DoorwAys (pArt 1)

The day began like any other. I was so accustomed to my daily schedule by now that I didn’t even stop to think about any sort of irregularity. Not there was anything that I would have noticed at the time, even knowing what I do now. I had the important job of walking the streets, going from door to door, dropping off packages and envelopes to the homes of the small town’s residents. When I say small, I’m talking “I have to deliver ALL of the mail because there’s nobody else to do it” small. 

This is me, your narrator, the mailman.

Anyway, today was just like any other day, until the discovery of a package with no address printed on the surface. I resolved this dilemma a half an hour later upon a second discovery of the

accompanying label that had become revealed after the delivery of my final parcels, a stack of 

envelopes addressed with words cut out from a magazine, which I keep organized in a separate stack away from the normal mail.

The address that the package was to be delivered to was on the opposite side of town. I didn’t

complain, as I didn’t have plans whatsoever after my job was complete. 

It took me about 20 minutes to walk, shortened by my knowledge of several secret shortcuts through the wilderness. This road was unusually overgrown with untrimmed bushes and weeds growing through the cracks of the sidewalk. I hadn’t been to this part of town for the better half of a decade. There weren't many people living over here anymore, since the utility company had redirected the water lines to favor the more populated eastern side of the town. I walked up to the house of the last apparent remaining occupant of Vine Street, an overgrown victorian style with chipping paint clinging to the surface of the wood.

I had to use some force to pry open the gate to the front path, as the hinges had become rusted 

together over years of relentless weathering. The yard was overgrown with wildflowers and tall grass.

Someone had decorated a twisted ancient-looking oak tree in the center of the whole mess with 

various scraps and ornaments, which eerily clanged in the breeze in contrast to the silent street.

I walked up to the porch on creaking steps that seemed like they could cave in at the slightest bit 

of pressure, the middle step being absent entirely. I placed the small package in front of the door 

next to a statue of a crumbling sphinx. It had eyes made of intricate blue crystals, captivating to say

the least. I found myself staring into the peculiar artifact, until a noise from behind me startled my 

awareness and I stood upright suddenly.

An elderly woman had crept up from behind me, now staring up at me with wise grey-green eyes

 sunken behind tanned, aging skin. 

“Any trouble finding the place?” she asked. I was about to respond as she cut me off with her 

confident voice.

“I knew you were gonna come today, I been waiting three days.” she said. I stared at her politely,

 unsure of what to say. 

“I like your landscaping” I said, “How long have you lived here?”

“Oh, me? Don’t you worry about me, darling. I’m just here to show you the entrance, that’s all.”

“Um, I’m sorry, the entrance to what, exactly?” I asked, confused.

“That’ll all make sense later. For now, how about you take your package and open it?” she gestured 

towards the statue. I looked at her for a moment, to make sure she was being serious, then turned

 around to pick up the package.

“Are you su-” I realized the woman had vanished as I turned around. I looked around the yard, but 

she was nowhere to be seen, and I hadn’t heard the gateway open. I looked at the package wrapped in thick brown paper in my hands. Well, she did tell me it was my package, and I didn’t get a whole lot of mail these days, despite handling so much of it. I tore off the packaging slowly, not knowing what to expect. Beneath the paper, a small box. I slid the top of the box off to find a delicate looking key tucked inside carefully. I picked it up. It was heavy for its size, some sort of gold alloy from the looks of it. I examined the precise lines ornately carved into the surface with, overlapping each other to form geometric shapes. It was beautiful. I wanted to thank the woman, but was she ever really there?

They key has been received. What this means, I have not a clue.

I arrived home that night exhausted from walking around all day, honestly just ready to heat up some 

dinner and fall asleep on the couch. After igniting the fireplace and putting a fresh vinyl on the record

 player, I heated up some of last night’s leftovers and fled to the couch. The hot food nurtured my 

appetite, and the gentle strings of music flowing through my ears warmed my soul. I began to feel

 drowsy, thinking about what an interesting day I’d had, holding the golden key in my closed palm, 

drifting away. . . 

My body, completely relaxed, began to tingle. I tried to move my arm to itch my leg, but found that I

 could not move. A weight began to settle on my chest, and I heard a ringing in my ears. The ringing 

got louder, a tingling vibration. Now my entire body was vibrating through every inch of my skin; I had the sensation of falling through the open air. It all faded.

