Psychonaut Sample (1)

8/3/2019 Psychonaut Sample (1)

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Psychonaut I:

Mercury

NABEEL AFSAR


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Nabeel Afsar

Copyright 2011 Nabeel AfsarAll rights reserved.


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PSYCHONAUT

0The mountainous black cloud roared across the blood red horizon,

as Aruk stood watching from the cliff's edge. When the dark smokeslipped over the hills and settled in the valley, he woke Anika. She saw his silhouette against a sickly sky, brown and soiled,a sepia hue catching in her throat. Wordlessly, Aruk dragged herfrom the hole he'd dug for them, and she stumbled to her feet,staggering behind him lazily as he plowed ahead determined. She tried adjusting her skins, but Aruk yanked too tight ather wrist. She cried out in pain, but he ignored her and pressed

forward on bare feet, climbing the first slope of the mountain.Before she could raise her voice again, her breath leapt from herlungs when she saw the birds. All around her, like a garden of motley flowers, ink blackand treetrunk brown, lay a field of dead birds, wings akimbo,feathers still softly falling to the grass. And even then, more birds,freshly dying, pelted the valley floor like a trickle of hale, landingwith wet thuds. The darkness of these omens was not lost on the young girl.A great terror roiled in her belly as the afternoon sun shonepathetically behind the veil of poison cloud, too weak to burnthrough and brighten the land. That scant taste of diffused lightwould be her last before the night settled and the great winterarrived. They reached the highest peak they could manage, and fromthere they watched as the smoke filled the sky like clotting blood.The blistering winds had started several suns ago, but each day theygrew sharper and more furious. By the fourth day, when theatmosphere soured and the sunsets lit up with colors unfamiliar, thewinds were now a chronic feature, whistling ominous warnings towhatever life still lingered. Aruk and Anika watched for several days, going hungrywith the meager supply of berries they managed to forage on the

bare mountain's crown. They sucked on icicles and stayed close toshare their body's heat. The merciless winds stamped out anyattempts at building a fire and the hilltops were so barren there wasscarcely enough bramble to catch let alone logs to burn.


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Anika's body quivered, her teeth chattering uncontrollably.They had never known cold like this: a chill that hardened theiranimal hides and seeped into their bones, settling there and eating

their warmth from within. Aruk pulled her in closer under his arm.She looked up at him, at the thickness of his scowling brow, bluntand rigid, the bronze of his skin, the width of his nose. To think, ithad been just three moons ago that her first blood came and Arukhad taken her. He terrified her then; the brute had many more yearson her, and his body was riddled with scars of violence andhardship. He was a beast, eager to hunt and satisfy his base desires,and she no more than a child. And yet now, Anika was thankful to have him. She shookas much from confusion as from the cold: she could not understandwhat malevolence was swallowing the world, why the birdsongwas silenced by a low rumble from the north, why the sun wasturning away, ceding the sky to fire and smoke. When the last touches of daylight were no more, a starlessnight settled and no man laid eyes upon the sun or stars or even themoon for generations to come. The cold soaked deep into the

ground itself, freezing oceans and rivers into glacial tombstones tothe life that once thrived. From atop the world, Aruk and Anikastarved, observing with awe the death all around them.Desperately they chewed on the corpses of birds suffocated by thevolcanic ash, and upon swallowing the meat they would retchpainfully and sweat hot with fever. The snowfall enamored them both, even Aruk who couldnot comprehend the gentle flakes dancing angelically slow as theyfluttered to the ground and gathered there, much to hisastonishment. At first, the light dusting was beautiful and calmingafter the thunderous roars of the volcanoes to the north. But as theflurries turned to squalls and the squalls grew to blizzards, Arukknew this snow was a deadly beauty. A silent death, but hardlypeaceful. Within a matter of weeks, the verdant green land once

brimming with life that pranced through its grasslands and lopedup its hillsides was now a hushed white graveyard, bleak and quiet,a long silence to mourn the dead.


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They descended the mountain when they had scavenged thelast of its fruit, but their was no sight of the others. The blanket ofsnow disguised the terrain that Aruk had known all his life, so that

they were lost and disoriented. And with the sky as egg-white asthe snow-covered land, there was no sun to guide them, no stars toorient them. But with the snow and ice all around, there was no shortageof water. That was almost the worst of it: to starve with a belly fullof water, a clear mind forced to live only to face madness. Theyneeded food, they needed fire and warmth. Berries offered littlenourishment, and the others were gone, their tracks untraceable

beneath the frost, and their food gone with them. Their bodies shriveled. Their ribs shined through as they atethemselves from within. Aruk's arms were taut, his thighs, onceheavy, were now lean and aching with cold. Anika managed toretain some of her weight and some warmth along with it, but stillshe couldn't stop shivering. On the thirteenth day, Anika collapsed in dizziness,stammering nonsense and intermittently crying out for someone

Aruk did not know. He rubbed her hand in his, blowing breath onthem to warm her. But her lips were blue, the color drained fromher cheeks. Even her eyes seemed pale, the brown in her pupilsfading to a dim honeysuckle. Aruk sobbed in desperation and begged the gods for mercy,cradling Anika in his arms. He shook her, but her eyes simplyrolled back and her ramblings grew louder and more incoherent.

