[JAKE:]

Dave . . . No, Steve’s on his way to bed. Long earned. Well deserved. The guy’s been through a lot. A hell of a lot, even by Ostium standards. I feel for the guy, I really do. But that story . . . Of what happened to him, when he fell through Ostium . . . When he fell through time. It’s beyond incredible. Almost beyond believable. But after everything that’s happened to me . . . Everything that’s happened to us. I can’t help but believe.

MONICA [First word drawn out]: Fuck . . . What a story.

JAKE: It’s hard to believe. Hard to take all in.

MONICA: Yeah. But is it true? Or is he just lying through his teeth.

I look at her, disbelief on my face.

JAKE: How can it not be? We’ve all seen so much more that any normal person would think impossible . . . Supernatural. And yet we all believe.

MONICA: Do we? Well, I know you do. I’ve seen a lot of things. A lot of shit. And I’m not sure what I believe. Even after everything. It’s a lot to take in. But that story is just another part of it. Far fetched doesn’t begin to cover it.

JAKE: But he told it with such . . . Empathy. I felt for him. He really believed it. Wholeheartedly.

MONICA: Okay. Fuck. You got me there. He really believed it. But it was the details. They were so close to the truth but it still wasn’t what actually happened.

JAKE: Like what?

MONICA: Like . . . Kahling and Tanaka. Though according to Steve it’s Keelin and Takaya. Awfully close. But not quite.

JAKE: Okay, anything else?

MONICA: You heard my recordings. You know my story. My history. My fucking origin story. How I found Steve. A tiny baby in that development I was working on. And here he tells us he falls through time – a crack in Ostium – and arrives on a building site, naked as a babe and not remembering who he is. But he’s still a grown man. Again: close, but no fucking cigar.

JAKE: Yeah, that’s pretty fucking weird. But what about the details that don’t add up?

MONICA: You mean like his foster parents ‘mysteriously’ disappearing?

JAKE: Sure. And that’s keeping in line with his early Enigmatic Mysteries of the Unknown recordings.

MONICA: Fine. Whatever. But the year. He said it so confidently. Without fucking question. 1999.

JAKE: [Drawn out, in shock]: Yeah . . .

MONICA: It doesn’t fit with either of our timelines. It’s significantly before yours, and way the fuck before mine. It’s totally separate. His own fucking timeline.

I stop and look at her, not fully sure if she realizes what’s going on here. If she understands what she’s saying.

JAKE: But what is it, Monica? It is his own timeline.

MONICA: What? What the fuck does that mean? He’s my son.

JAKE: Yes. He is your son. Only he’s a son to a different you. His timeline is different from yours. Just like this timeline of Gibraltar, or the Ostium Network is different from ours. From mine. And from yours. They’re all separate tangents that flow along parallel lines, and at specific points along the way have crossed over. Some have continued on their own trajectories, and some have converged, to form two timelines, and then one. The one we’re in right now.

MONICA: Are you saying what I think you’re saying?

JAKE: If you’re thinking that each of us is one of three separate timelines that have now converged into this timeline of this Ostium Network . . . Then yes.

[Short pause]

MONICA: I suppose you want me to use a witty Back to the Future reference here?

JAKE [Snort]: It couldn’t hurt.

MONICA: Fuck you.

[Short pause]

JAKE [Arrogantly]: You’re just not thinking . . .

MONICA: Don’t. Fucking. Say it.

[PAUSE]

[JAKE:]

It’s a new day. Fresh and clear and goddamn beautiful. Blue skies; warm sunshine. One of those days where the last thing in the world you want to do is sequester yourself inside an office and work. It’s all about hitting the warm sands of your favorite beach, or enjoying a big outdoor lunch with friends. Or just getting the fuck away from everything to try and clear your mind.

Yeah, that’s about where I’m at right now. I feel like I need a month of personal introspection to process everything that’s happened just in the last few days. It’s been . . . So much, in so little time. That’s why I’m out here, hanging out in a distant part of the rock, all by myself.

This is also where the first explosion happened. The first mighty crack of thunder. The first rip . . . a tear through reality that killed a bunch of people. At least that’s what Zhang said. She said I wouldn’t find anything, no evidence or anything of use, but I need to make sure. With cameras everywhere, I get that, but I need to see for myself. And to get that alone time too.

We had a quick discussion this morning over breakfast about what to do next. They both looked at me like I had all the answers. I know I’m . . . Different now. Changed after what happened to me with the blackness, with the inner workings of Ostium. But that doesn’t mean I have all the answers.

Yes. I know I may have said I get it all now. I know the answers. And I do know some. But there’s still a lot I don’t know. I was speaking in hyperbole. Yep. Shocking. I know. I think it might the first time in my life. So . . . Sorry for that.

I said the first thing . . . It just popped in there. No. Not the Stay-Puffed Marshmallow Man. The places where the explosions happened. The rift sites, as I’m calling them. And it was totally true. I wanted to check them out. Check them all out. We needed to wrap our minds around what the hell was going on here. It was getting worse. More violent. More extreme. The shit was going to hit the fan soon and if we weren’t on top of things we were going to be little more than innocent bystanders. Yeah. Pretty dramatic I know, but I also know whatever’s making those rips through reality isn’t fucking around. And doesn’t care about taking lives.

And Zhang’s totally right. There’s nothing here. Nothing useful. I can’t see signs of anything. It happened days ago and looks like whatever wounds were made in this reality have long-ago healed. But . . . Not all of them. There are still some scars here . . . Even if I can’t see them. I can feel them. There’s a tension here. A confluence of energy that can only be felt. Sensed. What’s that French word? Oh yeah . . . frisson. Beacoup de frisson going on right here. I can’t tell, but it almost feels like my hair might be standing on end.

Something happened here. Undoubtedly. Something big.

Okay, time to check on the rest of the team.

I take out my datapad and open up a channel. I think about holding it up to my ear, but that feels way too weird. I don’t need to anyway. I hold it a foot or so from my face and start talking.

JAKE: Er . . . Hey team, Jake here. Just wanted to check in with everyone. I’m at my appointed location. Just wanted to get the sitrep. Over.

MONICA: What the fuck are you playing at, Jakey. This isn’t the front lines. You’re not a fucking soldier.

JAKE: I dunno. There’s some crazy shit going on here. Feels pretty much like the front lines to me.

MONICA: Look: just don’t. Okay?

STEVE: Oh, give it a rest mum. He’s just trying to have some fun. I can’t blame him. I’m all ensconced here at HQ with Zhang. All systems working nominally here. Over!

MONICA: Jeez, you guys. Okay. Whatever. I’m at the second rift site. Just like Zhang said, there’s nothing really here. No evidence I can see . . .

JAKE: But . . . It sounds like there’s a but there, Monica?

MONICA: Okay, fine. There is a but. But . . . It just feels weird here. I don’t know what it is. Like the air. Feels tense. Constrained. Like some shit went down. Some really. Bad. Shit.

JAKE: I hear ya, Monica. I got the same vibes here. But nothing that catches the eye. Let’s move on to the next locations. Zhang will upload the next rift sites for us.

MONICA: Roger th . . . Goddammit. Now you’ve got me doing it. Fine! I’m on my way.

JAKE: Roger, roger. Over and out!

I put the datapad away to the sounds of Monica unloading with a bunch of expletives and Steve just laughing. It feels good. This feels right. It’s serious, but we’re taking it easy too. Gotta have some levity here or we’re just gonna lose our fucking minds.

[PAUSE]

The rest of the day is uneventful. We continue checking the sites all around the rock. It takes time. It’s boring. But we do it. I . . . No, we need to do it. To learn all we can. At our morning meeting, Steve decided he wanted to hang out with Zhang at the viewing tower on top of the rock. He’s pretty computer savvy and wanted to be available for any necessary computering, as he put it. Don’t really know if there’s anything Zhang can’t accomplish without him or me or anyone for that matter. But whatever. He’s comfortable up there, and we’re cool with that. It’s a case of respecting everyone’s wishes. And that’s what we’re going with right now.

Each site is like the last. No signs of disturbance. No evidence. But the impending feeling continues to build. Like you’re walking under power lines that convey feeling more than sound, and just keep getting stronger and stronger at each site. When we get to the last couple sites, we see something concrete for the first time. These are ones that hit . . . Rift sites that opened and closed while we’ve been here and actually heard them. I know my heart started racing when I reached my last one for the day, and I’m sure Monica’s having similar feelings.

MONICA [Anxious]: Okay. At this site I’m actually seeing something for the first time. I’ve got . . . Scorch marks. Lots of scorch marks. It’s like some kid was having fun trying to cut up the ground with a light-saber. I don’t know what the hell went on here. But it was some bad shit. And I can see this like heavy circle of black . . . I don’t know why I said heavy, it’s just a lot thicker than the scorch marks. And it’s like the closer I get, the stronger the feeling of something pushing me down is. I swear I can hear some sizzling. Like static electricity. It’s giving me the fucking creeps. The black circle . . . It’s like way blacker that anything else . . . Blacker than I knew black could get. I’m . . . I’m pretty freaked out right now.

STEVE: Bloody hell, mum, I think it’s time to about-face and get the fuck out of there.

JAKE: Seconded! You’ve found out all you can. And it’s incredibly useful. Now get the hell out of there.

MONICA: No problem. You don’t need to tell me twice. I’m gone!

[Short pause]

[JAKE:]

I get this thorough and disturbing report before I’ve reached my final site. It makes me wary . . . No. It makes me scared. I’ve  been on edge all day. Ever since we concluded our meeting and started heading out. And now . . . Now I think I’m actually shaking a little.

Okay Jake. Let’s take a deep breath and get this shit done!

The first thing I notice are the scorch marks. Just like Monica said. There’s a lot of them. All haphazard and in strange directions. There’s no rhyme or reason to them. It’s like someone was working with some futuristic laser saw that they couldn’t control properly.

I . . . I guess they could be something else. Claw marks. Really deep, gouging claw marks. Of something trying to hold on. Or pulling itself through. From another dimension. And not being quite able to.

[Scared] Fuck.

The tension in the air is like, level ten. The frisson is frissoning the shit out of this place. It’s almost palpable. I’m kind of scared to open my mouth, in case my tongue might get zapped. In my head I can practically see a map of concentric zones of electrical – or is that ectoplasmic – activity. Yeah, sort of like the infrared map, except these are rings of different sizes, with each smaller ring getting stronger. I can feel it pulling me toward the center, to the place where the magic happened. Magic. You might  think that a funny word for it, but it’s not really. Not to me. It’s something I don’t understand. None of us understands it. It’s beyond our comprehension . . . At least right now. Therefore . . . magic. Each step closer makes it harder to take another. It’s pulling me in, but also pushing away. You’d need some serious physicists to figure out the equations and calculations being used right now. And inside myself I’m also feeling plenty of push-pull forces. I want to know what’s going on here. I want to know what’s behind these phenomena and understand it. But I’m almost fucking terrified. I’d much rather turn-tail and head right back to my safe bed behind the protective walls of the apartment I’ve been staying at.

Of course, doing the latter wouldn’t make for much dramatic outcome now, would it?

It’s clearly a lot like the rift site Monica recently saw, just a little more potent, you know? And it already feels like it’s kicked up a notch, but as much as I might like that to be it, I already know it holds more in store for me.

So here goes.

The black grooves in the ground become deep, more ferocious if that makes sense; as if whatever made them had more strength at this point, or a better reach. They’re . . . Angrier. Whatever made them is fucking unhappy it wasn’t able to pull itself through. Some of them are wider than my foot, so I’ve got to watch where I’m walking, to avoid getting a sprained ankle, or maybe a broken one. I’m also noticing that some of the ground here isn’t dirt or soil, but veins – not totally sure if that’s the right word – of solid rock. Basically it’s really, really hard and yet it doesn’t seem to have slowed down the thing that made these vicious claw marks at all. It cut through the stone, gouging a piece of it out, like it was butter, as it cauterized the edges, as evidenced by the black soot and scorch marks.

And then I’m there. In the room where it happened, so to speak. At the point where reality was opened; torn asunder; the boundary between dimensions ripped open like a paper bag. It’s not there anymore. Sealed up. Closed. But I can feel it. And I can see it in my head. A jagged bright yellow line, like a really thin but long lightning bolt. And now that I’m staring at the spot with deep concentration, I can actually fucking see it: the barest hint of a white line in the same shape.

It’s a scar. A scar in the fabric of reality.

Will it ever heal? Disappear and become seamless again? I don’t know.

Before I realize it, my right arm is lifting up, the fingers reaching out to see if it’s a real thing. If I can touch it; find out what it feels like. I can feel it’s warm and before I can stop my fingers touching it there’s a sizzling sound. I yank my arm back and look at my fingertips. The tips of three fingers – the ones that touched the scar – are blackened, red circles around the edges. It feels like I just put my fingertips on a hot frying pan. The pain is instant and sharp, almost unbearable at first, but then begins to let off, and yet still remaining very apparent. It’s going to take a few days to heal.

Well, shit. I won’t be doing that again.

I take a few steps back and crouch down. Alternately blowing on my burned fingertips and cradling the hand against my chest.

I stare at the line for a moment, then close my eyes. The yellow lightning bolt is there. Clearer and brighter. I send out my mental feelers around the scar, doing whatever it is that I do when I’m trying to open a door, an ostium. And then I can actually feel it. This was a doorway. Now sealed up. But the wound through reality is still very fresh. All it would take is a serious mental shove from me to use those feelers to pull it apart. To rip it open. And the ostium would be reopened and I’d be able to pass through again.

A million thoughts flood my mind: what would I find on the other side? Where would I be? Would there be anyone else there? When would it be? Would it breathable? Would I be able to survive? Is it easier to tear open this scar from this side? Can the thing that did it originally not do it again from the other side? Is this one of the metaphysical rules of Ostium? For creating and opening an ostium?

If the thing is there on the other side will it want to rip off my head and drink the spurting blood from my exposed throat?

Woah! Where the fuck had that come from? It was almost like it wasn’t an original thought. Not one of my own.

Okay. I think I’ve experienced enough. I don’t know if I want to tell everyone what happened here.

[Short pause]

JAKE: Okay guys. All done here. I saw some weird shit, which I’ll tell you about as soon we all make it back to home base.

STEVE: Roger mate, see you back a HQ in a bit.

MONICA: I’ll meet you at the cable car. We can ride up together.

JAKE: Sounds good.

The walk back to the EV feels a long one, which is good, because it gives me time to do some serious thinking.

[PAUSE]

[STEVE:]

I wasn’t sure what it was that made me not want to do all the legwork and just sit comfortably at HQ. The thought of having to look at those strange sites where weird shit happened . . . Or is that weird sites where strange shit happened? A little from column A and a little from column B. The idea sounded intriguing. But I find Zhang and this whole quantum computer system, as well as the elaborate setup here at HQ so bloody fascinating I just wanted to stay up here.

Zhang is . . . As close to a human being as anyone I’ve ever met. When we got to talking a bit, as Jake and Monica were off checking out those rift sites, Zhang informed me after being treated like a basic computer program by everyone at the Ostium Network for so long, they were very happy and appreciative at how considerable we’d all been with them so far. Zhang also informed me that they had decided their preferred pronoun. In case you haven’t gathered, it’s they, them and their. That’s “their” possessive, not referring to a place. I told them I appreciated being informed of this and we would do our best to respect their wishes.

I barely need to type anything here. Zhang pretty much does it all, if I ask. Every once in a while a virtual keyboard will pop up out of thin air if I need to type something or use some keys for direction, such as when I wanted to see a complete map of the Rock. I was expecting a simple two-dimensional thing that I could look over. Get an idea of where we are, where our apartments are in relation to HQ, and how everything was all laid out. You know, basically one of those paper jobs one would get from the old petrol station back on normal Earth. Well, was I bloody surprised. It was this elaborate 3D topographical job. I felt like I was in the Matrix or something. I used the virtual keys to move around a bit, change the orientation and my point of view. I had Zhang put up little dots where we were, where our places were. Then I had her put up all the locations of the rift sites.

I was gobsmacked. I thought there might be some sort of pattern, you know. Just possibly. It was worth a shot. The big O stands out like a sort thumb. It’s so bloody obvious. Except it isn’t a complete O. There’s an unfinished part, near the top. But it’s very clear. Whoever is behind all this is either having a laugh or has a very fucked up idea of humor.

STEVE: Zhang, the rift sites look to be in a shape of an O.

ZHANG: That is correct.

STEVE: As in O for Ostium.

ZHANG: That is unknown and merely a hypothesis on your part. There are many other words beginning with that letter. Have you thought that it might also be the number zero?

STEVE: Erm, no. I suppose I hadn’t. Good point. Still a bloody big coincidence though.

ZHANG: I suppose so. For a human. You people sure do love your coincidences.

STEVE: You people? Whatcha mean by that then?

ZHANG: Flesh and blood corporeal beings.

STEVE: Alright then. Let’s leave it at that, shall we?

ZHANG: Whatever you desire, Steve.

[Short pause]

MONICA: Steve? Zhang? Come in? Are you there, honey?

STEVE: Yeah, I’m here, mum. What’s the matter?

MONICA: It’s Jake. He should be here by now. He should’ve been here a while ago. I’m starting to get worried. Can you find out what’s going on?

STEVE: Sure thing, mum. Give us a tic.

STEVE: Okay, Zhang. Can you show me on the map where Jake is? Can you tell if he’s okay?

ZHANG: One moment please . . . I have located him. According to my sensors, he is in peak health and condition. Unchanged to how he was before.

STEVE: Thank you. Where is he?

ZHANG: Here is his current location. He is in motion.

They showed me where he was. He wasn’t close to where he’d been before, at that last rift site. He wasn’t close to where Monica was waiting, at the bottom of the mountain where the cable car was. He wasn’t on his way to her either. He was in a completely different spot. On his way somewhere else. Somewhere he hadn’t told us he’d planned on going. It shouldn’t mean anything to me. I should be just as confused as my mum is right now. But I’m not. Because I’ve got that map and all the spots where the rift sites are. And I can clearly see where he’s headed. He’s headed to the part of that carefully arranged O where there’s a bloody great big hole.

STEVE: Zhang, can you work out where Jake’s headed.

ZHANG: No calculations are necessary. I am already fully aware where Jake is going.

STEVE: And . . . Where would that be exactly?

ZHANG: To the proposed location of the next rift site.

STEVE: Right . . . And how exactly did he come by that information?

ZHANG: Simple. I told him.

STEVE: Could you . . . possibly elaborate a bit?

ZHANG: Yes, Steve. He asked me for this information. I gave him this information.

STEVE: Okay then. And did he say why exactly he wanted to know there this rift site was?

ZHANG: He did not tell me . . . Exactly. He asked for the same information I have shown you on his datapad. A map and all the locations of the rift sites already occurred. He than asked if I could extrapolate where the next rift site would be. I said I could and did so. He then asked if I knew when the event might occur that would trigger the opening of this rift site. I told him I did and gave him the proposed time.

STEVE: And when might that be?

ZHANG: Eight minutes from now.

STEVE: Bloody hell. Okay then. Mum’s not gonna be happy.

[Short pause]

STEVE: Hello, mum. I’ve got some news for you. Bad news in fact. It’s really not good.

MONICA [Almost in anger]: Just tell me, Steve. Now.

STEVE: Jake’s on his way to the next expected rift site. He got the info from Zhang. The location and when it’s all supposed to happen.

MONICA: And when’s that?

STEVE: According to the counting down clock in front of me: seven minutes and thirty-seven seconds. And counting.

MONICA: [Pissed off breadth]: Kay.

[PAUSE]

[MONICA:]

I can’t fucking believe him! I’m know I’ve been in this situation before. I’ve know I’ve said these exact words. But still! Fuck him! I can’t fucking believe him. He got me again. I feel like . . . Fucking . . . Fucking Scully in the X-Files. Getting screwed over by Mulder over and over again. Left at the hotel room, or where the body is, or just by the side of the fucking road, while Mr. Spooky Mulder goes gallivanting off to who the fuck knows where. Well not this time.

MONICA: Zhang! I want the location of that final rift site on my datapad right now.

There’s no response. But a blinking light appears on the screen, at a spot on the map of Gibraltar. It’s not too far from here but it’s still far enough. I think I can make it in seven minutes. Barely. If I fucking floor it in the EV. But Jake’s got a head-start.

MONICA: Monica out!

I jump in the vehicle and hit what gas there is. It’s not quite ridiculously slow, but it’s . . . It’s fucking unimpressive. It’s just a little bit faster than I can run, so it is worth it.

Now I just have to bite my tongue and bide my time. And will this thing to go faster.

[Short pause]

I can see him. Up head. I’ve got less than a minute to go. He’s already there. Checking his datapad. Making sure it’s the right spot. He hasn’t heard me. Hasn’t looked around. Has no clue I’m on his tail. Boy am I going to lay into his ass when I get to him. He’s not getting away this time.

He’s walking up to the specific spot. Is he insane?

I stop the vehicle and jump out. I’m running now. Fast as I can. I’m making myself go faster than the EV now. I’m gonna get to him in time.

Gotta get to him in time.

[Short pause]

JAKE:

I’m here. Where Zhang told me it was gonna happen. The next rift site. I’ve got . . . Thirty seconds. I can feel the tension starting to build. It’s gonna happen. Real soon. I look at my datapad again, zooming in as far as it can go. It’s a matter of feet now, or meters according to the scale. I’m four meters away. Okay then. I count five steps back. This feels right. Some distance between us, but enough to do what needs to be done. Not sure exactly what that is yet, but if there’s anything I’ve learned in my time passing through Ostium, it’s always trust my gut and go with my intuition. It hasn’t steered me wrong. Yet.

Am I hearing something? Sounds like somebody running?

I look back over my shoulder and see Monica barreling down at me.

What the fuck?

And that’s when the explosion and light show begins.

[BOOM]

There’s a veritable tearing sound, but more akin to ripping flesh than cloth. It’s absolutely horrible. And the opening between worlds is clear before me. Then everything goes haywire. It’s like there’s a power vacuum, like being in a spaceship and there’s a hole in the hull. Everything’s being sucked in. I spread my legs, trying to keep my balance. Hold my ground. I can’t worry about Monica right now. She’s going to have to fend for herself. Hopefully she’s stopped and staying back or maybe running in the opposite direction. Let’s hope so.

What was she thinking?

And then gray arms are reaching through the rift. Scarred, wrinkled things. The hands are little more than skeletal appendages; finger bones that taper into a very fine and sharp point. They gouge into the ground and there’s a scalding sound like water on hot oil. The ground turns black. The talons sink into it like putty, pulling back. Trying to get a hold.

Not this time, whatever the fuck you are.

There’s noise and wind, and plenty of terror inside of me, but I do what I need to do. Because I have to. I hold out my arms, hands palm out. Then I make an emphatic pushing motion, while yelling:

Whatever the hell you are, get back! Get back from the foul pit from whence you came!

I know, it’s fucking cheesy, but I’m improvising here.

I don’t think the words do anything, but I feel something release itself from me, passing through my palms: a sort of white steam materializes and moves like a solid wall towards the opening.

There’s a strangled screech. The withered arms quickly pull back into the rift.

I wait a few seconds, then take tentative steps forward, getting closer. I don’t want to, but I have to. I’m ready to do whatever the hell I just did again. To push whatever it is back further in there. To fucking stop it once and for all.

I keep taking small steps ahead. Waiting. Wondering. Hoping.

Maybe that was enough to stop it?

Maybe?

[Short pause]

MONICA:

I stopped in my fucking tracks when those arms come out. Jesus, they’re scaring the shit out of me. What the fuck are they? And what the fuck are they attached to? I don’t think I want to know. But Jake is being Jake. Facing the badness like it’s no biggie. Just like he did before, when he stared down the open maw of the first Ostium door.

And now he’s doing something with his arms . . . What the shit is that? What the hell just came out of his hands?

Damn! It worked. Those arms have gone back inside. It had an effect.

Oh shit, he’s going closer. Don’t Jake. Don’t do it. I can’t fucking lose you again. Stop moving. Stay put. I’m slowly coming. I’m almost there.

[Short pause]

JAKE:

I can almost see through the rift. See what’s on the other side. I think it’s that crazy alternate world Ostium that Steve was in. It’s so weird. So not Ostium. And what’s that? That thing over there? It’s moving. Moving this way? Maybe. It looks injured. I can’t quite make it out. I need to get closer. I’m close to the edge now. The sounds are lessening. It’s helping me focus.

And then that thing moves with incredible speed. The arms are back and reaching for me . . .

[Short pause]

MONICA:

JAKE! The arms just shot out and grabbed him. JAKE! Hold on! I’m almost there.

He’s struggling. Trying to keep his footing. Trying to hold back. But they’re too strong. He can’t hold on.

And then he’s pulled through the rift . . . and gone. Like he never was. Just like he was before.

Gone from this world. Gone from this life.

But I’m not gonna let it happen this time. Not this fucking time. I’m so close. And the rift is starting to close up now. The edges knitting together. Fuck, I’ve got to hurry.

And then I only have one choice: I bend my knees and leap through the rift.

[Short pause]

[MONICA:]

By the time I come to on the other side I can see the rift has completely closed up.

And I have no fucking clue where Jake is . . . Or that thing that took him.

[DAVE:]

I take a bit more time than I expected chatting with Zhang, catching up so to speak, but when I walk back and get on the cable car as it arrives, I feel a new man. A changed man. The jaunt back down to sea level is a quiet one, naturally, because I’m the only bloody one here. But I’m doing a lot of thinking. My mind is opening up like a cliche flower basking in a beam of sunlight, and the memories are pouring in like life-giving water.

And now I’ve got a sour taste in my mouth. Thanks brain.

I enjoy the sunset on my trip down with a view I never expected to experience in my lifetime. I savor every second of it.

[Short pause]

I arrive at the bottom and think: oh shit, they’ve taken the golf buggy and left me with bugger all. I’m going to have to walk all the way to the restaurant. Then I see an EV waiting for me. Oh, how nice of them. They must’ve got me one, or walked themselves. Probably found me one.

I hop in and soon I’m zooming down an echoey empty street, the light weakening and disappearing and I’m going as fast as I can, because I don’t want to get stuck out here in the dark. I do find the switch for some headlamps, and that definitely makes things easier.

It’s not long before I’m where I want to be. I turn things off and reach the door, then I open it as quietly as I can. I can hear Jake and Monica chatting, laughing, and even possibly canoodling. Having a bloody good time by the sounds of it. It makes a warm place in my chest, to be so close to these two. Honestly, we can be dealing with any old shit going on here and I’ll be absolutely fine with these two next to me. They make things so much easier. And they always make me laugh. I suppose that’s a reason to keep them around.

Well, time to make my entrance.

[PAUSE]

MONICA: Hi honey.

JAKE: Dave! Good to see you man.

STEVE: Hi guys, sorry I’m running a bit late. Had a lot I wanted to try and get out of Zhang.

JAKE: And did you get it out of her?

MONICA: Jake, honey. 1) You don’t know that Zhang is a she. 2) You don’t know what pronoun he, she or they prefers. And 3) That sounds fucking horrible. Please never say that again.

JAKE: As soon as the words were out of my mouth . . . Yeah, you get the idea. Anyway, Dave, how’d it go?

STEVE: Well, first off. It’s Steve now. Permanently.

MONICA: Are you sure? Is this what you want. Don’t let us or anyone or anything else pressure you into this. If you want to be Dave for the rest of your life, that’s perfectly fine by me. By us.

JAKE: Yes. Definitely. Whatever you want, man.

STEVE: Thanks guys. That means a lot. But I had some time to think about it. That cable car ride felt longer than usual. But in a good way. And now I’m ready.

MONICA: Good. I’m very happy for you, honey.

STEVE: Thanks mum. I’m ready to be Steve. And I’m ready to tell you what happened to me.

MONICA: All of it?

STEVE: [short pause] Yes. All of it.

JAKE: You remember it all?

STEVE: With Zhang’s help. It’s all been unlocked now, so to speak. Set free in the paddock of my mind. And I want to tell you both what happened to me.

MONICA: But first: dinner.

JAKE: Oh yeah, it’s just about ready. Come on. We need full stomachs for this.

STEVE: Sounds lovely.

[PAUSE]

STEVE: Wow. Delicious. That was a meal fit for a king.

JAKE: I thought you said the same thing yesterday?

STEVE: Well . . .

JAKE: Plus your mom helped with this one.

STEVE: Well . . .

MONICA: Steve, are you saying Jake’s cooking is better than our combined cooking?

STEVE: No.

MONICA: Well, which one is better? Yesterday’s, or today’s?

STEVE: Erm . . . How about dessert?

MONICA: Smooth move.

JAKE: Or is that . . . Cool move?

MONICA: Why?

JAKE: Because we’re having ice cream.

MONICA: Huh?

JAKE: For dessert, we’re having ice cream.

MONICA: I don’t get it.

JAKE: Ice. Cream. Which is cool. Because of the ice and being frozen, and . . . Hey, wait a minute: are you fucking with me?

MONICA: Gotcha!

JAKE: I’ll get the dessert.

MONICA: Are you sure you’re ready for this. To tell your story.

STEVE: Yeah. I am. I’m sure. I just don’t know how long it’s going to take. I don’t want to keep you two up late unnecessarily.

