Mariah and Langley

Chapter Seventeen (Spring, 1937)

(6.5k words, 30-40 min read)

The man in the green coat had grabbed Langley during the fall through those clear tunnels. Mariah and Langley had kept their hands together and crashed through the mirror with the man, feet underneath them. Langley felt his hand slip from Myles’s while Mariah lost grip of Marshall’s. Gravity switched sideways and both Astronomers plus the green-coated man landed on the tinkling glass shards, rolling a few feet before coming to a stop.

“Langley, ow!” Mariah said, prying at her hand. “Let go.”

Archibald Langley had begun white-knuckling Mariah’s hand and their fingers were interlocked, but Myles’s wasn’t which was probably why it slipped. He let go and stared at the stranger who was rising slowly, holding his side gingerly.

“Who the hell are you?” Langley said, putting himself between Mariah and the man. Then he started checking himself for cuts from the glass.

“Atlas Black.” The man winced as he took a deep breath. “And you… are not Myles Willis.”

“What did you do with the rest of them? Or what are you doing with us?” Langley said. “And how do you know Myles? Sorry, who the hell are you and what is going on?”

“You made a terrible jump, but that was expected. I thought Myles would be jumping alone, so imagine my surprise when I see five or six additional bodies jumping with him.”

“What do you mean, ‘terrible jump’? We’re alive, aren’t we? And what was that falling thing that we just went through? And where are we?” Langley’s voice shook. The chilly air around them didn’t help. “It’s so cold,” he noted, rubbing his triceps. “Just like Myles predicted.”

All around them were giant mirrors, big enough to jump through. They were lined against the walls of the room.

Atlas sat up and heaved a large sigh. He wiped his hands together and said, “Which question would you like me to answer first?”

“Who are you?” Mariah said.

“Atlas Black. I’m my own person with my own affairs learning at my own pace and believe that the human experience can’t be measured by comparison, which means we can’t truly judge others, nor should we. My affairs are my own, but I didn’t mean to kidnap you and I wasn’t planning on kidnapping Myles Willis either. I needed his help and he most likely needed mine. It’s likely that you want my help as well, hm? It sounds like you’re lost.”

“Okay, where are we?” Langley said.

“It’s the year 2037, and you are on the floating Earth 27, a mile or so from the city of Stablefield.”

“2037?”

“I believe so.”

“How did like thirty years pass already?”

Atlas said, “It was a sloppy jump at best, but it was a jump. Usually, jumpers are able to just shave a few seconds off, instead of weeks or days. Years, however, signify that you probably don’t know what you were doing.”

“Holy shit, thirty-seven years. No way.”

Mariah could tell that Atlas was telling the truth. “That means… our parents are really old?”

“It’s sad to see others grow old. Jumping isn’t for everyone.”

“My parents,” Langley started and his eyes seemed to glaze over.

“What? Your parents could still be alive, Langley,” Mariah said.

“No, the novis got ‘em… I guess thirty-seven years ago now.” There was a bizarre feedback loop striking Langley over and over. It said: Your parents are dead. No they aren’t. You won’t see them again. But that’s impossible, of course I will. Your parents are dead. No they aren’t. You won’t see them again. Impossible, of course I will. And that feedback loop inhabited his mind with such deep roots that he couldn’t hear or feel Mariah shaking him and asking him if he was okay.

“He’s in shock,” Atlas said. “Or nearing it. Let’s lie him down.” Atlas led Langley, who followed well enough, and brought them through the rest of the house they were in.

“Do you know this house?” Mariah asked in a gasp. The air was hard to breathe here.

“It would be best if you didn’t think too much. Your guesses are only going to scare you more than the truth,” Atlas said as he brought them to a large sitting room that smelled like rotting fabric and wet sponges. There was a neatly-made sleeping bag on the ground. “Sit on the sleeping bag.”

“Okay.” Mariah sat. Langley sat down without a word. He was staring hundreds of miles away.

“You’re gone, aren’t you?” Atlas said, crouching in front of them. His lengthy green jacket brushed the ground now.

“Gone?”

“Oblivious to the void, don’t know jumps, don’t know about the curve, about the 90 worlds?”

Mariah looked at him and almost smiled in her blissful ignorance. Atlas Black didn’t make sense at all.

