“So I’m iced-out somewhere, huh? I sure hope they stacked me business-end-down on some stonkin’ babe.”
Forquessas scowled. “You may as well abandon your baser desires, Ralf, as you’ll find no outlet for them here.”
“Yeah? Well, we’ll see about that. But in the meantime, Doc, the big mamba-lickin’ question is—how did we end up here? In a different place; an earlier time?”
“Ah... For that the Prophesy turned to the efforts of one Doctor Antoine Devilier, who demonstrated the ability to transport inanimate matter through space and time. On pattern, the Prophesy accroached Devilier’s work even while they decried it, and by so doing they assembled the pieces necessary to build their new social order—all while purportedly retaining moral purity.” Forquessas huffed. “The Prophesy could then extract the energy that defined a living being and isolate it as a non-biological entity, transport that energy-stream through space and time, and thus be rid of any who displeased them. They wasted little time eliminating any who might threaten their blossoming theocracy.”
Ralf nodded dubiously. “If you say so, Doc… But even if that’s true—why do we stay here? When I first showed up I blasted through walls and ceilings and whatever else. It's not like we’re locked in. Why not get out, go wander around—stir things up?”
“It is true that both time and space are now immaterial to us—to an extent. When we were robbed of our physical vessels we were granted free rein in dimensions that were previously off limits. But the Prophesy understood that would be the case, and so they implemented safeguards.” Forquessas drifted closer. “So that I might show you, Ralf, rather than just tell you, why don’t you and I step back to yesterday?”
“Huh?”
“Yes, go back to yesterday. There are no words to express what we could never before comprehend, and so I employ the catchword streaming. Watch closely, and follow.”
Forquessas seemed to shimmer and fade away, and Ralf emulated what he’d sensed. “Well, that was a lot of nothing,” he said. “Here we freakin’ are, just like we were.”
“Yes, except that in human time it is yesterday. Do you see Dedra? No, she is where we left her, in this room, but tomorrow. Now let me show you something else. It is the first step in our return to normalcy.”
Ralf licked his ephemeral chops and drifted in close. Now we’re gettin’ down t’ the meat and potatos…
***
Laura stepped from the shower, darting her eyes around the steamy room. The mirrors were fogged over unseeing, and she was grateful for that. The pulsing hot water had been wonderful, but she had felt so very exposed and vulnerable that she’d lathered up and rinsed off and gotten out fast.
Shivering and chilled in the hot lavatory, she reached out for a towel.
***
“You understand that without a physical presence, there is very little we can do?”
“That’s no great revelation, Doc.”
“You have a very strong aura in this form, Ralf, and I need that. And so I am going to confide in you; I will be your mentor.”
Ralf nodded to himself. No big deal, it’s not like I might get killed or something...
“We are restricted to this general location by the minimal cohesion of our energy fields. The Prophesy tuned our signatures to require some level of magnetic energy to hold together, and they then dumped us atop one or another region known for substantial deposits of iron ore. If we were to wander away an appreciable distance—as have done those who wished to end themselves—then we would dissipate to nothing.” He chuckled. “Like your wisp of cloud torn apart in the wind.”
Ralf carefully catalogued that statement. If Forquessas could so readily see his mind, he would need to more tightly shelter his thoughts.
“That explains our limitation in the dimension of space, Ralf. As for the dimension of time—there we are less restricted. We can regress as far as we like, but upon advancing we encounter a barrier, undoubtedly somehow erected by the Prophesy to block us from their timeline. I do not know the details, but they undoubtedly have stolen someone else’s work for that.”
“So you’re tellin’ me we’re basically stuck in the past.”
“That is the intent of the Prophesy. But I have worked out a plan, and I believe that with the addition of your strength it might be achievable.”
Ralf suddenly felt Forquessas delving into his mind, no doubt hoping to not find the unrestrained sociopath that he feared might dwell there. Ralf blanked his thoughts, a technique he’d always found very useful when misdirection was his goal, and after some moments Forquessas nodded and continued.
