Cosmic

Ⅰ

Gene crossed his arms and started tapping his foot. His audience of one, the security guard currently manning the checkpoint of the County Annex Building, stared back at him with all the presence of a soggy piece of bread. Sighing loudly, Gene broke the standoff.

“I see you every single day. I saw you on Friday, and that was only three days ago. You should know my full name and employee number at this point; you’ve probably scanned my badge a thousand times.”

The guard’s expression remained rock solid.

“That may be so, but rules are rules. No badge, no entry.”

Gene rubbed his temples like he was trying to pull his receding hairline back to its starting point. He sighed again, turning around to look at the growing line behind him.

“Can you believe this?” he said, raising his arms up and dropping them to his sides with a loud smack. “Worked here damn near 25 years, I forget my badge one time, and there’s no exception!”

A few people glanced up from their phones, eyed him, then resumed scrolling. Gene turned back to the security guard, who shrugged. Grumbling, Gene ducked under the nylon barrier rope and stomped his way back to the stairwell that led from the lobby to the connected parking garage. Throwing open the door to the garage, he started down the ramp toward his car just as the sounds of screeching tires filled the air. A muffled WHUMP sounded from further up the garage, annoying Gene, who preferred quiet mornings. He reached his car, throwing his backpack into the backseat and slamming the door. He glanced at his watch, 6:56 AM. He huffed dramatically. Gene tried to open the driver door to the aging sedan, but it wouldn’t budge. He pulled repeatedly on the handle, to no avail. The door was stuck shut.

“Well this is new…” Gene thought, scratching his chin.

He reached down to try again, but as soon as his hand made contact with the metal of the handle, an intense static shock sent him reeling back. He hissed a breath between clenched teeth, grabbing his hand and doubling over. This was unlike any static shock he’d had; he imagined this was what being electrocuted felt like. He ran through a string of curses in his mind as the hair on the back of his neck stood on end. Goosebumps crawled over his body as he glanced around feverishly.

“What the hell is this?” He gasped, now spinning in half-circles in an attempt to locate the source of the feeling.

A high-pitched whine split the air, growing louder and louder until he fell to his knees, covering his ears. A massive rush of wind swept through the parking garage, buffeting vehicles side to side and whipping about Gene’s clothes. The high-pitched noise seemed to down-shift and go lower and lower in tone until at last it rung out a long, low note. Gene whimpered, he could feel the noise in his bones. The sound cut off abruptly, leaving an echo that lasted mere seconds before an unimaginably loud and violent BANG shook the garage around Gene. Overwhelmed, he passed out.

When he woke, the garage was silent. He rose slowly from the damp concrete floor next to his car. With a shaky hand on the door to steady him, he stood and observed the damage. Only… there was no damage. Gene spun around, then stepped gingerly into the main garage thoroughfare he was parked next to. He looked up and down the ramp, expected to see shattered windows, perhaps pieces of concrete that had fallen from the garage… but nothing. To his eye, it looked exactly as it had when he came back to his car. Patting his pockets to make sure his keys were still there, he ran down the ramp to the elevator. The garage office would be on the ground floor on the opposite end from his car, surely they’d be able to tell him what had happened.

Reaching the elevator, he pressed the button frantically, knowing it wouldn’t call the car any faster but not caring. The elevator dinged and the doors slid open, but Gene squeezed through as soon as the gap was wide enough. He alternated between mashing the 1st Floor button and the close-door button.

“Come on, come on, come on!” Gene muttered through gritted teeth, nervously bouncing on his heels.

The elevator car stopped at ground level, and he once more shot through the doors as soon as he was able. Sunlight nearly blinded him as the door opened to the street-side vestibule. He barely managed to dart around an elderly couple waiting for the elevator. He hit the door running, sprinting the ten steps down the sidewalk to the office door. Huffing and puffing like a steam locomotive, Gene flung the door open and rushed to the counter. The counter was currently unmanned, so he repeatedly dinged the service bell until a flustered looking woman in her early fifties poked her head out into the lobby.

