Unexplained Phenomena Unit, side story: Mike Jones and the Hall of Paths

A UPU side story, written by Paul M Bradley

Whistlepine nature reserve sat still and calm, the same as it had almost every other day in its long history. The reserve, and the small town at its fringes, was considered by many as a haven from history, a little pocket of continuity in a world growing ever more complicated every time you looked. Sheriff Jason Landis took a deep breath and lay a hand on the old stone circle, the portal through which his parents had brought him as a child, so many years ago. He remembered his old home in the way humans often remember their dreams, a hazy blend of fantasy and fuzzy images. The purple sky, the rolling hills, the trees that felt like they could grow forever. Gone now.

His nostalgic daydream was broken by the crunching of feet across the carpet of autumn leaves. He turned. Deputy Cline was rushing towards him, breath heaving, fighting the urge to just shed his skin suit and use his wings.

“Sheriff Landis!” he called. “It’s the government men, they’re back!”

Jason strode into the hotel reception lobby, ready to meet those invaders with all the same grit he’d shown them before. They had an agreement, hadn’t they? They’d already sacrificed their water and their technology in return for their silence, what more did they want?!? But before he could launch into his sheriff routine, he froze. There was only one of them. It was the young one, the one who dressed strange and who had saved him from the jaws of the great monster. Though Jason recognised him, the man seemed different somehow. His long red jacket was gone, replaced by a practical hiking jacket and heavy-looking backpack, his face was lined with unshaven stubble, his eyes dulled with a haunted expression. It was like the boy had aged ten years in a matter of months.

“No need to worry,” said the boy, raising his hands. “I’m just passing through.”

Jason nodded, visibly relaxing.

“It’s…Mike, isn’t it?”

Mike smiled.

“The one and only…How’s it been?”

“Not bad,” said Jason. “You?”

The smile faded.

“How long have you got?”

Later that evening, Mike was mopping up the last scraps of the roast dinner that Jason and his wife, Susan, had prepared, some of the colour and light at last returning to his face. The couple had dispensed with their skin suits, and Mike couldn’t help but beam at the sight of the two giant owls that sat either side of him.

“Goddamn, life is brilliant sometimes.” He muttered.

“Seconds?” asked Susan, Mike shook his head.

“I don’t think I’ll be able to eat for another week now. Thanks, both of you.”

Susan chuckled. “Well you and your crew did save all of us from being mauled to death, it’s the least we could do.”

Mike seemed to glaze over then, his smile weakening.

“Yeah…guess we did help someone”

The couple exchanged a look.

“Ok, spill,” said Jason, bluntly. “Why’re your here again?”

Mike took a gulp of his wine.

“There was…a case…just last week.”

The story he told them seemed to make the room colder with its presence. An attempted invasion by the great serpent Devi, slugs that controlled minds, a whole factory full of hypnotised workers choking on bleach fumes, dying in unspeakable agony.

“And I knew it was coming!” he barked. “I saw everything hours before!” He wiped a tear from his cheek. “And I keep going back, keep imagining how I could have done it differently, how I…caused half those deaths, just by being an idiot!…and I don’t think the rest of them even care. It’s just another day at the office to them. I wanted to help people. I wanted to see the other side, explore it…” His voice trailed off.

Jason sat back, his large eyes turning down to the floor.

“Is that why you came? You were hoping for a reminder of your successes?”

Mike shrugged. “To be honest, I was hoping to relax in those hot springs again, but I like your idea better.”

He laughed, trying to disguise the hurt that had broken to the surface just a second ago. He remembered the girl from his first ever case, Miri Lee. It had all been so fun back then- that adventure in particular had felt almost tailor-made for him - and when he’d managed to end that situation without bloodshed and had been welcomed into the girls family like a brother, he’d felt for the first time that his life had actually meant something. How could he look that girl or her mother in the face now? How could he go back and pretend everything was fine when he knew he was at least partially responsible for the deaths of so many people, one of whom almost being his own cousin?

Susan laid a feathered hand on top of his.

“Our people had a saying ‘even the purest of seeds will produce some twisted branches’”

Mike frowned. “What’s that s’posed to mean?”