The tears froze on his cheeks before they could drip while Arukpleaded with the gods to spare her life, to spare him from having tocarry on alone in a desolate wasteland awaiting a cold death. But Anika's eyes eventually closed, her breath inevitablyfading to a shallower and shallower hiss. And then he saw it. A light in the distance. A dim, golden glow, far across thevalley. The black night and the white snow played tricks on one'sperspective, and Aruk knew that the light was further than itappeared. Nevertheless, he summoned what little strength he hadleft and hoisted Anika in his arms. It was a struggle to get to his feet


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Aruk's heart fluttered. He pulled Anika around to his front,cradling her like a baby. He looked at her face, blue as the pre-dawnsky.

He stepped into the cave and found a cavernous tomb. Thecave had been carved out, a great domed ceiling arching overhead,and the ground leveled flat beneath the feet. The cave walls wereadorned with great paintings the likes of which Aruk had neverseen. The ghosts of great beasts - the snarl of long-toothed catstwice the size of a man, the regal flocks of antlered stags, thevenomous stares of eagles - comprised a mural teeming with lifeand motion. In the center of the circular cavern, a fire raged beautifully,dancing hot and cheerful while casting restless shadows on thewall, giving life to the paintings of the animal spirits. And by the fire sat a beautiful young man in robes the colorof ocher, the flames lighting his boyish face smiling at Aruk andAnika. The man did not share Aruk's strong brow or his permanentscowl. His features were delicate, his sandy skin was several shadeslighter than Aruk and Anika's dark brown, and his almond eyes lit

up playfully. He wore his hair long, tied back between his shoulderblades. Dread boiled in Aruk's belly. There was somethingunnatural about this man; his face was alien, his demeanor toocalm, too still. The womblike silence of the cavern rang like a bell inAruk's ears. Aruk set Anika down by the fire. He held her hands close tothe flames, rubbed warmth into them. But Anika's hands were limpand lifeless. Aruk pressed his ear against her blue lips and found no

breath there. She was part of the cold now. Aruk cried, burying his head in Anika's bosom. The man smiled at Aruk. "Son. Do not weep." Aruk heard the man's voice, but he did not see his mouthmove. No, his lips still held that smile that radiated love. But

nevertheless, Aruk had heard a voice in his head and while it spokea tongue he did not know, he understood it regardless. Dumbfounded, Aruk sat by the fire across from the youngman in the sunset-colored robes. He'd never seen such fabric. Aruk


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1Adam awoke in the backseat of the beat-up Toyota, golden sun

seeping through the dust caked on his windows. A continent of dirtkicked up under highway wheels and smashed insects covered thewhole of the car, scars from the week's sojourn. His neck achedwith pain, the feeling of a bolt or screw lodged deep in hisshoulders, sending throbbing waves cascading up and down themuscles in his back. The flannel blanket he'd slipped under afterthe night's drive had bunched around the middle, and now wasmostly on the floor over the empty cups of fountain soda andcrumpled bags of fast food. He opened the door, almost tumbling out onto the concrete

before catching himself on the handle. Sliding out, his bare feettouched the asphalt, black and hot. It was already warm, heat linesradiating up from the hood of his car. How long had he slept? Hereached for his phone, but it was dead, a blank screen glisteningwith oily fingerprints. He walked around to the front of the old

Corolla, plopped groggily into the driver's seat and turned theignition just far enough for the clock to come alive. The digitalnumbers read, "11:23," while the car beeped frantically that thedriver's side door was ajar. Adam turned the key off and cracked his neck, once to theleft, then to the right. He reached for the bottled water ridingshotgun and squirted a few pulls into his mouth. He gargled andspat outside. His body ached and his head throbbed from oversleep, butsomething stirred in his belly, a gut feeling, an unremembereddream. He was displaced, sure, far from any home he ever knew.But still, this was a feeling altogether different. It was a heartachehe hadn't felt since his youth. As a boy he'd fallen obsessively in love with a girl he barelyknew. He'd never spoken a word to her, but one night, in atreacherous wet dream that haunted him for months thereafter, he

had her totally and completely. The plot was subtle, just amoment's romance, unintelligible, out of order. A shared glance, herstorming out, his friend's urging him to chase after. He did, and sheturned, and they kissed, simple and sweet. No banter, no talk, no


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passionate love against bathroom walls. The dream had been quickand quiet, the delicate satisfaction of connecting with another, ofsharing eyes and knowing a feeling's mutual.

