Crow Of Thorns

by Richard Mosses

  “It's that Hippy shit that gives the New Age movement its new recruits and a bad name. All this yearning for some mythical golden age of peace and harmony while sticking your heads in the sand and denying what's actually in front of you.

  “The spirit world reflects the Living World you told me. That's why sooner or later there'll be a revolution. You were right, but the revolution is not that socialism will free the spirits from slavery, but that we recognise the Tree of Knowledge as well as the Tree of Life.”

  Corbie drops his shoulders. “It's just too much for me.”

  “You want to see just how deep the rabbit hole goes?”

  “I don't think I can handle it.”

  “I thought you wanted the bloody doors blown off your mind?”

  “Fuck, man,” Corbie says. “That was when I was alive and young and foolish.”

  “None of us are getting any younger. Adapt or die.”

  He seems to perk up. “Fuck it. Let's go.”

  We walk over to the round plate, the circles of light begin to pulse and we beam to another world. Mind, spirit. I don't think it matters.

  This other place has transformed since I was last here. The plant-like structures appear to have linked together and become buildings. Large cubes of black glass with that inner pulse. Christmas trees petrified in obsidian. More of these plants now appear throughout the desert, growing, changing, morphing as though they were living calculators. The morning light makes them all cast long shadows on the sandy ground.

  Is each grain internally a nanoscopic processor? Sand already formed to be the building blocks of information pathways.

  “What do you think?” I say.

  Corbie jumps from my shoulder, flaps and glides round in a wide circle. “This isn't bringin the walls down, but it's a full-scale siege.”

  “Shall I call the aliens?”

  “Okay.” He doesn't sound too sure.

  I root around in my pocket and I'm pleased to find the smooth pebble. I don't know what else to do with it, so I just hold it in my hand and think of a Hello message.

  Time moves in odd ways in the spirit world, but it feels like a long time passes. From the dark spaces behind the obsidian blocks I feel attention.

  “I guess they're not comin. Let's go,” Corbie says.

  “You know as soon as you say that they'll appear. It's like making tea when you're waiting for someone. Soon as the kettle boils, they turn up.” I had counted on them answering their own device. I didn't find the way back last time. We wait some more, until even I give up. I look over the pebble to see if there are any designs on it or an indication a signal has been sent. Nothing. “Okay. Let's go. I don't know what's lurking out there, but I think it wants to try us for lunch. Thing is I don't know how to get back.”

  “What do you mean you don't know how to get back?”

  “I didn't find the beam point last time,” I say. “The aliens took me home. I did tell you this.”

  “You haven't figured out where it is then?”

  “Why don't you try getting a bird's eye view? See what you can find while dodging the light beams. I'll see if the plate is covered with sand or something.”

  Perhaps there's a call box round here and the pebble is a coin. I walk over to the nearest obsidian cube and move the pebble close to the surface. A number of pinpoints of colour shine deep in the lustre of the pebble. The cube surface echoes with some lights of its own, but both items go dark again.

  I try to pinpoint the exact spot where we landed. Having not gone far the impressions of my footsteps are clear in the sand, even if they have collapsed into shapeless shallow hollows. I brush some sand to one side, and then move more using my hands as shovels. Down and down I dig, but there's no sign of another beam plate. Maybe there just isn't one.

  Corbie swoops down from on high. “Dig up anythin?”

  “No. See anything?”

  “Nada. We're in deep shit aren't we?”

  “We need to find a way back. There can't be only one way to go and then you're stuck.”

  “You can try wakin up in the Living World. It's a long shot. Could be harmful too. Might leave shards behind you have to come back for.”

  “Sounds like an option when we've done everything else. I'll try imagining myself back through the beam and home.” I don't move. “This is stupid. Why build a door that only goes one way?”

  “To selectively remove the gullible and stupid.”

  “That includes you too, you know.”

  “Don't I just?”

