Northern California Views

Luke watched the ice cubes melt slowly into the amber-colored liquid in the glass in front of him. It had been two days since he had what he now called his “experience” in the Left Nut. He was staring now at his fourth drink for the evening. Things were not going well at all.

Two days previously, that first morning’s experience on the 101^st floor had left a lot of questions unanswered; but, despite the temptation, he had not gone back to it after lunch. Instead, a surprising sense of exhiliration, even euphoria, had settled in as he prepared and ate his mid-day meal. This was perhaps understandable, since the message and the enigmatic statue embodied the first truly new event he had ever encountered; and it felt good. Confusing, but good. And he wanted to hold on to that good feeling for a while, not to mention give his creaking brain time to percolate around things a bit. Besides, notwithstanding the message and that strange statue, the floor itself was still as nondescript as ever. Luke did not think that anything else new could happen. Right? So, after lounging through a lazy lunch, Luke had decided to take the rest of the day off. He had gone straight to his favorite pub, the Golden Fleece, and celebrated his good feeling by ordering a few glasses of New JW Gold Label.

Phredy, the bartender and as close to a friend as Luke had, was surprised at the order. “That’s not your usual,” he said, looking a bit askance at one of his best customers. “Who died?”

“Nobody, Phredy. I just feel really good and thought I would treat myself.” Luke knew he was spending more money than he could afford. He ordered one JW Gold, then a second, then a third, then … it was a long glorious, budget-busting night for Luke.

Something had told Luke not to tell Phredy anything yet about the morning’s events. So, he hadn’t. Instead he just gradually descended into a happy, giddy state, courtesy of the JW label’s magic recreational formulas. Unfortunately, he basically did this alone; the usual handful of regulars that Luke knew casually did not, for some reason, come in this evening. Phredy was there, though, smiling as he always did, making small talk, and supplying Luke with his requested libations. At closing, Phredy stared and shook his head as his “best customer” finally headed home, loudly singing and belching a rude Teutonic sailor’s song.

The large quantity of JW Gold proved a wonderful tonic for Luke, giving him a sound sleep that night with dreams that took him back to the beautiful young girls of his youth. He had slept in several hours the next morning, got up still humming, showered, prepared himself a quick meal, and decided not to go to work at all that day. Still humming and with a cup of black java by his side, he sat on his bed, spread out his notes before him, and began to study the words and numbers like it was a game. He tried to remember his old school algebra, listing numbers or letters in various ways, mixing different possible formulas, trying to identify connections or sequences. Nothing made any sense. His mind just wasn’t used to this kind of thing anymore.

But he wasn’t discouraged either. That night he returned to the Golden Fleece. Phredy was glad to see him and remarked on his continued good humor. Luke indeed still felt good; but, conscious of his budget, this time he cut back to his usual New JW Red. And he had fewer of them. Aside from the cost, he knew he needed to be fresh for the morrow, when he would return to the 101^st floor and study its mysteries anew. Again, he did not share any reasons with Phredy. This was something he wanted for his own. He knew he could find answers, and would relish the search for them. Then he would reveal all.

As he left, Luke noticed a new customer at the Golden Fleece: a slender man in a black cloak, sitting alone in the corner. He had red eyes. And he kept staring at Luke.

Next day, Luke got up early and headed off for The Obelisk. The distance was over two miles, and Luke always in the past had walked the entire way. Luke liked it like that. The strolls to and from work had been a sort of meditation, a way to prepare for his job while going, and to decompress from it while returning. Today, however, he had taken his transporter, making the trip in barely five minutes.

At the Left Nut, he let himself in, did his usual quick preliminary check of the systems, then headed to Lift 8. He was still whistling as the doors opened to the 101^st floor. Then he stopped cold, once again stunned as he had been two mornings before. But this time there was nothing there. Or, rather, there were none of the changes he had seen. No message. No bluish light. No drawer. No difference in what had been the cubes with the dais. And no statue. It all looked exactly as it always had before this whole thing started.

“Hey,” Luke shouted, running around the cubes, looking for anything that might still be different. “What the hell is going on!?”

There was no answer, only the echo of his own frustration. The area and its cubes were as stark and as barren as they always had been. He felt as though someone had stolen his first-born child. If he had had a first-born child.

Dejected, Luke slumped on the floor against the false wall and almost cried. He had gone from fear to euphoria to excitement at a challenge to deep depression in barely 48 hours. The emotional swings were just too much for a mediocre mind. Finally, he just got up and shuffled towards home.

He walked out of the sphere with his head down and hands in his pockets, forgetting his transporter still parked in front of the Left Nut. As he ambled down the hill, he felt in his pockets the notes and the card. Yes, they at least were still there. He stopped and looked at them. The card was just a card. It was black and completely blank. It could be anything, come from anywhere. And the notes were … what? … really only measurements of what he always knew had been there. Yet, there was still the message he had copied. Where had that come from? That had been real, hadn’t it? Or had it? Had he just made all of this up? The product of a lonely, bored mind trying to find meaning? Was he indeed just dreaming? Or worse?

Eventually, Luke found himself back at the Golden Fleece. Seeing his dejection, Phredy without a word offered him a New JW Red on the house. Luke accepted with a thin smile. “Thank you, friend,” he said quietly.

Luke savored the drink gratefully. It tasted good, and revived his spirits a bit. He found he needed more than one; but, after his gleeful binges of the last two nights, his budget forced him to order something more modest. Matching his mood, he selected a bottomshelf mix of goose pee and formaldehyde called “Democrat Whiskey.” At least it would get him drunk. He had two of them, and felt the beginnings of the inevitable headache.