“Anyway, that’s what we call those who don’t quite know. It’d be better if you just slept and we’ll talk later.”

“Talk about what?”

Atlas opened his mouth to answer, stuttered, and then simply put his hand on her forehead and found that little blue malleable bubble in her head and popped it. She slumped to the side, asleep.

Langley started at the action and jerked into a crabwalk pose, backing away from Atlas.

“She’s only asleep, kid. Don’t worry.”

“You’re gonna kill us!”

Atlas shook his head with such honesty that Langley believed him.

“I’m helping you. There’s too much to take in right now,” Atlas said.

“Don’t touch me!”

“You don’t have an option right now.” Atlas rose and walked toward Langley who was now against a wall.

“Don’t touch me!” was the last thing Langley shouted before Atlas put his hand on Langley’s forehead and put him to sleep. Then he dragged Langley back to Mariah and let the two of them warm each other and covered them with a blanket on top of the sleeping bag.

Mariah woke up first in a hazy daze. Her own breathing was deep and realized her muscles were starting to sore, though she hadn’t done any running aside from before the mirror. She was thirsty. Langley was next to her, hood still up (she noticed several spots of blood on the hoodie now and wondered… were those from his parents?)

Atlas had dragged a small sofa into the room and was liquidized in his slumber: he was on his stomach, his mouth was partially open, one arm was under his face, and the other was brushing the floor. He still had his black boots on his perfectly relaxed legs.

Well, he didn’t tie us up or anything, Mariah thought and wondered if she should wake him up. Then Mariah just sat for a while thinking about where she was. They’d crashed through the mirror and fell toward those glowy lights. When they hit one, they fell through a different mirror. After that, Atlas said he was looking for Myles. They were safe from the novis and had fallen asleep despite the adrenaline in their bloodstream. Now they were somewhere else completely. The entire floor was both wooden and noticeably slanted by a few degrees. They were in a room with light from a single window. She looked up to see the beautiful ceiling woodwork and ancient wallpaper.

Officer Baker was killed in front of them. She’d seen some people die recently. Not a few hours ago. Mariah shuddered and took a few deep breaths.

Langley was waking up next to her. Mariah watched him blink for about twenty seconds before he looked at her. The right side of his face had a uniform fabric pattern pressed into it.

“Mariah Smith?” Langley said.

“Langley…?” Mariah said.

“Wait…” Langley said. “Oh… oh, fuck. I’m still in this nightmare.”

“Are you okay?”

He shrugged. “I don’t know… I just want to sit and think.”

Mariah looked at Atlas who had closed his mouth and had his eyes slightly open.

“Are you awake?” Mariah asked.

Atlas nodded faintly. “How are you feeling now?”

“Better, thanks.”

Langley looked at Atlas without a response.

Their backpacks were nearby; Atlas must have removed them after they fell asleep. Mariah drew the walkie talkie from her backpack and tried to power it on. “It’s not working.”

Langley took it from her and tried the power button. She was right; the walkie talkie wasn’t working. He handed it back.

“Why were you looking for Myles and how do you know him?” Mariah asked.

“I need his help,” was the answer.

“What is he going to help you with?” Langley said.

Atlas murmured, “It’s… a long, long story.”

“Is that why you gathered the mirrors? You knew he was going to travel here through one and you just hoped you gathered the right one?”

“If I wasn’t able to intercept him, that was the idea,” Atlas said. “I’ve never done any of this before. But it appears it partially worked, since I was able to catch two of his friends. If I happen across him again, he’ll have a solid reason to trust me.”

“How will you find him?”

Atlas opened his eyes. “Not sure. And I don’t want to think about it too much since today has been long. How are you planning on finding him?”

“We just got here; we have no ideas yet. And why are we breathing so hard?”

“You came from what year?” Altas asked.

“What’s the year? 2000?” Langley said.

“Not anymore,” Atlas said, rising to a seated position. “It’s 2037 where the landmasses float and the kids have superpowers.”

Langley was surprised at how unsurprised he was to learn that kids had superpowers. He was more surprised at that second fact: “The landmasses float?”

“It’s why you’re having trouble breathing. You come from before what they call the Rise.”

“Can you help us?” Mariah asked.

“You can stay in the mansion for a while, but I won’t be here for much longer. I’m on a bit of a schedule.”