But that peaceful dream of his youth, before his first kiss,before he'd ever even held a girl's hand, had betrayed him, plantinga seed of discontent in his once innocent heart. He'd not wanted her

before, or even paid that specific girl any particular attention, butthat morning he woke with a yearning he didn't understand. As theyears went on, and he reflected back on the dream that began historrid forays into heartbreak, Adam decided it was his moment ofawakening, of tasting - if even only just in his mind - something he

didn't have. And when the morning came to wake him, snatchingaway the moment's beauty, the kiss, the thrill of newborn love,Adam's insides filled with fury, inconsolable like Orpheus, his lovelost to the underworld. But that was years ago, and today was different. Today,Adam could not remember the dream he awoke from, like a lyric onthe tip of the tongue forgotten. He felt he had just been somewherefar, far away. And true enough, he had. Just yesterday he'd been in

the mountainous heights of Colorado, and the day before found himdriving through Kansas flatland and Missouri plains. He'd been onunfamiliar ground since leaving home a week ago. Home - it seemed silly to even call it that. His parent'shumble New England two-story hadn't been home in years, butAdam had left his apartment in New York nearly three months ago,and that had never quite felt like home either. Sure a few girlfriends

passed through - some more meaningful than others. And one hadeven lived there for a time. That year had probably been the closesthe'd come to feeling at home in that monolithic city. But as thatrelationship dwindled, like the wilting of the rest of his big city life,Adam inevitably landed back where he'd started. Oftentimes he feltas if his dreams took him to distant lands and times, and he wokedisoriented, having to reposition his mind to the here and now. Inthis case, he literally had traveled a great distance, but that wasn't

what unsettled him. He relented after a few minutes, decidingwhatever he had seen or heard that stirred him so strangely was

better left unremembered.


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Before stepping out of the car again, Adam plugged his deadphone into the charger sprouting out of the cigarette lamp. As thephone yawned to life, Adam stretched his legs and arms as he

greeted the day. Leaving the car parked, Adam climbed downmossy rocks peppered with mollusks and barnacles dry andcrackling underfoot. The beach lay at the feet of the rocks, the sandalready baking under the nearly noon sun. His eyes squinted, thecloudless blue sky and the shimmering sand too bright for hisunadjusted pupils. He fished a pair of bent sunglasses out of thepockets of his cargo shorts. After fiddling with the stems for a bit,he put them on and beheld the massive ocean before him. Adam's pale skin betrayed his life growing up on gray NewEngland beaches, summers at the Cape where Atlantic wavescrashed green like dollar bills and cold as winter. He was nostranger to the water and had spent many days in his youthcontemplating the vastness of that dreary ocean. But this wasaltogether different. There was a color to these waters Adam hadnever witnessed in his life. Ocean so blue it made the sky pale, ahorizon so high that the magnitude - the sheer size - of the Pacific

was undeniable. Adam knew there couldn't be any actual visibledifference between the two massive seas that surrounded thecountry, and yet this view seemed impossible: the Atlantic neverlooked so big, and true enough, it wasn't. It was as if Adam couldperceive that these waters reached halfway around the globe to theshores of Asia, whereas the Atlantic stretched only to Europe andAfrica and covered not nearly the same space. Adam stared in awe

while gulls circled overhead, coasting invisible pockets of warm air.The thermals carried the birds up and up, and they soared from oneend of the beach to another without a single flap of wing. He unburied his feet from the sand, and plodded down tothe break. The sea frothed onto the beach, foaming around hisankles and coolly kissing his toes. A school of young birds chasedthe tide out, plucking tiny sea life tossed out of the deep oceancurrents. They'd scurry back as soon as a fresh wave came crashing,

but Adam pressed further into the water until he noticed a lone gulla few meters out. The gull struggled to take flight, feebly flapping its wings tono avail. A white thread caught the sunlight, and Adam saw the