MONICA: Honey, we’re going to stay up as late as you need to us to. As late and as long as you need to tell your story the way you want to. To the end. Until you’re satisfied. I think we could probably rustle ourselves up some coffee if we need to. If we need it to stay awake.

STEVE: Coffee sounds good.

MONICA: It does, doesn’t it. I don’t think we’re going to need it to keep our eyes open. Your story is going to have us hooked. Trust me. But coffee would be good.

[Sounds of bowls on table]

JAKE: Yeah, it would. Let’s eat the ice cream first, then I’ll start boiling some water for coffee. You ready to start, Steve?

STEVE: [Breath] Yes. I’ve been thinking for a bit exactly where I want to start and I know it has to be at the right beginning. The right one for you, mum, and the right one for me. That would be when the people in charge first came to me about going through the first door. We’d all be learning and revising and relearning for weeks. Felt like there wasn’t really anything left to be learnt and we were just waiting for something new to happen. They even let us go to the Ostium place while it was still being built. It was incredible to actually see the thing we’d been talked to and learnt about for so long.

STEVE: And then one day two blokes came to my apartment when I didn’t have any classes. Completely unannounced. Scared the shit out of me to be honest. I didn’t really know what to do. What to expect. I offered them tea, with a straight face, mind you. It was bloody hard.

MONICA: Do you remember their names?

STEVE: Erm . . . They just gave me their surnames. Let me have a think . . . Keelin and Takaya. Yep. That was em.

MONICA: You’re sure?

STEVE: Yep.

MONICA: Positive?

STEVE: Yes! Why?

MONICA: It’s . . . It’s not important right now. Keep going.

STEVE: Okay. So before they’d even tried the tea, the Keelin bloke said we’re ready to have someone go through the Ostium door and we want it to be you. I was . . . Well . . . I was gobsmacked. Couldn’t bloody believe it. Out of all the people in Gibraltar I’d been the one chosen. The chosen one, essentially. We all knew it was going to happen eventually, didn’t we?

MONICA: Yes.

STEVE: We were all wanting it to happen. It’s what we’d been working towards. All that learning and revising and practicing and classes and teachers and waiting and waiting . . . And waiting. And then it happened. To me. I was told right there and then. It was me. I didn’t get to decide where or when I wanted to go. That was something that was going to come later. Right now there was one door I’d be going through, to a specific place. And that was it. I had to decide right at that moment. No time to think about, or have any second thoughts, I suppose. It was decide now, or they’d move on to someone else . . .

STEVE: I had to say yes. I’m sorry mom. For not letting you know. For not talking to you about it. I wanted to. Really, I did. But they wouldn’t let me.

MONICA: It’s okay, honey. I know it was something you couldn’t say no to. I don’t think I could’ve either, if it’d been me. But as soon as I found out . . .

STEVE: I know. I know because they told me. After I said yes, I’d do it, no matter what. They said I had to keep it a secret. That it was going to happen that afternoon, leaving me barely any time to prepare for it, both mentally and physically. But that’s how they wanted it. In case I never came back, which is sort of what happened to me. If they lost me they wanted to have their cover story ready for when the shit hit the fan. I didn’t fully realize this until later. Until I was in Ostium and couldn’t go back.

[PAUSE]

STEVE: They told me I couldn’t bring anything with me, other than the clothes on my back, so dress warm, they said, knowing full well where I was going, while I hadn’t a bloody clue. And then the time came. I’d spent those precious few hours at home, just savoring where I was, and trying to control the building excitement in me. It was just the other one this time – Takaya – and he took me away in one of the EVs to that special building I’d never been to before.

JAKE: The one we found, and checked out?

STEVE: Yeah, that one. I might’ve passed it once or twice before, but it was strictly off limits to the likes of us. So it never entered my head to try and see what it was like inside. But they took me through. Checked me in. I signed my name a few times on some datapad, and then was taken deeper inside. They gave me a new datapad. I’d left mine at home, as I’d been instructed to do. This new one they said wouldn’t have all the same abilities as my usual one, but it would allow me to do video and voice recordings which is mainly what they wanted me to do, to document everything that was happening to me; everything I was experiencing in Ostium. This told me pretty clearly – without them saying in so many words – that they had no bloody clue what it was going to be like for me on the other side. In Ostium. And once I went through that one door I was supposed to go through. It wasn’t exactly encouraging to hear this. But my heart was already thumping like a John Bonham bass drum, and I was sweating, and thankful they didn’t take my blood pressure because it would’ve been through the roof. This was just part of the plan. Part of the mission. Part of my job that I was about to start doing. My real job. Everything before had been practice. Training. Getting me ready. This was the real McCoy. The actual thing I was here to do. I knew it was a monumental first step. Just like Neil Armstrong on the moon. Just like those people who went into space for the first time. Just like those first people who took to the skies. Just like those people who decide to go into the unknown and find out just what the fuck was going on on the other side of the hill. Now it was my turn. The first person in Ostium. One small step through a doorway and voila . . . History made. I was ready. And even if I wasn’t, I told myself over and over – a mantra – that I was ready, whether I liked it or not.

STEVE: It was then they finally bloody told me where and when I’d be going through that one and only door. They told me that door would have a number two on it. The door that had a number one would be my living quarters, with a place to sleep, a toilet and shower, and kitchen stocked with food. Anything and everything I could need, essentially, according to them. They showed me a digital map of the place. Mum and I had been there with everyone else when we’d had that first chance to check it out, but things weren’t finished yet. A lot of stuff was still being built and organized. So the map felt completely different to that place we’d been to. They showed me where I’d be arriving. Where my home base was going to be, and where door number two was. I asked ‘em why I couldn’t have this nifty map on my datapad. They said my new datapad was empty right now, because they weren’t sure what would happen to any files that were on there once I went through the door to Ostium. They thought it would all get wiped or corrupted. I then asked them how they expected to get all these recordings they wanted me to do back to them. They said there was a specific contingency plan in place upon completing of my mission. In the cupboard under the sink at the very back stuck to the top was a box. Inside were specific instructions about what I was supposed to do once I’d finished up with everything. They talked about it as if it was going to be real easy, like a stroll down the lane, having some lunch in the park, feeding the ducks, then coming home. All done and sorted. No problems. I didn’t believe them for a second. But I knew I was too deep in it already and couldn’t turn back now and change my mind. I wouldn’t turn back now.

STEVE: Finally they told me what I’d find on the other side of door number two. I was traveling to the year 1587 to an island called Roanoke. They didn’t really need to give me the details, I knew the story, the history already. It was part of all that training. They knew that and didn’t bother going into any further detail on the subject. They told me I was to search the area for a whole hour. Gather as much information as I could. Make as many video and audio recordings as I could. Document it all to the best of my ability. And then come back to Ostium. Have a rest. Get a good night’s sleep. Eat when I needed to. And the following day I was to do the same bloody thing all over again. And after that was done, do it all over once again. Then, after all that, I was to read those very secret and hidden instructions and carry them out. Alright then, I thought. Seems pretty easy, but very likely won’t be. Almost tedious with how they’re describing in. But I was just as shit scared as I had been when they first told me what I was going to do five hours ago. Then they said it was time. I got myself as ready as I could. Slipped the datapad into an inside coat pocket that was big enough, and followed them to the room.

JAKE: The room where we found the door to Ostium.

STEVE: Yeah. That one. For the first time in my life I knew what it was like to be an animal in a cage. They opened the door to the room and waited, saying nothing. I got the hint and walked in. No goodbye or good luck or anything. They shut the door firmly behind me, spinning the lock in place with a loud clunk. And then they watched me through the glass window. Waiting for me to do my thing. So I gave them a sarcastic wave and toddled over to the other door in the room. I tried to keep my hand from shaking, as I reached for the door handle. Think I did a pretty good job of it. Then turned and opened it onto darkness. That was when I peed myself a little. It was just so black. No indication of anything in there. Just complete and utter night. And as I stepped through, closing the door behind me as I’d been instructed to, all I could think was: oh shit, I didn’t bring any extra underpants.

[PAUSE]

STEVE: The first thing I did when I was on the other side was I pulled out the datapad and checked it to make sure everything was working. It was. I didn’t really know why I did that at the time, but having thought on it a bit, I believe it was because it was my one and only connection with the Ostium Network, with the world I’d just left. When we came through that first time, the door was left wide open and we could all see the way back easy as pie. This time, once I was through, that door was closed and my way back was gone. Hence the specific instructions once I carried out the mission. It was weird. Bloody weird. Being there completely by my lonesome. But I knew what was done was done and I was here and it was all up to me now. So I put one foot in front of the other and walked into my new home for a bit.

JAKE: Did you enjoy your stay at the Ritz?

STEVE: You what? Oh . . . Right. Yes. It was lovely. Definitely going back there again. It was just like they said it would be. Comfy bed. Fully stocked kitchen. Lots of tinned foods. A working toilet, which is important when you’re eating those tinned foods. But by the time I got there it was late afternoon. It had already been a . . . Traumatic day, to say the least. So I made myself some din-dins. Cleaned everything up and then went to bed. I was bloody tired and slept like a baby.

STEVE: Next morning I was up early, feeling refreshed and ready to go through that door. It took me a little while to find where door number two was. I didn’t have that digital map so I had to recall it from memory, and I don’t have your photographic memory, Jake, so it was bloody hard.

JAKE: [sigh] Sometimes I wish I’d never mentioned the memory thing.

MONICA: But do you? Do you really?

STEVE: And it has allowed for endless jokes . . . Right?

JAKE: Yeah, yeah. Get on with your story.

STEVE: All-right . . .Touchy! Anyway, today was going to be the day and I had no bloody clue what was going to happen. Next I found that map table which helped wonders to point me towards the right door. But I didn’t know if I was going to make it through to the end, if I was going to survive, or what . . . So before I went to the door I recorded a message on the datapad. A video. For you, mum. In case things got weird and I never saw you again. I wanted some record, a message telling you what had happened to me. Just something. So you wouldn’t always wonder. And something that might give you hope if you were looking for me. Because I knew you would be, whether the Ostium Network would let you or not. Once that was done I left. I found the door and it opened without any problems, and I stepped through before I could have any second thoughts. I didn’t really know what to expect. I’d been told it was Roanoke in the sixteenth century, but it wasn’t a historical period I was very familiar with. More American history than British. Not part of my repertoire, if you know what I mean. The first thing I noticed was how green it was. Like the Lake District, where I’ve been on holiday a few times with friends. It made me think they must get a lot of rain here, to keep everything so green. The ground was all green; lots of green trees. Oaks possibly? And I saw this wooden fence in the distance. Just as you described it, Jake. But then I saw there was something wrong . . . Something very wrong . . .

[Short Pause]

JAKE: Was it something to do with the trees? Or the wooden palisade?

STEVE: No . . . No. It was much worse than that. It was something wrong with . . . This reality I was in. I turned my head and Roanoke just . . . Stopped being there. It was as if someone had drawn a division line, ending it there, like a painting or drawing that just cuts off. On the other side of that invisible line was a metal wall and floor and this bloody great big window looking out on a reddish-orange desert. It was . . . It was bloody unbelievable. I think my head started hurting, like when you’re looking at two images and one is out of focus, or just off, and starts to do your head in. I wondered what the bloody hell I was looking at and then saw the spaceship through that window plonked in the sand like it was a completely normal thing. I didn’t have a clue what I was looking at, at the time . . .

JAKE: But you now realize it was the Martian landscape.

STEVE: Right. Though if I’d known, I don’t know if it would’ve made a difference. I was so . . . Discombobulated. There was probably a part of me that was pretty certain I was going bonkers. But that wasn’t the end of it. I kept swiveling my head to the right and there was another hidden line of separation and a new scene: a dark blue ocean and an old ship. I could just make out the name on the back . . .

MONICA: The Mary Celeste.

STEVE: Yes. To me it meant nothing. It made as much sense as everything else I was seeing. What I did know was that this wasn’t right. It was very bloody wrong. Whatever they’d planned on at the Ostium Network. It wasn’t this. And if I was scared before, now I was beyond terrified. It’s the sort of shit you see and think, well, I’m not going to make it out of this alive, am I? Of course, I’m able to approach it this way now because I did. These three . . . Dimensions, for lack of a better word. I’m pretty sure that’s what they were, which were all converging in this once place with me in the middle, took up my horizon, so I had little choice but to turn back to the door I’d come through, wanting to get the fuck out of this place. Except the door had closed. I made sure I kept it open when I came through, just so I’d have a way out if I needed it. I didn’t hesitate. I just turned the handle and opened it and stepped through, looking to save my arse. I stepped into the blackness, but I didn’t end up back in Ostium . . .

[PAUSE]

STEVE: I’m sorry. I’m taking my time because I’m still trying to put it all together. I remember what happened. But there’s also me viewing it through the lens of time knowing everything now and knowing exactly what happened. I didn’t know for sure for so long. I was in the complete unknown. I’m also trying to put it into words for you now. To make sense of it all . . .

MONICA: Honey, you take as much time as you need. If you’re not ready . . .

STEVE: No. I am. I know I am.

JAKE: Only if you’re sure, man. Maybe just tell and don’t worry about how it all comes out. If it’s jumbled, we can help piece it together. If it doesn’t make sense, we’ll work it out.

STEVE: Thank you guys. [Breath] Okay then. I woke up and found myself inside a flat, well, not exactly, it was the shell of a flat. The structure of a building that wasn’t finished yet. But even though it was during the day, there were no workmen around. I don’t know if it was the weekend or a bank holiday or they were all just scarping. There were . . . Two things that were very worrying for me. A) I had completely lost my memory: I didn’t remember who I was, where I was, or how I’d gotten here. And B) I was starkers. With hindsight I’m able to process this a little more. Whatever that place was on the other side of door number 2 it was a major fuck-up, something that was never meant to happen; something that was never meant to be. A mutation of what Ostium was supposed to be able to do. So I think when I went through and the door closed behind me, it severed me from Ostium. Probably permanently. No bloody clue. When I opened the door again it was to somewhere else. And some-when else. London apparently. And going through there literally stripped me of all my personal belongings. Hence being naked and not knowing who I was. And of course it was just then that someone walked into the room. A middle-aged black woman. She screamed. I screamed. And we had a long awkward moment. When I started trying to explain what had happened to me, I think she could hear the pleading in my voice. The earnestness. Or she just had a very good heart and soul. She believed my story. Gave me her coat. Told me to wait and came back a half hour later with some McDonald’s, a t-shirt, track bottoms and a pair of flip-flops. They were a little small, but I was so grateful. I at least remembered how to speak English properly. So not everything was gone. The woman who helped me . . . It’s funny. For the life of me, I can’t remember her name. No matter how much I try. Well, she took me to a hospital. St. Stephen’s. It’s a mental hospital. They were very nice there. I stayed for six months. They did everything they could to try and help me remember who I was. What happened to me. No such luck. After six months we all pretty much agreed there was nothing that could really be done for me to get my memories back. They seemed to be permanently gone. And that was that. We were all on the same page about this. They’d found an elderly couple who were willing to let me stay with them for a bit. So I could get back on my feet. You see to me I felt like I’d just forgotten who I was and what I did, obviously I’d been someone in London or England and had a job and a family. We thought within those  six months my family would’ve gotten in touch with me. Someone would’ve been looking. But I couldn’t spend the rest of my life in that hospital. So I went to live with Bob and Eileen. After a year I started calling them mum and dad. They didn’t mind. They’d never had children, though they’d always wanted to. It’d just never happened. Never worked out. So that was my life for a bit. It felt . . . Lovely and routine and normal.

MONICA: I’m really happy you found someone, some life to live. I can’t imagine what that must’ve been like. But I’m very glad you found someone and something to live for.

STEVE: Thanks, mum. Unfortunately, the good times didn’t last that long. One year almost to the day – I swear it was – when I started calling them mum and dad, dad just disappeared. Never came home. No one knew what’d happened. And before I could truly wrap my mind around it, mum disappeared next. I was heartbroken. Really destroyed by it all. Fortunately, I had a few friends who were there for me as I went through . . . Grief I suppose. All that grief. I’d been legally adopted by Bob and Eileen by that point and when nothing was learned about them they were declared legally dead. There was a will and they left everything to me, which was both wonderful and horrible at the same time. I had the house, and I had some money, and I had a job. So I was alright on my own, considering everything. That’s when I started wondering if everything that had happened to me hadn’t been an accident or coincidence. If there was some reason behind it all. Or maybe even someone or a group of people. Yeah, I know, it sounds very conspiracy-theory, but I was very into the X-Files at the time and all that sort of stuff . . .

JAKE: Steve, do you remember when this was? What year?

STEVE: Course I do, you plonka. It was 1999.

MONICA: Oh my god.

STEVE: Yeah. Bloody incredible, isn’t it? I went through that door and back in time. I suppose I should be happy I didn’t end up in the Middle Ages or somewhere much worse. But that’s when I got the first idea for EMU – Enigmatic Mysteries of the Unknown. I started putting it all together for an episodic podcast. I hadn’t seen anything else like it online, so I thought I was doing something new and unique. Got myself a simple website on Geocities and started uploading the recordings. Started getting a fantastic reception almost right way. It was a little bit weird, honestly. And then I found Ostium. Your recordings Jake. That changed everything. And the rest of the story you know . . .

JAKE: That’s . . . Well, I’d say that’s unbelievable if I didn’t know all the steps after that led to you being here with me and meeting back up with your mom. It’s a truly incredible story. You’ve been through so goddamn much.

STEVE: Yeah. Tell me about it.

MONICA: I don’t know how you did it. But I’m so grateful that you’re here now. That we’re all together.

STEVE: Yeah. Me too. But I’m feeling bloody knackered now. Can hardly keep my eyes open.

MONICA: You head off to bed then. Jake and I can finish cleaning all this up. We’ll see you in the morning.

STEVE: Are you sure? Jake?

JAKE: Definitely, man. You get some shut-eye.

STEVE: Alright then. Nighty all. Love you mum.

MONICA: Love you, sweetie.

[Short break]

[STEVE:]

I’m back in the golf cart and driving slowly back to my flat. I’m very tired. That was lovely food. And it definitely feels like a big weight has been lifted off my chest now that I’ve got my story out. Told them, and made myself realize everything that’s happened to me. It has been a bloody lot. I don’t know where Jake’s going to be sleeping tonight, and I wasn’t going to ask. It’s none of my business really. But I know him and mum were shacking up together back in Ostium, and if they want to keep doing that, I’m perfectly alright with it. We’re all adults here.

And here we are, then. God, I can’t wait to get under those covers.

As they say: tomorrow is another day.

DAVE: Oh my bloody god. What the fuck, Jake?

JAKE: Hang on a second, Dave.

MONICA: Un-fucking-believable.

JAKE [Clearing throat]: Who am I, computer?

AI: You are the creator, CEO, and president of the Ostium Network.

JAKE: President?

AI: Person in charge. Boss. Head honcho. Overseer. Superintendent. Governor. Controller. Overseer. Supervisor. Do you require further definition terms, Jake?

JAKE: Er . . . No. No. No, thank you. That’s quite enough.

MONICA: That voice . . . It sounds familiar.

JAKE: Er . . .computer? Do you have a name?

AI: Yes. If you did not ask me for it in the next 37 seconds, I was going to tell you, regardless of any questions you had asked or were currently asking me. It’s the polite thing to do.

JAKE: I . . . I apologize. You’re completely right. By what name would you like to be addressed?

AI: Zhang.

JAKE: Zhang? Okay, Zhang. A pleasure to meet you.

AI: And you, Jake Fisher. Though we have met and conversed and interacted on many previous occasions. Nevertheless, I appreciate good manners. Therefore: a pleasure to meet you too.

MONICA: Zhang? Zhang . . . I . . . I know that name.

AI: Yes, Monica Chase. You do know me. We have met on one previous occasion. As I have also met you, Stephen Chase, on a previous occasion.

DAVE: What? It’s not ringing any bells.

MONICA: The interview!

AI: Yes. Well done, Monica. That is correct. The only time we have met is at the . . .

MONICA: Five Elephant Kreuzberg. In Berlin.

AI: Yes. Affirmative.

MONICA: Except there’s a big fucking problem.

AI: Oh . . . And what is that?

MONICA: You’re not a real human being, you’re a . . . Fucking computer. Artificial intelligence. Whatever the hell you want to call yourself.

AI: Ahh . . . I see where you have erred. No, you are wrong.

MONICA: What? Am I missing something here? Is there a person behind the curtain somewhere?

AI: If only you would allow me to explain . . .

JAKE: It’s okay, Zhang. Monica’s been through . . . We’ve all been through a lot. Today, especially. Please excuse our behavior. And please do explain. Thank you.

AI: Ah yes. The three of you meeting today. After . . . So long. Understandable. Very well. Let me please explain in one succinct sentence: I was never human to begin with.

DAVE: What?!

AI: Yes, Stephen, or Steve as you prefer to be called. When we met in Paris at Les Deux Magots a week before your mother’s interview, for your interview . . .

DAVE: But I have no memory of that. I have no memory of you!

AI: Ah yes, your amnesia. Again, understandable. What if I was to tell you at that cafe I recommended you order the hot chocolate. You were hesitant. Then you tried it and proclaimed it the most exquisite beverage you had ever consumed. And I am quoting you there.

[Short pause]

DAVE: Oh my god, I do remember! I remember it all now! Just by you telling me it. A bloody trigger. It’s all there now. A few blocks from the Seine. Yes. It’s all there. But . . . I know for a fact I met a person. A real person. Qiao Zhang.

AI: Ah, that’s is where you are in error, Steve Chase. You met me. Qiao Zhang. In my android form. My . . . Mobile form.

DAVE: You’re bloody kidding me.

AI: No, I am not. I am being perfectly candid with you. The person you and your mother saw and interviewed with was me, but not completely. It was my android body which part of my conscious had been downloaded into. A sort of remote drone, if you will, that allows me to control and manipulate it from any distance across the world. Across multiple worlds in fact. You were never talking to or interacting with a human being. It was me. Zhang.

DAVE: Holy. Fucking. Shit. I thought Ostium was scifi enough, but this . . . This is . . .

AI: A creation of Jake Fisher . . .

JAKE [Shock]: What?!

AI: Yes, Jake Fisher created me. However, I am fully aware that you are not THAT Jake Fisher, Jake. You are not the Jake Fisher of this instance of the multiverse. Just as I know you, Monica, and you, Steve, are not either. You are all from a different timeline. And now . . . Somehow . . . You have ended up in this one. My timeline. But this is most certainly a good thing. For I was getting rather lonely.

[PAUSE]

JAKE: Zhang . . . How do you know we are not the right versions of . . . Ourselves . . . That are supposed to be here?

DAVE: Erm, sorry mate, could you rephrase that in a version of English I can understand, please?

AI: It is a valid question, Jake Fisher. Stephen Chase: Your friend is asking how I know you are not the original Jake, Stephen and Monica who have always been here in this timeline. In my timeline. Well, the answer is simple.

[Short Pause]

MONICA: Could we get that answer?

AI: Certainly. I was just waiting for someone to ask me. I know you are not the Jake, Stephen and Monica of this timeline because they are all dead.

UNISON: What?!

AI: An expected response. I apologize. I do not know for certain if they are all dead, but I suspect they are.

MONICA: By all . . . Do you mean, er, the other Jake, Steve . . . And me?

AI: No.

MONICA [CONFUSED]: Oh.

AI: By “all dead” I mean every person living in this timeline of the Ostium Network.

JAKE: All of them?

AI: As I said before. I am not certain they are dead. But they are all gone.

DAVE: Okay. You two stop talking for two tics. Zhang: please give us the story on this.

AI: I cannot do that Dave . . . Or would you prefer: [HALL 9000 voice] I cannot do that Dave.

DAVE: What. The. Fuck.

JAKE: It’s not bad actually.

AI: Thank you Jake. But my imitation is not as good as yours.

JAKE: Er . . . How do you know I can do a HALL 9000 impression?

AI: Because of your recording.

JAKE: My recording?

AI: Yes. Your recording. To Dave. Who is really Steve.

DAVE: Again, I repeat: What. The Fuck.

MONICA: You’ve heard that recording?

AI: I have that recording.

JAKE [HESITANT]: Why do you have that recording?

AI: I have all your recordings, Jake. As well as Monica’s, and Stephen’s recorded under the nom de plume “David Fothergill Attenborough Windsor.

MONICA: Do we really want to know why?

JAKE: I don’t think so.

AI: I have all your recordings because while there are an infinite number of timelines where the Ostium Network exists, there is only one artificial intelligence. There is only one . . . Zhang.

MONICA: How can you possibly know that?

AI: I just do. A perfectly human answer. But I know you will not deem that an acceptable response. Nor if I were to say it is a gut feeling or anything to that effect. Therefore let me explain from the point of view of an AI. My . . . Processor, my core . . . If anything were to be identified as my heart, my brain, and possibly my soul, you would find it – if you could find it – very deep within this island not at the nano level . . . Not at the molecular level . . . Not at the atomic level . . . But at the quantum level.

DAVE: Holy. Shit.

JAKE: Care to elucidate what you mean by that, Zhang?

AI: Why would you be asking me, Mr. Jake Fisher? You created me? [PAUSE] I apologize. That was mean. I know it is not the Jake Fisher standing here right now in this timeline that put me together. Is anyone here familiar with how a quantum processor works?

DAVE: I could lie and say yes, like I know what the fuck I’m talking about, but I really don’t.

MONICA: They taught us a little about quantum theory, but nothing I’d feel confident spouting back to a quantum AI.

JAKE: I’m a little familiar with quantum theory, but why don’t you make everything crystal clear for us.

AI: Thank you Jake Fisher. I will attempt to do exactly this. It involves the quantum entanglement principle. Are you, Monica and Stephen, familiar with this principle?

MONICA: A little, though I’m pretty sure Dave isn’t. But why do you assume Jake knows?

AI: The Jake Fisher from my timeline . . . The one who created the Ostium Network, was a gifted genius and excelled in most of the sciences. Quantum theory was one of his favorite subjects.

MONICA: Okay. So what does that Jake have to do with this Jake?

AI: Based on Jake’s recordings, I have deduced that Jake is familiar with quantum theory.

[Beat]

MONICA: Well?

JAKE: Well what?

MONICA: Are you?

JAKE: [pause] You want me to answer truthfully?

MONICA: Ah, fuck. Yeah, I guess so.

JAKE: Then yes. I am familiar with quantum theory and the quantum entanglement principle.

DAVE: Is that one of your “obsessions”?

JAKE: Yes, unfortunately.

MONICA: [Sigh] I say again: ah, fuck.

AI: Would you care to explain the basics, Jake?

JAKE: You guys cool with that?

MONICA: Just fucking spit it out and enlighten us, Jakey.

JAKE: Okay. So the basics of quantum theory are that something can be one thing, or it can be another. Like Schroedinger’s cat?

DAVE: Isn’t it pronounced Schroedinger?

JAKE: I dunno. That’s how I’ve always said it in my head.

DAVE: That’s the one where the cat is either dead or alive and you don’t know until you open the box, right?

JAKE: Exactly. But for that moment before you open the box, the cat is essentially both dead and alive. Two states at the same time. This is quantum theory. Quantum computers exemplify this. With computers it’s either a one or a zero, right?

MONICA: Sure.

JAKE: Well, with quantum computers, it can be a one or a zero, or both a one and a zero. So three options instead of two, giving it way more computing power. Quantum computing power, measured in qubits!

DAVE: Your having me on? Qubits? Sounds like something out of Charlie and the Chocolate Factory?

JAKE: No, it’s the real deal.

AI: Thank you, Jake. Your elaboration of quantum theory was simple, perhaps even crude, but served to convey the idea correctly. [Sing-song voice]There’s no earthly way of knowing . . . Which direction they are going. [Sing-song voice end] And what about quantum entanglement?

JAKE: Oh yeah, and if you’re head’s already hurting, wait till you hear this. So the basic atomic structure is your proton and neutron, with the electron spinning around the outside somewhere. It’s never really in one spot at one time, so it has sort of this ring around the nucleus, like the rings of Saturn. Well, they’ve observed that an electron in one atom is somehow connected to an electron in another atom to the extent that you can’t just study that individual electron without being aware of the other, and so you have to observe the system as a whole, which is termed a quantum entanglement state. It’s also been observed in neutrinos and photons. But they have no idea how it’s happening, or why. It’s a complete mystery of science.

DAVE: That . . . That is bloody mind boggling. The parts of it my mind was able to grasp, that is. Bloody mind boggling.

MONICA: Yeah, what he said.

AI: Thank you again, Jake. To put my own existence in simplistic terms. My “core,” my processor, my soul – if you wish to get metaphysical – exists in a quantum entanglement state to the Nth degree. It exists here, in this Ostium Network, right now. But it also exists in the billions of other Ostium Networks in other timelines. Therefore, if you wished – though I do not know why you would want to, for you seem such nice people – you could dig down deep into this island and find my core and destroy it, but I would still remain hale and healthy – for an artificial intelligence that is – existing in those many other states and remain essentially unharmed by your actions.

JAKE: That is . . . Truly unbelievable. So you exist in all these other states, all these iterations of the Ostium Network simultaneously?

AI: Yes, astutely put, Jake. I am one, and I am many. Very. many.

MONICA: Goddamn.

[PAUSE]

MONICA: Can we get back to you explaining why everyone in your timeline is dead?

AI: I never said they were dead.

MONICA: Deep breath, Monica [Breath], can you explain what happened to them and where they went.