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I opened my eyes slowly, squinting at the bright light that now flooded my vision. 

“Are you alright, mister?” came a strange squeaky voice. I looked around, but could see nobody nearby. The environment around me was a lush land of vegetation. The trees were slightly off hue from the consistency I was accustomed to in my home, with a warmer palette than the typical greens and blues. Even the air was warmer somehow, the colors more vivid in a way I can’t describe. I was lying on a firm and uneven ground the color of amber. When I pressed on the surface, it was curiously squishy.

“Who-who said that?” I asked with a raspy dried out throat.

“Down here, imbecile!” I directed my gaze downwards. It took me a moment to spot the strange

 creature peering up at me. It was like nothing I had seen before, a small rodent sized “man”, if I could even call him that. His face was smooth except for a small mouth and 5 holes near the forehead region, which I assumed to be eyes.

I almost tried to stomp on the strange little creature like a pest, but something stopped me at the last

 second.

“What- who are you?” I asked. 

“No matter!” the creature whimpered, “I’m here to offer you guidance. I’m sure you’ve begun to feel

 rather perplexed at your current predicament. No worries, this is a perfectly natural illusion to an

 under-enlightened member of a species such as yours. 

“But that’s enough on that matter. I’m only here to show you towards the lock.” the creature elegantly gestured towards a pathway that led deep into the strange forest of yellow and red mushroom trees. 

“Ok, so um, where am I supposed to go exactly?” I asked, but it was too late. The strange little being had vanished without a trace, almost as if he was never even there.

I was still sitting on the ground, not quite used to my surroundings yet. I almost lost my balance trying to stand as I noticed the surface was not as solid as I was used to, and it felt like someone turned the gravity up times 10. As I slowly got my bearings, I began to walk in a random direction.

Above me, the pale branches of trees stretched over each other as if mingling for attention. I bounced happily from one step to the next without a care in the world, which was not my own.

I soon happened upon a small encampment inhabited by several strange beings. The flames of a

strange green campfire reflected off of their pale skin as I watched from afar. As I crept closer, my foot snapped a branch, alerting them. The three of them turned their long necks towards me simultaneously. 

“What is this?” said one of them in a deep grumbling voice. It wore a silly looking hat that looked as if it could topple off of its head at any moment. 

“Some otherworldly wratch!” observed the second one. The third one said nothing, but sniffed the 

air aggressively.

“Bearer of the key!” it shrieked. The three beings whispered among themselves.

“Come, come little man, sit! Much to teach, lots to learn” said the first one, gesturing towards a

 rubbery pink log on the other side of the campfire from the three slender creatures, which sat cross

 legged on the bare ground. 

“My name is Geoffry.”  I said quietly, trying to be polite. The three creatures looked at me very seriously in silence for a moment, then burst out laughing.

“You may think you know who you are, were, but that was before your introductory star drop!” said the middle creature. 

“Star drop?” I asked.

“Ah, a novice, a bean, a gleam! By now you may notice, things are not as they have been.” said the middle creature.

“Pluck him by the teeth, toss him like a leaf! See where he’ll be, galaxy to galaxy.” chimed the third one.

 I took a second to process their whimsical rhymes. From what I could gather, I had somehow been

 transported from my backyard to another galaxy.

“Where the hell am I?” I demanded. This couldn’t be real. I had to get home to deliver the latest daily

 news to all those citizens. 

“Hell is only relative, you may discover soon on a search for what is coveted” said the one with the 

stupid hat. I shuddered at my several possible interpretations of this line. 

“What is your name, wratch?” asked the slimiest one in the middle. 

“Ge-” I began, then suddenly it struck me that this was not my name anymore.

“Gristlethop” I said like a proud little superhero.

The creatures looked at me for a solemn moment, then spontaneously burst out laughing.

“What a horrendous name!”

“An absolutely stupid claim.” agreed the second one.

“In what direction will accuse the fame?” The third thing said. They were now becoming apparently

 excited, oozing a foul-smelling gunk from all over their translucent skin. 

“Well, I think it’s a cool name” I said matter-of-factly.

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I ran stealthily through the forest. It was pretty dense foliage, not allowing any light to pass through in the eerie dusk, but it was a pretty straight path so I just sprinted ahead and hoped for the best.