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fishing hook. Adam waded in, the bottoms of his shorts soaking.The gull stiffened at his approach, paddling away in the oppositedirection. But Adam grabbed the red ball attached to the end of the

fishing wire and the bird was his. The frantic gull flapped in vain asAdam reeled the bird closer. "Easy there. It's okay..." Adam took the gull in his hands. The bird closed its eyes,quivered. Adam stretched its wing out, saw the hook lodged in the

bird's shoulder, the gulch of blood. "Looks like they got you pretty bad." He fiddled with the hook, trying to find the right angle topull it out. The stubborn gull pecked at Adam's wrists, making thetask more difficult. Finally, Adam slid the hook out of the gull's wing and the

bird took flight. Three feathers floated down to the water's face,and Adam surveyed the splotch of bird's blood on his fingertips. Ahigh wave swelled and washed his hands clean, wetting Adam upto the waist. Wet and wide awake now, Adam trudged back to the car, hisshorts dripping the whole way. Behind his car lay the highway, andmountains beyond, sprinkled with beachfront houses and dazzlingviews. It was a quiet day and Adam saw scarcely a car going by.Adam dried himself off and turned the ignition key. The carsputtered to life and Adam pulled onto the highway road and drovesouth, toward the city. He could have headed there straightaway yesterday but asthe sun waned in the afternoon sky and the fork in the roadapproached, he decided after being cramped in the car all week,some ocean air would do him good. He drove straight, just in timeto catch the last tendrils of western sunlight escape behind thehorizon and there, content, exhausted and relieved to have arrived,Adam curled into his backseat under his flannel blanket and dozedoff. Now he approached signs of life, of white and glass

buildings jutting up from the mountainous landscape, of hazy smoglanguishing over the coastal cityscape. The traffic thickened as heapproached and he was glad he'd waited till now to truly arrive.


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His body may have appreciated a motel bed but his spirit was liftedincalculably by waking near the ocean. As the scent of sea salt faded, Adam drove in circlessearching for breakfast. He passed several chain diners and fastfood joints - storefronts identical to all the eateries he'd passeddriving across the country - until he found a hole in the wall coffeeshop with a few regulars posted outside on laptops or readingnewspapers. Adam grabbed a newspaper for himself off the rack outfront and sat down on the uncomfortable wooden chairs. Thewaitress took his order of eggs Benedict with a side of bacon and a

cup of coffee black as he sifted through the classified section trollingfor jobs. He circled and starred a few options and quickly realizedhe'd get nowhere fast without an internet connection. He'd broughthis laptop, but it was packed away in his bags and this cafe lackedfree service so after finishing his breakfast, Adam paid the bill andset out for the library. While driving, he was struck by how wide the streets were,how long each block was between lights and crosswalks. He'd been

so used to the eastern cities his whole life, dense and compactlydesigned to fit as much into as little space as possible. But thewestern life was spread out, sprawling and spacious. There werefew proper skyscrapers here; sure the occasional building soared upa few dozen stories, but nowhere near the concrete thicket of NewYork or even Boston. No, here the sky dominated, with views ofmountains and sometimes ocean uninterrupted by man. At first it

had unnerved him, but the more he drove around in it, the more heliked it. There was something freeing about it, something relaxed.He didn't feel the imposition of urban landscape urging him tomove along, to keep busy, to stay productive. The open air, the low

buildings, the wide roads, all of it seemed an open invitation toslow down, to move at your own pace. After his years on WallStreet working sleeplessly, commuting on crowded subway trainspacked to the brim, always walking, there was something refreshing

about this new place. The library air was cool and inviting, a sweet respite fromthe now blazing afternoon sun. The morning clouds were burnt off,and the day was sweltering. Adam wasn't used to dry heat;


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summers back east had been muggy and humid, the air thick withmoisture you had to wade through like molasses. Humidity thatmade seventy degrees feel like a hundred and made you sweat

while sitting down. Here, the sun burned hot on your skin, butdidn't evaporate your will. The light fell differently here. The lightback east had always been white - whether through winter gloom orsummer highs - but here, the light was syrup, deliciously glazingthe earth like milky gold. The vaulted ceilings hung high, two stories above. Adamwandered around the atrium till he spotted the bay of computers inthe far corner. He signed up as a visitor and explained to the

librarian that he didn't have an address with which to sign up for acard. After a brief wait, he sat down and browsed ads online insearch of jobs. A peculiar array of people populated the library,spanning all ages and ethnicities. So many in fact that Adamwondered how they were all here - shouldn't they be at work orschool? But then he figured, the same could be said of him. "Excuse me, I'm looking for a copy ofThe Red Book. By Carl