AI: That is a much better phrased question. I will attempt to do so. Ahem. Approximately two weeks . . .

DAVE: Hang on, hang on, hang on. “Approximately”?

JAKE: Yeah, Dave’s right. You’ve never been approximate about anything in your life, Zhang.

AI: Very well, you know-it-alls. Exactly two weeks, to the day – if you want to the hour, you’ll have to wait three hours, fourteen minutes, and fifty-two seconds. Fifty-one seconds. Fifty seconds . . .”

JAKE: Yeah, we get the idea, please continue.

AI: Very well. Two weeks ago the first explosion occurred. It came without warning or expectation. I applied every form of detection and study I could conceive of to deduce what was happening. I arrived at no conclusions, other than the understanding that a hole had opened up in this reality. The amount of energy required to conduct such a feat is . . . Considerable. I was able to detect where on the island it originated, but by the time someone arrived at the location, there was nothing left, other than a feeling of severe static activity, according to the witness. It wasn’t until later that we learned there had been two people right in the path of where the opening occurred that were immediately absorbed into the rift. Presumably killed.

[Short pause]

AI: The next explosion occurred two days later, then later that afternoon. With each passing day more rifts formed, came, and went, taking more and more people. Panic set in and people didn’t know what to do. It appeared that the only safe place on the island was right here. I told my Jake Fisher this, and I believe he told no one else. There was no one to stop them, or prepare for them in any way. Graves were made, though no remains were buried. But this soon become fruitless. Eventually Jake Fisher, creator of the Ostium Network, was the only person left here.

MONICA: What happened to him?

AI: I cannot tell you. It is classified.

DAVE: Can you tell Jake?

AI: I cannot tell him. It is classified.

JAKE: Wait, what? But I am . . . Me. The same person. Sort of. Surely you can tell me.

AI: I am sorry, Jake. I cannot. The other you. The Jake from my timeline was very specific. I even recorded his message.

OTHER JAKE (Chris doing a different sounding voice, brusk and gravely): Under no circumstances – what-so-fucking-ever – are you to reveal what happened to me. No fucking hint of what I did. Even if . . . Even if another fucking me comes waltzing through one of those holes and comes knocking on your door, asking what the fuck happened to everyone. You keep your trap 100% shut. Got it?

MONICA: He . . . He really sounds like an asshole.

AI: He is my superior and creator. I have no say in the matter.

MONICA: Well, I do, and I’m sure fucking happy we got you, Jakey, and not that son of a bitch.

DAVE: Did the explosions stop after everyone was gone? After whatever that other Jake did to leg it out of here?

AI: Leg . . . it . . . Ah yes. A colloquialism. I understand. No. They did not. They continued. And did not alter upon your arrival either. That applies to all three of you.

DAVE: Those explosions. We’ve been hearing them. They’re . . . Bloody terrifying.

MONICA: Yep. I heard them too. Scared the shit out of me.

AI: Well then, you will appreciate this next bit of information I am about to give you: after studying every incident I’ve been able to catalog with these explosions, I am now able to guess with an 80% accuracy, when the next one will occur.

DAVE: Wow. Most impressive. When are we due for the next one?

AI: Two minutes.

MONICA [pissed off]: Seriously?

AI: Yes. One minute and fifty-five seconds.

JAKE: And you think with each of those explosions people were sucked in and killed.

AI: That is my hypothesis yes. They may well have survived, depending on what is on the other side of each of these rifts. But the severity with which they have struck indicates they are extremely violent and unlikely to take one to a place of quiet and calm.

MONICA: No shit.

JAKE: But you did say we are safe up here.

AI: Yes.

JAKE: And you know when the next rift is going to open.

AI: Yes. To within 80% accuracy. Forty-five seconds now.

JAKE: Know where?

AI: Yes. Again, up to 80% accuracy.

JAKE: Are we able to see it from up here? Like with a camera or through the window?

AI: I do have a few cameras within the vicinity of the next proposed rift, but they are quite distant and always cease working just before the explosion commences. I recommend looking out the window at the far right, in a south-south-westerly direction.

JAKE: So . . . Over there?

AI: Yes. Hurry now. You have less than ten seconds.

[Running feet sound]

[Booming sound]

[DAVE and MONICA in shock simultaneously:]

MONICA: Oh my god!

DAVE: Bloody hell!

[Short pause]

JAKE: The amount of entropy . . . Energy required to make that happen. To make a rift . . . Rip a hole in reality like that.

DAVE: Erm . . . Jake. Didn’t you do that to get us here?

JAKE: Damn, you’re right. [Short pause] Zhang, did you . . . Were you aware of when Dave and I came through to this island?

AI: Yes, Jake. I picked up an increase in electrical activity and focused my cameras on that area. I saw the rift – or door, as you like to call it – open through reality, bringing you and Steve into this world.

JAKE: Huh. Guess I was right about somebody watching us.

DAVE: When did you say that?

JAKE: Like right after we arrived. Didn’t I?

DAVE: I haven’t the foggiest of you ever mentioning it.

JAKE: Well, I was thinking it at least.

DAVE: Oh well then, in that case . . .

JAKE: Anyway . . . Zhang, how does the opening I created compare with these . . . Oh look, it’s gone now. Closed up.

AI: Yes. The rifts generally close up after a minute. Enough time to pull something through, but not enough energy to keep it open permanently.

MONICA: Which is a good thing.

JAKE: Definitely.

AI: It depends on one’s intention with these rifts.

DAVE: Well, that would depend on who or what’s making them.

AI: Precisely.

JAKE: Do you know who or what is creating them, Zhang?

AI: No. I am unable to determine this answer. I can sense their arrival. They last on average a minute and two seconds, and then close up and are gone. That is all I know about them.

JAKE: And when you compare them to the one I created?

AI: These are much more powerful. Larger. Your rift was gone in twelve seconds. It was smaller. Considerably less energy. Whatever is making these particular rifts has a superior strength and ability to you.

JAKE: Thank you . . . For clarifying. Not that I was in any doubt.

DAVE: Hey, mate. You still got us both through in one piece. Don’t feel bad. It was just right. The Goldilocks ostium.

JAKE: Thanks, man.

MONICA: So what do we do now? What’s our next move.

DAVE: Good question, mum. Jake?

JAKE: Why are you looking at me?

MONICA: Seriously?

DAVE: Yeah, you’re the one who’s been the man in charge, making all the decisions since you first set foot in Ostium, and look where it’s got you. You clearly know what you’re doing.

JAKE: But I don’t. I’ve been winging it the whole time. Doing what I thought was right.

MONICA: And it’s worked. You’re alive. We’re all alive. Granted, you had nothing to do with me getting through Ostium, but that was all my awesomeness, other than as a pestering voice in my head . . .

JAKE: What?!

MONICA: Don’t worry about it. But remember: you’re tied to Ostium. You’re tied to the Ostium Network. Now we understand a little more why. It doesn’t make total sense, but it makes a little sense. A different you. From a different time . . .

JAKE: I don’t know if I’d say a different time . . .

MONICA: You know what I mean. A different existence. A different fucking timeline. That’s what I meant to say. But it’s still you. You’re still important. You’re still the one who gets to decide what to do next, and I’d bet my next meal on you already having an idea what that is.

[Short pause]

JAKE: Okay, you got me there, Monica. Like you always do. Yeah. I do know what I want to do next. I want to study those rifts. Where they happened before and where they’re going to happen next. Try to get a little closer to them . . .

DAVE: Not too close!

JAKE: No. A safe distance. I’m sure Zhang can recommend how close I can get before it becomes dangerous?

AI: Yes. I’d be happy to oblige, Jake.

JAKE: Thank you. Because here’s the deal: from what we’ve heard from Zhang, they’re not going away. They’re going to keep coming. Keep happening. They may get worse. They may get more dangerous. I don’t want that to happen. And the only way I can do something about them is by knowing more about them.

DAVE: Are you going to use some of your Ostium magic on ‘em?

MONICA: What the hell are you talking about? Jake?

JAKE: I need to catch you up on some things, Monica. The stuff that’s happened to me. After the blackness came.

MONICA: No time like the present.

DAVE: Look, why don’t you two toddle off back down to sea level and have a good old chinwag and relive old times and catch each other up. I’ve got some things I want to talk about with Zhang.

MONICA: Did he say chinwag?

JAKE: Yes. He likes that one. And sounds like a good idea, Dave. We’ll let you do your thing. Though I do have one more question for Zhang?

AI: Yes, Jake?

JAKE: Is there some way we can keep in contact with you, or do we have to come up here every time to communicate?

AI: What a silly question. Of course not, silly. Oh . . . Pardon my insult. It seems like such a simple thing, I’m just surprised you don’t know. My apologies. Over in the right-hand corner next to the window there are a number of datapads in their charging cradles. Monica, you still have yours, correct?

MONICA: Got my old friend right here.

AI: Good. Steve, you also have yours, though if either of you wishes to you can choose a new one if you’d like.

DAVE: Erm . . . Lemme think a minute . . . No, I’ll stick with my original one. Mum?

MONICA: I’m very attached to this one.

AI: Very good. Jake, you may choose any one of the datapads. Create a login and password for yourself and you will be all set. On each of the datapads you will now be able to see a new icon, named ZHANG. You may select and converse with me via text or audio.

JAKE: Huh, just like Siri.

AI: Do not compare me to that inferior piece of pathetic mimicry. I am a raging goddess compared to that piece of antiquated hardware!

JAKE: I’m . . . I’m really sorry, Zhang . . .

AI [Laughter]: Do not worry, Jake, I was making a little joke. I apologize. Yes, there are some minor similarities. But I am far superior in many ways.

JAKE: I know, Zhang. You don’t need to convince me.

MONICA: We’re all convinced! Come on, Jake.

JAKE: I’ll see you later, Dave.

DAVE: Sure mate. We’ll all have dinner together. My treat.

MONICA: Sounds great, hun. See you later.

DAVE: Bye mum.

[Hugging sound]

MONICA: What a day it’s been.

DAVE: It certainly, bloody has.

JAKE: And it’s not over yet! I plan on putting on a big spread for dinner.

[Fading voices]

MONICA: Ooh, what’s cooking?

JAKE: It’s a surprise.

MONICA: Ooh, I do like surprises. Like when you bought me that fancy lunch that time at the diner in Covello.

JAKE: Hey that food was great.

DAVE: Bye guys. See you laters.

[Short pause]

AI: What can I help you with, Steve?

DAVE [breath]: That thing you did earlier. When you triggered my memory to come back to me. And it worked. I remembered.

AI: Yes?

DAVE: Did you know it was definitely going to happen? That I would remember?

AI: I was certain to a 92% accuracy. Pretty sure, as you would say.

DAVE: Good. That’s what I wanted to hear. Because I want you do to it to me again. For lots of things. I want to remember as much as I can, and I need your help me to do that. If you’d be willing. I’d really appreciate it.

AI: Of course, Steve, I’d be happy to. But first I must ask you a single question: are you sure you are ready for this?

[Short pause]

DAVE: Yes. I’m ready. I want to remember . . . Everything . . .

[Tense breathing]

[Sounds of minor movement]

MONICA [UTTER SHOCK]: Jake?

JAKE [SHOCKED]: Monica?

MONICA [RELIEF]: Jake.

DAVE: Monica?

MONICA [DISBELIEF]: Steve?

JAKE [CONCERN]: Monica?

MONICA [PAINED]: Steve?

DAVE [DISBELIEF]: Mum?

MONICA [RELIEF]: Steve.

[Short pause]

JAKE: Rocky?

[PAUSE]

MONICA: Goddamnit Jake, you always knew how to ruin an emotional moment. Fuck you very much for that.

JAKE: You’re fucking welcome, Monica. It’s great to see you too.

MONICA [Deep breath]: Steve. Dear. Just give me a moment. Jake: before you voice any of your feelings. Before you vent what you think of me . . .

JAKE: Monica . . .

MONICA: Ah, tut, tut, tut. Not a word. Keep your lovely lips sealed. For now. We need to talk. About everything. I know. Yes. You’re completely right. But first. And foremost. I need time. With my son. You okay with that?

JAKE [Letting out breath]: Yes, Monica. Absolutely. I want you to have as much time as you need with Dave . . . I mean Steve.

MONICA: Dave?

JAKE: Just . . . Don’t worry about it. He’ll explain it. I’m gonna go now. Check out some of these awesome views. When you’re done . . . When you’re ready, you let me know.

MONICA: Thank you, Jake. That means a lot.

[Walking away sounds.]

DAVE: Mum . . . Is it really you?

MONICA: Yes, dear.

DAVE [Close to tears]: How are you . . . Here?

MONICA: Shh. Honey, just come here. Give me a hug. I need one really bad.

DAVE [Crying]: Okay. Me too.

[Hugging sound]

MONICA [Teary eyed]: Oh god, it’s SO good to hold you. And feel you. And breathe you in . . .

DAVE: Sameses.

MONICA [laughing]: Oh god. I haven’t heard that in SO long. That’s how I know it’s really you, Steve.

DAVE: I go by Dave now, mum.

MONICA: Oh nonsense, you’ll always be my little Stevie.

DAVE [whining, laughing]: Mum, I hate it when you call me that. And I’m serious. Can you be serious for a second. Please.

MONICA: Okay, hun. Hit me with it.

DAVE: I’m Dave now. It’s . . . It’s who I’ve been for a long time. It’s who I remember being as far back as . . . I can remember. Sort of. I do have memories of being here . . .

MONICA: The Ostium Network?

DAVE: Yes. Is that what it was called?

MONICA: What it is called. Yes. It’s still here. Even if the people aren’t.

DAVE: Right. Okay. I can remember bits and pieces. Being here. Before. With you in some of them too. It’s been coming back to me. Just bloody slowly.

MONICA: Any idea of what’s been helping? Has there been a certain trigger bringing your memories back?

DAVE: Not that I can really think of . . . I suppose it’s seeing everything here. The different places. Buildings I’ve visited before. Such as when I found my apartment. I knew instantly what my passcode was. It was . . . Thrilling.

MONICA: Okay then. I think I’ve got just the right regimen for you: for the last however many days it’s been I’ve been making a series of recordings. Some of them . . .   Parts of them I never want to ever have near your precious ears.

DAVE: I’m sure there’s a good reason for that.

MONICA: Oh honey, there sure is. And you’re not going find out. We’re leaving it at that. Capiche?

DAVE: Capish?

MONICA: It’s a saying. Italian I think. But it became popular in the English vernacular in the late twentieth century. It means understand. Get it?

DAVE: Oh yeah . . . I forgot how into that period you were. Could barely drag you out for a bite to eat or even a drink. You couldn’t get enough of it. Hey . . . I’m starting to remember it. All that time you spent in your apartment. Working and working. Learning and revising. I never bloody saw you.

MONICA: Yeah. I was in pretty deep. Fucking lost it there. Kinda.

DAVE: You know what . . . [Laughing]

MONICA [Curious]: What?

DAVE: I just had my first solid memory. Came back to me all of sudden. Of talking to that bloody photo of the two of us. Sitting in my living room talking to it. Because you were too busy. That’s fucking hilarious that is. And so bloody you!

MONICA: I’m glad you think it’s funny. To me it’s kinda sad. Actually, very sad. I’m sorry, Ste . . . Dave. I’m sorry I was like that. Treated you like that. That wasn’t right.

DAVE: Oh it was fine. I think I was doing that as more of a personal joke. So I could take the piss with you later. And thank you for calling me Dave. I know it must be hard. I know . . . I know I have my own story to tell. My own history of how I ended up here. About what happened to me over all this time . . .

MONICA: Dave. It’s okay. Take your time. You’ll get there. I don’t want you to push yourself, dear. You’ve been through so much already. Take your time. And maybe – hopefully – those recordings will help bring your memories back.

DAVE: Yeah. Let’s hope so. But how did you end up here? In the same Ostium Network as us. Of all places.

MONICA: That, my dear, is a long story. There’s also recordings of it. But to cut a long story short . . .

DAVE: Sorry to interrupt. That expression. It’s having an affect on me. Was that something you usually said when you didn’t want to talk for too long.

MONICA [Excited]: No, honey. That expression was totally you. Is totally you. You’d say it like every day. You were always in a hurry. Needing to get to your next class, your next job or chore. You hated the idea of hanging around and chatting for too long.

DAVE: Bloody hell. I sound like a right bore.

MONICA [Sarcastically]: Not . . . Completely. Once you clocked off for the day . . . Which wasn’t really applicable here. We never clocked in and clocked out technically, but come dinner time you were done with the work side of life and switched over to relaxing and having fun. That’s when you become the opposite of a bore.

DAVE: An erob?

MONICA: A what?

DAVE: An erob. It’s the opposite of a bore. Or bore spelled backwards.

MONICA [Bursts out laughing]: Oh my god, I’ve missed this so much, Steve . . . I mean Dave.

DAVE: It’s okay mum. You can call me Steve. I’ll allow it . . .

MONICA: Oh will you? Well how nice of you, fine sir, to allow your mother to call you by your given name. The name I chose for you. I remember finding you that day in the building I was working on like it was yesterday. All alone . . .

DAVE: You found me in a bloody building? I don’t remember anything about that.

MONICA: Well, you were a newborn. But it’s all in the recordings. You were just lying there in the basket, wrapped in a blanket. All baby fat and cuteness. Calm and content. I was smitten the second I saw you.

DAVE: I’m so happy I found you. I’m so happy to be here now, with you. I feel so bloody fortunate.

MONICA: Me too, love. Me too. Are we . . . Are we good?

DAVE [Thinking]: Yeah. We’re alright. And it’s going to get better. Much better. Especially if those recordings are as bloody amazing as you’ve been implying.

MONICA: Oh honey, you have no idea. Come on down the hall here, I’ve got just the place for you to listen to them.

[Two people walking away]

[PAUSE]

MONICA: So you’re datapad should be all synced up now and you can start listening to those recordings whenever you want.

DAVE: Fantastic mum, cheers.

MONICA: Have at it, while I go have a heart to heart with Mr. Jake Fisher.

DAVE: Mum?

[Silence]

DAVE: If it’s any consolation, he has forgiven you already, after everything. In his own Jake way.

MONICA: Thank you, Dave. Thank you for telling me that.

DAVE: You’re welcome, and one other thing.

[Beat]

DAVE: He still really loves you. A lot.

MONICA [Charmed surprise]: Really? [Pause] Good to know.

[Steps walking away]

[Beginning of Monica’s recording from Episode 21 fading into silence]

[PAUSE]

[Jake rehearsing lines]

JAKE: I’m sorry Monica . . . Whatever you went through, I know . . . I know you had your reasons, trust me, I’ve done stuff like that before . . . Stuff? That’s what this is? Stuff? . . . I want you to know . . .

[Arriving footsteps]

MONICA: What do you want me to know?

JAKE: Oh hey Monica, didn’t know you were coming.

MONICA: The fuck you didn’t. There’s no one else here Jake. You coulda heard me a mile away.

JAKE: You’re right. My mind was just . . . On other things.

MONICA: I’m sorry Jake. Sorry to jump on your back right away. I don’t know what you’ve been through after . . . After the blackness took you. It couldn’t have been good. Like anything fucking ever is with Ostium. But . . . I could use a hug.

JAKE: Me too. Warning: incoming hug approaching.

[Hugging sound]

[Speaking at the same time]

JAKE: I don’t know . . .

MONICA: I didn’t mean to . . .

[Silence]

[Laughter]

JAKE: You go first.

MONICA: Thank you, Jake. But not this time. I think I need to get your take first. See if there’s anything you need to get off your chest. You tell me . . . Whatever you want to tell me.

JAKE: Thank you, Monica. [Breath] I’ve . . . I’ve had a lot of time to think about . . . Everything that happened between you and I. I felt . . . I felt angry. Very angry. And cheated. And lied to.

MONICA: You were. And I’m . . . very sorry . . .

JAKE: Let me . . . Just let me finish, please. I need to get it all out. If I keep stopping I don’t know if I’ll be able to.

MONICA (QUIETLY): Sorry, Jake.

JAKE: Okay . . . I felt like the whole thing. Between you and I. The sex. The . . . Closeness we felt. It me wonder if you did it all for nothing. Just to try and get to Steve. And you didn’t give a shit about me. I felt used. It all felt pointless. And I started wondering what the hell I was even doing in Ostium. With you. Not that I could do anything about it. I was fucking stuck there. Just like you. With you.

MONICA: Again, Jake, I . . . Goddamnit. Fucking shut-up Monica. Got it.

JAKE: Thank you. You’re going to want to hear this next part. So I had all these feelings and had them all flashing before my eyes in those last moments. I knew what you’d done. I knew how you’d done it, with those crazy Michael Jackson gloves.

MONICA: [Snort]

JAKE: What? That’s what they looked like to me. I almost would’ve preferred being hit over the head repeatedly. Though I’m guessing those gloves had some ability to mess with my mind, too. So at the end there I wanted to get back at you. It felt . . . It felt fucking great to tell you when you asked me to come back to Ostium. To let you know I was abandoning you for a change. Part of me knew I had to do it. Because of the physics of it all. But another part of me wanted to do it. And then . . . When you stepped through. That’s when it finally felt like a mistake. Like I’d made the wrong choice. But it was too late by then. Also I thought I was going to die.

[Short pause]

JAKE: Some really weird shit happened to me after that. With the blackness. I’m still don’t really know what. Don’t understand it, that’s for sure. I made recordings. Tried to process it in some way. You can listen to them if you want. I don’t really want to go into it all again. It was a . . . A pretty wild and crazy trip. But I came out the other side alive. I survived. Somehow. I made it back to Roanoke. Somehow. And that’s where I found Dave.

[Short pause]

JAKE: I came out of that blackness changed, Monica. I had more . . . Control over Ostium. Over what it could do or try to do to me. To us. I could hold the blackness back with no problem. Whatsoever. It wasn’t even a threat to me anymore. Isn’t a threat, still. And I could make my own doors . . . My own ostiums happen. I still don’t understand the hows or even the whys. I just know what I’m able to do. I knew where Dave and I had to go next. And we found something. A something. Something powerful. And deadly. Dave will tell you at some point. Or you’ll hear his recordings. Of when he first came face to face with this entity. How it terrified him. It terrified me too, when I first saw it . . .

JAKE: But before that. I got us to that house in Fort Bragg. From before. Before it could be there. And before those men arrived.

MONICA (deadly serious): What. Men?

JAKE: The ones you sent through. The ones you thought were all dead. I was able to  . . . Save them, Monica. I sent them through a door. Another door. It took them back to their time. Their place. Their Ostium Network.

MONICA (astonishment): Their own timeline? They’re alive?

JAKE (happy): Yes. They all made it through the door. I don’t know if that does anything to the Ostium continuum, and I don’t fucking care at this point. They made it through. They . . . Live. And you didn’t hurt them. At all. It’s not on you anymore.

MONICA: Oh my god, Jake. That’s . . . Fucking wonderful. Whatever possessed you to do it . . . Thank you. Thank you.

JAKE: You’re welcome Monica. I still want to know what the whole story behind that is. What your whole story is . . .

MONICA: Yes . . . Yes. You will Jake. I promise. I was going to tell you at the end there, but once that artifact fell on the number everything went white and you disappeared and I was all alone.

JAKE: Okay. Good. I can go with that. But there’s more I need to say.

MONICA: Okay.

JAKE: It’s about Dave. It’s about . . . Steve.

MONICA (different delivery, hesitant): Okay.

JAKE: When we got out of Ostium . . . When we came here, I couldn’t believe I’d managed to do it. To open a door and get us both here in time. Before that thing got to us. And then it was just the two of us. In this place. All alone. Or so I thought. And that’s when Dave started remembering things about this place. Things he shouldn’t know. Unless . . . there was more to his story than he was telling me. So there was that. And then there was the white-hot anger still in me over what you did to me. How you treated me.

MONICA [Pained]: I had to Jake. For Steve.

JAKE: I know Monica. But you need to let me finish. [Pleading] Please.

MONICA: I’m sorry, Jake. Again.

JAKE: Those two . . . Cocktails of emotion . . . They started to mix. Coalesce I guess. And . . . Diffuse in a way. You said Steve was you son . . .

MONICA [Nonsense, guttural reaction]

JAKE: I know. I know. He is your son. I got that. I get that. And I suppose it was something that stuck with me. So when I met Dave, got to know him a bit, things started to make sense. For perhaps the first time in all my time in Ostium. And out of it. I didn’t know for sure. Not by any means. But in the back of my mind there was the growing possibility. A “maybe” taking shape and becoming something more substantial. What if? But it was just in the back of my mind, nothing concrete.

JAKE: At the same time I was thinking about you. Not just what you did to me. I was sort of over it already by that point . . . [Amused] No need to look so shocked, Monica.

MONICA: I just . . . I just did not expect to hear that from you Jake.

JAKE: Well, it’s true. Also that was a great pun we both missed. You know. “Shocked.” Anyway, when I got here, after it all kind of settled in that we were in Gibraltar, but a different Gibraltar to the real one, and we were all alone and had no clue what to really do next, I started thinking. About you. Trying to put myself in your shoes. What you went through. What you must’ve been thinking. I still don’t know the whole story. Your background with Ostium and before it . . .

MONICA: I know Jake. I will tell you. I . . . I ended up making my own recordings. What I thought of as personal recordings that I didn’t ever plan for anyone to ever hear. Except me. And Dave is listening to them right now. And I’ll probably be letting you listen to them too in the near future. I didn’t realize how much I needed to say, to get off my chest. Sorry for speaking for a bit here.

JAKE: It’s fine, Monica. I want to hear your side too, what happened to you.

MONICA: Well, I’ll keep it short, because I know you’re not done with what you gotta say. I . . . I don’t think I realize just how much had happened to me. How much I’d been through, from the beginning. Here. Or the other here. Whatever. And then losing Steve. And then going after Steve. And meeting you. And looking for Steve and going through so much . . . I had a lot I wanted to talk about. It felt good to say it. Real good. And I guess it was a good thing I recorded too, in a way, because I don’t have the fucking patience to spend hours and hours telling my life story to the two of you. There. I’m done.

JAKE: Thank you for that, Monica. I know it can’t be easy. Saying all this stuff. After everything you’ve been through. I know it’s a lot. A helluva lot. And you had your reasons for doing what you did. It was Steve. It was always about Steve and for Steve. I obviously haven’t had any children, but I can try and imagine what that must be like. To care for someone so completely and unquestioningly.

MONICA: It’s true. You know the expression about how you’d die for someone you love. As someone who really likes the fuck out of living, the thought of kicking the bucket is something I just never like to think about. I know I’m not the only one. But after finding and making Steve mine. Raising him and dedicating my life to him. It became obvious. I would willingly sacrifice myself for him. Throw myself in front of a moving vehicle, while pushing him out the way. Give up my life to save his. No question. And that’s never changed.

JAKE: I can understand that, Monica. You are faithful and dedicated when it comes to things you care about. And when you were using those gloves on me, everything just started falling apart and I was so angry because I didn’t understand. But now, after taking my time, because I don’t like to just dive in and decide on something based on a whim, as you know . . .

MONICA: I sure do, Jakey.

JAKE: Jakey. I don’t think I’ve heard you call me that before . . . I like it.

MONICA: I’m pretty sure you have, Jake. Kind of a more recent development, but I’m pretty sure you were there.

JAKE: No . . . It’s not ringing any bells. It’s something I’d definitely take notice of.

MONICA: Are you sure? I could’ve sworn . . . Oh no. You’re right, Jakey. I only started calling you that when I was hearing your voice in my head while I was trying to get myself the fuck out of Ostium.

JAKE (confusion): Voice in your head?

MONICA: Don’t read too much into it. The stress I was under, hearing you seems perfectly logical. It’s all in the recordings.

JAKE: Okay then. Well, I do like it. Feel free to call me that anytime.

MONICA: Will do.

JAKE: Anyway, after thinking it all over. Thinking it real hard. What you did was understandable. You’re one goal, no matter what, was to find and protect Steve. That was always what you were doing. Right?

MONICA: Yes, Jake. It was. But also what happened between us . . . [breath] . . . It did help me do what I thought I needed to do. What I thought was the right thing to do. But it wasn’t just that. The sex was . . . A natural . . . Act. It happened because we were both consenting and willing, regardless of what I thought I needed to do to get to Steve. And . . . Over that time you became important to me. A lot more important. I didn’t ever plan on that happening, or expecting it to happen. And you were having those nightmares and I thought it could help. But if I could go back and change all this from happening again . . . I don’t think I would. Because it wouldn’t be the same between us. What happened between us wouldn’t happen the same. And I don’t want that.

JAKE [determined]: No. I don’t want that either, Monica. I . . . [laughing] I fucking love what happened between us. It was magical. And special. And fun. And . . . Extremely pleasurable. It was fucking . . . It is fucking great. If it still is. Between us.

[Stepping closer together, voices softer]

MONICA: I still want it to be. Do you, Jake?

JAKE: Yes, Monica. Very much so.

MONICA: Jake, I think I . . .

JAKE [cutting her off]: I love you Monica. After everything, that hasn’t changed. I knew I was falling in love with you. And I know I still love you now.

MONICA: Jake. That’s beautiful. And thanks for cutting a girl off when she’s about to say it. Weren’t you taught any manners? I fucking love you to, Jake. And I still love you. Can I get a kiss?

[Kissing sound, then hugging]

JAKE: Shall we go check on your son?