“As I said, we have no hope, should we remain unable to regain physical form. Forever phantoms; sensed by few and known by none, wandering the ether until it becomes too much to bear, and then capitulating to true and final oblivion. I have also described to you how our bodies were vessels, each tuned to match a unique energy signature. But if we had access to those bodies—undamaged—I believe that the stronger among us could, given the proper technique, ‘reoccupy’ them.”
“Yeah, so what? You just told me we can’t get to those bods, iced or not.”
“By passing through time and space as we exist now, that is correct, we cannot.” Forquessas moved across the room and beckoned Ralf to follow. “Look here, Ralf. This is a wooden chair. It is an inanimate object, though once alive, and its remnant energy signature is relatively simple. Yes?”
“OK. So what?”
“So, Ralf. Why don’t you ‘occupy’ this chair?”
Ralf chuffed. “You mean sit on it, Doc? Isn’t that kinda dumb? I’m just a spook, I don’t need no freakin’chair.”
“No, Ralf. I mean ‘become’ the chair. Match yourself to its signature and use it as your physical vessel. I have learned to do it, and I think you can also. To put it in basic terms, simply make yourself one with it.”
Ralf barked out a laugh. “Doc, why in hell would I want to be a chair?”
“Because if you show me you can do that, Ralf, I will guide you further; help you extend your range. This chair is simple; living beings are infinitely complex. But within reach of the strongest among us, I believe.”
***
Laura’s fingers closed on the comforting weave of the towel, and as she lifted it from its peg she gasped at the onset of a sensation more vile and intrusive than any she could have imagined. She shrieked and flung the towel to the floor, stamping her feet and slapping her skin as the presence enfolded her, violating her singularity. She gagged as she felt it course roughly over her breasts, down her belly and up her thighs. She fell to the floor and dry-wretched; great, heaving convulsions, and gasping for air she wrenched herself upright. She fumbled the door open and yanked a cloak from the rack by the front door, toppling the stand and overturning a cabinet. Her personal treasures broke across the tiled entryway as her bare feet scattered them before her sobbing careen from the apartment.
***
“You were right, I felt her!” Ralf hooted. “I rubbed her little boobies, and I smelled the fear in her!”
It had felt so good—to do whatever he wanted, unhindered and beyond any possibility of penance. He laughed coarsely.
“So what’s the next plan, Doc? Panty raids? Do I get to stir my whizzle stick?”
Forquessas’ brume darkened. “No, Ralf, that is most certainly not my intent. Your efforts have been improving, and I simply meant for you to observe that you could approach synchronicity with a living being, to understand that you might adjust your energy signature to match that of another vessel. You see how close we are? Dedra lags behind a little, but even so quickly you have matched my best efforts. Contain whatever deviant desires you harbor, Ralf, and soon enough we might resume our true place—outside this realm between worlds.”
***
It was an entirely unremarkable setting, the dregs of a party winding down. Ralf looked away from the scene, forcing himself calm.
“We’ve practiced ab
out forever, Doc—finally it’s time?” He studied the floor, cataloging every imperfection there, intent upon holding his bright excitement below the doctor’s radar. He dare not look directly upon the two couples that laughed and flirted drunkenly, lest he lose control and spill all his cards face up.
Forquessas spoke softly. “Yes, Ralf. I believe that we are ready, and that our friend’s liberal consumption of liquor has lowered most of the mental barriers we might otherwise encounter.” Forquessas focused on Dedra. “You are ready? We understand that this crosses a moral threshold, but must also remind ourselves that in this case the end truly justifies the means.” Dedra nodded solemnly, and Forquessas turned to Ralf.
“Ralf, you accept the restrictions that we impose upon ourselves? It is a selfish, damnable act that we undertake, but it is the only means I know to thwart the Prophesy before their malefic influence is forever impressed upon future history.”
Ralf nodded, struggling to present a somber posture. They had pushed forward in time as far as they could; hard up against the Prophesy’s bulwark. It had felt strangely empowering; so many generations had come and gone in what seemed little more than the passage through a doorway. Nonetheless, they were still far from their native timespace.
Forquessas looked back to the whooping partygoers. “We will combine our strength and make the transfers one at a time. Given their excessive consumption of alcohol there should be little to no resistance, and it will be, ah… painless… for them.”