Jung?" The girl's voice caught Adam's ear and he glanced over atthe pale brunette leaning over the librarian's counter. She wore ashort miniskirt made of denim with rips in them, white strands oftattered fabric hanging frayed at the edges. Her black tank top wasadorned with silken fabrics hosting intricate geometric designs indark purple & indigo. A heavy brown leather purse hung lazily offone shoulder, overflowing with who knows what. She looked a

whirlwind, even standing still. Her hair was a wild swirl of darkbrown carelessly framing her face as white as ghosts. Her legs werelong and smooth, and Adam eyed them self-consciously, from thefull thighs blooming out from under her skirt down to the sandalstraps that wrapped just below her calves down to her ankles. Shewasn't as beautiful as she was a mess, but there was somethingcaptivating about her that Adam couldn't explain. "I'm afraid we only have one copy and it's checked out at themoment. I can reserve it for you if you like, or have a copy sentfrom another library in the district." "You're kidding me, right? You don't have like a copy in the

back or something?"


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"Uh, there is no... 'back.'" "Listen, lady, I just drove to every fucking library in this cityand--"

"Excuse me. You need to lower your voice--" "This is like my umpteenth library today, and I just really,

really need some good news from you right now." "Well have you tried just buying the book?" "Wow. What a great idea! Why didn't I think of that? It'snot like the book's a hundred fucking bucks or anything. I don'tknow what recession you've been living in, but--" "Okay, that's it. You need to go." "Whatever." The girl gathered her things in a flurry, andwhirled towards the door, muttering, "Bitch." In hindsight, he realized it was really uncharacteristic ofhim, but Adam grabbed his backpack and ran after her. He wasn'tnecessarily shy around girls, but he was no Lothario. Often hefound himself freezing up when he met someone interesting, unableto come up with anything to say. Other times he focused in like alaser beam, plucking just the right words from the ether, the

definition of charm. But being a stranger in a new land meant nowwas not the time for shyness. Outside, he found the girl standing at the sidewalk,struggling to light her cigarette in the wind. The sun was gettinglow in the sky and the ocean breezes were biting as the temperaturedipped. There was something terrifying about her, he thought asshe stood with her back to him. She was a force of nature, with her

silken scarves dancing the color of night skies and her skin soporcelain white. But really what terrified him about her was in herpupils, those hollow, gray eyes. The penetrating stare of a junglecat, calculating, impregnable. Her mind was opaque, invisible

behind her pupils despite their clarity. "Hey," Adam said. "Hey yourself," she said dismissively as the cigarette finallysparked to life. She took a deep drag, cherished it like it was her

first that day, but from the thinness of her lips and the yellow tips ofher gaunt fingers you could tell it was merely the latest of many.When she glanced over her shoulder and found him still there, shewarned, "If you're gonna ask to bum a cigarette, save your breath."


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"You were looking for a copy ofThe Red Book." She spun around suddenly, almost startling him. Herscarves and bangs echoed, falling a moment after. "Oh my God, do

you have one?" "Yeah. In my car. What do you need it for?" "My stupid psych class. It's a gen ed that I have to take and

this gay ass book costs over a hundred dollars. Look, I'm a wholenew kind of broke right now, so I can't give you money for it. But ifyou just let me borrow it, I promi--" "I'm not giving you the book." "But I'll give it back, I just need it for a few days to write thispaper and then--" "It was a gift from my dad, I can't just give it to you." "Then what? Please tell me you're not just rubbing it in myface to fuck with me." "Look. I'm new in town. Like, got here last night new. Icame here pretty much on a whim, so I don't really know anybody,or have anything to do, or anywhere to go really. Getting a job issomewhere on my list but--" The girl snorted. "Good luck with that..." "So maybe you could show me around. A cool bar or a partyor something. Whatever you're into." "Oh, you fucking sleazeball. You don't have even have the

book, do you?" She wasn't asking, she just stubbed out her cigarette,screwed it into the ground and started off. "Wait, wait--" Adam went after her. Instinctively took her bythe arm.

"Don't fucking touch me--" "Whoa - sorry." He threw up his hands, showing her hispalms as a peace offering. "I promise you I have the book. See thatshitty Corolla parked over there? That's my car. The book's in thetrunk in a white box. Come on, I'll show you." "Ha! So you can put me in your trunk in a white box?Please. Do I have a ridge above my eyes? Am I wearing a helmet

and a Special Olympics bib? I'm not a fucking idiot." And withthat, she turned and beelined across the parking lot for the bus stopat the curb.