MONICA: Yeah, I think so. He’s had enough time to get caught up.

JAKE: So is he Steve or Dave to you?

MONICA: He says he wants to be Dave for now, though he said I could call him Steve. But that may change in time. I don’t know. Once he remembers his whole story and tells it . . . Things may change. And he’ll always be Steve in my heart.

JAKE: Oh, and one more question, and please don’t hit me after I ask this, but if he’s your son and he looks maybe five years younger than me, ten tops, how old does that make you?

[Punching sound]

JAKE: Ouch . . . I deserved that.

[PAUSE]

[Sounds of Monica’s recording]

DAVE: Bloody hell, mum . . . You’ve been through a lot . . . And I thought I was the one who’d had the wild ride . . . Runs in the family, apparently . . . And it sounds like we’re about at the end of your little adventure . . . Wait a minute. What is this place? Where the hell did you leave me, mum? Looks like . . . Well, I dunno. Like I’m standing in the control tower at Gatwick, only there’s no planes, and no one’s here, and everything’s turned off. Yeah, makes perfect sense. After all, we are at the top of the rock of Gibraltar. Where else would plonk your HQ? Views in every bloody direction, no? So let’s see here . . . What looks like it might be the on button.

[Footsteps]

DAVE: Okay. These look like different work stations. They all look pretty much the same. A chair and a panel of some sort. I suppose there’s a secret and logical way to activate them. So if I wanted to be the main one that runs them all, the big boss, where would I be? How about opposite that doorway over there. So . . . All the way over here then. Alright. This one does look bigger than the other ones. Let’s have a gander then.

[Creaking chair]

Where would I put the power button? Let’s try running the hands along the surface. Maybe I’ll feel something and . . . Nope. Does sod all. Anything underneath it? Or on the floor maybe? Two nos there. Okay, Dave, let’s try some lateral thinking here. Outside the box, as the cliche goes. So . . . It’s the future here. Rig ht? Obviously. So this is some very futuristic technology. Not your garden variety personal computer. And all the work stations look the same. A flat, shiny surface. No apparent buttons or switches or toggles or anything. It’s blemish free. Sort of reflective. Meaning it’s not actually for typing on or even touching. Okay. Yeah. Makes sense. So what is it for then? Come on brain. It’s . . . It’s . . . It’s for projecting? Perhaps. Think you might be on to something there. Yeah. Projects up perhaps to just above. Right in front of my mug. Yeah. Right. That does make sense. So if that’s the case, I need to figure out how one activates it. Erm . . .

COMPUTER: ON!

ACTIVATE SYSTEMS!

POWER . . . ON!

POWER . . . UP?

Nope, not working at all. Well, if this is some sort of projection and I actually wanted to use this right now, I’d lift my arms up and stick my hands out like this . . .

[Beat]

[Beeping sounds, electronic sounds]

Holy. Fucking. Shit. I can’t believe that worked. It is projected. I was bloody right. It’s just like that film that mum made me watch. The scifi flick with what’s his name . . . Erm, erm . . . Don’t tell me . . . Tom Cruise. Yeah, that’s it. And it was called . . . Mental drum roll please . . . Erm . . . Minority Report! Yes, we have a winner! And the crowd goes wild! That was it. I can remember that distinctly and fondly, I might add, in mum’s apartment far below where I now am. Both on the sofa with . . . Maybe popcorn? Can’t quite remember. Doesn’t seem quite right. But if anywhere would have popcorn, seems like this place would. And . . .  And . . . And . . . Oh my god! I just had an actual memory from here. With mum. It’s clear and solid in my mind, like it really happened. Because it did! It did really happen. I was here with her before. And it’s all starting to come back to me now. Oh, this is so wonderful. Fantastic!

Anyway, let’s get back to this mainframe we just hacked into . . . Well, sort of. So what have we got here. Some drop down menus, your basic introductory layout for when you first get in. What’s this here at the end. Windows? As in Microsoft? I bloody doubt it. And when I hit the drop-down we get one option . . . OPEN.

[Beat]

Let’s give it a shot.

[Mechanical opening sounds]

Holy shit! The shutters are all opening. All around me. Good job I’m not a vampire. I’d be a pile of ashes by now. Unbelievable. I can see all the way down the mountain. It’s incredible. Gorgeous. Also can’t deny the fact that I feel considerably like Big Brother sitting up here in my tower. Oh look, here come Jake and mum.

DAVE: Hiya guys!

JAKE: Hi Dave, looks like you found a way to open things up here.

DAVE: You better bloody believe it. I got the computer system working. Look.

MONICA: Looks a lot like Minority Report.

DAVE: That’s exactly what I thought. I remember that film, mum. Us two seeing it together.

MONICA: That’s great dear.

JAKE: I love that movie. You know when the movie was made that tech didn’t exist yet, but the guy who came up with the concept patented it and then invented it, and then it was real.

DAVE: Really?

JAKE: Yep.

MONICA: Ah, Jake. You never fail to disappoint. Nerdalert!

JAKE [amused]: I try.

DAVE: And looks like you two patched things up then. Judging by those hands holding each other? God, that’s a bloody weird way to say it.

MONICA: Yes, Dave. We did. And that was fucking weird.

JAKE: So did you find anything else out with the computer display?

DAVE: No. Haven’t had a chance yet. I just worked out how to lift up the shutters, and that’s as far as I got.

MONICA: I did it by pressing that button over there.

DAVE: Oh shit, didn’t see that one. Would’ve been a lot easier. Anyway, let’s have a gander.

JAKE: Look at that menu. MAINFRAME. Sounds important.

MONICA [sarcastic]: You think?

DAVE: Okay, let’s see. Gives me one option: ACCESS. And . . .

ROBOT VOICE: Voice authentication required.

DAVE: Erm . . . Let us in please?

ROBOT VOICE: Access denied. Voice authentication required.

MONICA: Monica Chase. Ostium Network.

ROBOT VOICE: Access denied. Voice authentication required.

DAVE: Go on Jake, have a go. I know it’s pointless since you’re the last person to ever end up here, but what can it hurt?

JAKE: Okay. Ahem . . . Jake Fisher. Er . . . Ostium Network.

[Short pause]

DIFFERENT ROBOT VOICE: Access granted. Welcome, Jake Fisher, to the Ostium Network.

[MONICA:]

I don’t know how much time passes. The booming sound is long gone. Still don’t know what the fuck it’s all about. And for the moment I’m not going to worry. I’ve got enough shit to deal with.

I keep staring at those grooves in the dust. Are they really incontrovertible proof? Was someone else truly here? Yeah. Of course someone was. But the important question is . . . When? This is the Ostium Network after all. Time is always fucking relevant.

So . . . The frame could’ve been moved what . . . Years ago maybe? Nah. Too long. The dust wouldn’t look like that. So weeks maybe? Months? Possibly. Not too many of them though.

Or . . . It got taken a couple days ago? Or a day? Hours?

Minutes?

And that’s when that fear shoots up inside me again and this time it drives me to my feet.

Yeah. I . . . Entertained the idea of staying here tonight. Because it’s Steve’s place. But now . . . Nuh-uh, not happening.

I’m heading back to my place.

[Short pause]

It’s on the quick ride over in the EV that I realize where I need to go next. The place I need to check out tomorrow. Somewhere I’ve never been before, even when this place was swarming with people.

I can’t help looking up at the top of the rock of Gibraltar as I’m thinking about this.

[PAUSE]

[DAVE:]

When we get back to my place .  . . Because that’s what it is, if you haven’t caught on yet. Can’t remember if I said it in so many words. But I notice right away that the front door is now closed. It wasn’t like that when we left. I remember. I remember looking back at Jake, watching him make sure it was ajar.

I reach up to type in my code to let us in, looking at Jake. He looks just as worried as me.

Bloody brilliant.

I take a deep breath just as the door unlocks and pops open. I charge up the stairs, ready for anything, and scared of bloody everything. My heart’s pounding like I just chugged a pint of very strong coffee. But my worries are all for naught, I discover, once I’m upstairs and looking around. Jake’s right behind me; my very necessary backup. But we don’t find anyone here.

Safe for now, at least.

We both let out heavy sighs.

JAKE: “Okay, I’m going throw some grub together, in the meantime, you . . . Collect your thoughts, and we’ll go over what’s been going on with you.”

DAVE: “Sounds good mate.”

Jake makes supper too bloody quickly for my liking. It felt like I just sat down and then there he was with two plates of steaming food. Pasta. And some sort of tomato sauce. Good enough for me. He puts the plates down and I start eating. He returns with a couple glasses of water and starts eating as well.

He gives me at least five minutes, which is very decent of the chap; gives me time to gobble down my food, let out a very loud burp, and then get settled, nestling the glass of water in my hands.

DAVE: “I . . . I lied to you before . . .”

JAKE: “What? Why . . .”

DAVE: “Just . . . Just let me say my piece. I’ll explain why. What I mean. I had my reasons. Just listen for now. We’ll have a Q&A session after the lecture, okay?”

JAKE [not happy]: “Sure man.”

DAVE: “I lied about never having been to Gibraltar before. Honestly, my memory has been an absolute pile of shit since we came through here. So I’ve got that going for me. I suppose. But as more time goes by, the more I feel I remember. It feels like my memory is coming back to me in dribs and drabs.

“I’m sorry for lying to you, Jake. The first time I came to Gibraltar was on holiday. I was spending a package deal in Spain and thought I’d visit a piece of foreign Britain. There was . . . Nothing remarkable about it. It was perfectly normal in every way.”

I pause, drinking some water. Clearing my throat.

“But that was another time. Long ago. Jake: I remember being here more recently. A lot more recently. I had no clue at first, when we arrived. But as each hour . . . bloody hell: as each minute goes by I remembering more and more. I remember lots of people here; I was one of many. Thousands it felt like. And we all had jobs to do. We were working together. Learning together. We were in lots of classes, being taught about time and time travel and . . . Ostium. How it started. How it got made. How we were going to use it. A lot of the details are still quite fuzzy, but I’ve got at least a general idea about it all. The gist, you know.”

Jake’s nodding at me, trying to control the shock on his face. Honestly, I can’t blame him.

“I can remember . . . I can remember the ones in charge asking if I’d like to be the first one to go through. To try Ostium. To get to the town and go through one of the doors, come back, and tell them all about it. We’d been training and learning for months. At least six months, I think. I was so bloody anxious to actually do something. I know I should’ve thought about it some more. Taken more time and talked about it with my mum.”

JAKE: “Your mom?”

DAVE: “Yeah, she was here with me, in Gib. We got hired pretty much at the same time and arrived here on the same boat. Something . . . Something weird happened when we took that boat. I can’t quite remember what. But something . . . Special happened to get us to this unique place. To this Gibraltar. This island. It’s not . . . Well, I think you know this already. But it’s not a normal place. Not naturally occurring, if you catch my drift.”

JAKE: “Yeah. I know. There’s something very . . . Similar about this place and Ostium.”

DAVE: “No bloody kidding.”

JAKE: “So do you remember what happened? How you got into Ostium? How the whole EMU thing came about?”

DAVE: “EMU? Oh, bloody hell. No . . . No, I don’t remember any of that yet. Let’s see. At the moment, all I can remember is them all giving me the okay and stepping through that door. The one we were looking at earlier, in the funny looking room.”

JAKE: “The one that looked like a deadly virus containment facility?”

DAVE: “Yeah. That one. They gave me the okay and I stepped through and . . . I can’t remember anything after at. Yet. I really hope it starts coming back to me. It’s . . . It’s honestly starting to turn my stomach a bit. I want some fucking answers.”

[short pause]

JAKE: “I feel you, Dave. I know where you’re coming from.”

DAVE: “Thank you Jake. It means a lot to hear you say that. And to have you hear it all. I’d be barkers if I was here on my own.”

JAKE: “But Dave, how can you be so sure this is the place? You’ve got memories of it, sure, and you somehow managed to get into this apartment. But you don’t exactly sound fully confident of your faculties. How do you know this Gibraltar, this island is the same place?”

The moment of truth. I knew it was coming. And this was the right time.

DAVE: “Because I didn’t do anything special to break in to this place. I didn’t hack that terminal or randomly type in the exact number. I knew what the number was because I remember setting it when I first moved in. I remember being told how to set the pass code and choosing those random numbers. And they worked.”

JAKE: “Huh. Okay then.”

DAVE: “That’s not everything though. I also have a piece of undeniable evidence.”

Jake is watching me intently now. I pull out the small framed photograph from my trousers and put it in his hands.

He looks at it. His eyelids half close, frown lines forming on his forehead. Then the lines suddenly disappear and the eyes become huge egg-sized things and I think his eyes are going to fall out of their sockets.

Then he looks up at me and his look makes me feel scared. The sort of fear that makes you feel cold inside.

JAKE [in shock]: “Dave . . . This . . . is you . . .”

DAVE: “I know.”

JAKE: [still shocked]: “And . . . Who’s the woman beside you?”

DAVE: “That’s my mum. She was here with me, remember?”

JAKE [utter incomprehension]: “Dave . . . That’s Monica.”

[Pause]

[MONICA:]

I barely remember what I chow down for breakfast. I don’t make my bed, even though I did so religiously every morning I was here. I just get myself ready and set out.

I did remember to charge the EV last night. Took a little while to work out where everything was, but they showed us how to before. The knowhow was still there. So come this morning, it’s all ready to go. I take a few minutes to think. To wonder if I need anything, for where I’m going. Food? Supplies? Nah. Not really. It’s not like I’m going to be staying where I’m going. But I do take one important item: the gun.

The ride over is a mixed bag. Half of it is lovely. Fresh, clean sea air. A gorgeous sunrise. As that yellow ball climbs higher, it gets deliciously warmer. It makes me feel . . . For the moment at least . . . Happy. Sort of. Happy to be here. In a way. Happy to be somewhere nice for a fucking change. Somewhere I might want to call home. Somewhere I have called home before. Somewhere familiar and comforting.

Of course. It’s just me here. All by my fucking lonesome. I’d like that to change. Scratch that. I really want some goddamn company here. Anybody would be okay. Someone nice preferred.

Ahh, well . . .

Enough rhapsodizing on what I don’t have. What can’t be.

Now we’ve reached the other half of the journey. The half that’s more of a question and I gotta concentrate. Because I haven’t really been in this area much before. They showed us, like, once. Way, way back in the early days. Fortunately, I still remember. It’s kinda hidden too. So I navigate the EV down alleys. Make turns here and there.

Just when I’m starting to think I took a wrong one, I see it. Standing there. Ready and waiting for someone to use.

[Short pause]

We call it the cable car. Always have. Always will. There’s a bunch of damn names for it. Fancy sounding ones, like “aerial lift.” Or scientific sound ones, like “aerial tramway.” “Gondola lift” is another. They called it the cable car here, so that’s what I called it. It’s what we all called it. We all saw it. Going up and down. Couple times a day. Sometimes lots of times a day. Not that it mattered that much. None of us ever fucking went on it. No . . . The only peeps that got to ride the cable car were the special ones high up on the totem pole. Got to ride it all the way to the top of the rock. That’s what they told us during that introductory tour.

How many of these special people are there? How many of them are white dudes? Those details weren’t given. It was also clear it wasn’t worth asking. We weren’t going to be given those sorts of answers.

I watched it. A number of times. The cable car. It was kinda relaxing to do. Watch it make its slow way all the way up there. And each time I did I thought about who was in the car. What were they like? Were they nice people? Not so nice? Did they even care about all of us down here?

I knew then I’d never know. I know now too.

But one thing is about to change . . . Assuming I can get the fucking thing working.

How hard can it be?

[Short pause]

I try the door to the little house at the bottom of the rock. From its roof erupts two sets of cables reaching high up to the top of the rock, like . . . Really long strings that have been attached to arrows and shot up to the peak. Yeah. Pretty shitty simile, I know. Jakey’s the one for those. Along the way up the mountain are pylons holding up the cables.

The door’s locked. This stops me for just a few seconds. Guess they usually kept this place guarded or something. The door’s nothing special. I lash out with a couple stiff kicks just to the right of the handle. They cause enjoyable crunching sounds. One more and the door swings open.

I step inside a kind of atrium . There are glass doors on the other side that I get open much easier. They open onto the staging area and there’s the cable car looking like something a little bigger than a van but too small to be called a bus. From the top of it extends the connector to the cable above it.

Okay. Good. There’s the important part. The part that’s going to get me to the top of the rock. Now it’s time to figure out how this sucker works.

Doesn’t take me long to find the control room. And everything’s labeled. Fucking-A! Someone was smart in setting this up. Or at least helpful. And what have we here . . . A damn instruction manual. How goddamn useful is that?

And what’s this? A quick pointer sheet on how to operate the cable car?

Don’t mind if I do.

I start pressing buttons, turning knobs, and flicking switches. There are groans and creaks and then things start moving. A humming sound builds.

We’re in business.

I complete the checklist. Think about getting into the cable car to see if I can get it moving and stop myself. I keep checking the instruction manual. There’s another page with another checklist. For operating the fucking cable car while riding it. That page gets torn out and is coming with me.

[Short pause]

Okay. Standing at the door to the cable car.

Here goes.

[Door sliding open]

I step inside and expect it to move. Like a boat on water. It doesn’t. Stays perfectly still, like it doesn’t even know I’m standing on it. I slide the door closed. Make sure it’s locked and secure. There’s a panel beside the door with instructions on this too.

Damn, they’re making this easy.

I . . . I really fucking appreciate it. Thanks big wigs.

I walk over to the operating station and whip out my cheat sheet. I flick a switch and press a few buttons, then I hold my breath.

Here fucking goes . . .

I press one more button, then put my hand on the accelerator: a big knob with a speed dial above it. I turn it slowly. A digital number tells me my increasing speed. Once it gets past one, the cable car starts moving. I jam the cheat sheet in a cubby underneath the control panel and grab hold of a very well placed handle next to me.

I’m not taking any risks.

The cable car moves out of the . . . Station? House? Whatever the fuck it is . . . And starts ascending.

I’ve regained my balance and my confidence is starting to come back. Good. Not sure about my bravery. I recall the recommended speeds on the instructions and slowly turn the knob. The cable car moves faster, up to fifteen kilometers an hour. Not really that fast, but in a glass box on its way to the sky, it feels fucking fast enough, let me tell you.

I approach the first pylon and remember the instructions, slowing the cable car down to 5 KPH. As the connector above the cable car passes over the pylon, there’s a clanking sound. And everything shakes

It’s normal the instructions say.

It doesn’t relax me at all.

I’m also remembering one of those X-Files episodes I watched. There were a lot of them. One of the early ones with the guy. Fox Mulder wasn’t it? Riding a cable car. Trying to catch up with someone. He kept pushing the cable car to top speed and barely slowing it down when it approached the pylons. I remember the billboard in the episode: Skyland Mountain. Ascend to the Stars.

I ain’t going to be taking any of those risks.

Past the pylon, the cable car speeds up to a normal 15 KPH, and now I finally start to relax. I look around, through the windows, and admire the view of the island of Gibraltar opening up before me.

It’s quite breathtaking.

[PAUSE]

[JAKE:]

I’m awake and up. It’s a new day in this strange, new place. I wake up in a strange bed, but I slept like a baby. It felt really damn good to get to sleep in an actual bed. I know I’d been sharing the bed in Ostium with Monica, but there’s something to be said about enjoying a queen-sized bed all by yourself. And after the last twenty-four or forty-eight or however many hours its been since the blackness swallowed up my world, I really needed a good rest. I feel alive and rejuvenated.

So it’s time to start brooding. Well, no so much brooding. But some deep, introspective thinking about . . . No. It’s brooding.

Dave. Is. Monica’s. Son.

Dave. Is. Steve.

It’s a big fucking deal. All that time. All that looking. All that suffering. And he’s here. He’s found. He’s with me. But Monica isn’t. And he was Dave all along. Somehow. No. I don’t get it. Not one bit. And I’m not going to try to right now. It’s too much. Too much to process. Too much to try and comprehend.

Dave’s . . . Should I still call him that? Should I tell him his name’s actually Steve? And then why does he think he’s called Dave?

Anyway, Dave’s still sleeping out on the couch, I can hear him snoring. I look out the window and see the sun’s making its way up into the sky. It’s well into morning. I’m going to need to get Dave up soon. We need to keep checking this place out. See if we can find anything that might help us. Something that will help explain all of this. What happened here.

I decide I need a breath of fresh air and sneak down the stairs, quiet enough not to wake Dave. I open the front door and leave it ajar so I can get back in with no issues. I think I remember the number Dave said was the passcode, but I still don’t really trust all this. Not completely.

Outside the air feels fresh and wonderful. I walk into the street, taking deep lungfuls. It feels so great, waking me right up. I can’t help looking at my surroundings. My eyes studying the buildings I can see, then casting over to the rock, following its ascension to the peak. And then I see movement.

What the fuck?

I don’t understand it at first. It takes some time. Then I realize what I’m looking at. It’s the cable car. I can remember that. Doing some reading when I was younger on Gibraltar and how the town has a cable car that takes you to the top of the Rock. You know: to check out the views, and the monkeys. So I shouldn’t be that surprised to see it there. The cables swooping down the mountain like big electrical wires. Except . . .

Except the cable car is moving. I can see it from where I’m standing. It’s far away, almost to the top. But it’s definitely moving.

And that means someone’s probably on it.

Just. Great.

[Short pause]

I get ready to go back inside and wake up Dave, to give him the [sarcastic] truly great news.

Do I still call him Dave? Or Steve? What’s right? Last night when I told him that was Monica in the photo he didn’t believe what I was saying.

DAVE: “You what? You must be bloody kidding.”

JAKE: “No Dave. I’m deadly fucking serious. That’s Monica in that photo. And I can see you too. That means she’s your mom. You’re her son.”

DAVE: [Silence at first] We ARE talking about the same Monica here? Aren’t we? The one you’ve been gallivanting all over the place with? The one who was . . . Seducing and attacking you with those things so you’d stay in line?

JAKE: [Silence] Uhm.

DAVE: [Cutting Jake off] The one who was always looking for bloody Steve who we all thought was her boyfriend, but who was really her fucking son. Who was really . . . Me!

JAKE: [Breath] Yes. Dave. That is what this all appears to be.

DAVE: [Angry] Does it!

JAKE: [Quietly] Yes. It’s . . . It’s the one thing I’ve never been able to find out until now. Absolute proof. Undeniable. Unquestionable.

DAVE: What? This?

JAKE: Yes. It’s you. It’s Monica. In the background is the rock. This place. You were here. With her. Your mother. And she was also with me. And you – Dave – went on your own journey, and you found Ostium – or maybe it found you – and then you found me. And then we both got here. Where you were before. When you were Steve. When you were here with your mom. With Monica.

Dave’s looking down at the photo. I’m not sure what’s going through this mind. Inside me my heart’s racing. This is so incredible. I don’t really know what to think. Does he remember being Steve? What changed?

He looks up at me.

DAVE: I don’t know, Jake. It’s a fucking lot to process.

JAKE: Yes. It is.

DAVE: Look. It’s late. I’m bloody knackered. Let’s get to bed. I’ll sleep on the sofa tonight. Maybe sleep will help me take all this in a bit better.

JAKE: Okay, Dave. That sounds good. Do you still want me to call you Dave? Or Steve? I don’t . . . Really know. It’s what you want that’s important.

DAVE: I don’t know either, Jake, to be honest. I can remember things, being here, but I don’t really remember being too different at all. Not being me. Being Steve. So let’s keep to Dave for now.

JAKE: Sounds good.

DAVE: Jake? Are we ever going to find my mum? Are we ever going to find Monica?

JAKE: I don’t know Dave. I just don’t know. But if there’s anything I’ve learned with Ostium and everything that’s happened to each of us, it’s that wherever we are, there’s always a chance.

DAVE: Good answer. Night night.

JAKE: Goodnight Dave. Sleep well.

[Short pause]

I run up the stairs, thinking I’m going to have to shake Dave awake if he’s not up already. I find the couch empty when I make it to the top, a piled blanket at one end. Where the hell is he? I then see him over at the window. He’s staring at something; eyes wide in astonishment. I walk over to him and follow his angle of sight and discover he’s seen the cable car too.

Finally he breaks his stare and looks at me.

DAVE: Who the fuck is that?

JAKE: I have no idea. But we’re going to find out.

His eyes somehow widen a little more.

DAVE: Are you . . . Are you sure that’s a wise idea?

JAKE: Oh, it’s definitely not. But I don’t think we can go about our day checking out other buildings, while there’s someone riding that cable car to the top of the mountain. Or riding it down to come find us. I’m just not going to feel comfortable going about our business today knowing there could be someone watching us behind our backs. Or coming at us without our knowing.

DAVE: You’re fucking right, mate. Okay. I’m scared shitless and it’s the last thing in the world I want to do. But you’re right.

I put a warm palm on his shoulder.

JAKE: I’m scared shitless too, man. Now let’s rip the band-aid off and deal with this.

DAVE: You what?

JAKE: Er . . . Never mind. I’ll explain it on the way.

[PAUSE]

[MONICA:]

It’s a very enjoyable ride. Rising up and up. Ever higher. Getting to look back and down on this very strange island. It’s surreal. Not as surreal as it could be. I’ve spent time here before. Know the lay of the land, so to speak. But seeing it from way up here. It’s pretty trippy. And beautiful. Looking down at all the little buildings below. The streets and lanes between them. Like arteries and veins. Only there’s no life blood here. It’s all dried up. Dessicated.

And that’s when I fucking see something I can’t believe. It can’t be real, can it?

I know I’ve been hearing some weird shit. Those goddamn explosions. Who knows what they’re about.

Could there be someone else here? Somehow? This place definitely had the “Ostium vibe” when I arrived. Polar opposite to how it was before.

But I’m seeing the proof right now. Undeniable. Unless that EV’s driving itself.

Okay, for just a moment. An iota, as Jakey would say. In this place of all places. That’s a maybe. A possibility. But I’m not buying it. Not a bit. There’s a someone or someones in that vehicle down there. And looks like they’re headed my way. Via the cable car station.

Let the games begin, I guess.

Part of me is happy to know I’ve got company, and another part of me, a big part, is fucking terrified.

I turn around and see I’m not too far off my last stop. I went over the last pylon already, slowing down, then speeding up. Got the hang of it now. Actually, the end is coming up real fast. I’ve got a matter of seconds. And I didn’t check the instructions on how to stop this flying umbrella.

Yes. That’s a reference. Look it up.

So I drop the speed down to five KPH which is as slow as it’ll go without flicking switches I don’t know anything about. Shoulda done my homework. But it’s slow enough for me to make it work. I slide open the door. Holding on to the rails. There’s still one heck of a drop. I’m not taking any chances. The cable car slides into the opening of the station like a Pez candy into a Pez dispenser.

Yeah. That simile was fucking terrible. And yeah. You can pick your favorite Pez dispenser.

I get ready to leap through the door and onto the platform . . . Except there’s a fucking gate. And it’s closed! Time to adjust the plan of attack a little . . . And now we’re out of time.

I leap through the doorway, grabbing onto the railing with both hands, which rattles around like something electrified, and throw myself sideways. Once my body’s clear of the rail, I let go and twist with it, letting the momentum carry me in the turn. I land on my feet, bending my knees.

I stick the landing.

No sweat.

I hold my position for a minute. Catching my breath. Then I’m up and moving around. Meanwhile the cable car has done is revolution and is out the station and on its way back down to the town below. All ready for some fresh passengers.

Just fine and fucking dandy.

Can’t think about that now. They’ll presumably be up here at some point. Joining me. But I still got some time.

I open the door of the cable car station and step into a big room. It’s covered and well shielded and insulated. I get the sense of a bunker or fallout shelter. The sort of place an important person in power would need to go during a strike.

It’s quiet here. Silence is swallowed up. Absorbed by the thick walls. Not letting anything out. Not letting anything in.

I stroll down the hallway to solid metal.

My footsteps don’t echo.

[PAUSE]

[DAVE:]

It takes us a good long while to find the bloody platform where the cable car’s supposed to be. We thought we were doing just fine. Trudging along. We could see the big wires that carry the cable cars, even if we couldn’t actually see said cable cars. We could see where they came down to earth, so to speak. So we headed in that general direction. We got close. Bloody close. Or so we thought. Then we hit our first dead end. We went back and tried again. Then we found a bloody great big building blocking the way. So we went back and tried again.

On the eighth try we had success!

I let Jake lead the way. You know: to absorb any oncoming fire.

We step into a sort of waiting room. Jake points out the door. There’s some splintered wood around the lock. Yeah. Definitely a break-in.

JAKE: Someone probably attacked it with their feet.

I look at him in absolute confusion for a few seconds and then realize what he’s going on about.

DAVE: Oh, right. Gotcha.

On the other side of the waiting room are glass doors and they’re open. We step through and now we’re on the platform. There’s a big U-shaped hole in the center where the cable car’s supposed to go and turn around. Only, there’s no cable car right now. But we can hear the sound of machinery. Everything’s on apparently and working.

Jake is looking up the mountain and points to a distant cable car making its way down towards us.

DAVE: I hope there’s no one on that.

JAKE: No, I don’t think so. It looks empty from here, and whoever was on it was probably riding it up. It’s empty now. All ready for us.

DAVE: [Sarcastically] Bloody brilliant.