I stopped for a moment at a small lamp emitting a warm red hue to take a breathing break. I wasn’t in bad shape, having walked the same delivery route every day for almost 5 years now, but the air felt thinner at this place than I was accustomed to. It also tasted very slightly of bubblegum. I unfolded the map the three bargoons had supplied me with. It had weird slimy gunk all over it. Anyway, it looked like I was about halfway down the path, evident by the little lamp icon scribbled on the map. I kept running.

After a while, I began to see a faint light at the end of the path. I sped up a little as I neared it, but that only made it seem to grow further away. So, I slowed down a bit. 

Eventually I stood in front of a large illuminated temple. The smooth material it was coated with 

seemed to radiate life’s essence. Large neon flowers lined the pathway to the large smooth doors.

As I walked past them, they emitted a pungent odor that made me smile blissfully.

The light was now bright enough to see my path ahead. A large inscription on the wall written in

pictographs described my journey ahead. A central spiraling mass intertwined seven strange totems 

which I assumed to be my only indications of my destinations to come. The totems stuck in my mind 

like they were made to fit there. The golden key felt warm in my pocket as the world around me began to fade away and I felt a familiar tingling sensation vibrating throughout my body.

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The faint red glow led me past the mouth of the enormous cave soaked in a shimmering white mineral. I avoided large boulders cautiously as I made my way towards the source of the light. 

Around the corner, a tall glowing obelisk hovered above the cave’s floor, glowing an eerie yet 

invigorating red hue. As I gazed around the strange place in wonder, the ceiling high above me 

glimmered prismatically. An ornate tree design was inscribed on the surface of the immense jewel.

I placed my hand on the surface of the crystal. It felt warm. The warmth spread throughout me like a pleasant flame traversing my bowels. I suppose it may not sound very pleasant in that description, 

but it really was an overall nice experience. That is, until I began to melt from the innards out. My 

vision went black, as I tried to squirm around I discovered that I didn't have a body. Searching for 

some comprehensible pattern, white geometric shapes and patterns fluttered about my peripheral. 

This continued for what felt like a long time until I finally woke up.

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I found myself lying on a cold, dense floor aching all over. I propped myself up shakily. The only other person in the room was a stout figure with his back to me. It looked like he was hunched over some sort of cooking pot.

I scooted across the ground to tug on his ankle, which now seems like a bad idea in hindsight. As my friction generated noise in the silent cave room, the figure spun around and shrieked. 

“What are you doing here?” she said. It seemed I wasn’t expected.

“I- um, I-” I tried to explain, but found it difficult to provide an explanation for my presence in an

 unfamiliar place. She gazed over me in interest as if I was the only person she’d seen in a while.

“It’s honestly so good to see you!” she exclaimed excitedly, “You’re the only person I’ve seen for a

 while!” I smiled back nervously, very confused. 

“Who are you, exactly?” I asked.

“Oh! I’m Cyntheanne, and who might you be?” she giggled.

“I call me Gistlethop.”

“What a silly name! I’ll just call you ‘G’ for short”

“That sounds reasonable”

“I wasn’t asking for your permission”

“Oh”

“Would you like some Bubble Juice?”

“Bubble Juice?” I asked. Cytheanne spun around and dipped a ladle into the cauldron she had been

 heating. I noticed her pale hair shimmering prismatically in the dim dull light of the cave. She offered the ladle to my lips, looking at me expectantly with energetic eyes, with a hint of vague sadness concealed behind white irises speckled strangely with orange, blue, and gold flecks. I took a reserved sip at the “Bubble Juice”. It was frothy and bitter and tickled my tongue. After a single sip, my body felt replenished and energized and my head was spinning lightly. To put it simply, it fucked me up. I smiled happily and nodded my head to her expectedly.

“That’s my own recipe! I’m an alchemist, though that wasn’t a designated career choice where I’m from, so I’m pretty much just a freelancer.” 

“And where is it that you’re from exactly?” I asked, still adapting to my newfound sense of vastness.

“It’s a small crumby planet somewhere in the armpit of a dead galaxy, you probably never heard of it before. . .

“It’s called Earth. Dumb name, right?”

I sat there silently reserving my reaction. “And what can you tell me about this planet you come from?” 

“Oh, it smells really bad, all the people there lie and steal from each other, and everyone is always fighting over something!” 

“I can relate.”  I said. “How did you end up in this place, exactly? And what exactly is this place?” 