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"Dammit," Adam said to himself. He sprinted to theCorolla, popped the trunk and rifled through his own personallibrary - a white box overflowing with paperbacks, hardcovers and

textbooks collected over the past decade. Luckily, The Red Book wasbig and true to its name. Adam fished it out quickly and followedthe girl. Only later did he consider how desperate he must haveseemed, but in that moment he didn't care. A couple of young Mexican guys and an old Asian lady saton the bench at the bus stop. Lilah perched at the edge of the curb,practically falling into traffic, one hip jutting out, a fresh cigarettedangling from her lip. "See? I'm not a liar." Adam held up the book for her to see. She furrowed her brow in irritation. She wanted the book,

but she looked like she might bite his face off if he dared comecloser. He stopped short a safe distance from her, but instead ofoffering her the book, he extended a hand. "I'm Adam." She sized him up, and just like that, turned her shoulderstoward him. "Lilah."

*** The bar was quiet and the food was passable. Lilah pickedat a tuna melt while Adam hungrily took down a cheeseburger andfries. They ordered a pitcher of beer and as they ate and drank,

Lilah perused Adam's book, occasionally writing a note on a yellowstickie and pressing it against the page. "No, it's not actually on the syllabus." "So what, you're reading it for kicks, then? Extra credit?" "It's a final project, big thesis paper," Lilah said. "Like anidiot I chose this book pretty much because it's trendy, and frankly

because I heard there were pictures in it and I wasn't about to readsome gargantuan Freudian analysis of the human mind. Gag me.

So, I chose Jung, not realizing the book's so expensive and of courseno library's gonna have it because everyone and their mother has a

Jung boner. I mean--not like a youthful boner, but like a fetish forJung."


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"Yeah, I pieced that together." "I thought you were a numbers guy. Why'd your dad giveyou this?"

Adam shifted in his seat, sipped his beer. "Well, you knowhow people give you gifts that they'd really like?" "Ah. What a douche. Well for Father's Day you should gethim, I donno, XBox or whatever it is you're into." "Oh, he passed away." "Oh. My bad." "No, no worries. It happens." "How'd he go?" Adam stirred again, uncomfortable at her directness. "Cancer." "That's rough. Is that why you came out here?" "No. My dad died a few years ago." "Then what brings you out west, kiddo?" "I was working for a pretty big finance firm in Manhattan.Last year when the shit hit the fan, my firm got bought up andliquidated pretty much. Since I'd staked all my connections on that

gig and it ended up being a dead end, I had nowhere to turn.Applied for work all over, but that job ended up being an albatross.Anyone who was hiring didn't want folks from my old firm, and soafter a few months of unemployment and taking bullshit jobs to payrent, I said fuck it, moved back in with my mom. That, of course,was an incredible nightmare so I figured, what the hell, I'vealwayed wanted to live near palm trees. And I was just so fucking

done with those east coast winters. So I packed my shit and here Iam." "So what do you wanna do here? I mean, you're not gonnaget a finance job in LA." "No--but I'm not really an econ guy, I'm a programmer.Comp sci linguistics, that sort of thing." "Wow, you must be super boring." "Says the girl who's on a date to steal a book on psychology." "First off, I'm not actually interested in psychology, it was thewinds of fate that blew me onto this boring shore. You on the otherhand, like math. Like, you like math." "Well, what kind of work do you suggest I look for?"


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"Don't know what to tell you, dude. You came to the land ofartists, free thinkers and free lovers. This town isn't like otherplaces."

"Tell me," Adam said. "Gimme some perspective." "Every city's got its thing, it's self-absorption, the theme that

runs through everybody's mind all the time, right? With New York,everyone's trying to make money. In DC, everybody's trying tomake a difference. And in LA, everyone's trying to make it." "So all the cliches are true then? It's just a city full of shallow,superficial attention whores too involved with themselves to noticeanybody around them?" "For the most part, yeah. And then there's girls like me." "Oh, you're not any of those things, of course. You're deepand humble and supremely concerned with the world." "Hey, watch your tongue, pretty boy. I'm skinny, but I'mfeisty." "Another round?" he said. "No. I told you, I'm broke. But there's whiskey back at myplace. And you need a place to crash." Adam was surprised at her invitation, uncertain at first, butthen deciphering the sincerity in her slightly drunken slurring."Oh--uh, yeah, that would be awesome.... Are you sure?" "Yeah, as long as you don't try to, you know, rape me oranything." "I'll try not to," Adam smiled, "but I can't really make anypromises."

