For the rest of the day, Kora regaled Peter with tales of war-raptors, enchantments, and what it meant to live as an Indashi barbarian. When she was done, Peter returned the favor; he gave her a crash course on Earth, the Bay Area, and the socioeconomic structures formed by modern-day humans. During the course of their talk, they wandered over to the Hawking Gymnasium, located on the school’s eastern edge. No one was there.
Peter picked the lock to a storage room padlock and grabbed a basketball. As they shot hoops, they continued to chat. Kora was describing Melthos’s Theorem of Interconnecting Worlds when Eun Yin walked into the gym.
“Got your text. What’ve you been up to?”
“Not much.” Peter went for a jump shot, bouncing the ball off the rim. Kora snatched it, shot, and missed. Eun was next; she arched it into an easy hook shot, swishing it through the netted hoop.
“Nice.” Peter said. “We’ve been talking about Earth and Elithia. I never realized that—”
“—despite a slew of differences, your worlds are eerily similar?” Eun finished.
Peter and Kora stared at her.
Peter recovered first. “How did—”
“How else could it be?” Eun gave him a sly grin.
Peter shook his head. “Anyways, we gotta get Kora back in her body.”
“ANOS, right? Their interdimensional research division.”
Peter nodded. “They’ve lost their way. They went from defending Earth against the Xictacti to subjugating them for expereimental—”
“ ‘Xictacti?’ ” Kora bounce-passed the ball over to Peter.
“Insectoids.” He shot again. The ball hit the rim, circled, and spun off its edge. He ran toward it, caught it as it fell, and transitioned into a layup. This time, it went in the basket.
“After ANOS fought them off, they started dissecting them. I think they’re trying to weaponize their hive-mind, somehow.”
For the sake of Kora’s edification, Eun elaborated: “When Insectoids communicate, they exchange information as fast as our quantum comms, but the richness of their data surpasses ours by orders of magnitude.”
“I’ve hacked some databases,” Peter said. “ANOS has no idea how they do it.”
“Magic,” Kora said with utter surety.
“Maybe,” Peter replied. “Which would mean they can somehow short-circuit our causal substrate.” He shook his head again. “We’re way off topic; we need to focus on returning Kora to her original body.”
“So you think ANOS has the tech to pull it off?” Eun Yin asked.
“We have to assume that they do, because our only other choice is to try and get lucky with another dose of the Fuckrising.”
“We require more knowledge,” Kora stated. “Without it, I could switch minds with a random being. We could usher an evil being into your realm.”
Peter and Eun exchanged an uneasy glance.
“Well,” Peter said, “in the absence of direction, trying something’s better than doing nothing, right?”
“Debatable,” Eun said dryly. “What are you thinking?”
Peter dug into his backpack and withdrew a plastic baggie filled with dried mushrooms. “Couldn’t hurt to expand our perspectives.”
Kora looked skeptical. “Magic herbs?”
“More or less. They’re a special strain—engineered by yours truly. So what do you say?”
“This seems haphazard,” Kora said doubtfully. “What other options might we pursue?”
Peter shrugged. “We could break into ANOS, either virtually or physically. This way, we might be able to gather some intel, and decide whether or not we want to risk it.” He shook the baggie again. “Studies have proven they have long-term benefits for your body and mind.”
Kora continued looking skeptical.
Eun shrugged. “I’m okay with it.”
“Very well,” Kora sighed.
Peter grinned. “That’s the spirit.”
He moawed down a handful, then gave them each a heroic dose. Kora grimaced as she chewed on her mouthful of crackly, fibrous plants, while Eun consumed hers one at a time. As they ate, Peter gave them a brief primer in navigating a mushroom trip.
“You’ll probably feel some buzzy waves. Everyone’s different, so you might not feel them, but—”
“That is the way of magic,” Kora said. “ ’Tis a fickle mistress. The only way to navigate her is to be ruthlessly honest, or she will tear away your delusions with little regard for your personal comfort.”
Peter nodded. “Exactly. Now these are a special kind of shroom—I’ve cross-bred several species in order to enhance their potency.”
Eun looked alarmed. “What are you talking about?”
“I’m still doing research, but I suspect they connect your psyche with a morphic field of consciousness that—”
Her alarm gave way to irritation. “English, Peter.”
“They facilitate extradimensional perception, along with telepathy. I call ’em Zen Zaps. In order to trigger them, you need to employ an external catalyst.”
Kora furrowed her brow. “And by that you mean…”
“Conscious intent.” He snapped his fingers. “Like this.”