“You’re not gonna get it right every time,” said Jason. “Best you can do is try.”

Mike dug into his pockets and produced the wand that the town had once given to him.

“You ever wondered what the limits of this thing are? Of your water? I used a vial of it to gain my pre-cog powers, you think maybe it can throw time backwards?”

Jason shook his head. “If you had an ocean of it and a thousand minds meditating at once, you might gain an extra hour, but the hand of nature has written her laws for a reason. Sorry, kid.”

Mike returned the wand, staring blankly out the window.

“What’s the point then? Why’d the universe give me all this?”

“Why’d it make me a sheriff?” asked Jason. “Or a husband? Or a portal guard? We all have our little jobs in life. Seems like you need to work out yours.”

Mike took a deep breath and rose to his feet.

“I’m gonna go for a walk. Thanks for the food.”

The bubbling pool of the hot spring called out to him as he stripped away his trousers and t-shirt. He felt the cold of the night biting his chest and he shivered.

“Ok,” he said, looking up at the stars above. “What am I supposed to be doing here?” He tapped his forehead. “Doors wide open now. Any visitors?”

Nothing. He closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and dived head-first into the water. A heavy crash filled his ears and then he laid suspended in the darkness, an inky depth that smothered the universe. Bubbles rushed past him, brushing his skin like fingers of air, feeling the intruder into their world. He closed his eyes, allowing the sensations to overwhelm him. Images began to fill the nothingness: the eye of Devi, the bodies of the workers, his cousin crying into his arms, the cold unfeeling glare of Alexander. He twisted, pushing them away, but they kept on coming. The burning hospital, the mutilated bodies of Whistlepine, their howls of terror as the monsters carved them up, and new images, images he’d never encountered before: sights of the team back at base, setting out on a mission without him, the infinite horrors that awaited them, the dangers unknowable and the forces behind them. He saw the earth, this tiny fragile marble suspended in nothingness, a battleground for forces more powerful than any of them could comprehend, a howling void, a war zone across dimensions with the people on the ground barely even knowing what nightmares lay ahead. He cried out, his voice silenced by the water.

And then…

Light. Mike blinked, suddenly aware that he could breathe as if on land. He was standing in what appeared to be the lobby of a cheap hotel. Though the wallpaper was yellowing and the carpet was thin, he felt a curious sense of peace. It was warm here, cozy even. He smiled.

“Ok…this is new.”

“It’s always new, kid.”

He turned. That voice! An old-ish man stood behind him, dressed in a thick grey anorak, his hair and beard a scraggly mess. It was him! Martin Newman, the old homeless man from his home town. The one his friends used to call ‘the trash wizard.’

“This is…the water, my powers…did I?…is this what’s on the other side?”

“Bang on!” said Martin. “Don’t worry though, you’re only a visitor at the moment. They sent me as a kind of mediator. They prefer not to appear directly if they can help it.”

“They?”

“The ones who are running the show! I told you about them, remember?”

“Yeah,” Mike smiled. “You said they were always trying to communicate, that’s why you kept spilling tins of beans on the ground. Something about their patterns spoke to you.”

“Never liked ‘em anyway,” huffed Martin. “At least like that they were some use to me. But you’ve taken it to a whole new level, haven’t you? Not gonna lie, kid, I’m impressed. Still hasn’t stopped you getting all confused though, has it? I always said you should have adopted my method.”

Mike shook his head. “Not being funny, man, but you should probably have eaten some of those beans.”

Martin waved the comment away. “Consider yourself lucky that I didn’t, otherwise I wouldn’t be here! This is the last thing I’m scheduled to do before getting reincarnated again. God knows why, I think I nailed it last time, but oh well!”

Mike laughed. He’d missed the old guy.

“Well, come on then!” he said, ushering Mike towards a door.

“Where are we going?”

“They’ve asked me to take you to the hall of paths. Said you needed a bit of perspective…”

He emerged into a small, darkened space, the smell of cigarettes thick in the air.

“Man,” he spluttered. “This is NOT how I imagined the other side. What about you, Martin…Martin?”

But Martin was now gone.