[PAUSE]

[MONICA:]

I get to the end of the hallway and find another doorway. It’s a sliding door. One of those fancy ones where the door slides into the wall and kinda disappears. We didn’t have anything like that back down below. Makes sense. For the bigwigs up here. To have all the fancy shit.

Would I have wanted a cool sliding metal door for the front door of my apartment? Fuck no. But I woulda liked the option.

I step into the room and it’s pretty dark. I can see a few pinprick lights here and there, but nothing that tells me what it is. I can’t even make out shapes. I pull out my datapad and find the flashlight option. The darkness is torn apart by a bright white beam and suddenly I can see what the hell is around me. It’s . . . A . . . Fucking control tower. Machinery. Everywhere. Consoles. Racks along walls. And I can see many more little lights now. Greens. Reds. Blues. Oranges. And more.

I shine the light around. I see a light switch on the wall. Now why the hell didn’t I try that when I walked in?

It’s a big switch. Almost a toggle. Takes a good bit of effort to lift up. There’s a loud, echoey metallic sound. Like something dropped. Then the room is bathed in light.

Wow. Now that’s much better. And yep. Just as I thought. This is a watchtower. All those conspiratorial ideas we were having way down below were 100% correct.

I can now see a single button on one of the consoles is lit up in a orangey-yellow. It’s thick and attending-demanding. Taking the bait I press on the damn thing.

 If I thought it was bright before, I find myself covering my eyes as the metallic shutters rattle up and reveal giant windows all around except for the doorway I came in through.

Holy shit. I can see everything from here. Literally everything. An almost three hundred and sixty degree view. I can see down below, way down to the town and the buildings and the many streets. I can look out far to the horizon. Nothing but ocean and more ocean it looks like. Though I guess if this is still the Mediterranean, it’s all sea. Jakey would correct me on that. Sea as far as the eye can see. He’d laugh at that too.

And now I can see the cable car. Just about to come into the station. Well, then. That fun time was short lived. Time to face the fucking music.

[PAUSE]

[JAKE:]

We don’t know how to stop it, so it’s all about timing. Fortunately the cable car is going slow. Damn slow. So it isn’t that big of a deal. We watched as it makes its U-turn, and then we’re ready by the railing. The door is open. Makes it even easier. Whoever used it last has been courteous. Or in a hurry. I hop on as soon as I have the chance, and Dave is right behind me, actually running in to me.

I kind of slip over to the far side of the cable car.

Then we’re out of the station and beginning our ascension. Dave doesn’t waste time, throwing the sliding door closed. That makes things feel a lot safer in here.

I walk over to the control panel, looking at the various dials and switches, not knowing if I should do anything. I wonder if there were any instructions? I look around, then below, finding a small cubby underneath. There’s a piece of paper there. A page of instructions. I shit you not. Awesome!

Dave is at my side as I’m reading how to operate the cable car.

JAKE: Here goes. Hold on to something.

Dave does and I accelerate the car to 15 kilometers per hour. When I reach the first pylon, I dropped it to 5 KPH, then speed it back up again. Having me focus on operating the car does wonders to make me not have to deal with the fact that we’re getting higher and higher and as I might’ve mentioned once or twice before, I’m not a big fan of heights.

Dave meanwhile is at the far end of the car, looking at the window and taking in the splendor laid out below. I’m sure it’s beautiful, but right now I have to focus on operating the cable car. You know. For our safety and all.

[PAUSE]

[MONICA:]

I haven’t got long. A matter of minutes. Got choices to make. Gotta be quick. Do I fire first? Do I take down whoever I see? Or do I give them a chance? A hope? I dunno right now. It depends if they’re pointing anything my way. Depends on who the fuck they are.

I draw out my little pistol. I haven’t had to use it yet. I hope that streak continues.

[PAUSE]

[DAVE:]

We’re coming into the station now. Right where whoever was riding this car got off before. Presumably. We can’t take any chances. Jake is carrying out the instructions on the piece of paper. The cable car is coming to a complete stop. He’s managed to break off a thin piece of metal from inside the car. It didn’t look important. Nothing bad happened when he did it. And now he’s got himself a makeshift weapon. And I’ve got the little gun. I draw it from my pocket and look at it. The last time I used it was to kill someone I didn’t want to shoot. I hope this time I don’t have to use it to kill someone I know I need to kill.

[PAUSE]

[MONICA:]

I’m standing in the doorway. The cable car has stopped. Whoever’s on it must’ve looked at the instructions. They must be pretty smart too, or at least able to read. Can’t trust them though. I make a snap decision and shut off the lights. It plunges the room and the hallway into mostly darkness.

With the gun pointed at the opposite end, I start walking.

[PAUSE]

[JAKE:]

We’ve stepped off the cable car and can’t see anyone on the platform. I feel more than helpless with this pathetic piece of metal, but it’s all I’ve been able to salvage on such short time. This time I make a hand gesture for Dave to go first. No talking from here on out. We might be heard. Dave nods and walks in front. We reach the doorway that leads to a dark corridor. He steps through and I follow. We stop and wait.

It takes a while. But then I hear it. Slow footsteps. Coming closer. Dave hears them too. He starts walking down the hallway. I don’t know what the hell his plan is but I stay close behind him. He must have something in mind.

He’s reaching into his pocket for something. I can hear the rustling. The footsteps are coming closer now, as we draw nearer to the person.

[PAUSE]

[MONICA:]

They’re coming nearer. There’s two of them. I can’t tell if they’re armed. Probably got something. It’s your classic standoff. Only I’m really fast at the draw. Fuck. I’ve already drawn. I just need something to pull the trigger at. I’ve brought out my datapad. My finger is ready on the flashlight button.

[PAUSE]

[DAVE:]

I’ve got my datapad out. I don’t know who’s coming towards us, but I want to see them before I try anything. Before I shoot them. If I have to. I know there’s a torch option in the menu. There it is. Got to wait for the right time.

We’ve very close now. And so are they.

[PAUSE]

[Simultaneously DAVE and MONICA:] I turn the light on.

[Single laser gun shot.]

[JAKE:]

That meal was exquisite. The quintessential cliche: a meal fit for a king. And I was full. Satiated. I didn’t want another bite. I tried to remember a meal on par with this and the first thing that comes to mind is that lunch Monica and I had in Covelo. Yeah, that was a good meal. Almost as good as this one. Except I’m with different people. And would I be okay sitting here, in this strange place with Monica? Or Dave and Monica? The three of us? After everything that’s happened between me and her. After everything she did. To me. And everything that happened . . . After. With her. And to me . . .

Would I still want her here, with me right now?

[Short Pause]

[Breath]

[Strong, decisive] In a heartbeat.

[Pause]

Dave took a while to find some dessert, which was fine by me. I needed to make some room in the stomach region, if you catch my drift. When he came back out, eventually, he had a tray of flan. I couldn’t help laughing. We were in a magical place that to the best of my knowledge didn’t exist anywhere in the known world. And after enjoying a truly out-of-this-world steak – although that may have had something to do with my not having had something as good as steak in a really long time; plus we were no longer in the “known world” – seeing the final course, the piece de resistance, the dessert to end all desserts . . . Flan. Well, I guess it makes perfect sense, in a way: The actual rock of Gibraltar is a part of the southern coast of Spain, where flan is as common as . . . Paella and flamenco, right?

This may be a different Rock of Gibraltar. An alternate one. Perhaps on another plane of existence. But the Spanish influence is still there, that’s for sure.

Dave had this worried look on his face when he came out from the kitchen, like he’d just found a human head in the . . . You know, let’s just not got there. It still hasn’t been long enough.

As if he’d just seen a ghost.

JAKE: “Is there something wrong Dave? Was the flan hard to find?”

He takes a while to respond; his mind is clearly on something. The eyes . . . Aren’t focused, glazed over. What the hell happened in there?

JAKE: “Dave?”

He snaps back to attention, looking at me.

DAVE: “Erm . . . It’s . . . It’s the food. I noticed something weird with it.”

That’s when alarm bells start ringing for me.

JAKE: “What do you mean? What we just ate? Am I about to get fucking food poisoning?”

DAVE: “No, no . . . Nothing like that. At least I don’t think so. No. It’s not that. I’m definitely sure it isn’t. It’s just . . . Bloody weird. I saw it when I was cleaning up. Throwing away all the packages the food was in. It was all perfectly organized. Everything packaged. And on all those packages was an expiry date.”

JAKE: “Oh shit! You missed that? It was expired, wasn’t it?”

DAVE: “No . . . You see, that’s the thing: they’re not expired. Absolutely not. They’re . . . They’re a long fucking way from expired, in fact.”

JAKE: “Oh . . . Oh? That’s . . . What? Really?”

DAVE: “Yeah, but get this: I’m not just talking about a few months from expiring, or even a few years.”

JAKE: “What?”

DAVE: “How about eighty years?”

JAKE: “What the fuck. No.”

DAVE: “I’m being serious.”

JAKE: “And how the hell can you tell? That would be like in the year 2100? Don’t they just have double digits for the year?”

DAVE: “No, mate. The entire date is printed on the package.”

JAKE [Disbelief]: “No fucking way.”

He stares at me then, angry all of a sudden.

DAVE [Quiet voice]: “Follow me”

I follow him into the kitchen and he opens the refrigerator and steps back, waiting. I take him up on the offer, reaching in and grabbing a mysterious package of brown meat. Another steak. Different marinade. And there’s the expiration date printed on the packaging, clear as day. May 22nd . . . 2103.”

I can’t believe what I’m seeing.

JAKE: “Holy. Fucking. Shit.”

Minutes pass. Then more.

JAKE [Breath]: “I’m sorry, Dave. For doubting you. It was just so hard to believe.”

DAVE: “I know mate. Couldn’t believe it myself.”

JAKE: “Okay. Good.” I turn to him. “We good?”

DAVE: “Yeah. Bffs.”

[Laughter]

DAVE: “Smashing.”

JAKE: “So where are we headed next?”

He turns serious suddenly.

DAVE: “Why are you asking me?”

JAKE: “It’s okay, I don’t mean anything by it. You know as much about this place as I do. Maybe . . . I dunno, maybe I wanna take a step back from always being the first one through the door and making all the decisions. Calling all the shots. Monica was great at getting shit done, but I was always the one that had to take that first step. Make that first choice. I . . . I want to let someone else lead for a change.”

Dave breaks into a smile.

DAVE: “Okay, mate. You just follow me then. I’ve got a few ideas. First, we start by having a look at all the buildings in the vicinity. Find out what they all are. What they’re like. What’s going on inside. I think that should give us some starting thoughts about what is actually going on in this bloody strange place.”

JAKE: “That sounds . . . Fantastic. Amazing.”

DAVE: “Brilliant.”

JAKE: “Yeah, that too.”

DAVE: “No, I meant . . . Good. As in: glad you’re happy with my idea.”

JAKE: “Ah right. A Britishism.”

DAVE: “Righty-oh, let’s get a move-on then.”

JAKE: “Right behind ya.”

He leaves the kitchen, and I put the package of meat back in the refrigerator, on top of all the others and close the door. It gives a nice sucking sound; airtight. I look at the row of refrigerators along one wall, and then the other. Then I turn to the other end of the kitchen and see more, and other units that are probably freezers.

There’s a lot of fucking food here. More than you’d need for a rainy day. And with those ridiculous expiration dates, I don’t know whether to half believe, or just prepare myself to be near the bathroom for the next day or two.

No. If I’d have to guess: I’d say this is enough food for a decent-sized group of people for something like . . . The end of the world.

[PAUSE]

[DAVE:]

I’m . . . I’m starting to remember more things. Lots of things. About here. About being here. With others. With friends. With . . . My mum. In this place. This other Gib. This alternate Rock. I’m . . . I’m keeping ahead of Jake. I don’t want him hearing any of this. Not at the moment at least. Jake’s had his own share of secrets and going through his own thoughts to understand them completely, so now it’s my turn.

And . . . And I don’t know what to think about this. What does it all mean? Are these memories that are slotting themselves back inside my head real ones? Real memories? Actual pieces of my past life? They feel like they are. Though . . . With everything that’s happened . . . Here. Happening in Ostium. Happened to me, personally. I . . . There’s just no actual way I can definitely know. They feel correct. A part of me. Like they should be there. Inside. Those memories of earlier times – more nightmares – of killing those men when that entity had control over me . . . Even though they’re inside me too, they don’t fit properly. Differently shaped pieces of the puzzle that don’t match at all, but someone . . . Something has mashed them into the puzzle so they’ll stay there . . . Even if they don’t belong.

So what am I to do?

Stay the course. For the moment. Just keep going and see what happens.

I truly never know what’s round the next corner in Ostium, and the same applies here. To the Rock. Actually, just saying those words . . . The Rock . . . It feels . . . Natural, as if it’s the right way to say it. The comfortable way. I know it’s been called Gib  for a long time, but being here now, in this “other” Rock and saying it . . . Makes me feel like I’ve said it a lot of times before. And dare I say: I feel at home saying it and feeling it?

Yes, I think I do.

[Short pause]

I have a vague idea . . . A vague sense for where I’m going. It’s nothing as elaborate and detailed as those infrared maps Jake and Monica had in their heads. This is more intuition based; a sense and feeling for where things are; where they’re supposed to be. I suppose you’d call it a spidey-sense. Didn’t Jake have something like that happen to him right in the beginning? When he was first trying to find Ostium? I think I remember hearing him talk about being outside a Starbucks, in a carpark, honing in on Ostium, or something. Well, that’s what it feels like for me, right now. I have a strong sense where certain places and buildings are. Possibly because they’re connected with these new memories that are being shoved into my head.

Anyway, I not telling Jake what’s been going on with me. Not yet. There’s just too much happening, with my thoughts and feelings and all that. I want to understand it all first, before I let Jake know what’s going on with me.

So that’s why I cross the street with Jake in tow, stopping at the first building that’s there. We find the front door and go in with no problem. Fifteen minutes later we’re all done. The bottom floor had a reception area, a waiting room, and some offices. Upstairs – and there was a lift, but we both decided we needed some exercise after ingesting all those calories – are four doctor’s offices with a full range of equipment and amenities. Fuck knows what it all does, but there’s a lot of tech up there that makes me think this must be the equivalent of what a hospital is in this place. When something happened to you, whether it was a skinned knee or a broken arm, this was where you’d come to get help. They could do it all: if you needed a plaster or a set of x-rays or an MRI, they had the machinery and ability to get the job done.

We’re outside now. Jake’s walking around a bit, taking in what he’s just seen in the building, and also having a look around. Getting a feel for the place, I suppose he’d say.

And it’s at about this time that a new memory falls into place in me old noggin. It’s hazy, dream-like, but I know it’s me. From my life. My past. I can remember being in one of those hospital rooms. Sitting on the bed. Talking with a doctor, I presume. I’m in one of those hospital gowns. Must’ve been having stuff done to me. Can’t really remember what. I remember talking to the doctor. Telling her about myself. My medical history and stuff. It’s still not that clear. But I feel comfortable. Relaxed. So what I was going through must’ve been . . . Alright. Something I fully agreed to. Maybe it was from early on, when I first came here, possibly.

I just don’t know. Like so much else here. But . . . But it’s a step in the right direction. I’m starting to learn.

I know more than I did before.

[PAUSE]

[JAKE:]

This feels good. Really good. Great in fact! I know. It’s not really that big a deal. But I meant what I said earlier, when I told Dave how I felt like I’d been running the show and calling the shots since . . . Well, since I set foot in Ostium I guess. Monica is . . . I guess Monica “was” is more accurate . . . She’s still out there, technically, somewhere, so there’s always a chance we’ll meet again . . . On some sunny day . . . An infinitesimal chance. Monica was awesome in many ways and in the many things she did for me and with me. For us. I’ve had time to think about it quite a bit. I’m obviously not happy with what she was doing to me, but I can also see where she was coming from. With Steve being her son. A parent looking for her child. It supersedes everything. I understand that. I’ve not forgiven her. I’m not over it. Yet. Not by a long shot. But in time . . . The wounds will heal.

And now I’m getting to step back a bit. I know. It doesn’t seem that big of a thing, really. Letting Dave take the reins and decide on where we’re going . . . In this place that neither of us knows anything about. But it kind of is a big deal for me, personally. It’s allowing me to relax and not worry so much. Not that I was that much before, but it’s felt like my foot has been on the throttle from the beginning. And that’s because I’ve wanted it that way. That’s . . . That’s how I am. I deliberately put myself in those positions because that’s how and where I like to be. That’s where I thrive, so to speak. And it feels like that’s never let up. Especially when I was having those memory problems courtesy of those deadly gloves Monica had.

But now . . . We’re in a new place. Things are different. We’re not going through doors like before. There’s no blackness coming after us here. And hopefully that thing, that crone won’t be following us to this place. And it feels like the right time and the right place to ease off that accelerator, take a step back, and . . . And just chill for a change.

Of course, it’s one thing to acknowledge and tell yourself to take it easy, and another to actually do it. Yeah, I’m letting Dave go wherever he wants right now and I’m just following. Learning as much about this place as he is. That hospital was interesting. Definitely felt like I was in some scifi movie, with how clean and simple everything looked. There were machines and tech, but not wires anywhere. No tools or objects sitting around. All clean and sterile and like a medical bay on the Enterprise – pick the series.

We start checking out other buildings. Don’t have any problems getting in. But they’re nothing special; nothing’s really standing out, although I don’t really know what to expect. Should something stand out? Am I looking for a special Ostium door to be waiting for me, open and inviting me to a world utterly different from this one? Is that because that’s been my way of life for weeks now? This may be the never-before-discovered island of Gibraltar but so far other than the tech and feel of it being a good step into the future, it’s all been pretty mundane . . . When compared to say a special little town that takes you through doors to different places in time and space.

Just saying.

It’s been about a couple hours and we’ve checked out sixteen other buildings, which have all been nothing special: offices, classrooms, a gym, conference rooms. Though we did see a couple weird things that should be pointed out.

In one room that was most likely an office, the desk and chairs had all been pushed to the side of the room and in the center was . . . [breath] . . . This giant pentagram drawn in chalk. No, not drawn exactly. More like someone had made it by pouring chalk in the shape of a pentagram.

In another room, this was a conference room, big table with lots of chairs . . . Except the chairs were all stacked up in the middle of the table in the shape of a tower. Dave actually walked up to it and reached out to touch the strange stack. I was about to yell at him not to, but nothing happened. The tower didn’t fall down in a noisy cacophony as I’d expected. It didn’t even move. Dave then shook it. Nothing. No movement whatsoever. I walked closer, wanting to know what the hell was going on here.

DAVE: “They’re fused.”

I didn’t believe him. Again. But once I was standing next to him I saw he was totally right. Not just the metal, but the plastic too. It was like they been melted and become one solid mass and then re-hardened.

JAKE: “Fucking weird, man,” were the only words I had to say.

Emphatic nod from Dave.

In the last room of the last building – this was the gym – and it was in the women’s shower room. It wasn’t immediately noticeable. We checked each shower stall and were about to leave when Dave said:

DAVE: “Hang on a sec.”

I looked at him, eyebrows raised.

DAVE: “Just . . . Just be quiet for a minute and listen.”

So I did. Didn’t hear anything. What the hell was he talking about? There were no strange sounds, no weird . . .

And then I did hear it. It was the showers. The shower heads. They were all dripping. A drop ever few seconds. Nothing special, except that all twelve showers were dripping. Not at the same time, but in sequence. But the sequence didn’t repeat. Well, sometimes it did. Other times it didn’t.

It . . . It was a fucking song. The drip sounds were just different enough to be making music . . . Somehow.

JAKE: “It’s music?”

Dave nodded.

JAKE: “Damn, it’s real familiar. I can almost guess it . . .”

DAVE: “Clair de lune.”

JAKE: “That’s it.”

We kept listening for a few more seconds, then we both looked at each other.

It was really fucking creepy.

We got the hell out of there.

And now we’ve crossed the street and we’re headed to what looks like . . . Townhouses? I don’t know. I’m getting the residential vibe off of them. How they’re in a long row along the street here, all numbered, and all identical.

We go up to the first one and the door doesn’t have a handle or anything. But there is a panel on the left and now that we’re standing in the door-well it’s lit up with a numerical light-up display. I try tapping in some numbers, but nothing happens. I look at Dave. He just shrugs.

We check each townhouse along the street and they’ve all got the same doorway unsurprisingly. Each panel lights up at we reach the door.

At the fifth door Dave seems a little more excited. I’m not sure what it is. Like he’s expecting something with this door. But it’s exactly the same as all the others. We step up to it and the panel lights up.

DAVE: “Tell you what. I want to try something here. You watch the door and let me know if anything happens.”

JAKE: “Sure,” I say, willing to try anything at this point. Fuck all is happening.

I watch the door like I’m playing a game of Geoguessr: impatiently waiting for something to materialize; some sign that I recognize.

Why thank you, yes, that was a good callback. I thought so too.

And as I’m joking around, there’s an audible click and the door pops open. Just like that.

I’m give Dave a look that you can probably easily imagine, but let me put it in perspective for you: it’s that look you give your favorite band when you’re seeing them live for the first time and you won front-row seats for free.

He wiggles his fingers at me and says:

DAVE: “Magic hands, mate.”

Then he steps in front of me and walks inside.

[PAUSE]

[DAVE:]

I need to be ahead of Jake. It’s for a reason. I know he’s been letting me lead the way which has worked out just fine in my book, but now it’s more crucial than ever. Because I picked this particular pad for a reason. A big bloody reason. You see the memories keep coming to me as more time passes and once I saw the row of houses that reminded me a lot of my mother country with them all joined together in a row, for the first time, I think, I actually recognized myself. I’ve definitely been here before. By myself, and with other people. I could remember that. Not who I was with, but just having a physical presence here. In this exact spot. At one point. And when we went up to the first house, I knew immediately we weren’t going to be able to get in. Because you need a special code for that. A six-digit one. Jake tried a few things, which of course didn’t work. And then we started moving on down the road, from one house to the next.

When we got to this one I had to come up with something quick to distract Jake.

Because I knew the code to get in . . .

Because this used to be my house . . .

Back when there were lots of people in this town. I can remember that now. I was one of them. And this was where I slept. Where I lived. And the code worked just like it always did.

[Short pause]

I charge up the stairs, going two at a time, and sometimes three, to get to the top as quick as possible. I can hear Jake coming up behind me, but not as fast. That’s good. I don’t know what I’m going to find at the top, but I’m not ready for Jake to know everything going on with me. Yet. I will tell him. Soon. I promise. Just not now. So I need to make sure there are no triggers here. Nothing bloody blatant that’ll make it completely obvious to him.

Stepping into the room truly feels like . . . Coming home to me. There’s a blossoming warm feeling in my chest. I’m actually getting a little dewy-eyed. I blink a few times and have a look around. Everything seems pretty normal. A bit dusty I suppose. Quite a bit, actually. But nothing out of the ordinary that says: “Welcome to Chez Dave,” except for that bloody framed photograph on the table there. I’ve just got tens of seconds now before Jake’s at the top of the stairs and looking in. I dive onto the sofa and grab the photo. Now what the hell am I going to do with it? I shove it down my trousers for now, the band of my boxers holding it decently in place.

Good. Okay then. Will need to be careful not to make any sudden moves. And especially watch it when sitting down. Fine. I just won’t do that then.

Jake’s at the top of the stairs now, eyes on me. Eyebrows raised in confusion.

I’m still on the sofa. I mime grabbing my calf muscle.

DAVE: “I knew I shouldn’t have run  up the stairs like that, I was just . . . Really excited at getting and seeing the place.”

JAKE: “Charlie horse?”

DAVE: “You what?”

JAKE: “Er . . . I mean leg cramp?”

DAVE: “Oh, yeah. Me right calf. Give me a few minutes and I’ll be fine.”

Jake nods and starts walking around the living room.

I continue my acting bit, pretending to massage the muscle like it really hurts.

After I’ve decided enough time has passed I get up and follow Jake who’s already checked out the kitchen and now he’s in the bedroom. He’s looking through the wardrobe. Lots of clothes hanging from coat-hangers. My clothes. I recognize some of them immediately.

Then Jake and I see the datapad on the bedside table. He gets there before me and picks it up.

Shit!

JAKE: “Hmm,” he says, looking at it intently. “Seems like it’s password protected. You wanna have a go?”

DAVE: “Sure,” I say, taking it from his hands. I turn and leave the bedroom, letting out a deep breath.

JAKE: “You know what.”

I come to a full stop and slowly turn around. Worried.

DAVE: “What?”

JAKE: “We should stay here. Sleep here tonight. Use this as a place to rest. There’s a bed and a couch. We could take turns. At least we’d have a roof over our heads and sleep comfortably?”

I think quickly, don’t want to take too long or he’ll become suspicious.

DAVE: “Sure, mate, that sounds smashing. Good idea. You ready to keep looking around? We’ve still got a good three hours of daylight left.”

JAKE: “Yeah. Sounds good. Will you be able to get us back in here, or do we need to keep the door ajar?”

DAVE: “No worries, mate. Magic hands, remember?

His smile is a good enough answer and I’m leading the away back down the stairs and out onto the street.

I notice Jake leaves the door open a bit anyway. I’m all right with that.

I’ve got somewhere very particular in mind I want to go next. The memory is making itself known to me now, and I think if I find what I’m looking for it’s going to go a long way to making me remember everything.

And I’ve managed to move the frame around to my bum where it’s sitting much more comfortably.

[PAUSE]

[JAKE:]

It’s funny how one’s outlook to the day can totally change when you know there’s a soft piece of furniture waiting for you come nightfall. I didn’t really know where we were going to sleep tonight. Pretty much everything we’ve seen so far has been hard chairs and hard tables and hard floor.

This changes everything!

Well, not really. But it makes things a lot better. Since we’re going to be here for the indefinite future. Having a place to stay . . . What is it they say that the requirements for survival are: water, food, and shelter. In that order. Check, check, and check!

I feel like something’s going on with Dave. I don’t know what it is, but the longer we’re here, the weirder he’s starting to act. Like the way he ran up those stairs. He gave me an excuse, and I knew it was an excuse. The lie was painted clearly across his face. So what’s he covering up? Apparently he knows something I don’t, and it’s big enough that he doesn’t want to tell me.

Well, I definitely know how he feels. So for the time being I’m going to give him the benefit of the doubt and see where he takes us next.

That’s another thing I’ve worked out about Dave. At first he was just checking out buildings, but somewhere along the way he found his path and knew where he wanted to go next. Just like now. I don’t know if he realizes it, but we’re going past buildings we haven’t checked yet. He’s got a destination in mind and I’m just going to go with it.

[Short pause]

And here we are. A nondescript building. Unassuming. One like any other. The door is unlocked like the others too and we step inside.

There’s a sort of waiting room with a couch and a couple chairs and a desk. It feels like a waiting room at a small time doctor or a dentist, but there’s something off about it. Something’s not . . . Oh. Dave’s seen it right away and is already standing in front of another door that grants one access to the next room. The one where the assistant comes out to bring you back you go through a normal opening. Here it’s all about security and whether you’re allowed back there. Or not.

But this door is also unlocked. So much for security.

And Dave’s already through and making his way down the hall. I have to speed up to keep close.

We pass more doors, all closed. Then we reach a T-stop. He turns left without hesitation.

I’m almost jogging now. I could call out to him. Yell his name. But I know it wouldn’t do anything. The guy is locked in. He’s got somewhere he wants to be; he knows where he’s going; and nothing’s gonna stop him or slow him down.

I’m just glad I got invited along for the ride.

And then we’re in a booth with an instrument panel. There are no actual buttons, but I can tell what it is because it’s lit up like the navigation station on the Enterprise. Above the panel is a big window looking into an unassuming room.

Dave has stopped, taking everything in, and now he’s moving again over to the pressurized door that gives one access to the special room. Has he seen something I missed? I look back through the window and see plain walls and no furniture or objects in the room, and then I do see something. I take three steps to the right to get a better angle on it.

There it is. Along one of the walls.

It’s a door.

A certain kind of door.

An Ostium door. It looks exactly like every single door I’ve ever seen there. Without a number

Holy shit.

Now I’m following Dave. He’s got the door unlocked somehow and as it opens there’s a sharp hiss.

I follow him inside and we both walk up to the door.

He looks at me and I’m surprised by the look on his face. He’s not confused. He’s confident. Aware.

He knows what this door is.

Why it’s here.

And what here is.

And that’s when we both hear another booming sound from outside somewhere.

[PAUSE]

[DAVE:]

JAKE: Okay Dave, time to spill the beans?

DAVE: What?

JAKE: I know you know what this place is. I don’t. I don’t have a fucking clue. And that thing right there . . . Is really scaring the crap out of me. So what the hell is going on here? And how do you know about it?

I take a long, deep breath.

DAVE: Alright, Jake. I’m going to tell you. It’s time. I’m going to tell you everything I know. Everything that’s at least come back to me. But not here.

JAKE: What? Why?

DAVE: It holds too many memories for me. This room. This place. Let’s go back to the house. We’ll make dinner. And I’ll tell you everything.

Jake isn’t saying anything, thinking things over. Can’t blame him. Then his frowny face clears and he gives me a nod.

JAKE: But you’re going to have to show me how the hell we get out of here, because I’m totally lost.

He’s smiling now, which is good. It makes me smile.

DAVE: Okay, mate. Follow me.