“Ah, well the last I remember I was concocting a new brew in my home lab, which is really cool actually. It’s basically my kitchen, but I put a bunch of colorful lights up everywhere and dragged in all the stuff I need to conduct my alchemy experiments-”

“Yeah, yeah just get on with where we are.” I cut in.

“Right, well, short answer- I don’t know.”

“What? How long have you been here?” I asked her. Cyntheanne looked down at her fingers to count. 

“Umm, at least a month. Probably longer. Definitely longer. But you know something weird? It’s like our bodies work different here. Like I don’t even feel hungry or sleepy or anything and I’ve been here for like forever. Isn’t that weird?” 

I nodded to agree. Now that I took a real look at the room, I could see that there were no obvious doors or exits anywhere. Just cold gray stone and some strange equipment set up near the wall. 

“So how do we get out of here?” I asked.

“I like your straightforwardness! Well, I’ve been working on a way to accomplish that. Actually, it’s 

perfect that you arrived when you did, the only missing ingredient is a sample of an alternate DNA

 sequence. I have all the ingredients I need, the final catalyst is a Y chromosome.” Cyntheanne 

turned around suddenly with a knife in her hands and a devilish grin on her face. I started to back up nervously.

She cackled. “I’m just messing with you! I’d never harm a fly. All I need is a small sample of your 

chromosomes. This should do..” she reached towards me swiftly and plucked a chunk of hair right out of my scalp before I could react.

“Ow! What the hell?” She tossed the hair into the cauldron. The concoction began to glow. Not a dull

 somber glow, but an intense eye mangling flash of white radiation. White spots lingered in my vision. In the center of the room, an orb of light slowly unfurled into a strange looking pocket of rippling energy. It wasn’t an opaque sort of light, but a strange transparent looking mass, like a heat mirage above a sun-beat road. 

“You coming?” she gestured towards the portal. 

“Not like I have anywhere better to be.” I said as I looked at it. After a moment, I hopped right on in.

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At night, when our bodies shut down and our minds merge, we visit strange and foreign places. Some of these destinations are far too abstract for our simple consciousness to comprehend, which results in little to no retention of the experience. Do you recall what it’s like to submerge in a fully relaxed state of slumber? What the beginning of a dream is like? I didn’t either. At least, I didn’t used to  before.

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END PART 1

STAY TUNED FOR THE EXCITING ADVENTURES WHICH LAY AHEAD OF OUR HEREOES.

THERE WILL BE LIGHT, THERE WILL BE GLORY, THERE WILL BE DEATH. MOST IMPORTANTLY, THERE WILL BE. . . 

DOORWAYS 

Crombolian Army Invades Ghumada Streets, Equipped with Threatening Wooden Poles

Unfortunately, in a mildly surprising sequence of events, the streets of Ghumada have been invaded by a hostile race of humanoid beasts. Most of the citizens have either not take notice or don’t care enough to do anything about the invasion. Thousands of Crombolian soldiers wearing shiny battle vests accompanied by threatening war machines march through the streets of Ghumada.

According to reports from an anonymous citizen who was watching from the window of a sort of tall building, a single shirtless man was seen angrily appearing from the door of his home to yell at the soldiers, complaining about the noise. One of the soldiers was heard making a surprised grunting noise as he whacked he man in the head with a wooden pole.

An emergency council consisting of Mort Biaston, Orkle Albana, and Bronson Swanlick (the last remaining member of the Ghumada Panel of Foreign Affairs [GPF-Affairs]) have decided unanimously to take no action until the completion of a lighthearted breakfast.

After the completion of a lighthearted breakfast approximately 3 hours later Orkle Albana, Science expert and lab assistant to Lead Scientist Gordon Gordon, claimed that the Crombolians are a technologically superior race of humanoid organisms that “have the potential to mess stuff up”. This seemed like a fact-based statement, as the soldiers have been spotted carrying threatening wooden poles and launching large hunks of melting plastic towards buildings. This disturbing observation has opened up the discussion for a possible way to combat the foreign invaders.

Threatening Crombolian war machine

Th GPF-Affairs, the former acting government system for the crumbling state of Ghumada, has been unofficially disbanded due to forseen circumstances. All members, including former council spokesman Kori Klonkers, have been reported as being seen fleeing the country carrying half filled trash bags. Unfortunately, they chose to flee at night by taking the very steep cliff route across the border into neighboring country Gordhongo, which is as dangerous as it sounds.