  “Ahh. If this is going to work anywhere – Computer, locate the nearest door back to the Tree of Knowledge.” A window opens in front of me. There's nothing there. It has a frame but is otherwise empty. Shit. Why even open at all? Then a beacon appears in the top-down map. A large arrow points the way across the landscape.

  Following the route amongst abacus fronds and black glass cubes, I'm knocked to the ground. A large weight rests on me. I feel light headed and sleepy. It's warm and comfortable and I'm wrapped in a soft duvet. In my day dream there's the image of teeth, of a creature in the jungle, hunting. I need to push this weight off. It feels like someone put a dead giant on top of me. I can't move and I'm getting tired. I bend one leg and lever myself over. I'm on top of a heavy object, but I'm still wrapped in the duvet. I try to stand but my limbs are held together. I wake up. This is not a duvet. Something like a furry octopus with a wolf's head is under me, its arms around me. I yell out in shock and revulsion.

  It throws me over its head. I land on the sand. I pick up a handful of the stuff to throw in its face. The sand becomes ordered in my fist. It forms a bar like a roll of pennies. I imagine it like the handle on a sword and a familiar beam of light emerges from the top end. I swing it down on to the limbs of the octo-wolf and the beam slices through. The thing roars in pain and I feel it loosen its grip. I swipe at it again as it tries to knock the hilt from my hand. Again the light cuts through. It lets go and scrambles off on its remaining limbs into the dark places. If it makes a sound, I can't hear it.

  I stand up and brush myself down. Small silvered grains fall back to join the others on the ground. A bird stands in front of me, except it isn't a real bird, it's like it's made from black barbed-wire or something. A pointy mesh surface of a bird. I don't know where I am either. It looks like I wandered onto the set of an episode of Star Trek. I expect a green lizard man, or one of those pointy-eared guys with pointy eyebrows to appear. I know I should know the name, but it's just…gone. Why am I here? This must be some kind of dream.

  “How you doin? That looked…,” the bird says.

  A talking bird sculpture with an American accent. This really must be a dream. “I'm okay, thanks. How are you?” I decide to play along.

  “You don't sound okay,” it says.

  “Really? How should I sound then?” I say.

  “Well, more like you. Crazy with a side of sarcasm.”

  “That sounds more like you.” Perhaps I can figure out his name without asking.

  “I've just picked it up from the master.”

  Does he mean me, or someone else? “Where are we, again?”

  “I thought you knew,” the bird says. “I followed you here, remember.” It cocks its head to one side and looks at me closely with one beady eye.

  I know where I am alright. Dad was right. Oh God, please don't let him be right. I'm in some institution. I've really cracked properly. This is all in my head.

  What do I remember? I'm Nikolai Munro. I work in the IT department of a bank. If we use department and bank very loosely. I'm married with two kids. Kathryn is my wife. Lucas is my son. I don't know my daughter's name. I can't even remember her face. Do I really have a daughter? If that's not true, what about my wife, my son? I don't think I can bear that. I'm sure it's true. How can it not be? Yet I remember having sex with a nature goddess. Was that really me, a dream, a fantasy, a delusion, a film I saw once? What was her name? I remember Egyptian gods and being tortu
red in caverns of fire. A vast concentration camp of the dead. Tents. I live in a tent. I had pneumonia. Rachael saved me. Sam. My daughter is Samantha. They're Romulans. The bird is Corbie. I'm a shaman. I live in a tunnel in a tent in a garden in Glasgow.

  Shit. That was scary. My heart is beating overtime. My forehead is wet with sweat. “Pi is three point one four one five nine.”

  “Pie is à la mode.”

  “Why can't you just say with ice-cream?”

  “Ah, my contrary boy is back,” Corbie says. “Thought I'd lost you there.”

  “I know I'd lost you. Couldn't remember much at all. That thing was eating my memories.” I slump against a nearby cube. My legs feel weak and rubbery. I feel shaky and hollow, like I need to eat. My breathing is still fast, but my heart is slowing.

  “All the more reason to get out of here then and not come back. Where was that beam plate you found?”