"Yeah I am incredibly good-looking, so I can see how itmight be hard for you." "So, does this mean you'll actually get in my car now?" "Yeah, are you good to drive?" she asked. "We'll find out together."***

Her apartment was small, but by no means New York small,with a main room and a kitchen. Lilah led him in, turning the lampon by her bed. The queen mattress took up most of the space andthere was just a big brown trunk across from it beneath a trio of


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windows semi-circling around a petite ledge adorned withchotchkes and bric-a-bac. Her bed overflowed with dirty laundry,and her mirror-topped bureau was a warzone of makeup and

nailpolishes. She made a halfhearted attempt to clear some of the

unwashed clothes, but Adam just took a seat on the trunk by thewindow. He peered into the kitchen after her, noticed the shrunkenfridge, the old gas stove and the rickety metal dining table andchairs. A few plants hung from hooks in the ceiling and tapestriesdraped the high walls, cocooning the room in a warm coziness. Lilah poured two glasses of whiskey and without apologysaid, "There's no ice." "Is it at least good whiskey?" "Nope. Whattaya wanna drink to?" "To a new city. And new friends." "Cheers." They clinked glasses. Adam took a sip of his whiskey. Lilahshot her whole glass, gulping it down thirstily. "Do you like Morrissey?" she asked, but it wouldn't havemattered either way. "Sure." The music permeated the room from two small speakers onthe shelf above her bed. She disappeared into the kitchen foranother drink when Adam noticed the pile of papers at his feet. Hepicked them up and read the cover page of the short manuscript: A Wind Dies Slowly by Lilah Reed.

He flipped through, skimming the double-spaced NewCourier font cluttering each page. Here and there, red marks,arrows and notes adorned the margins with a longer paragraph ofcriticism on the back. "So you're a writer," Adam said. She returned with a fresh glass of bourbon. "How'd youknow that?" But then she saw the manuscript in his hands and almostdropped the glass snatching the pages from him. "Gimme that.That's nothing." She nervously stuffed them in her brown leatherpurse. "Take it easy. I didn't read any of it."


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"Good. You can't read any of it, so don't ask." "What's it about?" "You don't wanna know.""Sure I do."

"It's about someone who gets cancer and dies." "Wow. Forget I asked." Adam stood up. "Maybe, this wasn'tthe best idea--" "Hey, wait - I wasn't just being a bitch, that's really what thestory's about." "Let me see it." She wrinkled her forehead, pursed her lips. Finally, sherelented, offered it to him. He let it hang there. "C'mon. Sit down. You're too drunk to go anywhere." After a moment's thought, Adam decided she was right, thewhiskey already warming his belly. He felt the alcohol stronger inhis head now on his feet. He sat back down on the trunk, cautiouslylooked at the manuscript in her hands. "It's okay," he said. "You don't have to show me." "But, look, really. That's what it's about, I wasn't just sayingthat." "Okay. I believe you." She put the short story down, picked up the bottle of

bourbon and refilled his glass and freshened up her own. She satback in her bed, sipped. He rested his elbows on his knees and self-consciously nodded his head to the song. There was a long silence as they both just listened to themusic while neither listened to the music. He scanned the room,letting his gaze wander along her framed pictures of family, herPolaroids of friends tacked to the drywall, the ashtrays brimmingwith cigarette butts and roaches. "Come here," she said, patting the bed. "Take a load off." Cautiously, Adam shifted from the ancient trunk to the bed,sliding in next to Lilah. He looked closely at her, at the ice in hereyes, the hint of freckles on her porcelain nose, the bird's nest of

messy brown hair. Maybe she wasn't gorgeous, but she wasbeautiful. Her fingers were long and slender, the hands of a pianist,but with the fingernails chewed down to the clip. Nothing cameeasy for this girl, and she wore her life's struggle on her face and her


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restless movements. In the dim light of her apartment, through thehaze of alcohol, Adam saw a sweet innocence beneath her foul-mouthed exterior, the way she bit her lip and hummed nervously.

Against better judgment, Adam took his chances. He leanedhis face close to hers, gently raised her chin so she could see himcoming. Her eyes sleepily met his and fell as their lips met. Shedidn't fight him, let him kiss her slowly, softly. He pulled back andshe pressed forward, meeting him again as they both fell back in the

bed. She sat up, straddling him as she peeled off her black tanktop, revealing her breasts, small and cautious. Her mouth hung

open, her eyes glazed, a dull madness lurking behind a facedistracted by sex. Adam beheld her atop him, his heart racing, his loinsswelling, wondering for a moment where he was exactly. But thatthought, along with all the others, faded from his mind like waterthrough a sieve. They helped each other out of their clothes and fondled eachother, acclimating to one another's bodies. They rolled around, until

he settled on top, penetrating her as she clawed and bit at hisshoulders. Her hot breath blazed across his neck as he buriedhimself in her. They adjusted awkwardly, pausing to catch their

breath or shift positions, the mechanics of sex between strangers. They finished as abruptly as they started, rocking togetherlike a cradle, her hair matted across both their faces. The music wasstill playing softly when Adam rolled onto his back, breathing

heavily. She reached for some Kleenex off the nightstand, brought itbetween her thighs and cleaned up while Adam's chest glistenedwith sweat and heaved up and down beside her. She opened the nightstand drawer, pulled out rizlas and anamber medicine bottle. "You smoke?" she asked, but she wasalready breaking up a fresh bud and sprinkling the green onto thepaper. "It's been awhile," Adam said. She rolled the joint expertly in record time, her fingersdelicately pinching the papers with the precision of experience. Sheran her tongue along the joint, flashed the lighter underneath it afew times to seal it and then lit the tip. After taking a long hit and