According to the chain of command principles drafted by the former council, which was written on a dirty piece of paper sack, states that under the circumstance no council member is able to perform the duty of the council, the next-in-command would be the janitor of the small shed which served as a meeting place. The former janitor, Bronson Swanlick, upon hearing this, disappeared suddenly and returned several hours later wearing an embellished historical war general suit, complete with a small hat glued to the corner of his abnormally large scalp.

As his first action as “Emergency Backup War General of Ghumada in a Time of War Crisis” (EBWGGT, codename ‘Eggbeater’ for official military radio frequencies), Bronson Swanlick has issued a short video message to the citizens of Ghumada via a large projection on top of the Gordon Gordon Inc. skyscraper.

“Attention Citizens of Ghumada, this is your new Eggbeater speaking, Bronson Swanlick. You may or most likely may not know me as an insignificant janitor without any war experience or noteworthy accomplishments to speak of.

“I am speaking to you today to inform you that your country is under attack by a foreign race known as the Crombolians. Please remain indoors, and remember to brush your teeth if you have any. That is all. Good day Ghumada.”

Unfortunately, the activation of the Gordon Gordon Inc. skyscraper projection had the unintended effect of alerting the majority of the citizens to go outside and look at it, as they had nothing better to do. It also alerted the invading Crombolians, who have set up makeshift tents on most of the corners in Ghumada. This sequence of events lead to many Ghumada citizens getting audibly whacked in the heads with threatening wooden poles.

Orkle Albana, in a press release to Ghumada News, claims that lead scientist Gordon Gordon has been awakened from a deep slumber to work on rebooting the Ghumada Meat Bot™ Army to combat the invaders. The Meat Bot™ Army has not been mobilized since the fabric attack several months ago when a deranged group of hostile fabric makers started throwing fabric at local citizens. They were easily neutralized by the Meat Bots™’  signature “meat foam” spray.

For now, citizens of Ghumada are being encouraged to remain indoors until the situation can be dealt with. Eggbeater Swanlick is attempting to establish communication with the leader of the Crombolian army, however all attempts at communication have ended in confusion due to the language barrier.  

Clyve's Important Mission (Part 2)

Read Part 1 first, or else you will be very confused (you will probably end up being confused anyway even if you did read part1)

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Clyve choked on musty air as he stepped over shards of broken glass inside the decaying interior of the building. Something slithered around the corner in the back of the room, but it moved too fast and it was too dark to see exactly what.

Logically, the easiest way to travel to floor 178 was going to be by taking the elevator. He was not in any shape to be climbing up 178 flights of stairs; his legs would prbab ly snap in half by the third flight. He looked around the room to see if he could spot any obvious signs of an elevator. Towards the back of the room, next to a large round wooden desk, he spotted the golden sliding doors with many floors embroidered on the wall above them.

As he confidently strode over towards the elevator doors, he noticed a strange looking figure sitting behind the large round desk. He was wearing a strange red suit with gold embroidery all over it, and he looked to be in very excellent physical shape. In fact, he didn’t appear to have any fat or skin whatsoever covering his bony white face.

“Greetings, you are looking excellent today I must say!” Clyve said happily as he walked by. The man did not respond.

There was another man waiting in front of the elevator, dressed in similar attire. Clyve could tell he was not a very motivated man, as he couldn’t even stand without the assistance of a rusted chain hanging from the ceiling. It looked very uncomfortable, as the man’s feet dangled above the ground. It must be a very tiring job, standing in front of the elevator of a dead building for so many centuries.

“Floor 178, please” Clyve said as he approached the elevator. The man did not move. However, to Clyve’s surprise, the golden doors of the elevator began to screech open automatically. He watched with an impressed grin on his face as the doors slowly, very slowly, slid open. Several minutes later, he still stood in the same position with the same stupid grin on his face as the doors were almost halfway open. Sparks scattered everywhere under the tremendous friction of the squealing doors that hadn’t been serviced for probably hundreds of years. Several large beetles with deformed human hands growing off of their shells scurried out of the elevator and past his feet.

He squeezed into the elevator through the partially open doors.

“Floor 178!” he shouted, hoping that would do something.

“Please repeat your request” said a monotone female voice. Clyve jumped in surprise.

“I, uh, floor 178!” he said again.

“What?” came the voice.

“178!” he said, losing enthusiasm.

