raindrops—from the sky, forming into a droplet and then go-time, the brief exhilaration upon acceleration due to gravity, looking about and seeing thousands of your fellow raindrops above, below and about you sharing the experience of a short, terminal-velocity filled existence, the earth approaching ever-so-rapidly. One last quick view of the roof, or ground, or a tree top and then “SPLAT”—back to the oneness of water.
“Rat bastard!” the Captain’s yelling shook me out of my bullshit Buddhistic meditation. He had mounted what looked to be a fumigation tank on his back, attached to the tank was some sort of spray nozzle. Upon closer view, it was no fumigation system, for on the tank, in bold black letters were written “U.S. ARMY.”
“TAKE THIS!” he shouted, and a stream of gasoline and fire spewed forth from the end of the barrel, and a whirling fireball exploded in the fireplace, shooting flames out and about the room. “SHIT!” He backed away, muttered something about Dante, then picked up a fire extinguisher he had under the table and proceeded to quell the random small fires in the room and around the fireplace—careful not to disturb the now roaring flames within the fireplace. I deduced this was standard operating procedure for this man: he was a virtuoso. The fire in the fireplace gave the place a cozy feel.
He took off the garb and tossed it into the closet. “Lieutenant Bikaver!” A fresh glass of booze slapped against my hand. “Why the hell did you take this assignment? Duty? Honor? Excitement? Free booze? Shit man, this one was so jacked I wouldn’t have taken it in my prime—and I’ve taken some weird ones!”
Jager’s face superimposed itself then separated into two. I was seeing double. I closed my right eye and saw he had taken off the scuba goggles and now studied me through tinted eyeglasses.
“Eh?” I asked.
“They got you sideways and turned around and deep. You’ve been compromised. The Honcho has notified me that you need a temporary reset, and I got just the thing!” He handed me a couple of red capsules.
“What honcho? What the hell is this?” I examined the red pill with one eye.
“Not what, man—why. Take one! Save the other for another time. You’ll need it.”
More booze, more drugs: I had gotten this far, however far this was. Once again my unbothered (or reckless) mindset had already made the decision. Screw it. I tossed the cap into my mouth and swallowed with a shot of Wild Turkey. I put the other one into my pocket.
“That, my friend, is a time capsule. You will see the why shortly.”
JAGER TOOK away the rest of the booze and withdrew into the kitchen. My vision blurred around the room, at times gaining focus then failing. Mild butterflies fluttered about my ribcage; shadows and the orange light from the fireplace reverberated into a golden glowing hue. The table, the walls, all objects in my field of vision took forth this luminance, and the actual atmosphere of the room began to shimmer.
The intoxication of the booze melted away and was replaced by an ever-growing sensation of in-spiritedness. Though I was seated, I felt an uncanny sense of buoyancy and lightness, as though I were in a boat or possibly hot-air balloon. My vision refocused to a hyper-clarity; I could see into the essential matter of things and possibly through them.
Hallucinogens.
Did I write that, or think it, or say it? It didn’t matter at this point—I was in deep.
L.S.D. or maybe mescaline?
Captain Jager reemerged from the kitchen with a briar pipe in his mouth.
“Powerful stuff?” I asked him, who was now just a bleary fading spot in my periphery.
My assumption was confirmed, for in the next immediate instant, I perceived myself to be in three locations simultaneously in space and was somehow outside time ….
“I’m still in the living room, but I’m also in Doktor Götzefalsch’s office.”
“Yes, Meester Beekaver? You said you are ver?” Dr. Sydney
“Rat bastard!” the Captain’s yelling shook me out of my bullshit Buddhistic meditation. He had mounted what looked to be a fumigation tank on his back, attached to the tank was some sort of spray nozzle. Upon closer view, it was no fumigation system, for on the tank, in bold black letters were written “U.S. ARMY.”
“TAKE THIS!” he shouted, and a stream of gasoline and fire spewed forth from the end of the barrel, and a whirling fireball exploded in the fireplace, shooting flames out and about the room. “SHIT!” He backed away, muttered something about Dante, then picked up a fire extinguisher he had under the table and proceeded to quell the random small fires in the room and around the fireplace—careful not to disturb the now roaring flames within the fireplace. I deduced this was standard operating procedure for this man: he was a virtuoso. The fire in the fireplace gave the place a cozy feel.
He took off the garb and tossed it into the closet. “Lieutenant Bikaver!” A fresh glass of booze slapped against my hand. “Why the hell did you take this assignment? Duty? Honor? Excitement? Free booze? Shit man, this one was so jacked I wouldn’t have taken it in my prime—and I’ve taken some weird ones!”
Jager’s face superimposed itself then separated into two. I was seeing double. I closed my right eye and saw he had taken off the scuba goggles and now studied me through tinted eyeglasses.
“Eh?” I asked.
“They got you sideways and turned around and deep. You’ve been compromised. The Honcho has notified me that you need a temporary reset, and I got just the thing!” He handed me a couple of red capsules.
“What honcho? What the hell is this?” I examined the red pill with one eye.
“Not what, man—why. Take one! Save the other for another time. You’ll need it.”
More booze, more drugs: I had gotten this far, however far this was. Once again my unbothered (or reckless) mindset had already made the decision. Screw it. I tossed the cap into my mouth and swallowed with a shot of Wild Turkey. I put the other one into my pocket.
“That, my friend, is a time capsule. You will see the why shortly.”
JAGER TOOK away the rest of the booze and withdrew into the kitchen. My vision blurred around the room, at times gaining focus then failing. Mild butterflies fluttered about my ribcage; shadows and the orange light from the fireplace reverberated into a golden glowing hue. The table, the walls, all objects in my field of vision took forth this luminance, and the actual atmosphere of the room began to shimmer.
The intoxication of the booze melted away and was replaced by an ever-growing sensation of in-spiritedness. Though I was seated, I felt an uncanny sense of buoyancy and lightness, as though I were in a boat or possibly hot-air balloon. My vision refocused to a hyper-clarity; I could see into the essential matter of things and possibly through them.
Hallucinogens.
Did I write that, or think it, or say it? It didn’t matter at this point—I was in deep.
L.S.D. or maybe mescaline?
Captain Jager reemerged from the kitchen with a briar pipe in his mouth.
“Powerful stuff?” I asked him, who was now just a bleary fading spot in my periphery.
My assumption was confirmed, for in the next immediate instant, I perceived myself to be in three locations simultaneously in space and was somehow outside time ….
“I’m still in the living room, but I’m also in Doktor Götzefalsch’s office.”
“Yes, Meester Beekaver? You said you are ver?” Dr. Sydney
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