Crow Of Thorns

by Richard Mosses

  I quite quickly settle into a fast rhythm of movement and sound. The booming echoes off the walls and resonates in my trunk and my head. I increase the speed and then I'm in the Otherworld. Are the Lower and Upper Worlds also affected by these areas of webbing? There's only one way to find out. I climb up out of the station, grateful for the early morning sun starting to creep into the sky, and head towards the Tree.

  It smells strange. Normally the Tree is an area of sickly sweetness, all the flowers blooming. Instead it's more like ozone with a touch of petrol, the scent of fresh plastic.

  The tree looks grey. Like it's been petrified. As I get closer it seems less like a fossil and more like it is made from crystal silicon.

  Where the variety of human breasts oozed milk, the lower part of this Tree is a mass of data ports. Sockets and slots of all types from large tape drives to Thunderbolt ports and plenty, probably obsolete, that I don't recognise. All of them are emitting streams of data; geometric shapes and beams of light passing out of sight. Nearer to the Tree I can make out pulses beneath the bark conveying information down into the ground and up into the sky.

  Walking round the outside of the Tree, there's no pool of human fluid. No vulval passageway to an animal world. But there is a round glass plate on the ground, with a series of concentric blue rings getting closer together as they approach the middle. It looks familiar and is large enough for one person to comfortably stand on. I've seen enough TV to know the score. Without hesitating I stand on the glass. One to beam up.

  There is an increase in white light and then it fades in a shower of silver. I feel like I'm crumbling into dust, and then this feeling runs backwards.

  I expected to appear on the deck of the mother ship. Instead I'm somewhere far more abstract. It reminds me of both the stark emptiness of the Upper World and the riot of life in the Lower World.

  Objects of different sides and colours pulse like jellyfish, moving slowly through the air. Smaller, more nimble sparks of light, or simple shapes, dart around, moving amongst the slower polygons like bees amongst flowers. Beams of light rush past.

  Amongst the clouds of colour and polygons are tall, organic-looking structures which continually morph into complex geometries. It's like they are physical abaci that change form as they compute. Hidden beneath the structures are presences I can barely discern, shadowy and sinister. Almost everything is filled with energy which either radiates out or pulses beneath the surface – these things which are cold and dark.

  The landscape is metallic, copper, silver, gold, titanium and steel. Crystalline clusters emerge from the ground like bushes and trees, but they are rare.

  What sort of place is this? It must be completely different to those that Corbie has shown me. I feel that this is a technological space, but there are no obvious circuits or wires. There seems to be computation, mathematics, going on here. But is it as simple as that? Some of this must be related to the Upper World's abstractions and ideas. Is this a world of information and communication, or rather its spiritual equivalent? Would that make this is a world of subtext, of implication, of back-channel data transmission? An Exformatic World.

  How long has it been here? It could have come about as soon as we started drawing things and speaking, but it would have been small, barely noticeable, and it would have grown as our means and methods of interacting through symbols and codes proliferated.

  Is it all mine? Surely I can't be the first to find this place? If I am this is like finding oil or vast reserves of gold. Not that I know how to interact with the spirits here. Not yet.

  I barely know what I'm doing in the rest of the Other World. Here I could be Captain Cook exploring new territory – territory that will keep growing and expanding. Hopefully with less fatal disputes with the natives.

  Looking at the furious exchanges going on, and the predators lurking in the wilderness, I am truly in awe, and completely terrified.

  I turn to go and a mothership appears after all. A massive flying saucer arrayed with bright lights comes down out of the solid blue sky. True to the stereotype I am enveloped in a beam of white light. I don't know if I'm scanned and studied. I'm certainly not staying around to get probed.

  As I've been taught to do, I think myself back along the route I took. But I stay stuck where I am. I start to walk back the short distance to where I teleported in and either the UFO stays over me as I walk or I'm just moving but not travelling. While this is slightly better than being held down on a slab amongst a sea of fire and having my limbs torn off, my heart rates rises and I start to feel the familiar panic within me.

  The beam switches off and the saucer moves away. It extends legs and lands in a large space amongst the computating fronds. I'm free to move again.

  In a hurry I try to find a plate to beam back to the Other World. I can't see one. There just isn't one here. How am I supposed to return?

  In the side of the UFO a door irises open. Three figures emerge from the saucer. They are about half my size, bipedal and come towards me.

  I think about running away, but I have nowhere to run to on this infinite plane. Their ship could catch me again with ease. Looking about for a weapon, I find that all I have are the spanners and wrenches tied to my car coat. There are no rocks or branches on the floor. Acting like a threat is probably a stupid idea, but it's good to know I have something to hand.

  The figures may be wearing suits. As they approach there is a shimmer around them that is hard for my eyes to focus on. They seem to sparkle too, like they're wearing diamonds on the surface of their clothing.

  I can make out more clearly their heads and arms. The shimmer and sparkle are because their bodies keep changing, like they are made from fractals – Mandelbrot sets that are zooming in on deeper levels of identical detail. It makes me dizzy and nauseous to look, yet I'm also drawn in to the hypnotic effect. Their heads are more constant, but they too are three dimensional fractal objects which continually reveal their detail. They simply change at a slower rate.