Seeing Gene, she stepped behind the counter, putting both hands on the countertop in a manner that said she was already in a mood.

“Whatcha need?” She said, fixing Gene with a stare.

He hesitated for a second, before remembering the what he’d just been through and forging on.

“What just happened downstairs?” He asked meekly, still not fully recovered. “Some kind of power surge?”

The woman behind the counter frowned.

“What, lights flickering again? It’s an older system, sometimes water gets in the conduit or something. Always comes back on though,” She said, repeating a practiced spiel.

She started to head back to the back office she appeared from, but Gene stopped her.

“No, no, wait!” He said, desperation leaking into his voice. “There was some sort o-of uh, electrical current in the air, then a really loud noise and a lot of wind, then a loud bang!” He rushed through the retelling, eyes starting to bulge with mania.

“So can you at least check the security cameras…” Gene leaned forward to catch the name embroidered on her stained shirt, “…Pabby?” He asked, frowning at the name.

The woman rolled her eyes.

“It’s Patty, genius. And no, I can’t check the cams, they’re not hooked up. Anyway, if you don’t mind,” she said in a sarcastic tone, “some high school kids were racing up and the ramps and apparently hit a guy on the top floor. Only, they can’t find anyone! So if you think your problem is bigger than that…”

Gene stared at Patty. “Seriously? Y-you don’t have any working cameras?” He started sputtering in a mixture of rage and incredulity, not able to form coherent words.

Patty squinted her eyes, fixing Gene with a suspicious look. “We don’t allow homeless in here, sir. You can head three blocks north to the food bank if you need somewhere to sit.”

Gene’s mouth hung agape. He looked down at his clothes, they were wrinkled and covered in road grime from laying on cold, damp concrete. Regaining some composure, he glared at the woman.

“Homeless?” He asked, indignant. “I’ve been working at the Annex building for 25 years!”

Patty looked him up and down, smirking. “Oh yeah?” She asked. “Let’s see your ID badge then.”

Gene grabbed at his belt where the badge normally hung on an extendable clip, only to remember it was currently sitting on his kitchen table at home. With one last glare directed at Patty, he stormed from the office.

Ⅱ

Two hours later, after a long shower at home and his badge in tow, Gene was at his work desk. Enough time had passed since the event in the garage that he was feeling back to his regular self. He had given the security guard who’d denied him entry earlier a talking-to on his way through security. Gene scoffed while thinking back, the oaf probably didn’t even grasp the nuance of what he was saying. Sipping an energy drink, he tried to put the morning’s events from his mind.

Work was his second home. He had no wife, no kids, not even a pet. If he wasn’t working, he was moderating internet chat rooms or managing the gaming guilds he was apart of. Since he worked in IT for local government, he could get away with doing those things at work too. He swapped between coding and spreadsheets to gaming servers, only emerging from his dark, cramped office to troubleshoot computer problems that a five-year old could fix.

He was just about to take a break from coding to see what his guild was up to when a knock on his door made him jump out of his chair. He paused for a second, then chuckled. He supposed his nerves were still a bit shot from earlier.

“Yes?” He called out, sitting back down in his chair and turning back to his computer.

The door opened and two figures entered, finding space among computer towers and pieces of hardware stacked precariously about the small room.

The shorter of the two flicked a switch on the wall, suddenly bathing the room in bright LED light. Gene squinted and glared at the man, but held back sharp words. This was Steve Gleeson, the County Human Resources Manager. Steve was short, portly, and in Gene’s opinion, somewhat dim. The person accompanying Steve was different. He was tall, extremely muscular even through his business casual attire, with a mane of hair that reminded Gene of late-eighties bodybuilders. The stranger’s face was chiseled, and his eyes sparkled as he smiled. Gene huffed to himself, another idiot to deal with.

“Gene, this is A- oh, but you go by Paul, right?” Steve asked the tall man.

The man, Paul, gave Steve an encouraging smile. “I do, thank you.” Paul said, his voice oozing charm.

Gene squinted at the man, dislike growing by the second. Steve nodded, reassured.