“Can’t we help you somehow and then you help us?”

Atlas shrugged wearily like one who received an eviction notice an hour earlier. “If you’re prophets, then yes. I can’t tell what you are because you’re quite underdeveloped, but the odds are low that either one of you is a prophet.”

“But I am a prophet,” Mariah said. “I was the one who directed Myles and the rest of the Astronomers to escape through a mirror.”

“Is that right? How do I know that’s the truth and you aren’t just scraping for food, shelter, and whatever else you can get?”

“Because I’m from 2000 and somehow I know a good deal about the fraise which didn’t show up until fifty years later,” Mariah said.

“Myles could have told you,” Atlas said.

“Give me a few days. I don’t know how long the fraise takes to develop fully here, but once it does, you’ll see that I’m a prophet and whatever he is.”

“How did you know your abilities will get stronger?” Atlas asked.

Mariah shrugged. “It just seemed right.”

“Like it was something you’d known for a long time? Like you were somehow used to this being a fact?”

Mariah nodded and Atlas murmured knowingly. Then Mariah asked, “Why did one of us need to be a prophet?”

“Dreamscoping. If you are a prophet, you can locate Myles if you’ve known him in person.”

“What is dreamscoping?”

Atlas’s face remained at peace and unchanged. “We’ll talk after we eat something. Follow me.”

Atlas led them downstairs. As they passed through the living room, they passed even more mirrors, a few covered by white sheets. All of the different angles of them shone back, appearing in the light from the window. As they stepped, they could see themselves, almost like they were being watched, in all of the mirrors. 

“It’s like being inside of a disco ball,” Langley thought aloud.

Langley moved slowly ahead of her, keeping his right hand against the hallway wall. Both Astronomers stared cautiously at the reflective glass all over the room as if they didn’t want to disturb the mirrors.

“Why is the whole house tilted?”

Atlas said. “The way the house landed. It was on a small rock floating around, but the whole rock landed with the mansion on it and it crashed here. It’s not very safe to live in because it could collapse, but I would sense that before it happened.”

They entered the kitchen. There were a few small metal pods that let off short blue flames and he fired one of these up under a large pan. He opened a cabinet, removed one of many cans, twirled the can opener around it, and emptied out some stew.

As they waited for the soup to heat, Langley said, “Dreamscoping is some kind of mental communication? Like mind-reading?”

Atlas sat down at the table which was covered with many essential items for survival. A couple of ropes, a couple of small pieces of equipment that she didn’t recognize, a flashlight that was smaller than any flashlight she’d ever seen, small canvas bags filled with many somethings, and a water bottle which seemed futuristic.

Atlas said, “Yes, but mind-reading and actual telepathy are far different from dreamscoping. Telepathy doesn’t work over great distances unless those two people are bonded unnaturally close and both are gifted. Dreamscoping is the precise navigation of your dreams to the point where you can invite and draw people into your dream as they sleep. With prophets, there should be almost no trouble locating and drawing Myles and I into your dream, Mariah. You will be the host and we will visit your dream. Creatures like the Quaker or certain grispers similar to Freddy Kreuger can do this too.”

“Like novis?”

“Yes, novis too. You know about novis, then?”

“Almost got killed by a couple less than an hour ago,” Langley said.

“Hm,” Atlas said from his seat. “You both okay?”

“Yeah. We think the rest of the Astronomers are too.”

“Who are the Astronomers?”

“That’s our club. Blink, Pretty, Marshall, Myles, Mariah, and me.”

“Ah, I see.”

“Then if dreams are some kind of creation of our own that we have a lot of control over, what does that make nightmares?” Mariah asked.

“Nightmares are usually your brain’s automatic fabrications, but some are actual hauntings in your nightmares. Those are far different.”

Mariah held up her left hand. “Would the novis that bit my hand in my sleep be an actual haunting?”

Atlas inspected the hand over the table. His eyes dilated partially and his face stayed stony. “A novis did this to you?”

Mariah nodded. “About six years ago. Well, six of my years. You know about novis?”

“Fascinating; was this all they did to you?”

“Yeah.”

“Testing the pickings,” Atlas said. ”Barbaric.”

“You don’t seem shocked by any of this.”

