Darkness, nothing, void, senseless. I’ve felt like this for as long as I can remember. None of my senses function. It’s a miracle that I can even think. If this is death, I want it to end. I can’t remember jack shit. There’s no way this isn’t some messed-up nightmare. I gotta be in some sort of coma. Come on, wake up, wake up, WAKE. THE HELL. UP.
“AAAAAAAGH!”
As I continued to mentally shout at myself, I actually felt words, or rather, sounds coming out of… somewhere. I wasn’t even sure that it was my own body, but there was some semblance of feeling in that scream. I relentlessly tried to replicate it. Not all attempts were successful, but I could feel my senses slowly coming back to me.
“I want my goddamn life back!”
After what I can only imagine were hours of shouting at the void, I managed to string together a sentence. Full of profanity, but still a sentence. Can you blame me, though? I’m not even sure if I’m alive, I think I have the right to ignore the swear jar for a while. If I’m dead, I don’t think any god was going to let me in, anyway.
I’m… not sure why I just said that. Did I do something bad that I can’t remember? UGH, that doesn’t fucking matter now. I’ll have time to reflect on my actions when I’m awake. Let’s just continue to shout like a damn madman.
As I carried on with my loud shenanigans, more sensations returned to me. I could hear a faint buzzing in my ears. It felt like a heavily distorted voice track, just like those fake psychophonies they use in shitty ghost-hunting reality shows. Unlike in those, there wasn’t an annoyingly idiotic, but fairly attractive show host to spell out the meaning of the voices, so I couldn’t understand a word of them.
Little by little, I started to distinguish something touching me. It was like a slap. Actually, drop the “like”. Some jackass was slapping my face. I made an attempt to move my hands to stop that wanker, but the most I could do was wiggle my fingers. Not too useful, but at least it told me I have a body.
“Sir, can you hear me?” The buzzing sound became clearer. Now, it was a distinctly deep male voice, with an incredibly smooth accent that didn’t sound familiar. I really wanted to reply, but my speech was still not working well.
“Y… Yeh.” Fucking what? Earlier I said two full sentences and now I can barely say “yes” correctly? No wonder that asshat was slapping me, I deserve that shit. Perhaps my baffling stupidity woke my other senses up, because some blurry silhouettes appeared before my eyes.
“He’s waking up, doctor.” A female voice spoke. I steadily recovered all feeling throughout my body, but it felt wrong. It was too light and empty, but I still couldn’t tell why. Once my vision cleared up, I was met with the kind of scene I expected. I lay on a hospital recliner bed, with a layer of cheap bed sheets over my body. I tried to look around to find the female voice, but my limited mobility meant I could only see as far as my peripheral vision allowed.
As soon as I started pushing the limits of my impaired sight, I instantly regretted it. The woman that was looking after me did not look like anything I had previously seen. She was like a faceless mannequin, but in the places where her facial features would be, there were torn-up threads that made it look like her semblance was a piece of fabric with holes crudely added in there so she could use her eyes and mouth.
Shook up by the nurse’s inhuman face, I looked the other way, where I assumed the doctor would be. Luckily, what I saw was not as unpleasant, but it still shocked the shit out of me. It was a dog. A whole-ass Shiba Inu. But the dog’s head was mounted to a human-like body. It even had paws and all! Weirdest of all, he wasn’t even wearing a lab coat, but a goddamn tuxedo. That is not appropriate for a hospital.
“Good morning, sir. I hope our appearance didn’t startle you.” Then, all of a sudden, the fucking dog starts talking to me like it’s nobody’s business! Please tell me this is just some bizarre coma dream.
“It did.” Despite my dismay, I still managed to speak my mind.
“Well, don’t worry, pal. You still have another shock coming.” This smug fucking dog had the nuts to talk to me like that and then he stuck some kind of hand mirror. My eyes focused on its reflected image… I guess I get why he said what he said, and also why I felt so light. I didn’t have an inch of flesh on my face. All that was there was a skull with a red tint, as if it had been soaked in blood for a long period of time. Didn’t even have eyes, just sockets.