“Right. So, Gene, I’m taking Paul here around the office for introductions, can you get his computer set up? He’ll be in the Clerk’s office on the third floor… uhm, I believe in that corner office that gets the afternoon sun.”

At this he gave Paul an apologetic look. Paul simply nodded his head with a small smile.

Gene rubbed his temples and said, “Fine, fine, I’ll get it done. Luckily I have one workstation ready to set up.”

The two visitors left, and Gene collected the necessary components onto a flatbed dolly, making his way to the office in question. He wanted to get this install done quick so he could run to lunch before anyone could submit another ticket. With the components in place, he sat at the desk, booting the machine and running initial checks. He wiped a hand across his face, pulling it back and frowning at his palm.

“Good Lord!” He thought, and wiped a shot glass-worth of sweat onto his khaki pants.

He glanced through the blinds covering the window next to him, the sun was indeed blasting into this office. Gene smiled grimly, that clown who would be taking residence here would lose that fake attitude after roasting for a few days. His work done, Gene wheeled his cart back to the IT office. He grabbed his backpack and speed-walked to the break room, where he planned to grab a plate and utensils before hitting the pizza truck parked in front of the building. He stepped into the room and almost ran into someone standing immediately inside the door.

Gene looked up, sharp words dying on his lips as annoyance turned to confusion. It looked liked the entire office was packed into the break room. He shifted, trying to peer into the crowd to see what the deal was, before a chorus of laughter rang out from those assembled. The crowd moved as people laughed, allowing Gene to catch a glimpse of what must be the center-of-attention: Paul. The tall man was near the back wall of the break room, regaling the crowd with a witty story. Gene rolled his eyes again, attempting to squeeze through the throng to the cabinets when Paul noticed him.

“Gene!” The warm voice rang out, causing those in the room to turn and look at him.

Gene paused with a grimace. He turned toward the man, who almost seemed to… glow? Gene frowned, blinking and looking again. At second glance, Paul seemed to be just a normal, non-glowing, albeit extravagantly handsome, man.

Paul waved him over with a smile. The crowd parted and Gene was ushered over to the man. Gene started to purse his lips in an awkward attempt at a smile, then gave up. Paul beamed down at him, holding out a massive hand to Gene. Gene gave him his hand to shake, and couldn’t help but be startled at how large the man’s hand was.

“Thank you very much, Gene, for taking care of my office. You did a wonderful job.” Paul said, smiling genuinely.

Gene frowned again, unsure if this was a joke.

“Uh… sure? No problem, really.” Gene said, glancing around.

The assembled crowd were smiling and talking quietly amongst themselves. Gene noted this suspiciously; there were office enemies having conversation and looking happy about it. Two women from accounting who had been moved to opposite ends of the office from each other were now complementing each other in ways that would make their romantic partners blush. Jeff from the Comptroller’s office was actually joking with Dean from Facilities, even though Dean hated Jeff’s guts for continuously clogging the second floor toilets. It seemed like everyone in the room was in a state of euphoric camaraderie.

Gene looked back to Paul, who was still smiling at him. Gene paused, something was keeping his eyes locked on Paul’s. The tall man’s eyes shimmered and sparkled in a bewitching manner, almost looking like a field of stars. Gene realized he couldn’t even tell what color they were. With an effort, he tore his gaze away from Paul’s and pushed his way through the crowd. Exiting the break room, he hurried to the elevator and down to the ground floor. He joined the line at the pizza truck, and only realized when he got his slice that he forgot his utensils.

After lunch, Gene sat at his desk, massaging his head. The whole day felt like an episode of Star Trek, only he was the minor character caught in the middle of that week’s problem. The electrical storm, as he had come to think of it, was mostly forgotten come time to clock out, because a bigger storm had taken hold of the office. Paul. The man was everywhere. Any time Gene stepped out of his office, he ran into Paul and a small gaggle of office drones hanging on to his every word. By the end of the day, Gene was sure that guy was trouble.