“Ok” said the elevator. “Going down”

“Wait, what? No!” but it was too late. The elevator started to plunge downwards rapidly as he was lifted off of the velvet floor and banged his head on the ceiling.

“Enjoy your ride” the elevator chimed in over the noise of the screeching elevator, as if this was supposed to make him feel more at peace with the concept of hurtling downwards to an unknown destination at lightning speed. He noticed thick black smoke venting in through the walls of the elevator as he cowered in the back corner, waiting for this terrifying experience to be over with.

Finally, the elevator started to screech to a halt. Clyve sighed with relief. However, right before it came to a complete stop the elevator started right back up again, this time plummeting even faster than before.

“Going down. Going down.” the elevator voice was saying repeatedly, the voice growing more and more distorted. Clyve tried to scream but no sounds came out because he was moving too fast. For some reason flashing red sirens had been activated and lit up the dim interior of the elevator car with a hellish glow. He slowly faded out of consciousness.

He woke up with a start to loud pounding coming from the outside of the elevator door. The metal of the door was vibrating and denting in with each furious blow. After a careful moment of calculation, Clyve decided that his only option was to open the door of the elevator. He pressed the “door open” button.

The doors of the elevator dramatically slid open. It took about 3 minutes for the unserviced doors to grind their way completely open. Clyve stood there patiently until a loud beep signaled his arrival.

“Arrived at destination: Floor 178” chimed the elevator. Floor 178 smelled like a combination of wet socks and dirty oven. The pounding of the elevator door had ceased, mostly because the door was now open, but also because the source of the pounding had disappeared for the moment. Clyve stepped out of the elevator into the darkness of floor 178.

Floor 178

As he took his first step into the room, an electrical hum kicked to life and several hundred futuristic blue lights switched on, temporarily blinding Clyve and sending him crashing to the floor.

“What the smokin’ hell is this sorcery!” Clyve yelled to nobody in particular.

“Inbad argitor glubular ish” said a very strange muffled voice. Clyve looked up but didn't see anybody else in the room.

“Huh?” he asked.

“Up.” the voice came. Clyve looked up.

There, suspended from the ceiling by chain wrapped around its neck, was  some sort of human, but without any skin; a skeleton of sorts. It wore a strange helmet made of reflective material, and nothing else.

A strange figure suspended from the roof, resembling some sort of skeleton

“Klorkle mcliffin triket” the skeleton muttered. It lifted one arm as it said this, then dropped it limply back to its side.

“Now hold on. You knew how to say the word ‘up’, so why are you still talking in that jibberish?” asked Clyve. The skeleton man stared ahead blankly.

Clyve looked around floor 178. On the far side of the room, there were monitors covering the wall above desks with complex looking computers flashing with red numbers and data. He had no idea what any of it meant.

“What do all these strange symbols and lights mean?” Clyve said aloud.

“Yugbad ish gringle traxon, lopush ish triggle” came the strange ancient voice of the skeleton. Clyve looked towards it, and saw that it was pointing a bony yellow finger towards a spot on the far side of the room.

Clyve walked over towards where the skeleton was pointing. There were lots of buttons and levers, beyond the comprehension of Clyve’s simple mind. He observed all the various switches and controls for a moment. None of them were labeled in any obvious pattern, so he started pressing a bunch of random buttons and pulling various levers. The monitors on the walls scrolled through lines of red text and numbers that had no meaning to Clyve whatsoever. He soon became bored and directed his attention to a hole in the wall.

The hole was covered by thin strips of plastic hanging down in front of it. It looked like an adventure waiting to happen, so Clyve excitedly climbed in without hesitation.

He found himself sliding down a metallic ramp headfirst. It was a deceivingly slow journey, as the ramp had not been properly lubricated in a very long time. He pushed himself along whenever he got stuck. The dark passage grew more confined as he traveled down further, to the point where he began to panic.

He tried to climb back up the way he came, but he was in too deep. He had no choice but to continue downwards.

At last, he saw a light at the end of the tunnel. He squeezed through the last of the passage and fell through the hole, landing on the floor 3 feet below the exit. He looked around from his position on the floor, and laughed softly. Somehow, he had ended up in the same place he was in before, on the opposite side of the room.

He walked back towards the wall with all the computers and gadgets. As he did so, he noticed with a start that there was another man standing with his back turned to him in front of the controls pressing various buttons and pulling levers. He was about to say something, but as he opened his mouth he noticed that the man was wearing his pants.  