“Guess I’m boned.” God, did I actually fucking say that? I could almost hear the damn laugh track. At least, the nightmare-inducing nurse was chuckling, although her laugh sounded more like a hellish screech than an actual laugh. I think I want to go back to the coma.
“Classic case of Witzelsucht Syndrome. Love it when patients tell bad jokes at inappropriate moments. How are you feeling, my bony friend?” The dogtor addressed me calmly, as if this was normal to him. Damn it, now I’m making puns inside of my head.
“I’m really damn confused. Can you tell me ANYTHING about what’s happening or where I am?” I spoke honestly. The dog seemed to expect this answer, so he prepared a whiteboard that had numerous diagrams depicted on it.
“Before I answer that, let me introduce myself. My name is Neil, and I am a Shiba Inu.” Doctor Neil casually stated his name. I was left with more questions than answers.
“Just Neil? No surname?” I asked in response, to which the doctor shrugged sarcastically.
“I mean, have you ever met a dog with a surname?” This stupid answer made me feel genuine anger.
“Well, for starters, I’ve never met a dog that could fucking speak.” My speech finally felt like my own again.
“I get that a lot. But let’s not dabble that much on me. Lemme tell you where you are. This place is called Universe-87, also known by its inhabitants as The Blank Tomb. This is because most of the people who live here are kinda dead!”
You know what, I’m not even surprised anymore. This seems reasonable in comparison to that nightmare nurse and the dogtor. Fuck it, let’s just nod along.
“So yeah, you’re nothing but a lost soul with too many regrets to pass on to the next world. You probably don’t have any memories of your time on… whatever universe you lived in. But don’t worry, you can recover them with the appropriate stimuli! That’s why-”
“Hold up. So if I manage to free myself from my regrets once I recover my memories, does that mean I get to go to heaven or whatever?” This time, the bizarre nurse got closer to me to give me her info dump.
“There is no heaven. Regular souls simply fade away and become parts of other souls that give birth to new life. Troubled souls like you stay here forever, but some say they’ve seen souls escape this universe. We are in a physical plane of existence after all. You are simply a materialization of your soul at the time of your body’s death, hence why you’re a skeleton.”
That made no fucking sense. If I look just the way I did when I kicked the bucket, why am I a skeleton? It takes a long time before all the flesh rots away, and it doesn’t leave bloodstained bones behind. That’s just not how things work.
“I’m sure you’re full of questions right now, my dear patient. Unfortunately, we don’t have any records of your name yet, so we intend to give you a placeholder nickname: Jugemujugemugokonosurikire-” No way am I gonna let him finish that name.
“Don’t call me that. If you’re gonna give me such a stupid name, I’d rather you didn’t call me by any name.” I snapped back, but Neil seemed disappointed, as his ears drooped and he let out a little whine. It was honestly kind of cute.
“Aw, they never let me call them that. But anyway, our primary goal right now is to see if we can piece together anything about your past.” I’m going to ignore the fact that I’m not the first person he tried to call by that name.
“Ugh… I can’t really recall anything.” Although I furrowed my skeletal brow in frustration, Neil seemed to have picked something up from what I said, as he was writing something down on a clipboard.
“Well, we already have some data from the time you’ve spent here prior to your awakening. Judging by your bone structure and tissue samples, we concluded that your genes were predominantly African and European. We can’t exactly pinpoint which universe’s version of those places you’re from, but we believe it must be from one of the first ten.”
“Thank god I’m not white.” I instinctively spouted that. I don’t actually have anything against whites, but y’know, I think I prefer not being the human equivalent of “factory settings”.
“Also, from what little we’ve spoken, I’ve noticed a very slight British accent. You probably tried really hard to suppress it.” Oh god, don’t tell me I’m British, that’s worse than being a cracker. If I had any sweat glands, I’d have bullets coming out of them right now.