Everything shook for a terrifying instant. A second later their sight resolved; the “real world” was now marred by a dreary hue, as if an existential contrast setting had been turned down to its lowest setting, rendering their environment into an achromatic version of its former self. All the color that had once infused their everyday surroundings was now contained in a bevy of fractals which drifted and sailed through the air, turning dreamily round and round in a zero-g float. Kora and Eun stared dumbly at them.
[They’re thought-responsive.] Peter projected.
Kora and Eun didn’t just perceive his statement; they perceived its full meaning. The tone and nuance were immediate and visceral.
[Your magic is powerful, Peter.] It was clear by the strain on Kora’s face that she was struggling to compose herself. [I have experienced mind-to-mind communication, but not to this degree.]
[Huh.] Eun cocked her head, puzzled. [It almost feels…it almost feels normal.] She shrugged. [Maybe I’m just thick.]
Peter snorted. [You’re the most sensitive person I know, Eun.]
[But also tough.] Kora qualified. [Perhaps that has something to do with it.]
Eun shrugged again. [Whatever.] She reached out and touched a fractal. When she made contact, it shone brightly and fluttered away. [Amazing.] she whispered.
[I know, right?] Peter pointed his index finger and poked a basketball-sized array of geometric angles that looked like a bucky-ball made from diamonds. It gyred slowly off into another fractal, bumped its edge, then spun to a stop.
[How does any of this help?] Kora asked. [It’s pretty, but—]
[There’s a second layer to it.] Peter beamed. [This is only the first one—I call it ‘going Slideways.’] He beckoned to both of them. [Bring it in.] They shuffled inward and clasped his outstretched hands, forming a three-person circle.
Peter closed his eyes. [We’re going into Bloom-space. Or just the Bloom, for short. Now close your eyes. Concentrate.]
Eun shut her eyes. Kora did the same. For a long moment, nothing happened. Fractalized symmetries blossomed across the blacks of their eyelids, then they felt Peter—
—and they were ripped free of their physical bodies.
The three teens were caught in a multidimensional whirl which made no sense whatsoever—their attentions collapsed inward, only to re-emerge as disparate threads of fragmented self.
The gyre abruptly switched—this time they were caught in a loop of time, threaded into the universe’s fabric as it expanded into heat death, imploded, then blew out from a point of infinite density into another iteration of unexplored potential. All throughout, they were battered by a complete lack of structure and meaning; there was nothing to grasp, nothing to build off of.
[Peter!] Eun screamed. [DO SOMETHING!]
[TRYING!] he yelled back.
The existential whirlwind shifted axes—this time, it threatened to steal their sense of identity. It was pressing their consciousness into a singular entity, dissolving the boundary of Peter/Kora/Eun…but before they were annihilated, Peter flexed, causing them to psychically expand and retain their sense of self. It was the mental equivalent of catching a short, sweet breath.
Peter clapped, inhaled, then drew his hands apart. A series of character-laden lines grew between his fingers, glowing and flashing with numinous light. They twisted away…back toward him…then away…then flailed outward, snapping and connecting into a polyhedral dome.
Everything inside was peaceful and silent. Everything outside was still caught in a chaotic maelstrom.
[Jesus.] Peter wiped his brow. [It’s never been like that. I mean…sometimes, things get a little strange. but not like…not like…] His eyes were uncertain and fearful. [I wonder what caused it?]
[Me.] Kora gasped.
[How could you—]
[I am a being in flux.] she projected. [The environment is reflective of the strife inside me. Apparently, you share my predicament.] She nodded at a section of dome directly behind him.
Peter turned around and locked eyes with a twisted doppleganger—his snarling face atop a sperm-like tail—which was gnashing and biting at the psychic barrier. Each strike sent violent flashes rippling across the dome.
Peter flinched back. [What the FUCK???]
[I am not alone in my inner turmoil.] Kora projected.
[Whatever.] Peter replied irritably. [Enough psychobabble.] He rooted his weight and threw his arms back. [TIMEKEEPER!]
The word lit his cheeks with luminous bulges. As his jaw yawed wider, his mouth gave birth to a glowing series of concentric rings. The waves of energy breached the polyhedron, then split apart into glinting tendrils of spiraling light. The chaos outside slowed to a resentful simmer.
[TIMEKEEPER!] Peter roared again. The process was repeated. This time, the environment stopped altogether.
A stunningly handsome white man—he looked like a predatory version of Matt Bomer from White Collar—approached the polyhedron. Eun’s heart began racing. Due to the Bloom’s psycho-empathic ecology, Kora and Peter were instantly aware of it. They both threw her a questioning look.
Eun’s face flushed red. [There’s a certain level of hotness that you just can’t ignore, okay?]
Peter snickered. [Dude’s a gusher.]
[Gusher?] Kora asked.