Gene was walking down the staircase leading to the parking garage with Theodore, the closest person he had to a friend at work. Theodore was another IT guy, but mainly handled online troubleshooting and vendor coordination. The two reconvened to talk shop every afternoon on the way down to the parking garage. Much to Gene’s dismay, today Theodore was rambling on and on about the talk of the office, Paul.

“I was really frustrated after that, because every time I call them to get the new license information, I get that lady with the chain-smoker voice who talks at a whisper, couldn’t hear anything. Just saying, What? Huh? Repeat that? Over and over again!” Theodore ranted, loudly.

Gene nodded sagely, this was a story he’d heard many times. He said, “Have you tried asking for the other guy, Bill?”

Theodore gave Gene a look that said of course, and said “Anyway, right after I hung up, Paul came by for his login information and gave me a little pep talk. He’s really nice!”

This got a scoff from Gene. “I have no clue why everyone is fawning over that guy. He’s super weird. Why is he always staring? And where did he come from, anyway? He wasn’t on this week’s new-hire list.” Gene turned to Theodore, “Doesn’t that strike you as weird?”

Theodore rolled his eyes. “Name a more iconic duo than local government and paperwork mishaps,” he said. “HR probably just missed his name or something. Remember the last time you thought a new hire was weird? The mandatory training we had to go through after you brought your ‘findings’ to HR was brutal. Paul will grow on you, I’m sure.”

Gene frowned, an easy expression for him today. They reached Gene’s car, waved each other goodbye, and Theodore continued on down the ramp. The ride home was uneventful, and with all the Paul business, Gene thought little of the phenomenon in the parking garage earlier that day.

The next morning, Gene was in his office bright and early, sipping on reheated coffee from the previous day. He had been the first person in the office, wanting to spend a little more time educating the security guard downstairs on the finer points of human interaction, but also to get some uninterrupted research time before help-desk tickets started flooding in for the day.

He’d done a database search for a “Paul” in the system, hoping to find more information on the suspicious man. That search had turned up zero results under both first name and surname. He filtered the search to only include employees assigned to the County Clerk’s office, then paused. That wouldn’t help if the name already hadn’t kicked back any results… Gene absently chewed on his pencil eraser. Something about their first meeting yesterday was worming its way into the front of his mind. Hadn’t Steve, the HR Manager, started to call Paul something else when he was introducing him? Gene snapped his fingers and leaned over the keys excitedly.

He typed “A” into the box for first name, and hit search. 36 results. Gene scrolled through the list, not seeing any names that jumped out at him.

“Alvin C. Brooks…”

“Andrea T. Leonard…”

“Alex M. George…”

“Aegletes P. Ophoibos…”

Gene almost dropped his coffee. That name had to be it. “Aegletes?” Gene shook his head, he’d certainly never met anyone named Aegletes. Surely he’d remember that. This guy was looking weirder by the minute. Gene tried to exercise his Google-Fu to search the internet for traces of Aegletes, but all he got were search results for museums hosting Greek art. He leaned back in his worn-out desk chair, hands behind his head. He decided more information was needed.

Tuesday, Wednesday, and Thursday morning came and went. Gene was sleeping less and less, his dreams filled with high-pitched whines and wind storms. Even so, Gene was out and about around the office, feigning interest in his coworkers lives for the first time to obtain information on Paul. As an IT employee, he could come and go into every department relatively unnoticed. His reconnaissance proved frustrating. The only piece of info that peaked Gene’s interest was the man’s schedule. Paul seemed to head straight to his corner office, open the blinds, and work up a nice sweat basking in the sun for a couple hours before coming out to socialize. He would disappear for lunch and be back promptly at 1:00 PM. Rinse and Repeat.

Gene couldn’t get a word in edge-wise about his suspicions, not that he knew what to say either. He still couldn’t figure out why someone would show up out of the blue, concealing their real name, to work at the County Annex building. Fear of bigotry from those prone to being wary of outsiders, perhaps? Gene thought that could be likely, and wasn’t unsympathetic should that be the case, but something told him there was more to be found.