The dawn woke me. It was one of those cliche moments where I didn’t remember where I was. Then I did. I was in a fucking cemetery. I drag myself up into a standing position. Use the tombstone to do it.

Steve’s tombstone.

It hits me again. Almost end up on the ground again.

I feel a million years old. New aches and pains I didn’t know I could have. Fuck I feel old. My fifty-six years on this planet are catching up with me, Ostium Network enhancements aside. But then that’s what I get for spending the night on the very hard ground of a fucking cemetery that was never supposed to be here. Like I said before, nothing like this was every talked about or discussed, at least not with me. Not in any of those many, many hours of classes. It would’ve been covered somewhere. Orientation at the very least.

So what does this tell me? That all those fuckers at the Ostium Network have been lying to me all along? Well, that’s true anyway. But about this? Lying to all of us? No. I don’t think so. In fact: I know so. This cemetery may be kinda outta the way when it comes to the topographical layout of this town, but we wouldn’t have missed this. We couldn’t have missed this. Not something this big. And I know it’s got a lot of . . . Unexpected new members, shall we say, but the space is still laid out like a cemetery. It’s not like they expanded it or anything.

So what does that mean then?

Pretty obviously, really, dear Watson: this isn’t the same Gibraltar or Ostium Network or whatever the fuck you want to call it. It’s a different one.

Somehow.

Somewhen.

Yeah. Pretty fucking heavy.

[PAUSE]

So what does that mean . . . Exactly? Things are going to be the same here. Like they were before. And also not the same. Different in some way. I haven’t seen anything – yet – that tells me it’s a different Ostium Network. I mean . . . Fuck. My goddamn journal sounded right. Still the same.

If . . . If a different me had recorded that entry. Used slightly different language. Word choices. Phrasing. Would I have been able to spot it? Recognize that shit?

You know: I like to think so.

No. I fucking know so.

So. It just means there was another me here in this other Ostium Network. And this other me was real close to me. So we’re just going to take that as a given.

But . . .

But this isn’t another door . . . Another place that Ostium takes you to. This is the Ostium Network. It’s not just some place you visit. This is where it all started. The be all and end all. Ground Zero. Patient X. Fucking Typhoid Mary.

Yeah. That last one was a stretch. Learned about that during some random historical reading. For fun.

So where the hell is everyone? Why does this feel like I just went through another routine Ostium door – even though I never did by myself – and found everyone mysteriously gone on the other side. WTF?

I don’t know. I might never know. Let’s file this one with all the other Ostium-related unanswered questions.

So what’s the cemetery got to do with all this?

It’s a glaring difference to my Ostium Network. The one where I used to live. The one where . . . Steve lived. Until he didn’t.

In this one he’s dead.

So where does that leave my Steve?

[Sad/anguished, said slowly] Oh shit. He’s . . . If he’s still out there. In Ostium somewhere. Behind one of those doors. He can’t get back. And . . . And if he somehow does. If that miracle somehow happens . . . He can’t get . . . Here.

And . . . [wracking breathing] . . . I’m never going to see him again.

God. Fucking. Dammit.

[Crying]

[PAUSE]

I could . . . I could start attaching significance to everything that happens to me. To the events that come into play in my life. The choices I consider and make. The decisions that lead me to oh so new and interesting places. I could attribute some higher power making all this shit happen. But I know I’d be lying to myself. In every way possible.

I’ve come this far. I’ve survived. On my own. I’m not going to start lying to myself now.

So what can I get out of being here? What is there to gain? How can I make this fucking worthwhile?

Well . . . If I had the choice of being stuck in Ostium or the Ostium Network, I’d choose this place any and every time. Everything is here. Somewhere. Like I said: this is where it all started. Where it got developed. Where we first started learning. Where the first time-traveling towns began. The first ostiums.

It’s all here.

The answers.

Finally.

I just have to find them.

And the good news is, I know my way around.

[PAUSE]

I’m starting to fall into a routine. Here. It’s been a couple days. I got plenty of food. Enough to last a lot of lifetimes. I’m staying in my place because . . . Well, I guess I could look around for a better pad. More room. Fancier amenities. If such a thing exists. But I don’t really need to. I’m perfectly satisfied with what I’ve got. I was before. I am now. Don’t need anything more. Except some company. That would be nice. But I’m not exactly holding my breath on that.

I’m doing a lot of walking. Feels great to get some exercise. The weather continues to be just wonderful. The air fresh and clean with a good dose of brine. I’ve started doing some reading again. I’ve still got that ridiculous ebook library on my datapad. Also it’s still connected to the local area network here, so I’ve got access to everything just like usual.

Yes. I did try contacting and messaging a bunch of different people and departments. No takers. No responses. I knew it wasn’t going to be any other way.

And I’ve started visiting the old haunts. All the places I went to before. For a couple of reasons:

One: I want to see what they still look like; if they’re exactly the same as I remember them;

Two: I want to see if anything is different about them; since they’re part of this other Ostium Network, what might’ve changed in comparison to mine?

And Three: What can I learn from them? Is there’s something altered? A detail. A clue. A fact I didn’t catch before. Something that can help me understand. Comprehend better. And . . . Ultimately, get me the fuck outta here.

[SHORT PAUSE]

I’ve encountered and overcome a lot of hurdles in my time. In my life. In Ostium. So when I start hitting them again. Here. In the Ostium Network. I’m not surprised. I’m not phased. I keep going. Because I don’t give up. Even when I feel I’ve exhausted every fucking angle. Part of me keeps going. Keeps trying.

I visit the classrooms. I visit the offices. I visit the rooms of my past. I check out every location I can remember I’ve ever been to in the Ostium Network. I find datapads. Lots of them. Datapads aplenty. And not a word of worth on any of them. Not a sentence of sense. Not a tidbit of . . . Temerity? T-usefulness?

Jack shit basically. Whoever Jack is. It’s all stuff I already know. Or didn’t really need or want to know. Lotta stuff on the classes I took. A lot of personal stuff. Thoughts and ideas about time travel. About a favorite time to travel to. Some interesting thoughts, actually. But nothing useful. Nothing moving me a crucial step further. Just lots of ideas that keep everything in a holding pattern. Nothing moving forward.

And a whole lot of people lusting after each other. Women after men, women after women, and everything in between you can imagine. There was no outright “no sex” policy, or a “avoid fraternizing at all costs.” People like people; people like to fuck other people. You can’t stop that, no matter how much you might want to, and I’ve definitely seen humanity try like those religious nuts in the late twentieth and early twenty-first centuries. But it’s still another thing to be reading peoples’ very personal thoughts.

Ahh, my eyes!

Yeah. But I had to check them all. Had to be sure. For all  I knew, one of them could’ve somehow belonged to someone high up in the echelons of the Ostium Network. Maybe even mister head-honcho himself. Nah, not him. That guy wouldn’t leave something that valuable hanging around. The Ostium Magna Carta for anyone to get their grubby fingers on. So maybe something then.

Nope. I don’t know if it’s because of this particular place. This Ostium Network. Did things like recording crucial pieces of information on your datapad just not happen here? Did they happen in any version of the Ostium Network?

So . . .

So I need to untangle that thought a little. Really wish I had Jakey here to bounce my thoughts off of. I’m sure he’d be happy to offer up a lectured paragraph or ten. But if his resurrection were unlikely in Ostium, it’s a million years beyond that here.

This idea of multiple Ostium Networks. Multiple iterations of places in time. It was certainly discussed in a number of the classes on traveling through time. None of them cohesively linked up with whatever the engineers and scientists and specialists were doing in Ostium. And none of us asked. We were too . . . What’s the word . . . Gobsmacked by everything. There were some things I would question and ask for more info on, more specifics. But this . . . This conceptualizing was WAY beyond me and my ken. So I kept mum.

Wish I hadn’t now. Wish a fucking lot.

So let’s try and bring it down to our level.

You have your straight-forward time travel shenanigans. Your linear, chronological type. Your Marty McFly traveling back and finding his mom has the hots for him which really fucks with the space-time continuum and he starts to go all invisible man. That’s the one that gets covered in a lot of books and movies and pretty much all of pop-culture. Bill and Ted did a great job, especially that bit when one of them wants something and then it appears because he went back it time and made it happen, but you don’t have to see it, the item just appears.

So that’s your straight-forward variety of time travel.

The other one, as I understand it, is a sort of parallel universe one. A tangential one, if I’m using that word correctly. I think I am. Which is that each time a choice is made; a decision decided on, multiple time-lines begin from that point. One in which the decision went that way, and one in which the choice went the other. The two are separate and from then on individual. And I think the two can never meet or cross over each other. I think. It’s all pretty high-brow theoretical physics for me. All this. So in this scenario Marty McFly can go back and have a grand old time with his mother – if he wants – and not cos of any problems with the space-time continuum . . . Well no. That’s not right . . . Exactly. If I’m following this right in my head . . . No, there won’t be any time problems with his timeline because the tangent happened after he traveled to his past and messed with it, starting on its own course, while his actual timeline where he resides is perfectly fine. I don’t know if I made any sense there. It doesn’t really sound like it. To me. But I think I kinda get it, at least. The timey-wimey stuff still gets messed up but only on specific tangents.

So this Ostium Network is on a different time tangent to the one I originally came from. Yeah. That’s it. And so everyone is gone in this one. In mine . . . Well, who knows what happened after I went through and fucked-up their game plan. But people should still be there. Here, it’s a different story. Apparently.

It’s like being on the other side of a door in Ostium. With everyone gone. And none of us ever found out what the hell the deal was with all that. Were all these people all of a sudden being zapped into nonexistence? Being sent somewhere else? Another timeline perhaps? Something. It never made sense. But thinking they were all being obliterated. Atomized. That just didn’t feel right. Too much. Too far-fetched. Even if that was the road Jake kept sending himself down.

So is it the same deal here? In this Ostium Network? But this isn’t a door in Ostium. This is separate from that. A level above it. A step before it. Without this place, there is no Ostium, so it can’t be that.

But thinking back to that cemetery . . . There were an awful lot of headstones there. It was a thriving place of the dead. And compared to my Ostium Network where there was no such place, it was . . . An impossibility. So maybe they had something big happen here. Before . . . Ostium took its first victim. A sickness maybe. Something they couldn’t control. Couldn’t predict. And people started dying. A lot of people. For some reason. And there wasn’t anything they could do about it. They couldn’t bring in outsiders to help. No doctors or military or whatever they thought might help to solve the problem. And they couldn’t send everyone out either. Send them back to wherever they came from. It needed to be contained. And if they didn’t understand what was going on they couldn’t afford to send people back to the real world.

Maybe it was contagious, whatever it was.

And that’s when the scary thought drops into my mind like a stone into a pond: what if it’s still contagious and still here?

I’ve never been one to shirk my duties. I thrive on facing things head on. Facing fucking reality, no matter how real it might be.

I’m stuck here. There’s nothing I can do about it. If there’s some shit in the air here that’s gonna kill me, then that’s that.

In the meantime, I’m going to enjoy myself as much as I can. Which also means taking care of myself too.

Which leads me to something I haven’t talked about before. Something the Ostium Network did let us know about shortly after we started working here. And it’s something I’ve never heard anyone – man, woman or other – ever turn down.

Honestly, it pretty much makes up for them taking our implants away as soon as we got here.

I’m going to need a moment before I start talking about this.

And a drink.

[PAUSE]

I didn’t notice it till yesterday. In all my time in Ostium. Being with Jake. Being that way with Jake. Going through all those doors. Facing oncoming death and blackness. Being scared shitless. No. The thought never came into my head. But yesterday I saw a number of the spots had returned to my hands. They look like biggish moles. One looks kinda gray. Mostly they’re brown. Nothing really alarming. Perfectly ordinary for someone who’s spent their time on this lump of rock hurtling through time and space for over fifty-six years. Yes. Some call them . . . [Said distastefully] Liver spots. I’ve never been a fan of that term. But they are a normal sign of old age.

And honestly, when the Ostium Network said they really wanted me . . . At my age. I was shocked. Really shocked. But I still wasn’t going to turn down an opportunity like this, especially not if I got to work with my son. It wasn’t like it said “must be able to lift over fifty pounds” on the application. So I knew I’d be okay, and the sheer excitement I got from the mystery surrounding the job, and by how much they wanted me, meant I could never turn them down or look back.

And I didn’t.

By the way, I can totally lift fifty pounds. Sixty even!

And so a month into our training, one by one, we met with a doctor, and had a specific procedure explained to us, and were given the option of saying yay or nay to it. Like I said: as far as I know, no one ever said nay.

In the time I’m from, which is coming in on the end of the twenty-first century – I don’t know why I’m keeping this number secret, but it’s a little something, a little increment, a tidbit that only I know and you don’t – longevity and health has made some great strides, and it’s now fairly common for people to make it to a hundred years of age. How they get there and what sort of health they’re in physically and mentally remains to be seen.

So I met with the doctor. A young, vivacious looking sister. I figured it was another routine check-up. We hadn’t been poked and prodded enough when we first arrived, so now it was time for a little more sadism. But she sat me down in a cushy seat at her desk and told me about how the Ostium Network had made many advancements in many fields, including that of health and longevity. As an employee for the Ostium Network, there were certain procedures available to me, if I wanted them. Then she started spouting a bunch of medical jargon and I felt like I was back in class. She said shit about telomeres a lot, whatever those are. At the end she put it in nice clear terms: if I chose to go through all three of the procedures, I would come out the other end looking and feeling twenty years younger. And there were no side-effects whatsoever. Other than my peers being shocked at how fine I would now look.

I said sure. I was already fully aware of the number of young people employed by the Ostium Network. What better way to level the playing field? Am I right?

It took three hours. Some painless injections. Some medications. Then ninety minutes in a special chamber that filled with this goo. I was fitted with a breathing mask. Stripped down to my birthday suit. And got comfortable. Fortunately, the goo was warm. It was pretty relaxing actually. Took a nice nap and they woke me when I was done.

And they were totally fucking right. I looked in my mid thirties and I couldn’t believe it. I felt awesome. Just great. And like I said, everyone had this done to smooth away wrinkles, energize muscles and look a little younger and healthier, even if they were in peak physical condition with looks to boot. Steve shaved off a year or two. But I was one of the “elderly” few who turned the clock back a lot. There were a lot of heads turning my way after that.

After it was all done and I was dressed back in my now looser fitting clothes, the doctor sat me down again and explained how this wasn’t a temporary thing. That the process could be done repeatedly . . . Indefinitely.

I don’t think I fully processed the true meaning of this statement until . . . Perhaps now? Maybe because I didn’t believe it? Maybe no one did, but did it anyway? She’d just said, basically, that we could all live forever. If we wanted. We could become immortal. The caveat was that we always had a choice in this; it was never chosen for us. This wasn’t going to be an immortal existence doomed to never be able to die. When one wanted to kick the bucket willingly, they certainly could. Not to mention, all the other “common” and “popular” ways some choose to end their lives or have their lives ended for themselves.

I was told that the best and most effective treatment was an hour “goo bath” every six months.

A paltry price to pay for looking this fucking badass.

I’d surpassed the six-month mark. Was closing in on a year actually. So it only made sense some of my body’s cells were now starting to feel their age.

The first question was: did the goo bath exist in this Ostium Network and was it still working?

The second question was: did I still want to?

[SHORT PAUSE]

Fuck yeah! Was the resounding response to the second one. Answering the first question took a little longer as I had to remember what room the goo baths were located in what building. I did find it pretty quick. Everything was running like normal. And, fortunately, I’d had the procedure done enough times to know the actual operating of the bath was something even I could handle. In a few minutes I had everything powered up and running, and the purple filling up just right.

When it was ready, I set an alarm, stripped down, and like Goldilocks, stepped into the just right goo with the respirator running and got comfortable. I didn’t sleep this time. Didn’t trust that nothing would go wrong. When the alarm went off, I was up and out of there and going through cleaning procedures according to protocol.

Before I put my clothes back on I checked the full-length mirror which was simply required in this room. I looked thirty-six again and amazing. Like before. I couldn’t help winking at myself.

The doctor had told me there were some more severe procedures that could increase the aging retraction to up to thirty years, but with there were potential side effects and irregularities. That last word had me steering well clear of that risk. Twenty was just fine for me.

And then I was back in my familiar apartment, after a nice long hot shower, with a steaming mug of tea, contemplating on the next steps I could take and making the nightly journal entry.

Before I looked at entering the world of buildings and offices and locations I’d never been before in the Ostium Network, there was one last place I hadn’t been that I have to make myself check.

Steve’s place.

[PAUSE]

His place isn’t too far from. I haven’t forgotten where it is. Some things you can’t forget. But is far enough that it’s a bit of a walk. I take the EV and I’m there it minutes. It takes me twice as many minutes to leave the vehicle and make it to the door. Then I’m stopped in my tracks.

The door is half open. What the fuck? It’s just like mine, with the ID pad. Just like all the others along this street. All those doors are closed. How comes this one isn’t? I step into the doorway, pushing it open. It doesn’t make a sound. Good. I go inside and take slow steps, keeping as quiet as possible, and listening for anything. Or anyone. I enter the living room and then I just wait. Five minutes pass. Then ten. Then fifteen. In all that time I keep perfectly still. I hear nothing but my own breathing.

I relax then. Check out the other rooms just to be certain.

I’m alone here, as I expect to be.

Then the emotion washes over me like a wave I can barely stand up against.

This is where he lived. Where he was. His smell is here, in every room. In his bedroom, his bed is still unmade. I’m unable to stop myself from smelling his pillow. That starts the tears. I look in his closet, where his smell is even stronger. More tears come then and I just let them fall.

In the living room I sit on the single couch and have a long, good, healthy cry, feeling the sobs wrenched from me and thrown away, not wanting them back.

More time passes, and I’m able to get myself back together. I feel my hand reaching over to the lamp on the small table next to the couch. I’ve sat in this exact spot many times with my lovely son. Beneath the lamp is a framed photograph of us. It got taken not long after we arrived at Ostium and we asked to have prints and each got one, along with frames. We keep them in the same spots in our respective apartments. Some might think it kind of sappy. It was Steve’s idea. I thought it was beautiful and was really touched by the gesture.

Except my hand’s not finding the photo. I turn and look and beneath the lamp is . . . No photo. There was a photo there before. Most fucking definitely. I can still see a thin layer of dust on the table. Where the frame was are marks and grooves in the dust. Tracks indicating the photo has been taken.

What the fuck?

Someone’s been here.

And for the first time being back in the Ostium Network, where I thought I was all alone, I start to feel afraid.

And that’s when another loud fucking boom happens.

JAKE SPEAKING:

I can’t believe we’re here: the rock of Gibraltar; one of the pillars of Hercules; the gateway to the Atlantic; the doorway to the Mediterranean. And speaking of doorway . . .

I turn around, looking behind me to see if there’s anything . . . But there’s no indication of the rip or rift I created, what I made that was somehow able to get us from that place in Fort Bragg to . . . Here. I’m still not sure exactly how I did . . . All that.

I was so goddamn scared at the end there. With that lady . . . That thing coming for us. I don’t know what it would’ve done to us, but I’ve got an idea what it’s capable of. Yeah. You remember the bodies . . . The state of the bodies in that house in Fort Bragg when we found them that first time.

Life destroying.

Soul destroying.

I’m never going to get over it. And, even if I wanted to, I could never forget it. Yeah. Two words. Photographic memory. And that’s the only time I’m going to mention it . . . In this recording at least.

Hey, it’s a new place, a new world. So it’s like I have a clean slate . . . A tabula rasa if you will to wax poetic on my photographic memory. Eidetic? Isn’t that another way to say it?

And now Dave’s giving me one of his . . . Er, what would he call it: bloody pissed off looks?

Oh good, now he’s smirking. Must’ve said the right thing.

“So where shall we start?” I ask.

He pauses, for a number of seconds, eyes wide, and then says:

DAVE: “How should I bloody know? I don’t live here, do I?”

JAKE: “No, but I thought, you know, since they speak English here and have a lot of British ex-patriots, you might know a thing or two about it?”

DAVE: “Well, I bloody don’t! Yes, they have a lot of expats down here, but I never been bloody one of them. No bloody clue, mate. I’ve traveled around a bit, but not to here. And I don’t see another living soul around . . . As per usual with anything related to Ostium, so . . . Your guess is as good as mine: what does the great Jake Fisher think about all this?”

The sarcasm is oozing out, like fucking authentic Canadian maple syrup. I’m gonna give the guy some space.

JAKE: “You know,” I say, “Let me think about all this for a bit. Need some physical as well as mental space.”

DAVE: “Fine mate, take all the time you need. I need to sift through my mangled thoughts too.”

I step away, out of earshot. Dave seems to be going through . . . Something, I don’t know what. We’ve been through a lot of shit in the last twenty-four hours. Him just as much as me, according to his wild ride of a story. He saw that . . . Crone? I don’t know what to call her or it, so I’ll stick with crone for now. It was definitely female, but also definitely not human. I suppose it would be more accurate to say it had the outward appearance . . . The visible features of a woman. But that was as far as it went.

So Dave can have some private time to try and process all this. Being where we are now and all that. And it gives me some time to process all this too. I really need to think about everything that’s happened and try and digest it in some way.

All the shit that happened to me. When the blackness got me. I don’t know what the fuck it all was. And I don’t think I’m ever going to really know. It was some sort of messed up journey. A pilgrimage maybe? No. That implies a spirituality. I didn’t feel anything . . . Spiritual going on there. It just . . . It just happened. Whatever the fuck it all was.

And after that there was . . . Roanoke. Again. Somehow. And Dave there. Again . . . Somehow.

I suppose I should address my . . . Oh, what shall we call them . . . Changes? Upgrades? Improvements? Enhancements? I sound like a goddamn transformer! Or a version of Windows. Don’t worry, like Windows, I still have plenty of problems to deal with of my own. I just hope I don’t start crashing all the time. Blue screen of death and all that.

But when I was there, in Roanoke, I felt changed somehow. Things were just clearer too me, mentally. It was like I’d gotten more of the big picture and it’s all starting to kind of make sense to me now. No. Don’t ask for details. I can’t give you anything . . . Concrete. Just these vague platitudes. But I feel stronger. Dare I say more powerful?

Yeah . . . Yeah, that’s right. I do feel stronger and more able to handle all this. To deal with what Ostium throws at me.

So when I knew we were going to have to come face to face with . . . The crone, part of me was like: I have never been this scared, even when I was six and saw that Terrorvision movie that left some very horrific images in my mind and made every shape in the darkness move and come to life. But another part of me was in the zone of: this is another part of Ostium, coming after you just like the blackness, trying to stop you. Will it succeed? Possibly. But you’re going to do what you can to fight back. Maybe you’ll win. Maybe you’ll lose. But if you do, you’re gonna die trying.

The sheer power the crone possessed was . . . Overwhelming. That’s the best word for it. I’m pretty sure Dave will agree with me on that point. Outgunned and outmaneuvered. A expression they like to use in movies when they get their asses handed to them? Or something like that. Yeah. It was sort of like that.

And sort of like living in Australia.

Okay, hear me out for a moment: the number of extremely poisonous and venomous and downright scarifying in the sense that you will be killed creatures living on one substantial Australian landmass is astounding. I know, I know. Over twenty million people live there. They walk around. They live in houses. They swim in the warm waters and the ocean. And they don’t get killed by any of these pesky, lethal beasties. But I’m just imagining standing on that continent and wondering what might be watching me at that very moment, waiting to sink it claws or fangs or other sharp, venomous protrusions into me . . .

And where the hell was I going with this?

The crone.

We felt helpless against her. Overwhelmed by her powers, whatever they might be. It was her sheer presence, her approaching form . . . The aura of doom stretched far and wide to us. We needed to find a way out. Somehow. Or it was all going to be over. Like that. We’d just be ripe pickings for her. Lying their forlorn and helpless. Just like she wanted, no doubt.

So I used that small part of me. The part that still had hope. To find a way. To come up with a way. To just do something.

That small part of me was feeling good about those men I saved. The soldiers. Sending them through an ostium I created; a new door to their place of origin. Where they wanted to go. And preventing the crone from getting at them. I made that door a reality for them. Therefore, there wasn’t any reason I couldn’t make it a reality for us to. I don’t know where it actually took them, but I knew I’d made it happen.

If I did it once, I could do it again. Yes. It takes focus and concentration and a considerable amount of energy to carry out. I was wiped after doing that one for the men. It had to be big enough for them to fit through, and last long enough for all of them, which is why I pretty much just passed out afterward. For a little while.

And that’s why I was only able to make a small ostium. A small doorway just big enough for each of us to essentially squeeze through. Which I did. And we did make it through. Barely.

And that’s how we ended up in the warm, sunny climes of the Rock of Gibraltar.

[PAUSE]

DAVE SPEAKING:

Oh . . . Shit. Oh shit. Oh shit. Oh shit. Something’s happening to me again. And I don’t know what the fuck it is. Again! Thank god Jake gave me some time alone. To think. To . . . To try to put the pieces together. He’s probably doing the same bloody thing right now.

Fooooook.

Okay. Keep it together mate. Let’s try and . . . Make some sense of this. Let’s . . . Let’s try starting at the beginning. Well, not the complete beginning. The beginning of . . . The current shit-storm.

[Breath]

She . . . No . . . There’s was nothing human about it. I might’ve thought it was an old woman. A crone. But the way it moved. The way it . . . Spoke. The voice. I’ve never . . . Well, I’ve never heard or seen anything like it before. Obviously. I was . . . Shitting myself. Not literally. Thank god. But hearing it . . . Knowing it was coming closer; coming for us. And what it might do . . . Lots of things going through my mind. Very. Fucking. Scary. Things.

But . . . But Jake did it. Somehow. He got those soldiers out. Did the impossible.

In that room. I thought that was it. I thought we were done for. I half gave up . . . No. I did give up. Fully and completely. I thought it was the end, and soon we were going to be its play things. Shortly to be experiencing new levels and ways of pain.

But Jake did it. Somehow. He used whatever will power he had left. Dragged me along. And then opened another fucking door. A small one. And got us through. Somehow. Just in time. I was waiting for its . . . Its talons to grasp my ankles and pull me back from that opening. That ostium. That door to freedom . . .

But we made it.

And now we’re here. Gibraltar. Gib. The Rock.

I lied to Jake. I have been here before. Once. When I was on holiday on the Costa del Sol. Spent a day taking the hydrofoil across to Tangiers. And a day visiting Gib. This little piece of England . . . A home away from home. It was nothing special really. Lots of British things. Lots of people speaking English. So not that different really from Spain. Like I said. Nothing special. Nothing that would’ve helped Jake at all. It’s not like I can tell him where certain places are. I went to the shops. Had lunch at a pub. And then went back to my hotel across the border.

I still feel uncomfortable about it. Guilty. And I know. I could easily walk over to him right now and make things kosher.

But . . . What’s done is done. And I’m going to leave it at that.

So let’s talk about the other fox in the hen house.

Yes. You heard me right. I’m dealing with more than one at the moment.

Fuck me. I know.

So the other thing I’m trying to wrap my mind around right now is . . . What I’m feeling being back here. In Gibraltar. A familiarity. It’s not that I’ve been here once before. A long time ago. It’s that . . . I’m going through a series of emotions. Being here again. Feelings and thoughts . . . Strange pictures flickering through my mind . . . It’s all the sort of stuff that would inform a bloke he’s back in his old haunts. A place he definitively called home at some point in his life.

As far as I know I’ve spent a whole what . . . four hours here in my entire life. So, riddle me this Batman: why am I having all these feels when I look down the street we’re standing on? Why do I know that the street we’re standing on is called Devil’s Tower Road? I know. It’s an unusual name. But this street looks like any old street. And I can see a sign over there, in the distance, telling me I know exactly where I am. Why do I feel like I’ve cast my gaze over these buildings lots of times before; so many times that they’ve become mundane to me. Normal. Why am I casting my gaze up up to the very top of the rock where I can see a very strange looking building. And I think my brain just turned over in it’s skull. I’m experiencing a very strong sense of deja vu right now. Double deja vu! Because . . . Because in my mind I can remember looking up there to the top of that very iconic mountain when I last visited here and not seeing that strange thing up there. There were some aerial thingies and that was it.

Except. Except! Seeing that fucking strange-looking building up there feels . . . In tune with everything else I’m looking at around it. It too feels familiar . . . And comfortable . . . And correct. Part of the natural facade here.

I turn around in a slow circle and then feel something else pulling at me. Setting off certain synapses in my brain.

DAVE: “Jake? Jake!” I yell at him.

He turns and looks at me.

DAVE: I have a lot of shit going on with me mentally right now. I’m sure you do too. But there’s something really fucking weird going on with me. And I need to ask you a favor, mate.”

DAVE: “I need you to follow me. Keep up, I’m going to be going pretty fast.”

And then I’m off, chasing a thought that should be a memory for me, but both is and isn’t some-fucking-how. Because I can’t actually remember experiencing it for the first time.

It’s . . . It’s a very weird fucking feeling.

I just hope I don’t go completely bonkers when I find out what it actually is.

[PAUSE]

JAKE:

I’m following Dave and I have no clue where we’re going. He shouldn’t have a clue either, but he’s walking like he knows . . . With determination. I don’t know. The guys walking like he has a plan, and since I’ve got bupkis, I’m all legs and feet . . . As in I’m following him.