Mike turned and stepped back in surprise. A figure stood before him, humanoid, dressed in a simple t-shirt and jeans, but with a ravens head instead of a humans. The figure bowed and beckoned for him to follow. Mike obeyed, filled with a strange sense of familiarity with the creature. They walked for a few minutes before emerging into a room, a small screen in the centre with reams and reams of film draped across the walls. The smell of cigarettes was now blended with a new smell: glue. And then it hit him.

“It’s like an editing suite!” he said. “Like how they used to cut together the old movies!”

The figure sat at a stool in front of the screen and gestured for Mike to sit next to him. He obeyed. And he watched with quiet awe as the thing reached out with yellowed fingernails and began to pluck ribbon after ribbon of film from the surrounding walls, holding them up to the light of the screen. Every piece was a moment of his life, not just the ones already lived, but every possible path to come. The raven-headed man threaded them into the machine and the screen played them out one by one. Mike watching them as if living them for the very first time.

He was 10 years old, parents arguing downstairs.

He was 16, sitting in detention yet again.

He was 11, parents announcing their divorce. They say it’s not his fault.

He was 18, feeling the thrill of his first kiss, that Wicca girl who he’d met online.

22, first magic ritual.

4, first taste of chocolate.

25, joining the UPU

14, storming out and telling dad to go fuck himself.

The machine clicked off. The raven man was looking at him, looking for a command. Mike took one of the strips of film in his hand. He’s 3, jumping up and down in a puddle outside. Life feels perfect and free. He took another. He’s 15, sitting at a bus stop, staring down into a puddle and wondering why the homeless guy down the street is the only one who takes him seriously. Life feels confusing and scary. He turned to the figure.

“These two.”

The figure took the strips of film and stuck them together. A link is formed. Mike took another. Seventeen now, talking to his friends about all this paranormal stuff he’s getting into, they don’t believe him and he realises he needs a new tribe. Another. Twenty one, the Wicca girl has stopped taking his calls, he doesn’t mind as much, everyone’s on their own path. Eighteen, while meditating, he sees the woman of his dreams in his minds eye and contemplates the nature of perfection. Twelve, mum telling him he overthinks too much, they both laugh. Linked. Linked. Linked. Linked. And on they went, the two of them worked in tandem to form the thread of his life. The movie was verbose, chaotic, a patchwork of scenes and feelings and ideas, but to Mike, it was utterly glorious.

“Yes! Put that scene next to that one! Move that one to the beginning!”

The figure held up a selection of scenes from his future. Moments of potential triumph, potential defeat, bad choices, good choices, chooses neither good nor bad. Mike paused for a moment, picking which ones to keep and which to discard.

“No, that one wouldn’t make sense, not for the slot it’s gonna be in, cut it. Maybe have that here as a dark night of the soul kinda thing? Oh, that’s now! Yeah, put it in the middle!”

By the end of the process, the film was complete, a Möbius strip of celluloid, his whole life and everything before and afterwards. The figure walked from his station and wheeled out a projector, threading the film into its sprockets and wheels. Mike looked out of a tiny window, down into the movie theatre beyond, lights dimming as the intermission ended.

“Wait…hang on…has that always been there?”

The figure flicked the projectors switch and a beam of light fired from its barrel. The screen beyond lit up, counting down until the film resumed.

5, 4, 3…

Mike felt a fog coming down across his mind. He looked out into the theatre again and saw a lone figure sitting in the audience.

Wait. He recognised that face. It was…

Mike turned back from looking up at the projection gallery, settling back down into his seat as the screen continued to count down. Funny, he thought he’d seen a face looking out at him.

3, 2, 1…

Mike took a bite of his popcorn as the film began again. There was a young man, floating along the bubbling waters of a magical hot spring, astonished eyes gazing up at the stars.

Wait. He recognised that face. It was…

Mike awoke from his trance. Like a dream upon waking, the details of his vision were all but gone, but the feeling it left him with was undeniable. He pulled himself up from the water and began to dry himself off. He had a job to do, a mission decided long ago. He needed to return to the UPU. After all, even the impurest seeds will produce some straight branches, and he knew he needed to find more of them before it was too late. Something big was on the horizon and when it came, nothing else would matter…