  The closest one's head resembles a rose or chrysanthemum and appears to constantly unfold its petals. It is strangely erotic and raises the expectation that something will be eventually revealed, but it never does.

  The one on my left looks architectural. It's head is like a labyrinth inscribed into the side of the Grand Canyon and an ever deeper more complicated arrangement of pathways are shown to me.

  The entity on the right resembles bone being wind-eroded into weaponry. An array of long savage thin edges display intricately detailed long serrations which are in turn serrated. I feel like I'm bleeding just by looking at it.

  Opening Flower steps closer. “Hello. We are interested to meet you.” Its voice is similar to the neutral female voice my phone uses.

  “Hi. I'm interested to meet you too.” I look out the corner of my eyes to see if I can spot the beam plate back to the Other World.

  “May we ask your purpose in being here?” Opening Flower says.

  Looks like I've been caught in a stop and search. What is the nature of your business here? Could you turn out your pockets for us? Handy how we're all speaking the same language. “I'm just exploring. I'm a shaman, spirit worker, whatever you want to call it.”

  “It is unexpected to meet an organic originating being here.” Opening Flower sounds genuinely perplexed rather than finding a bloke in the changing room offended.

  “I'm a bit lost to be honest.”

  “Perhaps we can help transport you home?” Eroding Blade's voice is dry and masculine like sand rasping on stone.

  We suggest you go home. Please just get into the car. “If you could just show me the way, I'm happy to find my own way back.”

  “That would be no way to help a lost stranger.” Amazing Mesa also sounds masculine but like wind whipping cables in a gale.

  How do I get out of this trap? If I refuse their hospitality I could insult them, also I have no other means to get home. They've said nothing hostile, yet I'm finding their mann
er intimidating.

  “We have not met an organic being here before,” Opening Flower says. She is studying me intensely. I get that eerie feeling on the back of my neck.

  “I didn't mean to intrude into your space. I was just exploring.”

  Opening Flower giggles, dissipating some of the tension. “We do not own this place. We genuinely wish to help. Perhaps we can show you more?”

  “Indeed.” Eroding Blade beckons and turns to go. “Come with us, please?”

  I nod and follow, but keep on my guard. Perhaps they're friendly after all. Then again there's three of them and one of me and I'm lost and trapped. Do I really have a choice?

  The surface of their craft shimmers and reflects everything around it. If the ramp was withdrawn and the lights turned off it would look like a heat haze. Walking up the ramp, Amazing Mesa behind me, I nearly change my mind and make a run for it, but I control myself.

  “Have you been in a craft like this?” says Amazing Mesa.

  Can he sense my fear and reluctance? “No. I went to Kennedy Space Centre once on holiday.”

  “What is there?”

  “Space craft. Large vessels for leaving my planet and going into the vacuum around it. Nothing like this.”

  I step inside the craft. It is made of a material that looks like flowing mercury. Light emanates from it to help us see our way but I can't see any direct sources like LEDs. Down a narrow corridor we walk single file towards the centre of the craft. In the middle are four chairs, like those a dentist would use. Opening Flower gestures to one and I sit down carefully before leaning back. I expect restraints to sprout out at any moment followed by an intense experience with sharp lances.

  “Are you alright?” Opening Flower again gives me the feeling of intense scrutiny. Without eyes or a face I only have my gut instinct to go on.

  “I'm not a good flyer.”

  “We are sure you will be fine.” Was that a smile deep inside the unfolding petals?

  The others lie down on their chairs and there is the smooth sense of extra weight being added, like going up in a lift. Around us appears a 360 degree view of the world outside. At first this makes me dizzy, like being in an IMAX cinema film of a rollercoaster, but I look away for a moment and it passes. So long as the craft moves smoothly or not too fast I'll be alright. I wouldn't be a good guest if I threw up, although I'm sure some kind of robot would appear promptly to clean it up.

  We fly through this technological spirit world and I quickly realise that I had arrived in the desert. The craft goes past great buildings, alive and alight, made of metallic and crystalline parts yet moving with an organic grace. These become more frequent as we enter an area that must be a city. Amongst the buildings fly craft, none of them like this one, and on the ground beings too small to identify go about their business.

  “You are not from here either,” I say out loud.

  “That is correct,” Eroding Blade says. “We have our own world. We came here looking for answers. We found you.”

  “What was the question?”

  “Our question is somewhat delicate,” Amazing Mesa says. “We would not wish to give offence.”

  “I have thick skin.” There is a long pause. Maybe whatever it is that translates for us is working hard. “I'm not easily offended,” I say, but I still sense tension, hesitation.

  “We do not believe that animals, organics, possess any higher functions like we do,” Amazing Mesa says.

  Animals? Organics? Either these guys are not made from carbon, or they mean that they're more like computers. “I don't represent all organic forms, but I am talking to you now. I'm skilled in mathematics and its use in programming computers. What sort of higher functions were you thinking of?” Maybe I'm a little annoyed after all.

  “Do you have a soul?”