  “It was over there somewhere. But I think I have a better solution.” It is still a few more minutes before I feel I can begin. I build a low mound of silvery sand and touching the edge I will it to form a beaming point. The sand remains lifeless and inert. What the hell is it with this place? Nothing works like you think it should. Did I just imagine the light sword? Or was it the stress?

  “Better hurry, Man. Something big is coming. I think that thing is bringing its dad.”

  I glance up and see a large shadow moving. I'm not going through that again and I have no strength left to fight another one. Placing my hands on both sides of the sand mound, I try again to will it to form a beam plate. There's a ripple across the surface. Then, like a drum skin with dust on it, struck the right way, the surface turns into a series of concentric rings. The silicon starts to fuse together when I'm drowned in light. I can't see anything but white.

  I look up, but can't see anything outside this spotlight. Then the light switches off and I'm left with an afterimage blinding me further. I'd run, but I'd probably break a leg running into something. When my sight returns I see a strange jellyfish shaped craft hovering overhead.

  “I think this is our lift,” I say.

  “Better late than never,” Corbie says.

  I'm actually disappointed I didn't get to see if my beam plate would work. I disperse the mound with my foot.

  The craft lowers a ramp and Opening Flower is waiting for us. I lead the way and Corbie lands on my shoulder.

  “We are pleased to meet you again.” Opening Flower indicates the way deeper into the craft. “It took us some time to come back when we received your signal.”

  “I didn't mean to take you away from your business.” I don't know why I thought they would turn up quickly.

  “We were not busy. We are happy to find time to share experiences with you.”

  We are led into the central console area. Amazing Mesa and Eroding Blade are still lying on the couches. They look like they're waiting for the dentist to see them. “What sort of medical facilities do you have on this ship?” I say. Perhaps they can help me with Stevie. Aliens always have advanced magical medical abilities in the movies after all.

  “Are you hurt?” It feels like Opening Flower is studying me intently.

  “Not really. I was attacked by some kind of eight legged wolf thing but I think I got my memories back.”

  “Let us check.” Before I can explain fully what my reasons for asking were, Opening Flower has pushed me against a wall and I feel a weird tingling sensation which turns into that creepy back of the neck feeling. “There is a small chance you have lost some memories permanently. It does not look like they will be important. Small details, one or two early ones.”

  “I have a person, a patient, who is sick, in my Living World. I didn't know if you could help me heal him. He has a brain tumour.”

  Eroding Blade joins us as though he'd only just noticed we'd arrived. “Our system can cure most ailments in our bodies. But we are not made from carbon-based molecules. We could do a scan and try to determine poor material from functional. It will take a while to determine the differences and the procedure will not be without risk.”

  “That's a risk we'd be willing to take.” I've not asked Stevie but I know what his eyes were telling me. “What can I do to return the favour?”

  “We would not expect anything in return. The procedure itself will help us learn much about organic life with souls.”

  “I really appreciate your help. I still feel I owe you a favour.”

  “Man, are you sure?” Corbies whisper is rough in my ear. “They could learn to build weapons to wipe us out.”

  I turn away and pretend to look at the wall I was pushed against. “They already have a flying space craft that moves between worlds,” I say. “Besides, they just scanned me. They already know everything they need to break our meat sacks into basic atoms.”

  “Good points well made.”

  “How will we do this? Can I bring my patient to you or can you come into the Living World?”

  “That is an interesting question,” Amazing Mesa says, joining the conversation from his couch. “It is possible we can scan without entering your physical space. To us there is no difference between them, so we should be able to appear there. Give this patient your token when you return and we should be able to find him. We will scan him and then try to enter your physical space when the calculations are complete.”

  Once again we are left beside the Tree of Knowledge and I leave the trance feeling like a wreck. My muscles all feel cramped. I feel old and emotional.

  Shit.

  I forgot to sort out Brutus.