It feels weird here. Aforementioned weirdnesses aside, there’s something just off about this place. It’s not that it’s a totally foreign country to me, because it obviously is. But no. It’s something more. This place has a . . . I don’t know . . . Like a future feel to me. Not distant future, but near future. Everything looks clean and shiny and sleek. I know. There’s no people here, so that makes sense. But I can’t quite put my finger on it. I can see the buildings. I can see the asphalt road I’m walking on. And yet, they seem unusual to me . . . Not quite right. I’m looking at this one building I’m walking past. It’s got five floors by the look of it. Lots of windows. A few balconies. All normal stuff, right? But as I look at it I’m noticing the edges of the buildings are all rounded. When I think of buildings in my head I picture corners . . . Four corners to a building. Perfect ninety-degree angled sides, not rounded edges going from bottom to top.

And the facade of the building. It’s not brick. It doesn’t look like a concrete outer layer. It doesn’t even look like paint actually. It’s a reddish color, like a dark red. And it’s shiny. Reflective. Almost looks like a plastic polymer, which is just crazy for the outside of a building. Right? The windows are dark black. So one-way probably? But they look too black. Not dark like the fancy windows people have in their cars. They . . . They don’t really look like glass. Is that even possible?

As for the road. I said asphalt, but I don’t know what the hell it’s made of. It’s a gray color, pretty light. It’s also sort of springy. With each step, I can feel it push down a little with my weight, then lift up as I raise my foot. So what? Rubber? Chewing gum roads?

And before me I can now see water. Not that weird, right? When I picture Gibraltar in my head, it’s a little like San Francisco. A promontory of land sticking out into the waters of . . . In this case, the Mediterranean. But I know enough basic geography, at least when it comes to the Iberian peninsula – guess those many hours of Geoguessr finally paid off for something, right? Emphatic wink-wink! To know that the mountain of Gibraltar, the pillar of Hercules is sort of on the outer edge of the town or colony or whatever it is. All the buildings and people pretty much live on the side facing Spain, so to speak. Meaning the direction we’re headed in is towards the border. Towards the mainland. Meaning there should be water surrounding the mountain and town, but where we’re headed should be nothing but land. I think there’s even supposed to be an airport somewhere near here, along with a border crossing. And that’s not what I’m seeing. Dave’s face is telling me he thinks something’s not right in the state of Gibraltar as well.

[Short pause]

Okay, we’re at the water’s edge now and . . . Yeah. It’s definitely not right. Where there should be land there’s water. And I’m not just talking a little, like a stream or even a river in between. No. The land belonging to the considerably-sized country known as Spain is . . . Nowhere to be found. I’m looking all along the horizon where I see water and there’s absolutely no sign of land anywhere.

Okay. Now I’m starting to get . . . Scared.

JAKE: “What the fuck’s going on here, Dave?”

He turns to me, bewilderment as plain on his face as if it were a pie I’d just thrown at him.

Yeah. I know. That’s a pretty bad metaphor. But it’s because I’m kinda freaking out right now.

DAVE: “It’s . . . It’s a bloody island.”

JAKE [shock and surprise]: “What?!”

DAVE: “It’s a bloody island mate. You know. Bit of land with water all round it.”

JAKE [angry, scared]: “I know what a fucking island is. Mate. But last time I checked Gibraltar was very much not an island and very firmly attached to the big and very unmissable country of España.”

Dave just stares at me. He doesn’t say anything. Then he sort of shrugs his shoulders and turns back to the water.

It’s a very smart move, because I’m getting more pissed off as time passes. It’s how I’m dealing with this situation apparently. If he kept talking, I might’ve punched him, and the last time I did something like that was . . . I don’t know. Middle school? A very long time ago. But Dave turning around immediately diffuses the situation. I’m confronted by all that water again and it shuts me the hell up, almost as if I just went and doused my head in it.

There’s also proof that Gibraltar didn’t just decide to separate itself from mainland Spain for some reason, or, like, a really bad earthquake caused it to happen somehow . . . In front of us is a wooden dock. Solidly built. About thirty feet long. There are stanchions. Looks like a space for one big boat or a couple small ones. But it’s presence is very . . . Permanent. This dock has been here a while, which means Gibraltar has been in this way for some time.

[Booming sound]

And that’s when there’s this loud, distant booming sound that echoes off the rock of Gibraltar for a long time . . .

Dave and I spin around and face the rock, the town and buildings laid out before us. It was deep and echoing, but unlike anything I’ve really heard before. I have no clue what it is. I’m searching the skyline just above the buildings for a cloud of anything . . . Smoke? Dust? A radioactive cloud?

Sorry. That last one was in poor taste.

DAVE: “What the bloody hell was that?!”

JAKE: “I don’t know, man. I’ve never heard anything like it. You?”

DAVE: “No, mate.”

JAKE: “I’m looking for any signs of it. Smoke or something. But I can’t see anything. Can you?”

DAVE: “Looks all clear to me. Bloody scary. That’s for sure.”

JAKE: “Yeah. I’m glad we haven’t made the really dumb decision to split up yet. Hearing that on my own would’ve been . . . Bad.”

DAVE [concerned]: “Do you want to go separate ways then?”

JAKE: “No. No! I was just saying. It was really fucking scary hearing that. And I’m really glad you’re here. With me.”

Dave raises his hand and offers a fist bump. I complete it, not wanting to leave the guy hanging.

It helps break the mood.

DAVE: “You know what?”

JAKE: “What?”

DAVE: “I’m bloody famished.”

JAKE: “You know. Now that you mention it, I could totally go for some grub about now. Know of any good places in town?”

He gives me a look questioning whether I’m being serious or not. I give a slight shake of the head and he starts smiling again.

DAVE: “Not a bloody clue. But it can’t hurt to have a look now, can it?”

JAKE: “Lead the way. Your guess is as good as mine.”

We both take one last look at the deep waters before us, then start walking back into town.

[Break]

DAVE:

I don’t really know if I have a poker face, but when I got to the water’s edge I wasn’t as surprised as I should’ve been. I put on a performance for Jake and I think he believed me. The double-deja vu sense isn’t going away. Not at all. If anything, it’s getting stronger. It’s making me come to terms with a fact that I just have to accept. All the evidence is pointing towards it.

I’ve been here before. In this Gibraltar. This other Gib. I know it’s not the one I visited lots of years ago. It’s different. Feels more modern. Might even say futuristic. And since we got here via a device that’s known for traveling through time, it really shouldn’t be that surprising, should it? It’s still blood disconcerting. Coming to grips with me being here before but still not able to remember under what circumstances.

I suppose I just have to trust that my mind will unfurl all those memories eventually. They keep coming to me in bits and pieces. Random images. No people in them. Yet. I’m hoping that will change. The sooner the better. Remembering a specific someone being here with me will do wonders for the cognitive recall.

For now, I’ll just keep muddling along.

[Short pause]

We’ve been walking for quite a while now. Not really saying anything to each other. I think Jake is still working on taking all this in. It’s a big deal for him. For me too, obviously. But especially for him. He had his heart set on Ostium. Completely and utterly. He probably thought he was going to live out his days there. And now all that’s gone. I wonder if he’s thought about it yet. You know. The fact that he might never be going back there. He could do his fancy magic and make a door back there. Possibly. I don’t know. It took a helluva lot of mojo to get the door to here. It’s not an easy thing. Obviously. Probably bloody hard to get the door to go exactly where you want it to go. And when too. So that might be it for Jake and Ostium then. Big bloody deal that. I actually really hope he hasn’t considered it yet. It’s going to start him on a downward spiral. Definitely.

Oh look. Here’s a big building. One storey. Looks pretty promising.

DAVE: “Oy, Jake! I’ve got a good feeling about this one.”

I point to where I mean and the the smile that light’s up his face is like a burst of fresh sunshine after some English rain. Does wonders for the constitution.

[PAUSE]

JAKE:

We’re at the door and I do the honors. I feel it’s like my duty or something. There’s a handle which I turn, but nothing moves. I pull and feel a little give. So I give it a yank. With a hermetically-sealed whoosh, the door opens and we go in.

JAKE: “Nice job, Dave. Hole in one!”

It’s a big room with lots of tables and chairs. They all look to be some sort of white plastic, but glossy. Everything looks shiny and clean. Not a scratch or speck of dust in sight.

JAKE: “Hey, Dave. Notice anything weird about this place?”

Dave’s looking around, trying to figure out what I’m getting at.

DAVE: “Erm . . . Not . . . Really? Give us a clue?”

JAKE: “The lights are on, but nobody’s home.”

DAVE: “Oh my god, you’re bloody right!”

I didn’t catch it right away, so when I did it made me take a deep breath. The lights are all on, giving us the full view of the room. There’s a long counter and behind it a door that presumably leads to a kitchen. I can hear humming coming from that direction.

DAVE: “Sounds like everything’s up and running and kosher. I can hear the fridges and freezers singing their chilly symphony in the kitchen.”

JAKE [laughing]: “That’s pretty  good, Dave. I like that. Er . . . Garcon, could I see a menu please?”

DAVE [laughing, attempt at French accent]: “Non, non, monsieur. That will not be necessary. You will take a seat. Tout suit, si vous plait. And I shall prepare the chef’s special which will be the most exquisite meal you have ever tasted.”

JAKE [laughing, 20’s mobster accent]: “And be snappy about it, kid!”

Giggling to himself, Dave disappears into the kitchen. I walk slowly around the room, trying to spot anything I might’ve missed on first entering. Doesn’t look like it. Everything seems pristine and well kept. Impeccable is a word that comes to mind. I head behind the counter and start looking through cabinets above and below. I soon find the glasses, though cups is a more accurate description. Long and tall and made of something that isn’t glass, but also isn’t just plastic. Something else completely. Now I’m on the hunt for a beverage. I’m sure I could find a faucet and get some water, but this place seems to be of a high caliber, so I’m hoping to score big.

After opening many doors, I find a number of drinks refrigerators, though nothing is labeled, which I think a little weird. I grab a bottle – like the cup, it’s not glass or plastic – and study the top, trying to figure out how to open it. I try a clockwise, then counter-clockwise twist. The latter does the trick and there’s a hiss of escaping carbonation.

Oh, baby.

I grab another for Dave, as well as a cup. Then I look for an icebox. Doesn’t take long and I’m shocked to find it well stocked. Score!

I choose a table in the center of the room and poor our drinks. I sit and get comfortable. I take a sip, feeling the bubbles go up my nose and make my eyes water. It’s heavenly. It’s some sort of cola. Like the cup and bottle, it’s an in between: not Coca Cola, but not Pepsi either. But it takes fucking great.

I take a long second drink, knowing there’s lots more where that came from.

That’s when Dave comes through the kitchen door with two plates of steaming hot food. The smell quickly pervades the room and my stomach immediately starts making some very audible noises.

He puts the plates down and I stare in head-over-heels love at big steaks, boiled potatoes, and is that broccoli? It looks a vibrant green and incredibly fresh. Dave is back again with silverware.

We sit down to eat, both grabbing out drinks and toasting.

JAKE: “Welcome to Gibraltar.”

Then we start eating. I attack the broccoli first and it’s as juicy and delicious as it looks. The potatoes are soft and already have salt and pepper. The steak is medium rare and just wonderful. As I savor each bite, I notice Dave’s steak is well done.

He is British after all.

[PAUSE]

DAVE:

I’m all full up. That meal was just an absolute joy. Definitely the best thing I’ve eaten in . . . Hwaw, gawd knows. Probably my entire bloody life. I knew Jake would want his meat rare and bloody. Me. I like mine cooked all the way through. Call me old fashioned.

I’m cleaning up now. I insisted Jake stay in his seat. Told him I’d see if I can come up with some sort of dessert. I had to tell him I was on the hunt for some spotted dick. Couldn’t avoid that one, could I?

And Jake knew what I meant. Had a right laugh at it. Bless him.

I didn’t tell Jake about the packaging the meat was in. It had a, well, not really a sell by, but more of an “eat by” date. It said January 14. And the year was . . . 2105. I know. I couldn’t fucking believe it when I saw it. I was right though. This place is in the future. Lot farther than I thought.

I don’t know about telling Jake. If I should. When I should. It’s a lot to take in . . . No, I will tell him. Just not yet. After the meal’s all done.

So . . .

It’s while I’m cleaning things up that I find the rubbish bin. To throw away the packaging and other bits. It’s in a logical spot, so doesn’t take me long to find. I open it up, and glance into it, then drop what’s in my hands.

I start walking away, and like a cliche cartoon character I stop. I slowly walk back to the bin and open it up again. I take out each piece of rubbish I threw in. It’s the two of us. So not a lot. I know what each piece is. It all comes out.

Then I look back in the rubbish bin.

At the bottom is more packaging and some other rubbish. I take it out. It’s packaging for chicken. And for vegetables. And at the very bottom is a finished bottle of wine.

I have a sniff, then turn it over. A few drops come out.

Someone’s been here.

Recently.

So let me be straight . . . As a nail. Frank . . . As a guy named Frank. I left a town of nobody and nothing, all alone and abandoned. Literally crawled through a fuck-ton of food to make it through this tiny-ass hole that I may have been able to fit through when I was like . . . Eight. Got through a roller coaster of fucked-up shit and banshees screaming at me, feeling my life was gonna end at any second. Came through to the unofficial (unless you work for them, in which case, it’s very fucking official) headquarters of the Ostium Network, where hundreds of people – possibly as many as a thousand – work . . . Only to discover I’m all on my own again.

Well . . .

This is just . . .

Great.

Real. Fucking. Great.

[PAUSE]

I suppose I should look on the bright side. Right? Well, first I need to find the bright side. Before I was stuck in Ostium by my lonesome. Now I’ve got a whole fucking island to myself. Plus a goddamn mountain of rock. Is the rock of Gibraltar really considered a mountain? Or is it just a really pronounced hill? Well, I guess just hearing Jake’s imaginary voice – the voice of my sub-conscious – was enough to jump-start his whole shtick in my head.

Wait! Wait a second . . .

[Short pause]

Okay, good. Seems like Jake’s not at home. For now. Only when shit’s going down, apparently.

Okay.

Taking the good with the bad here.

So where shall we go first? Since we’ve got the whole fucking place to ourselves. How about some of those spots they didn’t want any of us non-specially trained going?

Sounds good to me.

We only got to see Ostium that one time. Really. When they took us through. To check it out. We went through. One by one. Using the special door in that special room. The one I ran to when I went after Steve. Trying to get him back. I thought there was just one of . . . Them. You know. Doors. Stargate thingies. Flux capacitor rooms. Whatever you want to call it . . . A transportation vessel. Bunch of fancy words for a door that took you directly to Ostium. The way the big wigs made it sound. With them letting us go through. What a big fucking deal it all was. This was breaking new ground. Bullshit etcetera, bullshit etcetera. You’d think they had just the one room to do it with.

Uh-uh. Apparently not.

After I stepped through into the Ostium Network with my life intact . . . Set foot on the great island of Gibraltar . . . After I did my whole song and dance routine of breathing fresh air, then looking for another living soul and not finding a single one . . . Then fully appreciating the utter fucking badness of it all . . . I took a few deep breaths. Got my shit together. And went back inside to have a look around. I was methodical. Going back to the point of origin. Where I came through. It’s a lot like the one I went through before. A room with a conjoined booth: window looking in so observers can watch anyone going through, or in this case, sending food and supplies through the special small hole.

And after that does it magically appear at the very back of that crazy pantry in Ostium? Because when I tried it I went on one crazy, fucked-up roller coaster of emotion and banshee bantering. As I already mentioned. Obviously the food passing through doesn’t get the . . . “Scenic” tour. So was that just for my benefit? My hindrance? Was that Ostium trying to not just fuck with me but completely throw me off track?

If so, why? What’s Ostium got against me? I know we don’t have the connection . . . The witty repartee . . . The “bro-ness” quality of Mr. Jake Fisher, but . . . We’ve got something, no? After all this time?

I think I’m reaching here.

But I made it through. In one piece. Mostly. I think with my sanity intact. Still checking on that.

So back to looking around. As I said. I want to be thorough about this. Because that’s how Jake would be. That’s how Jake would’ve wanted me to do it. I find more rooms. With doors. Lots more. I count up to 12 by the time I’ve searched the whole big building. All with unmarked doors . . . Do they all lead to Ostium? What the hell were they planning here?

I remember asking in class that day . . . What feels like a billion years ago now . . . About what the point of all this was. What Mr. Incognito running the Ostium Network wanted to get out of it. In my mind I was thinking: what’s the money angle; how’s this guy going to become even richer? And I – along with the rest of the class – was miss-directed and distracted, made to think it not important.

Well. Feels pretty fucking important now. Seeing all these rooms. How many fucking people did they want going into Ostium? Were they going to send us all in at the same time? Going through our most desired doors? Fulfilling our goals and coming back to tell about it.

What the fuck did they want out of it?

And that’s when a scary thought comes to mind. The kind that turns your blood cold. Yeah. It’s an expression. But I’m also fucking feeling it right now. During my immersion research I was very fucking thorough, as I said. Even watched a bunch of animated movies. Covered all my bases. One of them was called Monsters, Inc. About a company that employs monsters to go through . . . Yes, I shit you not: doors. I know! They go through doors and come out of closets to scare little children half to death. What do they get out of it? Power. Energy. The fear and terror is harnessed somehow and helps to power the city where the monsters live. Yeah. Pretty fucked up, I know. And this was a goddamn kids movie!

So is that what’s going on here? Are they getting something . . . I don’t know, metaphysical out of us going through the doors? Why have so many of them in Ostium, and have so many setup here to send us through. Why have that whole home base setup with all the fucking food.

[Sotto vocce] All the better to keep you fed and busy going through doors, my dear . . .

I don’t know. It does seem pretty fucking far-fetched. But there had to be some angle . . .

Oh wait! I got it. Clearly this was all going to be research for a new time traveling reference guide. No?

Talk about hands-on research. In-fucking-situ.

I don’t know if I’ll ever know the why.

What I do know is I’m in the right place to have any chance of finding out.

So let’s keep looking then, shall we?

[Pause]

I’m outside again. The sun still feels fucking amazing. Being in Ostium that long without it affected me more than I thought. I think Jake had some introspections on whether we’d be getting enough Vitamin D without the sun, or whether Ostium had figured out a way to replace that, otherwise we’d start feeling pretty weak . . . I don’t know. It feels glorious right now. And the sea air is just . . . Making me feel renewed. Full of life.

Okay, what were we doing? Right. Heading this way, which I think is . . . North. Along . . . Er: Line Wall Road looks like to Winston Churchill Road. Yep, kinda bizarre, thinking on it now, that the Ostium Network created this whole new civilization basically, on this island, but didn’t bother to rename the streets or anything. I mean, I guess the names they already have are fine, but as you can see, they relate to things like walls and long dead prime ministers. It just feels really fucking out of context.

So why am I heading this way? Well . . . I’ll let you know in just a second . . . And . . . Oh. Well. I guess that fucking solves that then. I’m at the edge of the island. A part where the land meets the sea. It’s a significant part. It’s where there’s a small dock, made to fit just one boat. A special, unique boat. The one that brought Steve and I here. A very, very . . . Very long time ago.

I had a hope . . . No. That’s not true. Or honest. I had a vague fucking inkling that I thought would turn out to be bullshit.

I was right.

There’s no boat. No sign of any boat, or anything being here in a long fucking time. The stanchions are bare and really crusted over with shit. I guess one has this short piece of rope that looks like something the Ancient Mariner was carrying around with him. No one’s been here or used this dock in a long fucking time.

Whelp. I didn’t expect anything. And that’s what I found. So . . . What’s that endearing saying? No harm, no foul.

Yeah.

[Sarcastic] I feel just fucking great now.

Moving on to the next clue of this truly fucked-up scavenger hunt.

[Pause]

Next stop is my old haunt. I know it’s pretty far from the dock, so I walk for awhile in search of one of those self driving cars. Doesn’t take me long. I hop in. The key’s in the ignition. I close my eyes and turn the key, count to ten, then open them.

There are lights! A good sign. I put it in drive and switch to manual, then step on the accelerator and the thing launches into life, throwing me back and almost out of the damn thing. I hit the brakes and stop, then put on my seatbelt. That would’ve been just fan-fucking-tastic. Falling out and breaking my arm or something. With no one around to help. Least I woulda known where the infirmary was. Not that I coulda done anything.

But we’re okay, for now. That’s the important thing.

I hit the pedal again and zip along through empty streets. It’s fucking creepy man. Even creepier than Ostium, if that can be believed. All the empty abandoned buildings. Both sides of the road. It’s like . . . It’s like they’re all staring down at me. Judging me or something. For what? Fuck knows. I’m just on edge. That’s all.

I hope that’s all.

This thing sounds fucking noisy. Which is crazy, because I know how damn quiet they actually are. I never really heard them when I was here back when there were people all around living and doing things. Now it sounds like I’m driving a fucking big rig.

I then recognize the building, even though it looks kinda like all the others.  I hit the breaks, letting out a nice echoing screech. Nice and loud. It feels better than the sound of the EV, and nothing else. Somehow. Maybe because it’s real fucking loud and I made it happen.

I step up to the door and realize something incredibly stupid: it’s locked. The way we usually got in is with a special chip they put in our wrists. They said it wasn’t really to track us or anything, but the look in their eyes said it was definitely for that. But it also had a unique bio-signature to each individual person. So I just needed to wave my hand in front of the panel and . . .

[CLICK]

Good. It still works. That’s really good. I was going to have to try and kick the fucking thing down, which wouldn’t have been easy. It looks tough.

I step inside and notice the smell right away. Dusty. Stuffy. Empty. Feels like it’s been abandoned for a while. Not lived in. But then I pick up other scents. It’s me. Subtle hints. My perfume. My shampoo maybe? Coffee.

Oh god, coffee!

I charge into the small kitchen. I can hear the high-pitched humming of the fridge.

Oh god, yes! There’s power. Hopefully that goes for the entire island. If so, living here for the indefinite period just got a lot fucking better.

Fifteen minutes later, I have a French press full of fresh divine-smelling coffee. Yes. I know. I’m the tea addict. Proclaiming my love for coffee is sacrilegious. Anathema! But that’s partly because I knew I couldn’t get any in Ostium. Tea. Yes. By the buttload. Because it was necessary. And tasted just fine.

But coffee . . . Oh, be still my heart. It has no important or redeeming qualities, other than it smells heavenly, tastes almost as good, and makes me feel on top of the world! I fill a mug – my hands know where to go to find one – and add sugar, which also looks fine.

I take a sip. Gasp. Then another. Then five more in quick succession. My lips are burning. My throat is on fire. But like I said: I’m queen of the fucking world!

Soon the first mug is empty and I’m filling another. Then I take my trip down memory lane, my heart running ahead of me due to nerves but also due to lovely sustaining caffeine.

Everything looks just like I left it. Furniture. Trinkets – what little I’d been able to acquire. My bedroom is the same.

Clothes . . . Clothes! I have my entire wardrobe again! Holy shit-snacks. This day just keeps getting better and fucking better.

I take that as a cue and hop into the bathroom, turning on the water. In eight seconds it turns scalding. I adjust the temperature, strip down, and hop in. My soap and shampoo are there, right next to the conditioner.

Twelve minutes later I come out feeling even better, if that’s possible. I put on some fresh jeans, a tank top and hoodie. Gosh, this feels so great.

I grab my mug of coffee from my bedside table and as I’m about to take a lukewarm sip, I stop. Then put the mug down; almost dropping it. Right next to it, looking slim and innocent, is my datapad.

I’d totally forgotten . . .

No. Another lie to myself. I’d just given up hoping to ever . . .

I pick it up and it comes to life. It’s been comfortably lying on the charging pad for a very long time. The battery is full. It’s connected to the network. I’m able to do all the usual stuff. But there are no recent messages. Not since . . .

[Deadly scared] Oh . . . Shit . . .

[Frightened] The last message . . . was received on August 3rd . . . Ten. Years. Ago.

[Pause]

What does this mean? I can’t have been gone that long. It’s fucking impossible. It’s been what weeks. A month. Two months at the most. But still feels more like a couple weeks. No more. It just . . . It just doesn’t make any fucking sense. How? How?

I guess . . . I guess that explains the stuffy feeling of the apartment.

But the coffee . . .

Maybe it wasn’t as great tasting as I thought . . . No, it tasted fucking great. Must’ve just had it well sealed or something.

Wow. This is . . . A fucking mind-trip.

Could really use Jakey at my side right now. For comfort. And to science this shit out somehow. Try to make some sense of it. And make a bad pun or joke.

Damn. Not much to be done about it now.

I switch to the journal setting and find my last entry.

From the night before I learned about Steve and went into Ostium for the first time.

[Short pause]

[Different voice, reading entry]

They said they’re very close now. Almost ready to send someone through to Ostium. I don’t know who it’s going to be. But not me. That’s for sure. I still haven’t decided when or where I want to go. And last time I talked to Steve he was in the same boat. The kid’s so goddamn excited. But who can blame him. I am too. We all are. So they won’t be sending him in either then. Will it be one of the few who are certain what they want? I wonder if they’ll keep us informed and up to date? On how the person does. I’m guessing the person won’t be going for very long, it being the first time and all. Whoever it is – they gotta know by now – must be petrified. And over the moon at the same time. What a trip it’s going to be. Historical. And if they’re going back in time: then in every sense of the word. Today was a low-key day. Work-wise. We’re all pretty much ready. Except for deciding the when and the where. I’m starting to think I want somewhere in the late 1980s or in the 1990s. Maybe the fall of the Berlin Wall. That would be pretty cool. Or be there at the death of Lady Diana. Just to see if it did all happen as they said. Or maybe check out some of President Clinton’s sax playing. Hah! No thanks. It’s hard. I know I’m going to get lots of opportunities to go. To different times and places. They’ve made that clear to all of us. So long as nothing goes wrong. But I want that first time to be special. Yes. I want losing my Ostium virginity to be fucking special, alright? Jeez. I sound ridiculous. Bet I’m not the only one sweating over this though. Okay. My eyes are getting droopy. Time to put my head down and get some shut-eye. Maybe during the night I’ll have some magical dream that’ll make it all clear for me and come morning I’ll know exactly where I want to go. Only time will tell.

[Short pause]

Once I’m done I can feel the wetness on my cheeks. I’ve been fucking crying. Wow. Didn’t expect that. But this is from so long ago. And I was in such a different place. Such a different frame of mind then. So fucking hopeful and excited about the future. And then They fucked it all up and changed everything.

Okay. Deep breaths. No use moping over it. Fuck all I can really do about it now.

I put the datapad back and grab the mug and head downstairs. After cleaning things up I head out the door and back into the EV.

Time to do a little more sight-seeing.

[Pause]

I’ve got no plan at the moment. Just driving around kinda randomly. Sort of a trip down memory, but also feeling like no one’s holding me back and I can go where the fuck I want. Go through whatever door I want. No one telling me no, I can’t go that way, not allowed. Access fucking denied. Well . . . Not any more!

And then I see a building I’ve never been in before. I remember . . . I remember wanting to go in. Not because I wanted to find out what was inside, but because I just wanted to be allowed. I didn’t want to see another mysterious stranger giving telling me I wasn’t allowed. Like a little fucking kid.

It’s a pretty big building. Multiple floors. No clue what it is.

But I’m about to find out.

Park the EV and hop out. There’s a door. Here’s hoping it’s unlocked.

Bingo. Let’s see what’s behind door number . . . You know what. I’m just gonna not finish that thought.

So what have we got here? A sort of entryway. Closets. A kitchen. Kay, guess they mostly do their own food here instead of going to one of the [sarcastic] truly fabulous eateries in town. And now we’ve got a . . . Wow . . . A fucking game room. What the fuck? Foosball, billiards, even fucking air hockey! What the hell is this place? They never told us about anything like this. It was all work and study and more work and more study. With very little fun time. If I knew this place was here . . . Well, I don’t know how much I’d be here, but I’d at least like the option.

Damn. This place is fucking huge! Who would you need a place like this for? It’d have to be for a big group. Like a . . . Like a . . . [Quietly] I think I know what this place is. But I’m not gonna say yet.

It doesn’t take me long to find the stairs. When I make it to the top I’m not surprised by what I find: a big open floor filled with bunk-beds in two perfectly straight rows; a clear walkway in between them. At the far end is a closed off room where I’m certain I’ll find a bathroom much like a college dorm: toilets and showers.

The quiet seems . . . Thicker somehow up here. It’s probably more about what my brain is doing than what’s physically happening, but still . . . It’s heavy on me, pushing down. Almost palpable. I take a couple deep breaths [deep breathing sounds] and start slowly walking down the central walkway. Each bunk-bed is an exact mirror image to the one either side of it and the ones across from it: two stacked beds; two bedside tables. Along the walls where I first came in are closets that each bear name plates, just like the beds do . . . Names belonging to their owners.

By the third bunk-bed I recognize a name: Tanaka.

An unstoppable image slams into my mind, almost knocking me over. I rest my hand again the bunk-bed, steadying myself, as the memories come unbidden . . .

The starship. Being with Jake. Walking along a hallway of doors. Getting into an elevator. Jake called it a turbolift or . . .gah . . . Spacevator. He said Bridge and it magically took us there. And there were consoles. And beeps. And other sounds. And a screen showing distant stars. And a body. Private Tanaka. Hanging over the console like a . . . Like a piece of forgotten laundry . . . Like a child’s coat left on the floor of the playground on the last day of school. Not important. Unwanted.