His pants.

The pants that he had spent many weeks assembling from patches of fabric scavenged from various decaying corpses found in boarded up houses. Those pants were one of a kind, and there was only one explanation as to why this stranger was wearing them.

The man was Clyve.

Clyve pondered this conclusion for a moment. How could Clyve be standing in front of himself in the same room? He squinted his eyebrows and rubbed his eyes in deep concentration, but was unable to come to any sort of logical conclusion. As he pondered, the man that was apparently him wandered over to a hole in the wall covered in strips of plastic and slid in head first.

The other version of himself was copying his former actions, meaning that in a moment he woukd slide out of the same hole he had just come out of. Clyve knew he had to move so as to avoid encountering this man that was him. What would he say to himself? He would wait until he had a valid explanation for this mess to talk to himself.

He searched frantically for a place to hide on floor 178. On the other side of the complicated computers that made no sense, he spotted a large metal door. The handle turned surprisingly smoothly as he stepped into the next room.

To Clyve’s disbelief, he stepped right back into the same room. He was now standing at the far side of floor 178 looking at two men that strangely resembled himself. One of the men was about to plunge headfirst into a hole in the wall, while the other was staring in bewilderment at the man who was about to plunge headfirst into a hole in the wall.

He searched around frantically for another hiding option. He searched all around the room, then checked the floor, then looked up to the ceiling. He saw no viable options and was about to give up and face the horror of meeting several alternate versions of himself.

He suddenly gave up standing and crashed to the floor painfully. He let out a pathetic sob. Then, he opened his eyes and noticed a strange door next to the one he had just come out of. He stood cheerfully like nothing had happened and opened the new door just as the door he had already come out of opened simultaneously.

Clyve found himself in a dark space. The heavy door slammed shut behind him, leaving him shrouded in a heavy veil of never ending darkness. He could hear the sound of a man sobbing gently.

“Who is it?” asked Clyve. He noticed a painful ringing in his ears as he said this that spread throughout his head.

“The envelope..” said whoever it was that was inhabitation the dark space with him. Clyve suddenly remembered the reason he had gone through all this madness in the first place. The important message! The contents must provide some sort of explanation to this state of disorder.

He reached into his pants pocket where he had left the envelope. His fingers found themselves awkwardly grasping at empty space as they slipped through the hole in his pocket. The hole. How could he be so foolish!

Clyve slammed his fist to his own forehead, which sort of hurt. As he did so, a single fluorescent light flickered on inside the room, illuminating the dark dusty space with peeling gray walls. Sharing the room with him, was himself. Clyve rubbed his eyes to make sure what he was seeing was correct. He saw at least three living versions of himself sitting among a mass of shriveled up manikins.

No, those weren’t manikins. The floor was littered with corpses in various shriveled states of stinking decay. The Clyves that were still living looked up at him with desperate gazes on thinning faces. One of them reached his bony hands towards him and fell over on top of the rotting skeletons.

A speaker suddenly crackled to life in the room, startling Clyve.

“Trial 455, failure.” spoke a monotone robotic female voice, followed by a loud buzzing alarm. The door clicked behind Clyve, and he spun around to try and escape. It was too late, the door was locked. The flickering fluorescent light fixture blinked out, leaving Clyve shrouded in a fatal darkness.

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Boozok the Mystical took a sip of his juice, then spit it out immediately because it was nearly boiling and tasted disgustingly fermented. He looked inside the cup and saw at least 3 maggots squirming around and a fly floating in the bubbly liquid.

He glanced at his wrist to check his watch, which was shattered beyond repair and hadn’t worked for at least 50 years. With a flick of his right hand, a projection of the watch appeared above the physical version of it, which accurately informed him of the time. It had been exactly 12 hours and 7 minutes since the last trial began.

Boozok walked down the creaking wooden steps to his basement. A large beetle with a human face growing on its back scurried out from beneath one of the steps and squealed miserably as he crunched it beneath his hard leather boot.  

The automatic lights flickered on as he entered his lair. On the opposite wall, a station of complex computer terminals with green data flashing across the screens buzzed to life. On the far right monitor, a video monitor of floor 178 played on repeat.

Boozok's lair, with many complex technologies

Trial 455 was playing. Not that it was any different from the previous trials. Boozok leaned over the desk and smashed his fists on the surface. He would have to adjust the variables once again and start the process over from the beginning. The message must get delivered.