“Can you move yet?” The nightmare nurse asked me as she held my radius and ulna with her completely pale hand. A horrible chill travelled throughout my entire body despite having no nerves. I guess things are already weird and anatomy-defying enough as it is, I shouldn’t question it.
“Somewhat, yes.” I clenched my fist and tried to move the rest of my arms, which surprisingly worked. Next, I moved the upper half of my body up. It seems that the lack of muscle tissue also meant that I wouldn’t have muscle atrophy.
“Excellent! Do you wish to go for a walk?” The doctor kindly asked me, but I wasn’t sure. This whole thing already seemed pretty unreal, and it only got weirder when I looked at my exposed ribcage.
“Well, not like this, that’s for sure. I may not have the bone that matters anymore, but I can’t just walk out butt-ass naked.” I’m not sure why I still had my sense of shame, but I suppose it was a good sign. I hadn’t fully lost my humanity like I did my memories and skin.
“That’s… odd. A great deal of spirits ends up discarding clothing entirely given that there are no laws prohibiting streaking in this Universe. But it is okay, there are still plenty of people who retain that dependence on clothes.” Aight, but both you and your weird fucking nurse are wearing clothes, why are you giving me this shit?
“We shall provide you with form-fitting clothing shortly.” The nightmare nurse politely said before turning her head 180 degrees and starting to walk backwards out of the room. Boy, am I glad she’s outta here.
While the demonic bitch did her job, Neil fiddled with something I couldn’t quite see, but it sounded like a squeaky toy. Upon getting a better angle, I realized that the item being squeezed between his paws was just a fidget cube that made dog toy noises. Not even surprised anymore.
In just a few minutes, the nurse came through the door again, this time with her head facing the correct direction. On her deathly-cold hands rested a pair of beige jorts and a gray t-shirt with a slightly faded decal that read “My wife left me. Good, more time to fish.” Just looking at it made me want to vomit.
“For fuck’s sake, what morgue did you get this from?” I asked the nurse while I reluctantly put the articles of clothing on.
“The one on the fifth floor.” I was left speechless by her reply.
“Okay. I can bear with this for a bit, but goddamn it if you don’t get me to the nearest Gucci store, I’m going to kill myself, potentially for a second time.”
“You’re in luck. There’s one right outside the clinic. Just hope you can pay the price.” Neil smirked as he gave me hope and immediately shat on it like it was his owner’s shoe.
“You gotta be shitting me, there’s money in the fucking afterlife?” I was upset, but at the same time, I wasn’t expecting to get Gucci goods for free. How was I supposed to have money to pay for it, though?
“As I said earlier, this is not an afterlife, it’s more like a re-life. If everything was free, no one would work to make this place better. We’re not omnipotent.” The nurse continued to explain in her disgustingly raspy demon voice.
“So does that mean you’re both spirits like me?”
“Well, we’re more like “agents”. We never really died per se. We were just born here to aid those like you.” I don’t think I’m going to question that. My head’s already tired enough as is.
“Aight, but is there any easy way to earn money here?” The moment I asked the question, both of these jackasses started laughing their asses off. Yeah, ha ha, I get it, money ain’t easy to earn, but fuckin’ hell, you could have some tact.
“Hehe, don’t worry. You can do some odd jobs for us and we’ll pay you all the cash you need. We kinda have this detective joint on the side.” The dog’s exposition almost made me mad. This made so little sense, it barely felt like it was happening. A fucking Shiba Inu who is a doctor and detective. Oh my god, does that make him a sleuth? I hate it.
“And what are you supposed to investigate, exactly?” Tired of ruminating about my own dislike of the situation, I just went ahead and asked about the job. No time to waste.