Another snicker. [Eun’s panties are probably dripping with—]
Eun’s foot snapped up, slapping Peter’s nose with the flat of her instep. Peter squawked and stumbled back.
[Manners.] Eun deadpanned.
The Timekeeper was dressed in an insanely expensive suit—a Desmond Merrion Supreme Bespoke. Eun recognized it because she had a passing interest in all things fashion. This particular suit, if she remembered correctly, cost nearly fifty thousand dollars.
[Peter Lee.] The Timekeeper grinned, showing off a perfect set of pearly whites. [Where’s my tribute?]
[KeeperTime] Peter projected. [TingsGree.]
[Thank you.] The Timekeeper closed his eyes, his features relaxing into momentary bliss. He stared at Peter again. [What do you want?]
[Wait, that’s it?] Eun interjected. [What the hell kind of tribute is that?]
The Timekeeper directed his gaze at her, causing her to blush a couple of shades brighter. [Every day, almost without fail, I impose linearity on Bloom-side phenomena. When someone expresses a contrary sentiment, it’s a welcome change.]
[And Peter does that by talking backwards?]
[He also manufactures certain compounds that rebalance the forces behind your reality. If it weren’t for him and others like him, then said forces would congeal into a tyranny of order; they’d destroy any semblance of novelty or newness. I’m a self-aware velocity, if you want to get poetic about it.]
[Compounds…you mean psychedelics.] Eun projected.
The Timekeeper nodded.
Peter spoke up. [I need your help.]
The Timekeeper crooked an eyebrow. [There are strict limits on how much assistance I’m allowed to provide.]
[I know.] Peter replied. [But this is serious.]
[Your idea of ‘serious’ is different from mine.]
Peter gestured at Kora. [She’s in Holly Dent’s body.] He met the demigod’s eyes. [Interdimensional fuckery could disturb the spin between our planes. And that disturbance could resonate outward and destabilize reality. Which would make your assignment damn near impossible.]
The Timekeeper smiled. [Did you just tell a Delegate of Order how to do his job?]
[Color me stupid.] Peter retorted. Then his eyes turned speculative. [Completely off-topic, but why do you always appear as an Anglo-as-fuck Abercrombie model? That shit is tired, bro.]
[Would you prefer it if I looked like this?] The air around the Timekeeper’s head blurred into a staticky storm of red-and-black lightning. A moment later, his features resolved into an equally handsome Asian male. Bladed tattoos trailed up the sides of his neck and wrapped halfway across his shaven scalp, stopping just short of his smooth-skinned temples. His lips were full and luscious, his eyes amused and knowing.
Eun’s heart, already beating fast, kicked into overdrive.
[Hell yeah!] Peter blurted. [THAT’S what I’m talking abou—]
[Predictable.] The Timekeeper projected. [Which is why I look like this.] His face reverted to its original setting.
[Asshole.] Peter grumbled. [So you gonna help us or not?]
[Hold on. Gotta check the substrate.] He spread his fingers and extended his arms, punching them straight out in front of him. He drew his hands apart, leaving a bright semicircle of characters hanging in the air—musical notes, math symbols, sentential calculus. He began tapping away at the holographic dashboard, eyes moving back and forth as he examined an alien mess of data.
Peter’s expression shone with envy. [Hey, maybe some day you could teach me how to—]
[This is a rudimentary piece of perception, Peter. But even so, if I showed it to you in its true form, you’d suffer an aneurysm.]
[Bullshit.] Peter snorted. [I can wield anything from an acosmism to a—]
The Timekeeper didn’t stop looking at his imaginal dashboard. [Remember who you are, %Ξπ.] The name he’d uttered didn’t translate to the exact characters that swam through Eun and Kora’s consciousness, but they were the closest their minds could come to translating it.
Upon hearing it, Peter stiffened. [Whatever, dude. You don’t even have a cock.]
[Wow.] The Timekeeper grinned as he continued swiping through his multidimensional touchpad. [Biased against my race and my aetheric classification. Look at you—you’re a next gen Koch brother.]
[Fuck you—I champion the undertrodden!] Peter snapped. [Are you seriously telling me that—]
[That you’re as bound by hierarchy as I am? Yep.] The Timekeeper clapped his hands together, causing the interface in front of him to fray apart into glimmering lines. [Done. Want to keep bickering, or do you want me to help you?]
[Speak.] Peter hissed.
[You were right. We need to put him—] the Timekeeper looked at Kora. [her—] He shook his head, irritated. [You know what I’m saying. We need to put her and Holly back in their bodies. It’s all part of the Grand Design.]
[‘Grand Design?’] Kora furrowed her brow.
