

“Jon, when you live in a singularity, there is no landscape, there is no place. You think of dreams as a place you go, but you don’t really go anywhere, because, there is really nowhere to go, it’s all here, it’s all now, there is no time, there is no place…”

I thought I heard Loxy saying, “Somewhere there isn’t any trouble…” Do you suppose there is such a place, I answered in my mind. “Sure,” Lt in my brain said. “There must be, but you can’t getr there by bus or train. It’s in a galaxy far, far away, beyond the moon, beyond the rain…” and then I was certain, Loxy was singing: “Over the Rainbow.” If I went out there to find her in a blue, plaid dress, I was going make a public display of affection, machine guns or not.

“You’re drooling. Are you sure you don’t want a towel?” Jarli asked, drawing me back to our conversation.

“Wait, wait, wait, you can tell me how to get out of here?” I asked.

“Well, I am not honor bound like Loxy is, but no, I don’t think I should,” Jarli said. “To be honest, I am fairly disappointed that you just haven’t grasped this point yet. If you’re not here, you’re not there, you’re not anywhere!”

“Why are you quoting Doctor Suez?” I asked.

“I don’t know. I was always rather partial to the art work, and very fond of green eggs and ham, only in my country, if the ham or eggs is green, it usually meant it was spoiled,” Jarli said. “But I hear there are some Asian countries that burry there duck eggs until they’re properly fermented and it’s considered a delicacy, and yeah, every year people die of botulism, but they continue to eat that shit like’s it’s the best shit ever.”

“You’re not making any sense!” I said.

“Desperation leads to anger, anger leads to hatred, hatred leads to suffering…” Jarli said.

“Oh, fuck you, just get me out of here, and don’t you dare go Glenda on me and tell me I always had the power to go home!”

He smiled.

“What?!”

Jarli looked down at his feet. I was compelled to look down. He was wearing princess slippers. He tapped the floor and the tiles fell away beneath me. I was free falling again, and I am sure I gave Jarli a very cross look, but he did offer me a white towel as I was falling away from him, and, perhaps out of anger, I chose not to accept. I was back on the playing field! I fell flat on my face, next to the man who had made a run for it. Our eyes met.

“Kill me,” he said.

I sat up, drawing another barrage of fire, and again I put up shields. I found myself in a simple hall, like a college hall, or an unfurnished art exhibit. I was immediately drawn to the most significant artifact in the room, a large ring, sectioned with flames. It was not attached to the wall, but it clearly defined the entry way to an alcove, or maybe a tunnel exit, but it was difficult to discern anything beyond. It was basically a person size moon gate, kind of reminding me of Star Gate, like from the TV series, and it was clearly my only way out. The presenting problem, and one of the reasons it was difficult to discern much beyond the gate, was that there was a figure, perhaps a statue, centered in it. The fire light from the rings flickered. I suspected it was Naraja, the Lord of Dance aspect of Shiva. I was kind of glad it wasn’t Ganesh, even though Ganesh is benevolent and all, he kind of creeps me out. Naraja on the other hand, well, I was kind of drawn to her. Him. Her. It so hard tell with Indian Gods. They are all portrayed rather femininely.