  I hobble up the rusted steps and over to Janice's tent. Brutus darts past me and I have a mess to clean up. So wrapped up in my own crap I forgot to help the dog. He comes back when I get the food ready which is a small blessing. Only one more day to go and I feel like I've really screwed up. Picking up dogs turds is easy. Getting the stain and smell out of the tent is going to be impossible. It stinks of dog anyway but this is off the scale. Not quite a dead Albert but pretty bad. Walking Brutus back to my camp, I get some cleaning cloths and some soap. He starts barking when Stevie appears out of the gloom of the tunnel.

  “I told you no dogs near my stuff.”

  “It's alright, Stevie. He'll be gone in a minute,” I say. “Here, take this. Keep it on you for the next few days. It'll help with the problem you asked me to fix.”

  Stevie looks at the small flat stone, turning it over in his hand. He sniffs it. I hope it doesn't smell of dog shit. He hides it amongst his layers of clothes and nods at me. “Get that dog out of here.”

  I clean up the mess as best I can and swear to never let this happen again.

  “Aye it's a real bitch isn't it?”

  I turn to see a spry man with a shaggy beard watching me. “What's that?” He's like a garden gnome come to life. Could he be a gnome? Stranger stuff has happened to me lately.

  “Looking after another's animals, so,” he says.

  “Yeah. Wish I hadn't agreed to it.”

  “I'm Joe Graham. I live just opposite, so.”

  “Pleased to meet you Joe. I'm Nik. I used to be up at the end there. Now I'm in the tunnel. I'd shake your hand but I'd rather clean it first.”

  “Ah, yes. You got sick, didn't you? Got taken away. Glad to see you're better. That spot was a wee bit exposed, so.”

  “Thank you. I better go wash up. Good to meet you.”

  “Sure,” Joe says. “What are you doing with yourself, so?”

  “I'm training to be a shaman and doing IT services. What about you?”

  “A shaman? That explains the drumming. I didn't realise anyone was still doing that. I may have need of your services, so.”

  “You need me to look at your laptop?” That's usually the first thing anyone wants you to do. “Have you tried turning it off and on again?”

  “Oh, yes. Very funny, Nik. No. It's handy you being a shaman and all. I need help with spirits,” Joe says. “Looks like you're the man for me. Wh
at were the chances of that, so?”

  “Well, I…” I don't know what to say. What are the chances of that? “Is it urgent? I could come by after I feed the dog tomorrow.”

  “No. Not so urgent. Why don't we talk when you're free of looking after Janice's things, so?”

  “Okay. I'll speak to you on Thursday.”

  “A good evening to you, Nik.”

  “And you, Joe.” I still don't know where he came from. I clean my hands in the freezing water of the toilet block and I still need to eat. I don't think I have the strength to go see Midori.

  Chapter 18

  In the evening I'm just too tired to think about shamanising after I've walked Brutus. My body is sore, my muscles ache and I'm just so, so tired. I get something to eat and sit in my tent idly surfing the web. The weather outlook is not good. Looks like it'll go below minus twenty here in Glasgow. A record low. If we thought it was bad recently, it will seem like a tropical holiday in comparison. My phone rings; Rachael. Am I really afraid of a new relationship, of not being in control? Did I really want out of my marriage but couldn't say so to Kathryn? Was I ashamed, but of how I really felt not our financial circumstances? “Hey, good to hear from you.”

  “Hey, yourself.”

  “You got your marking done?”

  “Nearly just a few more jotters to go through. Feeling better?”

  “Yeah. Just bone deep tired.”

  “I keep trying to feed you up, and then you go and fast for a few days.”

  “Not eating much is a surprisingly hard habit to get out of.” I hear shuffling around and some grumbling outside. Just Stevie coming back from wherever he goes to.

  “Look, I'm sorry I wasn't more enthusiastic on Sunday. It was early and I didn't sleep well.”

  “I should've left it til later, let you lie in. We can't all be early birds.”

  “How's it going exploring strange new worlds?”

  “Going where no one has gone before.”

  “You should avoid the green skinned alien babes.”