“Well, we work with people who don’t remember their lives so we can piece together the most important details. Given how many murdered amnesiacs we get, there’s not exactly a shortage of clients, y’know? Plus, we also search for missing people and all that good stuff.”
“Can someone like that really get involved in the investigations? Could that very amnesia not get in your way?” I felt curious about the concept, but was unsure about what I could bring to it.
“It wouldn’t be an issue. You appear to be pretty functional at the moment. The only problem is that you don’t know anything about yourself. That ain’t ever been a problem during the job.” Neil cleared some of my doubts, but that response implied other amnesiacs had worked with him before. Perhaps doing that kind of job helps jog people’s memories?
“In that case, you can count on me, although I’m unsure how much I can actually contribute at the moment.” I decided to cooperate with Neil, despite my impairments.
“It is okay, patient. You can just wing it, and eventually, you’ll recognize your own potential.” The nightmare nurse addressed me in an emotionless tone, but although she scared me, her words made me feel confident about my hypothesis. If I work with them, it’ll bring me one step closer to my truth.
I accompanied the dog and the nurse out of the hospital, and into a small office close to a donut shop. When I passed by the shop’s windows, I witnessed the glory of this world’s processed pastries. My sockets were assaulted by an array of recipes and flavours I had never even imagined, but they all sounded amazing. I was never one for junk food like that, but man… I can’t pretend I wasn’t craving those jelly-filled doughnuts.
My lack of taste buds and money brought me back to reality, and I stopped window-shopping before finally entering the office. It was exactly what I expected it to be: a crammed red-brick building with tons of scattered papers all over its furniture, and to top it off, there was a vintage pinball machine right next to Neil’s desk. It depicted some kind of rock band, but it had to have been one that wasn’t from my time, as I didn’t recognise it in the slightest.
I slowly sat down on one of the chairs located in the room, and before long, Neil handed me a binder with case files. He forcefully opened it and pointed to a particular one labelled JMG-37.
“Alright, so there’s this guy who mysteriously disappeared from this place and hasn’t been seen in at least two Jeremy Bearemies.” Slow down, please.
“What on Earth is a Jeremy Bearemy, and how much is it in yards?”
“Oh, right, I hadn’t told you. Time in this universe is sorta odd. Since we get people from many different time periods at the same instant, the way in which temporal progression works here is less a straight line and more of a constantly-moving loop-de-loop that some fellas decided to name Jeremy Bearemy because of how its graphic representation looks. Also, it has no comparable time unit compared to most human-made measurement systems, so don’t sweat the details.”
Wow, that explained nothing! But I suppose it’s not that important. All I need to know is that two JBs is one JB too many. Regardless, the file depicted a fairly old man. He looked Hispanic, around his 80s, bald, and with no facial hair. His skin had a few darker spots caused by age. Guessing by his age and sickly appearance, I would’ve guessed he had died of natural causes, but there were bandages wrapped around his head, so he probably had a head injury of sorts.
“So what do we know about this man, Neil?”
“His name was José María Goyache. Don’t ask why he’s got both a male and a female name, I don’t get it either. During his stay here, he lived alone in one of the southern districts of the Tomb. We haven’t identified any family members, but he seemed to have some kind of organization that used his surname. As for what their business was, all answers we’ve gotten about it were unclear.” The dog updated me on the facts.
“When we interviewed the witnesses who gave us that information, they were all very tense. It’s possible that Goyache’s business was related to the regrets that kept their souls alive.” The nightmare nurse built up on the explanation, which already gave me some ideas.
“Hmm. If that’s the case, it could’ve been some sort of corrupt company, or maybe even a human trafficking ring. Either way, it would be something that made others miserable or embarrassed. Is there a particular profile for the people you questioned?” I started to bring my own ideas in.
“A couple of ‘em were Hispanic, but with slightly darker skins. Most of the witnesses seemed to have their bodies in pretty bad states. Some were missing teeth, others were so thin they could classify as two-dimensional, stuff like that.” The dawg gave me more clues.