As they began to move forward, the younger male seemed to suddenly sense something awry. His eyes widened in alarm and he lurched to his feet, overturning the end table and crashing the lamp to the floor.
“Jeeezhusssh, Billl,” slurred the older man. “Take it eazhy, will ya?”
Ralf’s excitement spiked and he abandoned control, sweeping forward like a squad of BlackHeart mercenaries from the last Annihilation, slamming the younger man unconscious and stunning the other three senseless. They sagged limp into the cushions and Ralf gathered himself up, and—
“Ralf!”
Arrested by a surprisingly powerful tug at his being, Ralf immediately backed off. He must not allow himself to forget that the doctor had nearly his strength, and greater experience and technique.
“Uh… gee, I'm sorry, Doc. The guy panicked and jumped up, like he was gonna run off or somethin’…” Ralf felt an intense scrutiny bear down, and he prayed that he hadn’t just blown this once-only opportunity. Forquessas spoke gravely.
“Ralf. When… if we consummate this occupation, we will then be free to leave this space in physical form. After we pass the Prophesy’s time barrier in human form, we will abandon these bodies to make a second time-leap forward, which will put us in place to each find our biological selves and combine therewith—so resuming our rightful lives. Young Doctor Forquessas will have the insight to not publish his works, so denying that empowerment to the Prophesy, and Ralf will grow up knowing to not stray beyond the bounds of common decency.” The doctor studied him, peering into his darkest corners, and Ralf examined the plaid pattern of the armchair.
“You fully agree to this, then?” asked Forquessas.
Ralf nodded docilely. “A’ course I do, Doc. It’s what we’ve said all along.”
***
“Jeezhus on a broomschtick!” exclaimed Ralf/Bill as he staggered to his feet and stood wobbily, feeling real muscles clumsy under the numbing haze of alcohol.
Thazzh OK by me—always was better wizhh a buzz on…
His companions clambered to their feet and Ralf shambled over to lean against the kitchen counter. Dedra stood unsteadily, pushing her hands down her firm, shapely new body, and Ralf approved. The doctor stumbled over to lean against Ralf; sloppily gregarious and totally out of character.
“Rallllff! We done it!” Forquessas belched and clapped him on the shoulder. “Now we shleep off thishh drunk, and then we can… braap… then we get on with our nex’ time shhift! Riiighht?” Forquessas grinned foolishly and belched again, slathering Ralf with his stinking breath.
Yessss… The next step…
Ralf leaned in close to speak in a faux whisper, clearing his mind and girding for what was to come.
“I dunno, Doc… do we really have to wait?”
“Uhhh?” slurred Forquessas.
Still standing with his back to the counter, Ralf yanked out the butcher knife he’d fumbled from the drawer behind, clumsily raking the blade across his side and goring himself in the process. He peered down, reveling in the pain and the blood, and he looked up to lock eyes with the slack-jawed Doctor.
Ralf laughed giddily as Forquessas whimpered and stumbled backward.
“Here ya goes, Forqy!” Ralf bellowed, lunging forward to thrust the blade to its hilt in the Doc’s soft belly. Forquessas hiccupped oddly—a wet, gurgling sound—and fell to his knees. An expression of dumb astonishment drained his face as he slumped rearward, his plush arse pinning awkwardly folded legs. Ralf cackled. “How’s it work, Doc, when I kills your older self while your younger self ain’t born yet? Dead before alive? Ain’t that like the old chicken and the egg question?” Ralf pushed a blood-smeared hand through his hair in puzzlement, leaving sticky tufts standing in bizarre disarray. A light dawned in his eyes and he tried to snap his fingers. “I get it! Foreshadowing!”
The doctor collapsed prone, his eyes rolling back and blood pooling around his midsection, and Ralf turned a sly gaze to the horrified eyes of new-Dedra. She skittered backward toward the doorway.