“Some people just have wild lives that they grow used to. There’s nothing wrong or right about it… it just simply is,” Atlas answered. “I’m sure it’s a lot for you to take in right now, eh?”

“We came from Pennsylvania,” Mariah said, sitting at the table. Langley followed suit alongside her.

Atlas’s eyes sparked. “Pennsylvania? A state?”

“Yeah. From back in 2000.”

Atlas leaned a few inches over the table. “What is it like? What were the 90’s like?”

“Bitchin’,” Langley said, leaning back. “We had an arcade and our Nintendo 64.”

“You had houses?”

“Yeah, of course. We bike everywhere.”

Atlas’s eyes glowed. “Biked everywhere. I remember doing that as well. My first jump was in ‘89.”

Mariah cocked her head to one side. “You’re like us, aren’t you?”

“I wouldn’t know.”

“You’ve been jumping since 1989?”

“There are many different variations of jumping and different means to do it, but yes. I’ve jumped probably hundreds of times by now.” Atlas leaned back. “I need Myles’ help for this next one. I don’t usually work with others, let alone someone I hardly know.”

“So how are we gonna find him?”

“Dreamscoping. I’ll have to teach Mariah, of course.”

“I don’t even know how we will start,” Mariah said.

“It’s like teaching someone to swim. Everyone has their own experience ultimately and there’s only so much that words can do to explain. And Langley will feel this same trial-by-doing with whatever fraise he is. We won’t worry about starting quite yet.”

“Can’t you use your propheting to find out?”

Atlas shrugged. “That’s a long answer. And if I did, it would be out of my control. But technically yes.”

“How?”

“It would take me hours to explain why. I sense you know absolutely nothing about most of the bigger picture of everything. What you need to focus on is what you can control, which is next to nothing. If you try acting outside of that, you’re most likely going to be disappointed and discouraged.” Atlas’s response seemed to snap out of his mouth, but not without patience.

“So what do we know then?”

“The best way to start with that, is to pretend you don’t know anything. How often do you think like that?”

“Man, I’m twelve years old. I barely know how I think to begin with. Stuff just happens to me,” Langley said.

“See that, that attitude you just described is why the fraise is able to exist inside of you at all. Bottled wonder. That’s what the fraise is, Langley and Mariah. It isn’t about brain development, it’s not about growing up, it isn’t about responsibility… it’s about your ability to admit you’re wrong. Humility. It’s about your thinking, how you view things. How honest are you with yourself? Are you actively looking into the world with an introspective lens? One that is constantly on in the background, filtering out those things that give you a drive to create something beautiful? Sexual drive doesn’t count; that’s instinctual and requires no training for any creature. This creative drive… it’s dying out, but it’s essential. I’ve jumped many times, each time a little further into the future. The human race is actively allowing this creative aspect of their lives to fall away. They want it to leave so they can better feel the thrills someone else created. The fraise is special, and it’s in you right now as it is in me.”

Langley and Mariah let those words douse the air like humidity. They heard the words for the most part, but more so they understood the meaning behind the message Atlas just preached.

“I thought only kids could be fraisers?” Mariah said.

“Only those who maintain a childlike wonder and humility remain fraisers,” Atlas said. “Fraiser adults are rare. And often bizarre, but riveting, fascinating people. Frankly, I have a hard time growing bored with myself and all the things I’m up to, but I do find others so remarkable. Showstopping. Visceral. Surreal.”

“So it’s the weird, non-pedophile adults that would be fraisers?” Langley said.

“I often thought Albert Einstein would be a fraiser,” Atlas said, “and Aldous Huxley and Nikola Tesla and Shakespeare. Real truth-seekers, they were. But they didn’t get the exposure of this planet and the drastic change it is going through. It’s like this planet is pubescent in a way.”

“Great… description. Puts it in quite the weird light,” Langley muttered.

“Atlas, what’s going to happen to us?” Mariah asked quietly.

Atlas was sitting back already and the only thing that moved were his eyes. They jumped to Mariah. “That’s entirely up to you, but I can certainly recommend what you should focus on for now. Additionally, I can tell you what I know is happening around here.”

“So, what should we focus on?” Mariah asked.

“And what’s happening?” Langley said.

“I’ll give you the short answer. If I were you: Focus on learning your fraise since it has almost no development as of now.” Atlas said.