“Then I think the latter of my ideas is probably related. I see slave drivers or drug cartels as a high possibility. You wouldn’t really see people losing teeth over corrupt banks. I think some Christina might’ve been involved.”
“Who is this Christina?” The nurse asked me. Of course, I didn’t think they’d get my nicknames.
“Methamphetamines. Or, well, a lot of other drugs could work in this case, given those symptoms, but I have a gut feeling that meth is involved.”
“You seem to have good knowledge of these kinds of things. Were you a cop in your past life?” The dog asked, trying to get my memory’s gears working. I looked at my skeletal hands trying to reminisce, but very few things came back.
“Not a cop. Definitely. But I’ve seen a lot of people who used drugs. I don’t think I ever did them myself. I have all my teeth.” My answer perplexed the dog, but it seemed that this was just a distraction. We returned to looking at files and putting our ideas in common.
After our initial brainstorming session, we agreed to pay a visit to one of the previous witnesses, but unfortunately, that person lived quite far away from the office. We boarded a bus. By the way, public transport is free here. The road seemed to be almost car-free. I can’t tell if it was because of the low population or because the Blank Tomb was very eco-friendly.
I suppose I expected this place to be chock-full of assholes, but I suppose dying with regrets changes people. Still, can’t help but wonder if I was one of those assholes too. I have no way of knowing if my regrets are because I hurt the people around me or because I just had unfinished business.
And even then, I have this feeling inside me… I can’t quite tell what it’s meant to be, but it’s sort of… lonely. I wonder if there is anyone in this place who knew me in life… I suppose it’s impossible for them to recognise me even if they did. What a conundrum…
My inner monologue was cut off when the bus arrived at the stop we needed to get off at. After leaving the vehicle and walking through a few, mostly-empty streets, we reached an apartment complex. Neil walked up to its intercom and pressed a button with his paw. No one responded.
“Oh well. No time for stakeouts.” The dog said in a casual tone before striking the door with a roundhouse kick, breaking the damn thing in half. If I had eyes, they’d be popping out of my sockets. What is that dog doing!? He then continued to violate all B&E laws known to man by simply walking into the complex. We used the elevator to get up to the fifth floor.
The apartment that we were looking for had its door wide open. Thankfully, that meant no more reckless property damage, but at the same time, it raised concerns for the investigation. The moment we stepped into the apartment, we realised it had been completely cleared out, except for a giant block of ice that was in the middle of the room. Neil ran toward it and gasped.
“This is not good. The witness is inside that thing.” Neil’s answer made me want to examine it immediately, and sure enough, there was a man inside that block of ice. It had not started to melt yet, so he had either been frozen recently, or that ice was ungodly cold. “Nurse, get the blowtorch!” Neil shouted, and the nightmarish creature took a large blowtorch out of her cleavage. Despite being a walking skeleton, I was still the least cartoony of this trio.
The nurse carefully melted the ice until the man inside was free, but despite being thawed out, he was not recovering his body heat at all. There were no external wounds at all, either. Dark questions started to pop into my mind.
“Neil? Can the people here die?” The doctor trembled in response. He was not hoping to get into a situation like this one.
“They can’t. They are souls with a physical form, but no matter how much time passes or how much damage they take, they cannot die. And that is an absolute truth.” The doctor’s answer made a chill run down my spine. This person in front of us was undoubtedly dead, but that was a complete impossibility.
“Please, go to the apartment we’ve prepared for you. It would be a bad idea to let you work on this case. You must get to a safe place.” The warning filled me with fear. But at the same time, I felt like I couldn’t accept it. But I knew it was a bad idea to talk back. I left the apartment by myself, but before I stepped out of the complex, I decided to knock on one of the doors.
A woman opened the door. She was missing one of her eyes, but she was not in pain. I can’t lie, I was slightly shocked, but she was much more surprised than I was. I suppose seeing a living skeleton was rare even in a world where people don’t die.