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sinking into the haze as she slowly exhaled the smoke through hernose like a dragon, she handed the joint to Adam. Adam brought it to his lips and as he released his breath,tasting the flavor of the smoke, the door to Lilah's apartment startedrattling. The post-coital blush on her cheeks eroded before his eyes asshe stared at the turning doorknob in terror. "What is it?" Adam managed before the door finally openedand a young guy with light skin and dreadlocks entered. "The fuck is going on?" "Jeff, it's not--" Lilah tried, but it was too late. Jeffrey dropped the bag he was carrying on the floor andgrabbed Adam by the throat, hoisting him out of bed. Before heknew it, Adam was on the floor, naked, being choked to death. Jeff

brought a fist down on Adam's right eye, slamming the back of hishead on the hardwood floor. Adam, red-faced and flailing, grabbed at Jeff's fingersaround his throat, panicking blindly until landing a knee in Jeff'sgroin. The dreadlocked intruder fell back with a squeal, just long

enough for Adam to get on his feet. Blood dripped from the gashthat burst open under Adam's right eye. Frantically, Adam grabbed his jeans and t-shirt off the floor

by Lilah who sat there mortified. Still naked and clutching his clothing in his arms like a child,Adam ran out of the apartment without looking back.

*** Adam awoke at the beach again the next morning, in the

backseat of his car shivering this time from the early morning chill.He'd driven around for an hour in search of a motel and since hisphone had died, he just drove west till he hit water, parked the car,and went to sleep. The bruise on his face swelled and purpled, andthe exhaustion blackened the rest of Adam's complexion. Not

having showered since leaving the dingy motel he stayed at inColorado, Adam looked a mess. He felt as much when he woke, so he stepped out of theToyota that was starting to smell like sleep and dirty laundry. The


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beach here wasn't as pristine as it was up north, and a milky fogcrept in from the ocean only to darken Adam's mood further. Themorning breezes were cold, winds roaring fiercely off the ocean.

The air felt good on his face, even though it stung at his black eye abit. He splashed salt water on his face, which stung even more, butit was a necessary hurt. The salt cleared his skin and the wound, and he feltrefreshed. The true nature of his situation was beginning to sink in.Yesterday, in the romance of arriving at his destination, in the rushof meeting Lilah and slipping into her bed, Adam had managed toavoid facing the precariousness of his presence here. But now,

black-eyed and bruised, penniless and homeless on the beach withnothing but a decade-old jalopy in desperate need of an oil change,and not a friend for a thousand miles, Adam felt a desperation he'dnot known since losing his job in New York so many months ago. The city felt like a memory from a distant lifetime, aprevious incarnation. Even New England seemed unreal now, andhe struggled to remember why he'd come all this way. The realreason was that he had had no choice, staying in Massachusetts

wasn't an option. But what were his options now? He knew no onehere, had no prospects for work, and what little money he had wasdwindling quickly. Even if he could find a motel cheap enough, hecould only afford a few night's stay before having to think about thedrive back to Boston. With these thoughts weighing like an anchor on his mind,Adam stood in the sand just a few feet shy of the tide when Julian

approached him. "Hi there," Julian said, smiling amiably. Julian was half-

black, half-Asian, his features soft and elegant, his skin a shiningbronze, his eyes almond-shaped and hypnotic. His hair was a curlymop atop his head, and he wore thick black horn-rimmed glasseswith a yellow scarf, a green jacket and jeans that hugged his legs.He stood on the sand by Adam in brown leather boots and heldsome papers in his hand. "Hi," Adam said. "I'm really sorry to bother you, but I just saw you standingout here and wanted to say something to you." "Yeah? What's that?"


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"I wanted to tell you that everything's going to be okay. Thatyou're being taken care of. It may not feel that way now, but it'strue."

Adam glanced around; they were alone on the beach. "Whatdo you want?" "My name's Julian. I don't want to take up too much of yourtime, but if you'd come with me just up to the boardwalk, there'ssomething I think you should see." "What is it?" "You have to see it to believe me."

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Psychonaut Sample (1)