“How did it start developing at all? How did Myles and I have some of our prophecy functioning when we were in Pennsylvania? That isn’t normal.”

“You said you came here through a mirror?”

“Yeah…”

“Was this mirror in a mansion, a room with an odd feeling, at the bottom of a lake… or somewhere else it shouldn’t have been? And was it relatively nearby?”

“It was in a mansion; how did you know that?”

Atlas waved the question aside. “Doesn’t matter. Some mansions travel, usually with monsters in them. They’re both entities which help each other: The monsters navigate, the house moves, and the monsters eat as they move around. Usually they need something like a mirror within the mansion to travel. I knew you could travel directly through a mirror, but it’s beyond my skill set. Most jumpers can interact with silver, but because of my situation, I am unable to. If the mansion was nearby, the temporary bond with another world was close enough that it stimulated your prophetic fraise. I find that the prophetic fraisers have the most sensitive fraises and can notice change in their powers faster than any other fraiser type.”

Langley put a hand on his forehead. “This is so fucking wild. I was sleeping in my bed last night. In Pennsylvania. Now I’m on some Dungeons and Dragons quest and I’m about to get powers. And I’m in the future? Like 30 years?”

“Probably a shock to you, yes,” Atlas said.

“Are we going to be okay?” Mariah said.

“If you’re in my care, probably.”

“No, I mean, will we be okay?”

Atlas looked at her, reading what she meant. He peeked at what was on the front of her mind, what was being whispered around her brain. The current brain activity: Are our minds going to be able to handle this dramatic change? Will we be able to keep up? Will we go into some kind of extended shock? 

“Mariah, Langley, you’re both more resilient than you knew. Nearly fifty times more resilient. This might be a lot to take in, but I always find that a sleep after a jump is best. And to not do too much talking. Jumps are disorienting.”

“Well, then, thanks for putting us to sleep. What was that?” Mariah said.

“Prophet trick. I’m sure you’ll learn about it at some point.” Atlas rose to his feet and began sorting through some materials and supplies laid out on the table in an organized, but lazy display. Mariah spied the walkman among the supplies, she sighed. That was something familiar.

“You have a walkman,” She noted.

“The more analog you aim, the more reliable your equipment, 95% of the time,” Atlas said. “That walkman hasn’t been with me long, but it’s authentic. Straight from the 80s.”

“How can you tell it’s authentic?” Mariah said.

“Pick it up.” 

Mariah put the headphones around her neck first and picked it up. She opened the player and inspected the tape inside. It was an album called 1989 by someone named Taylor Swift. “I don’t know this album,” She said.

“Forget the cassette for now,” Atlas instructed. “Close the player and hold it. Tell me if you feel anything… and try your best to reach out with your mind. It won’t make sense what I’m saying or what you’re trying to do until you do it.”

Mariah was about to ask one of the several questions she had about ‘reaching out with her mind,’ but she stopped herself and instead focused on the walkman. Her thumb instinctively perused the buttons on the side. It looked like a standard walkman; from what Atlas said, she should be able to know somehow that it was authentic. Reach out with your mind. Reach out with your mind. She thought a few times. Reach out how? It was like she’d said a word too many times and it sounded ridiculous. There wasn’t a way to ‘reach out with your mind.’ She tried for another thirty seconds.

Mariah put it down. “I can’t reach out with my mind.” Speaking made the phrase sound even stranger.

“I would have been shocked if you had succeeded,” Atlas was still focused on the materials on the table. “I can’t determine how fast your fraise is developing, but I can sense it growing incrementally. Still not strong enough for you to use at will.” Then he looked at her. “You’re wondering why I asked you to try at all?”

“Yeah.” Mariah decided to stay straightfaced, though she wanted to ask how he knew. She knew how he knew. He was a damn prophet, just like she would be soon.

“Though it shouldn’t be possible for you to, there’s always a possibility. I always try just for the possibility. You’d be amazed at what I’ve seen people able to accomplish just because they never gave up on a small thing like that, or they tried against all odds.”

Mariah picked the walkman up again and studied it with that same mental studying she had been using. Even a spark of the fraise, a little whisper in the mind, was all she wanted. Atlas said there was a chance that her fraise would work even though everything indicated it wouldn’t work. After a minute of staring and nothing happening, she put it down again. “Rats.”