By Thursday afternoon, Gene had mostly forgotten Paul as he battled a phishing attempt that three geriatric Treasury employees had already fallen for. After sending out yet another notice instructing not to click random email links, Gene realized it was already 5:30 PM. Being salaried and having office keys meant sometimes Gene worked later than he meant to, but he typically didn’t mind. He gathered up his backpack and made his way to the break room for a snack for his commute home. Just before he got to the break room, he stopped. At first, the only noise to be heard was the hum of the industrial vacuums used by the facilities employees who roamed the halls at this time of night. As he listened, however, another noise filtered through… a high-pitched whine.

The hair on the back of Gene’s neck stood up, and he felt himself start to hyperventilate. He crouched down next to a cubicle and got his breath back, looking around the room as he did so. The break room was next to an open-concept bullpen with various cubicles around, but nobody seemed to be occupying them. Gene concentrated on the noise, as much as it pained him to do so. It was the same noise he’d heard in the garage, he was sure, but steady, and not as loud. As he honed in on it, he realized it was coming from the break room. Gene felt like a rock was sitting in his throat, and forced himself to swallow. He forced himself to walk slowly toward the break room door. If this was the same noise, the one he’d awoken to in the moments he’d fallen asleep at his desk, the one keeping him tossing and turning through the night… he had to find out what it was.

He crept toward the door leaving his backpack behind. Glancing around, he still didn’t see anyone on the floor with him. As he turned back toward the break room, a new sound caught his ear, somewhere in between the hum of the vacuums in the distance and the high-pitched whine. It almost sounded like… crying? Gene paused, a permanent grimace pasted on his face. It sounded like someone was attempting to stifle their tears, and it was definitely coming from the break room.

Gene continued forward, sidling up next to the open doorway. The whine and the crying were both coming from inside, he was sure. He steeled himself, then slowly peeked around the door until he could just see into the room. A figure huddled in the far corner of the room, turned away from the door. A dull chef knife from the hand-me-down set the employees kept for the more culinary inclined among them was lying on the floor, next to a package of dried dates. The plastic package looked as though a bomb squad had attempted to gain entry to them, stretched and sliced as it was. A weird, glossy liquid trailed along the floor from the package to the figure in the corner. It shimmered in the light and yet also seemed to pull the ambient light into it. Gene winced as the whine continued, a dull headache setting in behind his eyes.

Gene squinted at the figure again, trying to make out what he was seeing. It looked as though there was a hazy field of light surrounding the figure, but Gene could also make out what seemed to be vision of space or the stars emanating from the figure’s right arm. He could see everything perfectly, but his brain couldn’t turn the image into information he could understand.

The whine pitched down into that same low note that shook Gene’s bones, and he was momentarily blinded as a flash of light seemed to radiate from the figure. Gene ducked back behind the wall, shielding his face. The light faded as a loud but not-as-deafening POP sounded through the room. Gene waiting a few heartbeats, then with his curiosity winning out, peeked back around the door.

Standing amidst the mess on the floor was Paul. He was massaging his right arm, looking at the package of dates with a frown. Gene’s blood seemed to freeze - that frown was the most sinister expression he’d ever seen. Venom and malice seemed to radiated from Paul, so much so that Gene felt like he was going to throw up. As silently as he could, he retreated toward his backpack and was halfway down the hallway when Paul’s voice rang out from the break room.

“Have a good night… Gene,” said the honeyed tone of the tall man.

Gene froze, slowly turning back toward the voice. Paul must have still been inside the break room, because Gene was alone in the middle of the office floor. He was halfway home when he realized he wasn’t sure how he even got to his car.

Ⅲ

Friday morning was the hottest of the year so far. Gene was on high alert for Paul, but the latter was nowhere to be seen. He went straight to his office and leaned a chair under the door to prevent entry. His search history would have raised some eyebrows, if he wasn’t the one responsible for checking that kind of thing.

