a post, apropos of nothing. A little further along, the hillside fell away and then down below was the creek, the outflow of some long forgotten river merging with the incoming tide. Moving gently on its moorings was a boat, blue in color, an old tub with an element of congruency in its appearance that neither surprised nor troubled him – a ghost vessel emerging from the mist, the name painted on the hull the key to the encrypted realities in which he was stranded, supplying an entry point to the sideways realm. Just the shape and feel of the vowels and consonants forming spontaneously on his tongue and in his mind, applying a balm to all previous ambivalence – the Alembic Valise, he said out loud.
Smoke was drifting from the stovepipe; he quickened his steps until he was alongside. Then he called out. After a few moments someone appeared in the wheelhouse and slid open a window.
“Detective Z - its déjà vu all over again,” said the man.
“Indeed it is, Mister Barlow. It’s a bit of a surprise to find you out here – and so close to a crime scene.”
“The whole world is a crime scene if you wait around long enough, Detective Z.”
“That is too deep for me – do you mind if I come aboard.”
The man nodded and steadied the gangplank with his foot whilst the detective boarded the Alembic Valise . They solemnly shook hands and then went below deck.
“Fancy finding you here in Vernon Creek,” said the detective ducking down to avoid cracking his head on a beam.
“We live in a multiverse, some of us only access one world, others several or many, and some all worlds,” replied his host
“That would be God.”
“Possibly.”
”And you’re still messing around in boats,” said the detective.
“Clearly,” said Joel, his hand inscribing a pattern in the empty space, indicating and acknowledging the surroundings. “The way I see it is if you are adrift in the multiverse then you need a trusty vessel - mine is the Alembic Valise ,” he continued.
The Detective appeared skeptical.
“Look, what are the minimum requirements? You need an anchor – if you want to stay put. You need and engine – when you need to move on. And you need a stove, unless you want to freeze and never drink tea.”
On cue the blackened kettle began to rattle its lid and Joel lifted it from the stove and filled a large brown teapot.
“What do you say, Detective Z, how do you manage without those things?”
“I only just found out I am in a multiverse – give me time.”
“That is one thing that we do not have, Detective.”
“It’s true, I should probably be back at that cage fighting place collecting evidence – checking the CCTV or something.”
Then the detective stood up suddenly and cracked his head soundly on a beam. He sat down rubbing his head whilst placing the poster on the table between them.
“Take a look,” he said.
“Live at the Babadrome,” Joel read. “I never visited the place, named after the late Baba Zum, not my favorite human being...” He trailed off. “Good grief, that’s Lorna!”
“Yes, I don’t understand it either. I came here to investigate a murder scene and the first clue I find is my daughter; I’m trapped in a nightmare, Mr. Barlow.”
“You entered through the spiral gateway, detective; here you will find that nothing is what it seems.”
Joel poured the tea into two white mugs, adding sugar to his own, and then sat down opposite the detective.
“Time waits for no man, detective, tell me your story?”
Detective Z cradled the mug of steaming tea, and over the next ten minutes began to tell Joel Barlow of the events that had led him there. His host listened intently and then there were a few moments of silence between the old friends before Joel replied.
“They are closing all the portals except one – the Vertical Abyss . These places of abandonment and dereliction where the victims are showing up are not just chosen at random, they are where the entropy
Smoke was drifting from the stovepipe; he quickened his steps until he was alongside. Then he called out. After a few moments someone appeared in the wheelhouse and slid open a window.
“Detective Z - its déjà vu all over again,” said the man.
“Indeed it is, Mister Barlow. It’s a bit of a surprise to find you out here – and so close to a crime scene.”
“The whole world is a crime scene if you wait around long enough, Detective Z.”
“That is too deep for me – do you mind if I come aboard.”
The man nodded and steadied the gangplank with his foot whilst the detective boarded the Alembic Valise . They solemnly shook hands and then went below deck.
“Fancy finding you here in Vernon Creek,” said the detective ducking down to avoid cracking his head on a beam.
“We live in a multiverse, some of us only access one world, others several or many, and some all worlds,” replied his host
“That would be God.”
“Possibly.”
”And you’re still messing around in boats,” said the detective.
“Clearly,” said Joel, his hand inscribing a pattern in the empty space, indicating and acknowledging the surroundings. “The way I see it is if you are adrift in the multiverse then you need a trusty vessel - mine is the Alembic Valise ,” he continued.
The Detective appeared skeptical.
“Look, what are the minimum requirements? You need an anchor – if you want to stay put. You need and engine – when you need to move on. And you need a stove, unless you want to freeze and never drink tea.”
On cue the blackened kettle began to rattle its lid and Joel lifted it from the stove and filled a large brown teapot.
“What do you say, Detective Z, how do you manage without those things?”
“I only just found out I am in a multiverse – give me time.”
“That is one thing that we do not have, Detective.”
“It’s true, I should probably be back at that cage fighting place collecting evidence – checking the CCTV or something.”
Then the detective stood up suddenly and cracked his head soundly on a beam. He sat down rubbing his head whilst placing the poster on the table between them.
“Take a look,” he said.
“Live at the Babadrome,” Joel read. “I never visited the place, named after the late Baba Zum, not my favorite human being...” He trailed off. “Good grief, that’s Lorna!”
“Yes, I don’t understand it either. I came here to investigate a murder scene and the first clue I find is my daughter; I’m trapped in a nightmare, Mr. Barlow.”
“You entered through the spiral gateway, detective; here you will find that nothing is what it seems.”
Joel poured the tea into two white mugs, adding sugar to his own, and then sat down opposite the detective.
“Time waits for no man, detective, tell me your story?”
Detective Z cradled the mug of steaming tea, and over the next ten minutes began to tell Joel Barlow of the events that had led him there. His host listened intently and then there were a few moments of silence between the old friends before Joel replied.
“They are closing all the portals except one – the Vertical Abyss . These places of abandonment and dereliction where the victims are showing up are not just chosen at random, they are where the entropy
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