Atlas flipped a chair around and sat with his arms folded onto the backrest. He put his chin on his arms and let his eyes ease shut.

Mariah had hundreds of questions, but she started with, “What was that other prophecy trick you used to put us to sleep?”

“If you consciously put part of your body onto another’s brain, or somewhere close enough, you can do many things to that person’s mind. One of the easiest things to do is make them sleep since it’s something the brain naturally does. Another would be to help them remember something. The only issue with that one is the prophet helping them remember will see the same memory.”

“If it’s easy, could I learn that first?” Mariah asked.

“The easiest thing a prophet could do with their power is what you were just trying to do. Learn the history of an object.”

“But the history of an object… it’s all just atoms after all, isn’t it?”

Atlas’s chin was on his folded arms and he was opening and shutting his mouth, letting the top part of his head rise and fall. His teeth made little clopping sounds as they clipped together. “Nothing is ‘just atoms’. Objects can emit unique energies even if they’ve been melted down and recast from a million different plastics.”

“Wouldn’t the energy from those million plastics come from whatever you made?”

“Depends on how much of that was used. I like the example of C.S. Lewis’s wardrobe from The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe. It was built of wood, but of what wood? A magical wood from an apple tree planted in a different world. Was the whole wardrobe built of that wood? No, ma’am; there were screws, nails, pegs, and hinges. But prominently the wardrobe was built of that tree’s wood and it affected the wardrobe’s mechanics. Turned it into a bit of a portal, didn’t it?”

“I love the Narnia books! Did you read all of them?” Mariah pulled a seat from the table and laid her arms on the table, one on the other. 

“Back to front several times. You?” Atlas said. 

“All of them twice. There weren’t any other fantasy books in my house growing up.”

“Strict parents?”

Mariah scoffed and nodded. She’d give anything to be back there now. “We’re Christian.”

Atlas’s eyebrows bounced. “Is that right? What do you think of Christianity?”

“You need to do what God says, or it displeases God.”

“Hm,” Atlas said, ending that topic.

“What do you believe, Atlas?”

Atlas started tempering with the table spread again, rearranging several small coils and pieces of metal. “That is the kind of question that requires extensive knowledge about what I’ve gone through. In other words, I won’t be answering that.”

“Do you believe in God?”

Atlas’s answer was instant: “Without a doubt.” 

“Are you Christian?”

“Quorux.” 

“Pardon?”

“It means ‘I know the answer, but it would take so long to explain and I don’t want to provide an explanation right now.’”

Mariah nodded and looked down to the table. He sure was cranky.

“Have any plans for now?” Atlas asked Langley.

Langley shrugged. “I was hoping we could stay with you? We just want to find our friends and figure out how to get back to Winton.”

Atlas’s eyes seemed to sympathize. “You can do that for now.”

Mariah sensed there was more to that answer. “What do we do right now? What would make our fraises grow faster?”

Atlas tapped a black, zipped-up toiletries bag on the table. “This would do the trick. Psilocybin.”

“What’s that?” Langley walked up to it.

“A psychedelic.”

“…what’s that?” Langley said.

“Think magic mushrooms, 2CB, rubelite, LSD, mezwick… MDMA, DMT, ketamine… Do any of those mean anything to you?”

“Mushrooms… can’t you get addicted to those?” Mariah asked.

“If you can, call me an addict. My mom makes some great mushroom soup every year for thanksgiving,” Langley said.

“Psilocybin mushrooms are non-addictive, but the experiences you can have from them are irreversible. There is such a thing as a bad trip, but that ordinarily only happens without the proper mindset. And my belief is that’s what the user needed anyway.”

“That’s a bag of drugs?” Langley said. “Super illegal, huh?”

“Not as much in the future, especially where apocalypses happened. Marijuana became legalized around 2012 in most worlds, far before any world’s Catastrophe. The rest of the drugs, most of them psychedelics, became legal either just before or shortly after.

“My plan was to administer some of these to Myles if he came late so his fraise would be ready for the plan to be executed. And right now, he’s late. I was supposed to at least see him before a specific date, but I haven’t seen him yet. But I do have you, Mariah, and you may also know how to navigate a mirror, but we won’t know unless you take some of this. Will either of you?”