“Ahhhh…. Don’tcha be worryin’ your pretty new self, Dedra. You can go your own way—for now. As for Ralfie-boy, here, he has important bizness t’ transact. Kinda poetic, dontcha think—vengeance, in advance?” He smiled; his tone silky. “But ya needn’t feel lonely,” he grinned, cunning and feral, and bloody hand-prints marked where he patted himself on the chest. “Cuz you’ll be seein’ Ralfie again some day…”
Dedra bounced off the doorframe as she lunged through, and the erratic clatter of her heels faded down the hallway. Ralf grinned even wider as he smelled her fear waft behind, but his smile slipped as he felt strength flow away with the copious loss of blood. He prodded at the pulsing slash in his side and moaned in ecstasy, and his gaze fell to the middle-aged woman splayed gracelessly across the sofa, breathing slow but deep. He growled softly, baring his teeth.
***
The disjointed feeling came over Ralf suddenly, as though he’d physically crossed over yet again, though he had not. Such feelings seemed, of late, to be transgressing even his own progressive need for them. But this time he had gone backward—not in reality, be that what it was—but in his mind.
He paused mid-sentence, the flood of memories encompassing him as if submerged in a hot, sulphurous mud-bath. Memories. He breathed them in, tasted them, turned them in his fingers and lovingly caressed them. So far back the memories took him; to his true beginning.
There had been no second leap forward, as he had understood would be the case for the three combined focuses mentored by one Doctor Albert Forquessas. Instead Ralf had forged onward, on a solo path (in one manner of viewing it), to become a compilation of perhaps a thousand diaries. So many voices and stories, emotions and perceptions, all strung together by a single, insinuating thread.
It had begun as the most rapacious indulgence, with no thought or care taken and guided only by a gorging, insatiable lust for new and different desires and hatreds, joys, sorrows and pain. Though in truth he had typically sought out and embraced only the darker psyches, since they were simpler and more understandable and generally easier to move on from.
After his initial blunderings through his recovered physical instance, flitting like a moth from flame to mortal flame, he’d become totally captured by the stark allure of war, wherever he could find it. There his rapture with heady gore could be passed off as honor, or as allegiance to a cause. Any cause—he truly didn’t care. It was a strangely beautiful and just reality, because ev
en when he could not physically prevail on the battlefield he would simply spit out his last breath and switch places with those he fought, and so carry on with a changed allegiance and with the perverse knowledge of a new enemy that he might have bunked with just the night before.
But Ralf’s tastes had eventually matured and his lusts at least partially sated, and he’d become much more selective, choosing only those transitions that would benefit him materially and in terms of position—those that would better ensure his passage. Even so, his baser needs would occasionally resurface, and there were those rare times that he would revert, descending from a position of advancing power and prestige to the greedy gathering in of some demented or supremely perverse persona whose allure he could not hope to resist. But then he would recover, with time as no hindrance, and restart his ascendance, knowing that the only rules were his own.
Dedra had eventually come for him, as he had expected. She had really had little other choice, knowing his threat. She had clearly developed some skills during her time as a changling, but still was just too obvious. A large man had approached him, courteous and of a genteel bearing, but from the first glance he could see Dedra in the man’s eyes. And those eyes had seen recognition in his.
He’d taken her then, luxuriated in her ranging memories, adding them to his diaries, and had then scattered her sentience to the winds.
He had also found Albert Forquessas’ mother, young still, and had watched and waited—curious. What would come of the yet-to-be-born genius Albert Forquessas, whose transitioning Ralf had disseminated some centuries past?
To his guarded surprise Albert had indeed been born, but it took little study to see that the child was but a husk of a creature, not even capable of feeding from its mother’s breast. And that made perfect sense, Ralf thought, since he had properly dispersed the energy comprising the intellect of Albert Forquessas a full era past.
Ralf smoothed his hands down his robes, his mind coming back to the present. Finally he had made good the return to his previous time and place, not by continuing to leap great spans but rather by cycling through biological hosts. He had arrived, not quite so far along the timeline as when he’d been so ungraciously purged from it, but to that time when he would have been a young boy. He chuckled softly to himself. He’d not even considered seeking out his original physical instance—likely some void aberration like Forquessas in any case—as he could scarcely imagine again being relegated to a single, finite existence.