The Timekeeper rolled his eyes and cycled a hand by the side his head. At the same time, he projected in an exasperated tone: [We’re all parts of an omnipotent consciousness that voluntarily fragmented itself so that the individual pieces could realize the incomparable joy of rediscovering their own omnipotence.] He blew out an annoyed sigh. [Mind blowing and heartwarming, I know. Please—spare me the googley-eyed wonder. Let’s skip to the part where we fix the actual problem, shall we?]
Peter cocked his head. [Wait, does that mean we’re—]
The Timekeeper crossed his arms. [We can talk about what to do next, or you can fuck off back to Earth.]
[Um…okay…] Peter chewed his lip. [So what’s next?]
[Break into ANOS. They have—]
[GodDAMMIT!] Peter threw his hands up. [That’s exactly what we were trying to AVOID!]
[They’ve got a warp drive.]
Peter straightened. [Like in Star Trek?]
[No, not like in ‘Star Trek,’ you skin-bound dunce. A legit warp drive transcends electromechanical paradigms. They’ve built theirs around an artificial brain. It can jumpstart causality on demand.]
[How?] Peter asked, fascinated.
[Its IV drip feeds it custom-engineered, hybrid psychedelics. ANOS has a rough idea of how to move a flesh-based consciousness into an acausal state. Long story short, the brain can wrinkle the folds of space-time and create a bridge into another dimension. ANOS used up dozens of candidates before they finally figured it out.]
[God in a jar.] Peter projected softly. [They’ve trapped God in a jar.]
[That’s all of us, genius. Right now, they can open a warp gate, but they can’t control where it goes, and they have a hell of a time closing it off. The first time they used it, they bridged your dimension into a thought-responsive aether. They were shitting bricks for five years and seven months before they finally figured out how to shut it down. That was during your most recent Christmas, I believe.]
[Last year…the rolling blackouts…] Realization dawned in Peter’s eyes.
The Timekeeper nodded. [Yep.]
[They shorted out the entire West Coast.] Eun murmured. [Amazing.]
Kora looked puzzled, but kept quiet.
The Timekeeper went on. [They needed that energy. They funneled it into a hybrid machine—a mix of quantum tech and old-school arcana—and piggybacked it through a skilled psychic. She was able to close the gate, but she wasn’t able to handle the feedback. Here’s where I should crack a tasteless joke about overcooking something, but nothing comes to mind. Anyways, you can use the brain to bridge our world with hers.] He glanced at Kora. [Cast a spell of translation in front of the brain. That should do it.]
[A spell of translation?] Kora looked suspicious. [A four year old could do that. Are you sure that that’s all I have to—]
The Timekeeper shrugged. [I don’t make the rules—I just enforce them.]
[Okay.] Peter emoted. [If that’s all you’ve got, then—]
[It’s not. Does the name ‘Bitefighter’ ring a bell?]
Kora and Peter both stiffened.
[Thought so. He’s an ancient entity—he’s incarnated throughout the eons as god and demon, trickster and sage. You know him as your dead dog—] he met Peter’s eyes, [—and you as your velociraptor mount.] then Kora’s. [But now, he’s reincarnated into something else entirely.]
[As what?] Eun prodded.
Peter’s eyes flickered with disbelief. [The Bite Mobile?]
The Timekeeper nodded again.
[Wait…he’s still alive?] Peter was struggling to process the idea that he might be able to see his dog again.
The Timekeeper gave him a gentle smile. [He was never really dead. But in the context you’re referencing, yeah—he’s gone. Change is inevitable, Peter.]
Eun put a hand on Peter’s shoulder. [We’ll figure it out later.] Then she looked at Kora and placed a hand on her shoulder as well, connecting the three of them together.
Kora cleared her throat. Eun saw a suspicious gleam of moisture in the warrior’s eyes, and gave her shoulder a reassuring squeeze. Kora covered Eun’s hand and squeezed back.
[Anything else?] Peter asked. [Warp drive, spell of translation, my unicycle—]
[Mushrooms.] The Timekeeper’s eyes glimmered with amusement. [They’re the key to your salvation, and your world’s, as well. Heed their wisdom and emulate their unity.]
[The fuck does that mean?] Peter scoffed. [‘Heed their wisdom and emulate their—’]
The Timekeeper looked exasperated. [Figure it out, Peter. You’ve overstayed your welcome.]
Peter glanced at Kora and Eun. [If you spend too long in the Bloom, you risk long-term disassociation.] he explained.
[It’s not that bad.] The Timekeeper said. [Eventually I’d de-bifurcate your consciousness, and couple you into my infinite-minded self.]
[Sounds about as appealing as a sandpaper rim job.] Peter projected. [Get us the fuck out of here.]
[As you wish.] The Timekeeper closed his eyes, snapped his fingers…
And they opened theirs. They were back in Atherton’s gym.