“Don’t they fry your brain?” Mariah said.

“No. Who told you that?”

“Everyone,” Langley chimed in.

“Do you think they’ve done any psychedelics or any other kind of drug? Excluding hard drugs?”

“Maybe?”

“I can assure you, they probably didn’t. Nixon largely demonized psychedelics because humanity started realizing a large government is both doomed to fail and doomed to corrupt. People started being less selfish and disrupting major businesses such as pharmaceuticals and therapeutic sessions. Those who did psychedelics became harder to control because their minds were stronger and their thinking clearer. Isn’t it shocking that those who have the least experience with the drugs seem to know the most about them? Charles Schulz would call that type of person an ‘unmarried marriage counselor’.”

“Is that one of your friends?”

Atlas smiled. “I wish. He wrote the Peanuts comics. You should know that comic?”

“Oh, my dad works for a newspaper. He told us around the dinner table once that Charles Schulz died earlier this year. Or… whatever… the year 2000,” Langley said. “He knows a lot about what was happening. We used to read the Snoopy comics all the time in the comics-section of the newspapers my dad would bring home. But only the Sunday ones had any good comics, unless you followed along day-by-day. They didn’t have Peanuts in the Winton Daily. Only the Sunday ones.”

“Why do you wear such a baggy hoodie, Langley?” Atlas asked.

Langley adjusted his hood, straightened the drawstrings so they were even, and squared his shoulders, smiling. “It’s just sick, man. It’s a sweet hoodie.”

“I agree. I was wondering if there was any history behind it?”

“Can’t you sense that if there were?”

“Maybe if I touched it. If I’m not touching it, I’d have to work to know those facts.”

“Oh. Nah, no special history. I found it in a thrift store and just walked out with it. Then my mom found out in the car and we turned back and bought it. I got in trouble for that and had to pay for it myself because I didn’t want to give it back,” Langley said.

“Any story behind your jacket, Atlas?” Mariah said.

“Quorux.”

“Why oh you are em oh em,” Langley said.

Mariah spelled the letters Langley had said. “Wow.”

“Can’t get her off my mind after last night,” The words fell out of Langley’s mouth like water.

A silence seeped into the surrounding air as Atlas smiled again and said, “What is stopping you from taking these other than what you’ve previously been told? Have you seen the side-effects you’ve been told about firsthand?”

Mariah shook her head and Langley said, “Don’t they turn you into a hippie?”

“Let me put it this way,” Atlas said, “I’ve done psychedelics dozens of times and have been told I know my way around these tools. That’s what they are ultimately, Langley and Mariah. They’re tools to help you understand the universe, understand God, understand it all. And many people don’t need them to become enlightened, to overcome trauma, to break habits, or understand love and society, but, without question, they help.”

“I just still don’t think it’s a good idea,” Mariah said.

Atlas huffed out a breath of air. “I know what you’re thinking right now, and what you’re thinking isn’t seeking the truth. Your decision is still only based on fear which is an emotional decision, not a logical one.”

“You’re saying taking drugs is the right decision?” Mariah folded her arms.

Atlas said, “I’m saying using psychedelics will help you; they won’t harm you, especially with the small dose you would be taking, I’d be shocked if you had any visuals.”

“Why not just slip some into our water or something?” Langley said. “That’s what I would do.”

“It’s important that you accept the drug. The set and the setting are instrumental to getting the most out of the experience. You shouldn’t be fighting the drug, you should be walking with it, looking at where it is pointing, and learning from it. Think of it like an excellent conversation with the part of you that is God.”

“Atlas, we are not God,” Mariah frowned.

“No. God is omnipresent, omnipotent, and perfectly loving. There is good in us that God put there which dwells in us and that is the part of us that is God,” Atlas said.

“This is just fucking nuts to me,” Langley said.

“If I asked you right now, ‘will you take psychedelics?’ what is your answer: Yes or no?”

Mariah stayed quiet, clawing into every recess of her mind for a reason to refuse; all she could hear were her parents’ advice to never accept this kind of offer from a stranger, but a deeper, older part of her resounded. It was a voice she was unfamiliar with: Her own voice. And it was saying you aren’t comprised of your parents’ wishes and are not alive to please them. You’re here to please God. What is God wanting you to do right now?