“Person glows light…”

“Guy has star blood…”

“High-pitched whine noise from weird guy…”

After clearing his browser cookies to rid himself of ads for cure-all pills, Gene attempted to do some work. This was quickly abandoned as his mind refused to settle down. He checked his watch, almost whooping with relief. 11:50 AM. Time for lunch. The tiny office was stifling and his anxiety was through the roof. He removed the chair blocking the door, and racing downstairs to the parking garage. Still no sign of Paul. At his car, he hopped inside and turned on the A/C, pointing the vents directly at his face. Today he’d parked two levels higher than normal, as the garage filled up before he had arrived. Must be jury week. His car sat in an outside lane spot, with the nose pointing toward the open air on the other side of the wall.

Gene leaned back in his seat, away from the sunlight encroaching through the windshield. He tried closing his eyes, but the light outside was too much. He squinted and glared through the glass.

“Why’s it so damn bright?” Gene thought, having to shield his eyes against the glare.

He sat there frowning for a while longer, then resolved himself to looking through the side windows. He was messing with the driver-side mirror when something caught his eye - tire marks on the ground behind him. He suddenly remembered what the woman, who had a ridiculous name, (“Was it Pabby…?”), said about teens racing around the garage. Someone had been hit on the top floor, right before he’d first been assaulted by the whining noise…

Gene paused for a moment before throwing the car into gear and reversing out of the parking spot. He raced up three levels, catching slight air on one ramp as he stood on the breaks to avoid hitting parked cars. He came around the last corner before the ramp leading to the roof, and was shocked. The amount of light pouring into the garage from roof level was immense. It was shining, radiant, golden, and… moving? It was undulating through the air, as if it had the properties of smoke.

Gene let the car idle up toward the ramp, shielding his face with one hand while peering into the light. He was nervous; it looked just like the light that blinded him in the break room the night before. Unable to see through it, he sat back with a scoff. He gritted his teeth, hands flexing on the wheel.

“This is just a hot, bright, day playing tricks on me, like, like, some kind o-of… heat mirage!” He yelled, to nobody.

Gene floored it, ripping up the ramp, barely slowing to take the turn at the top and avoid the barrier wall. The car whipped around the corner, but the brightness intensified even more and Gene couldn’t see at all. He started to slam on the breaks, but before he could stop, the front of his car collided with something hard. The front airbags deployed, stunning Gene. When he came to, he realized he could see outside now. It was bright, but as much as a normal day might be.

Gene got out shakily, thinking he hit a light pole. He looked at the front of the car, which was now caved in down the middle. He ran his hand through his hair, before freezing in confusion. The damage looked like his car had hit a pole, but he’d ended up in the middle of the top floor, with only empty parking spots around. He spun around, looking for something he could have hit, coming up with nothing. He turned back to the front of the car and found himself face-to-face with Paul.

Only, it wasn’t. Or, it was, but only partially. Gene’s mind felt like it was splitting in two just looking at the figure before him. It was Paul, but his body and face were rent with gashes and wounds that should have laid a man out ten times over. That wasn’t what made Gene retreat into a state of catatonia, no, that was achieved by the fact that Paul’s wounds weren’t bleeding. In fact, there was no blood anywhere. Instead of blood and viscera, Paul’s wounds appeared to be openings in the fabric of reality, openings through which shone a field of stars, nebulae, and cosmic light.

Gene was only barely present enough to hear Paul screaming at him, shaking with rage.

“…WANTED TO LIVE AMONGST YOU, LEARN WHAT YOU LOVE AND REGAIN COMPASSION FOR MAN. THIS DREAM HAS BEEN THWARTED IN FIVE DAYS, NOT EVEN ONE FULL WEEK BY YOUR STANDARDS. YOU REMAIN TO BE FOUND WANTING…”

Gene awoke to the dripping sound of his car’s fluids leaking onto the concrete. He sat up, realizing he’d passed out. His face was raw where it had been pressed into the hot concrete, and he was sweating more than he’d ever done in gym class. He looked around the parking garage roof, and he was alone.

“This is IT, Theodore speaking,” said Theodore, picking up the desk phone as he returned to his desk from lunch. The voice on the other end made him pull the receiver back from his face; they were practically screaming.

Even two feet away from him he could hear the voice yelling, “I TOLD YOU HE WAS A WEIRDO!”

© 2024 by Elisiah Lake

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