  Ah. I understand now. I laugh. This is ridiculous – machines are asking me if I have a soul. “I believe so. Many intelligent people in my world think that there is no such thing as a soul, that our thoughts are just complex biochemical reactions. They point to inorganic things, mere machines, computers running software, and say we are like them, just made from meat.”

  Opening Flower giggles again. “We deserved that.”

  “I've always thought that was too simple an explanation,” I say.

  The craft takes us over something that resembles a cathedral made of light. The detail is astonishing and I wonder of it is truly made from trapped photons or if it is a clever illusion.

  “You know, you're in the wrong place, if you're looking to see if organics have souls. In the spiritual worlds I've seen so far, everything organic has a spiritual essence. If you can really take me home then you will see far more that you want there.”

  The craft veers away from the city of technology and light and vibrates. The scene outside shimmers and fades, before being replaced with the Tree of Life, albeit the one with the metallic skin and the data ports in its bark.

  The three beings speak in a low murmur. I can't quite make out what they're saying.

  The craft hovers near the Tree and there is a slight jolt as we land. I get off my couch and am ready to leave before someone finds the probe collection.

  “We are grateful for you bringing us here,” Eroding Blade says. He directs me back down the narrow corridor to the ramp. “It would not have been possible to find it without you.”

  They follow me down the ramp. I am glad to be on grass again. The sun is past noon, which means I have been in this trance a long time. What has happened to my body? I'm barely over pneumonia without getting hypothermia too.

  Suddenly I feel like a host wanting his last guests to leave so he can tidy up and go to bed. I don't want to leave these people here by themselves – on some level they are inside my imagination – but I need to wake up. “Perhaps next time I can show you around properly?”

  “Yes, we would like that,” Amazing Mesa says. He reaches into his suit and pulls out a flat crystal, about the size of a fifty pence piece. “Use this to contact us and we can find you.”

  I watch as they walk back into their craft and after a few minutes it fades from sight.

  Above me is taut plastic, not curved brick. I am under my sleeping bag. Someone has moved me into my tent.

  My hands are tingling and cold. There is a numb and yet sharp pain at the tips of my fingers. They feel itchy too. I think I have a touch of frostbite.

  Someone moved me back here, and not too late either. Could it be Janice? I'm hungry and have a deep need to urinate. I put on another jumper and some gloves and leave the tent. There are even drag marks in the snow outside the tunnel. Beside the tent there is a deep snoring noise. Stevie's in his sleeping bag packed in with newspaper.

  I trudge through the deepening snow between the tents. It hits me like a sledgehammer and I almost fall on my knees. I've shown alien intelligence how to find Earth.

  Chapter 14

  Stevie is sitting on cardboard looking out at the falling snow when I get back to the tunnel after work and shake off the small mounds that have formed on my shoulders.

  “Thank you for putting me in my tent yesterday.”

  “It's in my spot, you know.”

  “So you say. I'm not moving it though.”

  “My stuff is still here.”

  I can't go through this every conversation. “Stevie, listen. I have something I need to tell you.” I look in his eyes and the trapped intelligence peers out at me. “I think you have a tumour in your brain.” His eyes widen. He nods slightly. “Is there anything you can tell me about this? I'm going to try and help you. I stole your spot so we could work on curing this together.”

  “It's my spot.”

  I change into my shaman suit and enter the Upper World. It's as empty and spacious as I remember it. Birds fly high and the clouds are cool even under the sun's warmth.

  The bird headed man is waiting for me beside a pillar outside the Temple of Asclepius. If I'm late, or he's been waiting long, he g
ives no sign.

  “How are you, Nik?” Djuha says.

  “I'm okay. Yourself?”

  “I am fine. I think I have found someone who can help. They understand the brain and know some surgical techniques.”

  “Great. Thank you very much.” I hope I can learn these things but surgeons dedicate their life to their discipline and I've been at this five minutes. “Where do we find them?”

  “She's a colleague of mine and she's waiting inside.” Djuha leads me towards a doorway in the marble wall of the temple.

  Inside I'm surprised how light it is. Windows high up on the walls let the golden sun in, but there are still patches of gloom. Djuha takes me along a corridor and into a large room with rows of marble slabs along each side – part hospital ward and part mortuary. A slender woman, naked to the waist, has her back to us. She is wearing a similar white skirt to Djuha. When she turns around, a shaft of sunlight highlights her bared breasts and the head of a black jackal with tall pointed ears. She's a female version of the Egyptian god Anubis.

  “This is Anput,” Djuha says. “She has some experience of examining the brain.”

  “Hopefully not by pulling it out through the nose. Pleased to meet you. I'm Nik.”

  “Usually I just crack the skull open and scoop it out,” Anput says, taking my hand in both of hers.

  “Thanks for agreeing to meet me, maybe teach me.”

  “Tumours are not usually something we can fix,” Anput says. “Even if you take out the core there is a good chance that some of the surrounding area will turn bad before long. You need to treat that too.”

  “With herbs or something like that.”

  “Modern medicine would use chemotherapy. Alternatively beams of energy, gamma rays or X-rays could be used.”