“I trust you Atlas,” Mariah said at first. Then she seemed to fall back into thought. Mariah, have you considered the possibility that you were fed underdeveloped information about drugs? What if this is a good thing being suppressed because it shows great truth and fools simply can’t handle it? So they bury it as best they can?

She found herself saying with little doubt: “Yes.” After saying this one word, she felt a weight fall away from her. Part of that weight was fear; she started wondering if the rest of what she knew was fact or was simply what she was told. She felt a drive for the first time in her life. It was a drive to question everything that she was told. I’m actually… excited to find what I can learn from this!

Atlas’s face didn’t change as he and Mariah turned and looked at Langley.

Langley shrugged. “Why the hell wouldn’t I trust the instinct of two prophets? You promise this is safe?”

“As safe as going for a drive in a car.”

“Last time Mariah was in a car, it wasn’t that safe; they used it to ram a novis.”

“You did what?” For the first time, Atlas looked surprised. “You rammed a novis with a car?”

“Well, Blink Mayer did. Pretty, Mariah, and Marshall were with him. We’re pretty sure we broke one of its legs.”

“Incredible,” Atlas whispered. “I think I need to hear the entire story from the top. Any story with novis and survivors is remarkable.”

“QUORUX,” Langley mocked and Atlas shook his head with a smile. “I still feel like we’re way behind on what is supposed to happen. What schedule are you sticking to and what don’t we know that we should probably know?”

Atlas said, “Stablefield and the Ledge are two things you should see before the exchange. Stablefield is dangerous, but we could see the Ledge whenever we want.” 

“What are either of those things?”

“One is the cliff which drops into the planet’s endless ocean below. The other is the largest city on the Hook where the most trades happen, however most of it is controlled by the Cavaliers. Do you know who the Cavaliers are at least?”

The Astronomers shook their heads.

“Heavens, so much to catch you up to,” Atlas muttered before saying: “The Cavaliers are a gang of fraiser-hunters who usually capture you alive so they can sell you either as slaves, though your life won’t be too bad, or to collectors. I think we should see the Ledge.”

“Wait, what are collectors?”

“Usually monster collectors. They feed you to them. Fraisers are worth good money and if you’re smart, raiding villages is an excellent way to gather them. Which is what the Cavaliers mainly do. They raid, some factions actually devote whole facilities to women to breed fraisers and treat both mother and child as best they can. It backfires greatly on them since the mothers often become so attached to their child, they run off together.”

“Fuck.” Langley’s eyes swelled with fear. “Why…” He wanted to ask so many questions that began with the word ‘why,’ but they all crowded his mouth at once and none of them made it out. 

Mariah looked at Langley. He could see in her eyes that she didn’t feel so safe with Atlas anymore and neither did he. 

“You’re thinking I may be a threat as well,” Atlas said. “And that’s wise; you don’t know me. You catch on quickly which will only help. I personally dislike the Cavaliers. I had a wonderful childhood and wish the same upon every child. But I can’t bend over backwards for every pair of children I come across and give them some of my psychedelics.”

“Atlas, why did you come here in the first place? What’s your motive?” Mariah said.

Atlas smiled. “Now you’re asking the interesting questions. The non-quorux answer is: I’m here to save a fraiser by the name of Coh.”

“Friend of yours?”

“Child of a friend of mine. He’s doing me a favor and in return, I’m rescuing his kid. Ideally, I could use the help of you two and Myles.”

“Hell, why not all of the Astronomers?” Langley said.

“The Astronomers?” Atlas cocked his head.

“There are six of us. Pretty, Marshall, and Blink can help you rescue Coh too. Where is he?”

“There’s an open market in Stablefield that is happening soon. I hear the Shepherd, a collector, is to be docked nearby. I’m not worried about how we will break him out of captivity, I’m worried about how we will get away. It’s likely we will have to fight our way out.”

“Once Mariah and I are practiced up in whatever fraises we are, we will be able to help out a lot more.”

“And what other fraiser types are there, Atlas?” Mariah asked.

“I hope you don’t mind the short answer, because I don’t want to give the long one,” Atlas said.

“We’ll take what we can get.”

“There are minders, hushes, prophets, and hangers…”