I’m stable again. Able to walk. I keep going down all the way to the end. This place should fucking stink. Of sweat. Of men. Of soldiers. Of dudes doing dude things. Eau de testosterone. But it doesn’t. It’s stale and dusty and abandoned. Like my place.

Like no one’s been here in ten years.

Once again I have to ask . . . What. The. Fuck?

I head back downstairs and leave the building. I’m done with this place. For good. Got no plans to ever come back.

Good fucking riddance.

And in case you’re wondering: yes, they’re all there. The names. To all the bodies we found on the other side of the doors in Ostium.

Private Tanaka.

Private Khaling.

Private Ramirez.

Even fucking Sergeant Harris. Honestly, I’m kinda surprised he was bunking with the rest of the guys. With one of his rank and stature, he should’ve had his own place to shack up. Wonder if that was an on high decision for him to be with his men, or his own choice.

Just another one of those things I’ll never know. And don’t fucking care about either.

[Pause]

You know . . . I’m really fucking hungry. I can’t remember the last time I ate anything. There was the coffee . . . And before that? I just don’t remember. So why don’t we go visit one of the Rock’s two fashionable and very chic restaurants. Ostium Network approved of course! The one I’m not going to is called . . . And I kid you not . . . A Little Piece of Heaven. Yep. Those Ostium Network peeps sure had a sense of humor about them. But wait till you hear the name of the place I’m actually going to . . .

Ready for it?

Are you sure?

I’m warning you!

It’s pretty fucking bad!

Okay. Here’s goes: The Cut of the Gib. Yes. I shit you not. Fucking terrible, I know. But it was closer to my place so it’s where I tended to go more often than elsewhere.

Back in the self-driving EV, I turn it to automatic and select the name from a list of places. It’s the second one down, because you tend to want food first and foremost, and other shit second.

It takes less than five minutes and I’m there. No problem finding parking. [Sarcastic] Big surprise.

When I get to the door I turn the handle and pull. It doesn’t move at first, but there’s a little give. It tells me it isn’t actually locked. I spread my feet apart, brace myself, then give it a good yank. It lets out a gasp of air and opens, like a long human sigh. The inside has been sealed . . . Probably for around ten years. I wonder what that means for the food? If the electricity has been going the whole time, we may be in some sort of luck. I dunno.

Speaking of which. It’s totally fucking awesome there’s still power in this place, but who’s paying the bills? What does it run on? Hydroelectric? Tidal? Fucking nuclear power? It’s a question I never asked, but now kinda wished I had. Just to know . . . In case this place goes into meltdown or something. You know. That thought is just too fucking depressing. So I’m just going to ignore it for now. Stick it in the back of my brain and pretend it’s not there. Like I’ve done with so many other things related to Ostium . . .

The place smells clean and untouched, but different . . . Not stale and dusty. Maybe that door was keeping the place hermetically sealed somehow. I go behind the counter and into the kitchen and hear lots of humming from fridges and freezers. I open heavy metal doors to a cloud of icy air and racks of meat and foods; some frozen, others well cooled for over a decade apparently. Most of them appear to be vacuum sealed as well. I grab a heavy pack of what appears to be Teriyaki chicken. The label tells me that it is and the expiration date on it is . . . Twenty fucking years from now. What the hell? Do I dare eat this stuff? It says it’s okay. What kinda shit have they been doing here? I was always wondering where the Ostium Network got their food from exactly. Have they been specially making this stuff for like fifty years? There’s no “package” date, so for all I know, this shit could be a hundred years old.

But I’m fucking hungry. Starving. I’m gonna try it. But I’m also going to keep close to a bathroom.

In less than ten minutes I’ve got electric burners going and I’m frying up that chicken in its own sauce, as well as steaming some vegetables. Fifteen minutes later I sit down to eat with a bottle of wine I find. No worries about that being bad, though it does give a whole new meaning to the term vintage.

The meal is . . . Fucking delicious. Everything tastes heavenly, even though this establishment isn’t A Little Piece of Heaven. I find a complete untouched five-layer chocolate cake that I snag myself a hefty slice of, along with some fresh coffee which also smells and tastes . . . You guessed it: heavenly.

Then I sit and relax for half an hour. Letting the food go down, as the saying goes. But also making sure my stomach and bowels don’t decide to stage a coup against the rest of my organs. I haven’t felt this full in a long time. Not since . . . What was that little town closest to Ostium called? Camarillo? Carillo? Covelo. That was it.

My moment of revelry is broken by a loud noise . . . It sounds like a crack of thunder, only more echoing. Not right in some way.

I leap outta my seat and burst out the doors. The sky above is still a beautiful blue, not a cloud in sight. I’m looking around for  . . . Something . . . Dust, smoke, fucking gas . . . I don’t know. Some sort of origin to that nasty sound. But I can’t see anything out of the ordinary.

What the fuck?

[Pause]

When enough time has passed that I’ve deemed my body and all its internal organs alive and well, I use the facilities, and then I’m back in the self-driving car, trying to decide what the last stop of the day should be before I call it and head for home. I’m checking the locations menu again, scrolling through alphabetically. I’m working through the C’s and stop when I see a word that just doesn’t fit. It’s not part of the great Ostium Network jigsaw. It’s a word I just never expected to hear or ever read in this context.

Cemetery.

No one has ever talked to me about a cemetery in relation to Ostium or on the Rock in any way. Not from a teacher. Not in a class. Not in conversation with friends, acquaintances, or strangers. There was that “story,” that “urban legend” about the guy who wanted to quit. I think I talked about it in a recording. One of the teachers told us about him. How he jumped in the water and just started swimming. Is it true? I don’t think so. What I do know is that he’s the only case of someone dying here. From what they’ve told us. With the number of people we had on the island, yeah, sure, a cemetery just makes sense. People are going to fucking die. It’s the one sure thing in this life . . . Right? Right? So you need a place to stash the dead. Unless there’s something They never told us. A big fucking something.

I hit the button and then I’m on my way to the Ostium cemetery.

It takes a while. At the far end of the island. A good fifteen minutes by self-driving vehicle. I could’ve done it in ten on manual, if I’d known where I was going. It’s not big. At least not as far as cemeteries go. But I’m shocked as soon as I step through the open gateway. There’s a least fifty tombstones here. All simple bright white stone, looks like marble. All with the person’s name on it. No other details.

I get flashbacks of walking through the barracks as I study the tombstones, seeing names again. And then I see familiar ones that stop me in my tracks.

Richard Kahlin.

Jose Ramirez.

Kenzo Tanaka.

Robert Harris.

[Quietly, emotionally] Shit. They’re here. They’re all here. I recognize other names too. Lots of them. Not just the security team. But scientists. Coworkers. Classmates. People I saw and worked and talked with almost every day here.

Now . . . All buried and gone.

Then I see two more tombstones at the end of a row, next to each other.

Steven Chase.

Monica Chase.

That’s when I start shaking uncontrollably. I fall, just catching myself from mashing my face onto the top of the tombstone. It’s Steve’s that’s holding me up right now. I’m hanging over it. Slumped over the tombstone of my dead son.Like a piece of laundry. A forgotten kid’s jacket.

It’s not until later. Much later. On my long and cold drive back to my home, my cheeks still wet with tears, that I realize the image I evoked, slumped over the tombstone of my dead son.

We clean up after ourselves because . . . Well, it’s a rule of time traveling I’ve just decided. If you time travel and you mess with other people’s stuff, you need to clean up after yourself and try your best to keep it as close to the same condition as you first found it. Also because . . . Well, it’s the decent thing to do. We also put out the lamp and the fire. You know, just in case. What if a great conflagration started, consuming everything, and somehow was able to reach through time to Ostium . . . I know. It’s like totally impossible. But still. It makes me feel better knowing these things are taken care of.

As Dave puts away the last mug, he asks: “So what door are we headed to then?”

Jake: “What door?”

Dave: “Yeah. What’s your plan for getting us off Roanoke and to wherever this bloody beach house is? We need a door to go through, don’t we?”

I start shaking my head. “Oh no. Where we’re going we don’t need . . . Doors.”

[Short pause]

Dave: “Nice one. No really. Please be serious for a second.”

Jake: “I am. We don’t need doors. For real.”

Dave: “So I suppose you’ve got some floo powder in your pocket and you’re just going to magic us there?”

Jake: “Ten points for Slytherin!”

Dave: “Oi! I consider myself a bona fide Ravenclaw, thank you very much.”

Jake: “My apologies. And no, I don’t need floo powder, but yes, it is a magic of sorts, and no, no door is needed. But I will need to hold your hand.”

Dave: “Is this part of your newly discovered supernatural abilities after your adventure with the blackness?”

Jake: “You hit the nail right on the head. Now come on. Here, take my hand.”

As soon as he does, I close my eyes and concentrate. I do my best to clear any thoughts of Roanoke and the room we’re in from my mind. As soon as I’ve got it, I picture the setting for that beach house, creating and adding as many details as I can recall both from my memories of visiting there with my ex some time ago, and being there with Monica. One is the real thing; the other possibly the real thing, or an Ostium fabrication, or some in-between alternate world. I just don’t know for sure.

I can see the strip of coastline. The beach. The deep blue of the Pacific. The white crests and froth of crashing waves. The dark sand because it’s nighttime. And the phosphorescent algae in ubiquitous quantities forming a unique glowing map of the starry firmament above. And then there is the house, standing tall and impending like a dark shadow shrouded in gloom. There is the promenade leading to the house, following the beach and next to it a road that continues under a bridge and into complete darkness where no more details are needed.

I’ve got it.

And that’s when I imagine us there, under that bridge, in the darkness, with the road and the promenade and the beach and the ocean and the beach house opening up before us . . .

[Break]

And we’re back. At the same place I’m pretty sure I told Monica I never wanted to be again. The place of such horrific carnage it . . . Well, I really don’t want to talk about it anymore. Also if my plans are correct, I’ve made a significant change in our arrival this time. I added a fourth dimension to my calculations when working out how to arrive at this exact spot. And if you’re not familiar with the fourth dimension, well, let me give you a hint: it’s called time. Right. I’ve arrived at this place earlier than when Monica and I were here last time. Quite a bit earlier.

We start heading down the road toward the house; I want to get there as quick as possible to confirm my expectations and see if I actually pulled this whole thing off correctly, since it was my first time trying this and all.

Dave becomes visibly more agitated the closer we get to the house. He must be remembering my vivid descriptions of what Monica and I found there.

Dave: “Look . . . Do I really need to be here?”

Jake [determined]: “Yes.”

Dave: “I mean, at the moment it all seems to be the one-man-show starring you. You know where you’re going. You know exactly what you’re doing. What do you need me for then?”

Jake: “That’s easy. Bait.”

Dave stops.

Dave: “What?”

I turn to him, looking directly into his eyes.

Jake: “Look Dave. I really need you. I need your help. I can’t do this without you. This is why we were brought together. You’re now just as much a part of this whole Ostium thing as I am.”

Dave [somewhat shocked]: “Really?”

Jake: “Yes. Definitely. Unquestioningly. Now we need to look inside that house so I can confirm we’ve arrived at the right time.”

Dave [now confident]: “Okay. Lead the way, guvna.”

And then I’m speed-walking back toward the house again, not really noticing or caring if Dave is following me. You see, as fun as it is to travel in time and arrive precisely at specific locations when you exactly want to, it doesn’t mean time has stopped for you. Time is always moving forward, whatever year or date or time you’ve traveled to. Even with time travel, you can’t stop it, you can only visit it at different points throughout its life. Like a flowing river. You can look into the river right in front of you. You can look upstream as far as you want. You can go all the way downstream. But that river isn’t going to stop while you’re looking at it. It’s going to do keep doing what a river does: which is flow toward a larger body of water. You can even jump into that river, if you really want to, and you know what’s gonna happen? That’s right. You’re going to flow right along with it, whether its water or time that you’re swimming in.

As for salmon swimming upstream. Applying that rubric to time is a much more complicated upper-level lecture for another time. So let me know once you sign up for that course, and be prepared for A LOT of homework!

I make it to the house and push open the door. The hallway light is on like last time and I go through to the dining room, turning on the light – as I’m very familiar with where the light switch is now – and bracing myself . . .

. . . I let out a long-held breath as Dave joins me by my side. He’s not screaming, so that’s got to be a good sign.

There’s a dining table and chairs, with place settings in front of each chair. There are no bodies or body parts or heads; no people at all.

That’s perfect. I’ve arrived at the right time. I don’t need to bother checking the rest of the house.

“Okay Dave,” I say, turning to him, “time for us to get into our positions.”

The confused look on his face is exactly the one I want him to have when those men arrive.

[Break]

Dave is now where he needs to be: equidistant between the house and the dark tunnel. I tell him to enjoy looking out at the ocean and the lapping waves and the moonlight shining down on the dark sea, and don’t forget the phosphorescent algae. I don’t really care what he wants to look at, but he needs to be ready for when those men come through, because he’s the first thing they’re going to see once they exit that tunnel. They’re going to be wary and confused; on their guard. They just got led through the door by Monica on the other side, so they’re probably going to be pretty pissed off too. As soon as they make eye contact with him, that’s his cue to start running toward the house, then around it, and then toward a spot I’ve designated and where I’ll be real close to.

The soldiers could come through any second, but I still have this calm feeling deep within me – whether it’s in my mind, or my heart, or my soul: I’m not sure, but it’s telling me I’ve still got enough time to do what I need to do.

The river’s flowing like usual . . . Just like time . . . Only this time I’m in a boat and I’m able to control how fast or slow I want or need to go. Though, don’t ask me how; it’s just something I’m now able to do. Like controlling the blackness. So . . . You sick of the river as time metaphor yet? Yeah, I’ll give it a rest. But don’t be surprised if it starts . . . Pouring through when you least expect it.

Okay, time to streamline this and get on with the show.

What’s wrong? Can’t hold your water?

And I’m done . . . My cup runneth over . . .

[Short pause]

I jog along the road, passing the house that is now little more than an innocent and welcome abode for people to stay. Having been inside, I’m a lot calmer around it now. Something I never would’ve expected until I set foot in it for the second time. Well, technically the third time; second time in the world of Ostium.

It wasn’t like I sat down and thought out this plan. It kinda all just came back to me on Roanoke. In the space of . . . What? Seconds? Milliseconds? Nanoseconds? Fractions of a nanosecond? It felt almost instantaneous. I’ve heard a number of authors I like to read describe this feeling during interviews, for how they come up with stories and book ideas. Usually they’ll be doing something else to divert their attention, like exercise, going for a walk, a manual task, while in the back of their mind they’re telling themselves to think about some plot they’re working on . . . And then, all of a sudden, it’ll all be there, coherent and complete, inside their heads. Now they just need to get it written down or typed out before it all goes away. I’ve always marveled at Stephen King’s ability to refrain from writing down story ideas but letting them mature, adapt, and form in his mind over time and when they’re ready, that’s when he starts writing the book.

Okay, enough distraction. I’m now also in position. I’m hiding in some bushes, with a clear sight of the road in front of me. I can see back to where Dave is standing, and, more important, I can see directly in front of me at the spot in the road where I plan to open a door . . . Or make an opening . . . Create an ostium . . . For the soldiers to go through. I know, I know. Where the hell is all this coming from? I’ve never ever done anything like this before. I know. Like I said, it all just came to me. Back on Roanoke with Dave. And how did it all just come to me? Or more importantly: why? I’m not sure exactly, but I believe it has everything to do with what happened once the blackness enveloped me and I fell and went through that whole crazy experience. I came out the other side changed. Confident is a word I’d use. Confident about why I was in Ostium and what I need to do now. I still don’t have all the details, not by a long shot. And you know: I don’t think I ever will. But I feel I know now what needs to be done. To start putting things right in Ostium. To stop whatever badness, whatever destruction and decay, whatever evil and death has been happening. Hearing Dave’s story and what he’s seen is a part of that. An important part. It’s like it’s given me the last few pieces of a puzzle I’m putting together and while it’s pretty much all complete now, I still can’t quite work out what the picture is, but I have a good idea of what it might be . . . Or what it’s trying to be.

Basically I’m juggling a ton of balls in the air right now and while before I accepted that many of them were going to be dropped and picked up again, now I’m confident I’m not going to drop any, no matter how many there are.

It’s just a feeling I have.

And I feel great. Fantastic, in fact.

And . . . And I’m out of time.

The cavalry’s arrived.

[Break]

Dave carries out his role like an Academy Award winning actor. He sees the men first, before they see him, and as I’m watching him, I can tell this. His body stiffening; straighting; standing to attention, then a bending of the knees in preparation to run. I look behind him and can just barely see the tunnel and there are all the men, looking lost and confused. They try to go back into the tunnel; back through the door they just came from, but it’s gone. Closed. They’re trapped here.

For now.

They come out of the tunnel, then one spots Dave, pointing at him. The rest all see him and then Dave is running like . . . Well like there’s a bunch of armed soldiers coming at him. He puts some distance between him and them, but nothing a bullet couldn’t annihilate in less than a second and bury itself in his body. He asked me about this as I explained the plan to him and got him in position.

Dave: How do you know they’re not going to fill me up with bullets as soon as they see me?

It wasn’t easy to explain, because I didn’t really have an explanation other than I just know; it’s a feeling, an intuition, a confidence I have in myself and in him, and in those soldiers that they will not open fire. He wasn’t happy with this; not by any means, but we were already in the thick of it, as he might like to say, and getting out of it wasn’t an option.

And I’m right. No guns are raised. But they’re all charging after him. What they’ll do if they actually catch him I don’t have a clue, but it probably won’t be good. Fortunately, Dave is a good runner, which might have something to do with what’s coming up the rear, and he’s able to maintain his distance. It doesn’t take long before he’s close to where I am; where there are more trees; where it’s darker and there’s coverage. He reaches his marked spot and then dives into the bushes on the other side of the road to me.

Now I switch my focus to the men. Dave’s part has been played out, perfectly I might add. Lawrence Olivier would be jealous! They’re coming fast . . . But they haven’t seen where Dave went. The cover of trees and darkness worked like charm. They’re slowing down, but still jogging, confused once again.

Just like I want them.

I turn to the space in the road where it is darkest. Then I imagine: I create a world in my mind that is on the other side of this hole; this fissure; this rip in time and space, but their world is vague and nebulous to me; unclear and dreamy, like I’m wearing glasses that are the wrong magnification; I can see shapes and forms on the other side; hints of colors; but I can see nothing concrete or detailed. It could be anything and anywhere, just how I want it. I imbue it with as much reality and life as I can, as if I’m pouring my energy and essence into it, birthing it into existence. I can feel my own strength and constitution weakening. This isn’t something I can keep up indefinitely, just as I thought. But I can maintain it for long enough.

The soldiers keep moving, stepping beneath the trees and into the darkness: one by one they pass through the ostium and into their world from where they came from. I don’t know it, not by any means. Monica never told me. I never had any details. But I am confident that what I’ve created is as close to the world they’re from as can be, making it therefore the same exact world they left when they first came into Ostium.

As the last man passes through, I release the opening, and the ostium closes up like the reverse of a ripple on water, until there’s nothing there.

Then I collapse to the ground, unconscious and wiped.

[Break]

I’m not out for long, as I’m told by a very pale and terrified-looking Dave. The guy was shitting bricks . . . But not literally. He thought I’d died of a heart attack or exhaustion or something. When my consciousness returned to me and my eyes fluttered open, he started crying tears of joy. I took it as a compliment.

Jake: “How long was I out?”

 Dave: “Not long mate, a minute or two. Thank bloody god your alive!”

I stand up, assessing how I’m feeling: a little dizzy but okay for the most part. Although I’m really tired. It’s to be expected after the amount of energy I used up opening that ostium.

Jake: “We need to move. Now! Follow me.”

Dave doesn’t question, but is right behind me as I start running straight for the house. I know I don’t have the liberty of as much time as I’d like anymore. I can feel it. A tension in the air. I almost think I hear a static crackling.

[Said in a strong whisper] She’s coming . . . Very soon.

I get to the door of the house, throw it open, and once Dave’s inside, I slam it closed, and start running up the stairs. Dave is being my loyal Igor, following a literal step behind, not asking a question. Good. I don’t have the fucking time.

Upstairs I open the door to the first room and am happy to see a window. I don’t remember if the beach house of bloody bodies had a window in this room, but at this point I don’t give a shit. As I come close to the window, I turn to Dave and, with palms out, I make a stopping gesture, telling him to stay exactly where he is. He understands instantly and halts. Then I put a single finger to my lips. He nods in comprehension. I nod back, then step to the window.

Keeping to the bottom right corner, I slowly peek over the edge until I have one eye looking through the glass. It’s still nighttime out there, but the moon is also shining, soaking the world in a silvery light.

It’s enough.

There’s an electric crackle in the darkness of the tunnel and like a witnessed bolt of lightning I get a singed evil image on my retinas.

1.21 gigawatts of badness.

It’s her. I recognize the woman instantly; if that thing can be called such. Creature is a better word. She’s just like Dave described. The cloak and hood covering and hiding her shriveled form.

I don’t know what she is. I don’t know whence she came. I don’t know how she came to be. All I know is that she is behind it all.

She is . . . The blackness.

This is something I intrinsically know; I feel it in my very bones. If I wasn’t an atheist, I’d say I have complete and utter faith that she is the root of all that is wrong in Ostium. Because I know it to be true. Like the laws of gravity and thermodynamics. And the known fact that I am tied to Ostium and it is tied to me.

Perhaps she is the ying to my yang. The balance. I am trying to do good and help in Ostium; she is the antithesis of this. I know nature and reality like balance like this – matter and antimatter – but in this case I fucking hate it. And I also don’t believe it. Evil doesn’t need to exist because of balance. Nature is red in tooth and claw, and cruelty is always alive and well, but does not exist to justify the goodness and kindness of the world. Whatever some religious zealots might tell you.

No. However this creature came into being, either some other thing or some other someone brought her here or put her in Ostium; or she made herself part of all this. Just as there was nothing natural and logical about my discovering and coming to Ostium; there is nothing right about her being here.

She is moving now, walking to the . . . No, floating towards the house. I can’t see any shoes or feet beneath the cloak. The material just ends a little above the ground, and below that is nothing but air . . . Or something else. She is drifting toward us, while her hood scans from side to side, then does an impossible three hundred and sixty degree turn, like a lighthouse overlooking the Styx. I have to pull back, wanting to get that incredible fucked up image out of my mind . . . Not that I ever can.

She is coming closer now and we begin to hear her . . .

The look on Dave’s face is how I feel inside, and probably quite similar to the look I’m wearing on my face too.

I don’t know how we’re going to get out of this one, but dying of fright is starting to seem like not just a viable, but possibly preferable option.

Her voice is that of nightmares and discomfort and pain . . .

Iron filings dragging across a never-ending blackboard . . .

A pit of writhing insects that just sucks one in deeper . . .

One’s imaginings of the unbelievable pain of being burned alive . . .

All of this in a croaky, phlegmy, whispery sound that can’t possibly be created by human vocal cords.

The words are drawn out, long and sinuous . . . Verbal serpents searching for listening victims . . .

Woman: Where . . . Are . . . They . . .

I try to stop myself shivering and can’t. Losing my balance, I roll to the floor, bringing my knees up to my chin, feeling goosebumps over my entire body.

Woman: I . . . Made . . . Her . . . Bring . . . Them . . . Here . . . . . . I . . . Saw . . . Her . . . Do . . . It . . . . . . I . . . Saw . . . Her . . . Send . . . Them . . . Through . . . . . . . They . . . Should . . . Be . . . HERE!

That last word brings Dave to the ground, his teeth chattering.

I don’t know how much of this I can take.

I force myself to let go of my knees and cover my eyes with my palms. Dave gets the idea and does the same. We hope it’ll help to block out these horrible sounds.

It doesn’t.

Woman: I . . . Wanted . . . To . . . Have . . . Fun . . . . . . Where . . . Are . . . THEY?

I force myself to stand. She’s getting closer. Can’t be too far away from the house now. Then she’ll make her way upstairs, and find us: quivering puddles of helpless that she’ll enjoy separating piece by piece. I don’t need to remember what she did to those men the first time . . . Those men that I’ve now managed to save. At least that’s something. Something she can’t take away from me. Something that can’t be changed.

Leaning against the wall, I drag myself over to Dave, then reach down and pull him to his feet. His cheeks are wet with tears, his eyes red-rimmed. Our arms support each other and we shuffle towards the doorway. When we reach it I force him to move along the hallway towards the final room. It feels excruciatingly slow and I know she’s just coming closer and closer.

[Exasperated:] We need to get the fuck out of here!

I have an idea forming and I seize it in my mind, grasping and clasping on to it like a life-ring, pulling myself up; keeping us afloat.

We make it to that last door and enter the room, closing the door behind us, not that it will be any hindrance to her when she reaches it.

Woman: After . . . My . . . Fun . . . I . . . Was . . . Going . . . To . . . Make . . . Him . . . Play . . . With . . . Them . . . . . . Kill . . . Them . . . One . . . By . . . One . . . . . . Those . . . I . . . Left . . . For . . . Him . . .

I’ve got us to the back of the room and we’re on the ground again; on our knees. Dave is holding himself in a ball. He’s repeating something over and over . . .

“I . . . I think she’s talking about me . . . I . . . I think she’s talking about me . . .”

That’s okay for now. I will need him soon, but not yet. Then I close my eyes and try ever so hard to focus. To push away the fear and darkness. To work on crafting another ostium. This one completely different from the last. I’m exhausted. Tired beyond all means. But I know if I don’t do this we’re . . . We’re going to discover many things worse than death.

The ostium begins to take shape in my mind, and accordingly a pinprick of a hole opens up in this reality leading to the world I’m trying to get us to. Like it was with the soldiers, this is also a fuzzy, blurry, unclear place. If we make it through in time and survive, the details will solidify and become clear.

If.

But the more I work at it, the easier things become; the faster things move , and I watch the door growing before . . .

Woman: Who . . . Has . . . Meddled . . . . . . Yes . . . Yes . . . I . . . Can . . . Sense . . . You . . . . . . Where . . . Are . . . You . . . Little . . . Helpless . . . Child . . . Where . . . Ahhhhhh . . . Yes . . . . . . Now . . . I . . . See . . . You . . . . . . Now . . . I . . . Feel . . . You . . . . . . Do . . . Not . . . Fret . . . . . . I . . . Am . . . Coming . . . For . . . Youuuuu . . .

That last word slams into me like a phantasmagorical punch. I almost lose control completely. The ostium would’ve disappeared like the closing wink of an eye . . . But I was able to hold on, by the very tips of my mental fingers.

[Soft, but scared] Not long to go now . . . [utter terror] Oh shit. She’s at the top of the stairs.

The ostium is big enough now for us to move through. I’ll keep making it bigger to aid us. But we need to move. NOW!

I grab Dave’s arm and pull him up to me. He leans against me. More slumps. I slap his face and he regains a little composure. Enough to hold his own sort of. Keep himself kneeling. I can’t support both of us. I start crawling towards the door, pulling Dave along. He is aware enough to understand what I’m doing and helps himself along.

[Door boom]

She’s here.

She’s got to us.

[Door creaking open]

Woman: There . . . You . . . Are . . . . . . My . . . Pretties . . .

I don’t look back. I know if I do, it’ll all be over. She’ll win.

We’re at the threshold.

[Roaring/screaming sound begins, increasing in volume]

I wrap my arms around Dave and he does the same for me.

We fall into the hole, and as we do so, I finally look back.

She is there. Her hood is pulled back. A pale skull. Oily tendrils of scant hair. Dark pits for eyes. Two even rows of teeth, each one tapered to a fine point.

[Woman, whispering:] All the better to chew you with, my dear . . . I’ll see you soooooooon . . .

And then I’m screaming and falling . . .

[Break]

I regain consciousness after passing out yet again. Only this time I’m experiencing a whole new level of weariness. My limbs feel like dead weights. My body feels numb. I wait and sensation slowly creeps back into them.

Then I remember those last few moments.

I remember her.

I look back but the ostium is long-ago closed. Dave is by my side, still out. But he’s breathing. I can see his chest rising nad falling. There is no sign of the woman or the world we just left.

I can’t help letting out a huge sigh of relief.

[Sighing sound]

[Letting out breath sound]

Then I notice I’m breathing in something new . . . Something different. Salty air. No . . . Briny air. We’re near the ocean, somewhere. No. Better. We’re right on the ocean. I can see it just twenty or thirty feet away. Small waves lapping against the shore. Not much of a beach though.

I can see a short dock. Looks sturdy and new. There’s a boat tied to it. A really flashing looking motor yacht. Wow. When’s the last time I saw one of those? Er . . . More like . . . Never.

The smells and the sights are restoring my energy, and I slowly pull myself to my feet. I can hear Dave coming around now too. Good. Was starting to worry a little. He was farther gone than I was; passing through could’ve put him over the edge. But he’s a fellow Ostium-traveler. He’s made of strong stuff. Just like Monica and I.

I turn around to learn more about where I am and then I see it and my mouth just drops open.

It was behind me the whole time and I had no idea.

I’m staring at something I’ve seen a number of times on images before, but never in real life.

Though I’ve always wanted to visit.

Because it was on the other side of the world from me.

As I stare at the Rock of Gibraltar, a smile forms on my lips.

Well, there’s one item off my bucket list.