“I apologize for intruding, ma’am. I’m investigating some strange things that have been happening in this building. Have you seen anyone suspicious here lately?” The look she was giving me with her singular eye already carried great suspicion, especially considering that someone had just broken the building’s front door.
“Well, there was a dog a little ago…” The woman responded, but I cut her off, asking her if there was anyone before that.
“Hmm…” The eyeless woman put her hand on her chin, thinking. “There was someone who came here during sunrise, but I couldn’t get a very good look at them… I think it was a woman… Yeah, and she had really huge tits. But I couldn’t see her face.” I thanked the woman for her testimony. I guess even if it’s somewhat crude, it’s a useful piece of testimony.
Desperate for an answer, I kept asking other neighbours about the voluptuous woman, but to my surprise, none of them saw her. However, they did claim to see other suspicious people, sometimes men, sometimes women, and sometimes creatures they couldn’t really describe. There was only one thing that most people think they saw. A mask.
This was all really confusing, but I think I gathered enough information. I decided to go to the address that the dog gave me by boarding the bus. During the trip home, I decided to rest my head on the bus’ window, lazily taking in the passing scenery as I assimilated all the evidence I gathered.
I couldn’t see much more than blurry people and trees, but during one of the bus’ stops, I saw something bizarre. There was a person wearing a skirt whose figure was rather masculine. I couldn’t quite tell their gender, since they were wearing a hoodie. But what caught me off-guard was when that person turned around, almost as if they knew I was looking at them. Their figure was still obscured, but they also wore a mask with a strange symbol, a red eye, and a twisted grin.
The sigil on the mask didn’t seem familiar. It could’ve been some sort of Asian symbol, but all my contact with their culture was limited to… meeting surgeons? Wait, that’s it! I’m finally starting to remember things! I was a surgeon as well, but I can’t recall what kind. This is a huge step forward, however.
If I expose myself to surgical knowledge, and maybe history, I could recover even more about my past! Wait, shit, where’d that masked person go? I completely zoned out and lost track of ‘em. Damn it. I have no way of knowing if they’re the person who killed the witness, but I think it’s a safe bet.
Still, wasn’t it strange? Someone with the power to kill the unkillable wouldn’t really be roaming the streets nonchalantly and wearing something as suspicious as that mask. It could be someone unrelated.
Ugh, fuck. I shouldn’t be doing this at all. I’m already lucky enough to have gotten this second chance at living after losing it all. I shouldn’t risk becoming part of the aether because of pure curiosity. I should simply take shelter and hope Neil can find something less dangerous.
After a while, the bus arrived at my stop. I got off the vehicle and headed to the building where my new home was headed. As I walked through the empty streets lit by the gray light emerging from this alien sky, I tested my memory by listing surgical instruments that I could think of. Occasionally, when picturing the tools, I had brief flashes of myself carrying out surgeries, but the images were blurry, and I couldn’t make heads or tails out of the pile of gore that I was operating upon.
Soon enough, however, I arrived at my new apartment. It was extremely clean, and it seemed that it had all the necessary appliances for a normal life, all completely new. It felt overwhelmingly sterile for a house, but perhaps that was fitting for a surgeon. Even if I knew this was all automatically assigned, it still felt eerie, almost too good to be true. Until I opened the fridge and saw that it was emptier than my ribcage.
A lot of things about my new body escape my grasp. I spent my whole life studying the human body, but despite having the same skeletal base, it didn’t follow logic. I could speak without vocal cords, see without eyes, and presumably eat without a stomach. But I was not hungry at all. In all likelihood, the option to eat was just something souls could do to feel slightly more human, rather than a biological necessity. I suppose that’s good, it means less spending on food, and more on meaningful things like clothes that don’t publicly announce the divorce I haven’t actually had and my false love for fishing. Wait… I wasn’t divorced, right?
Argh, I don’t feel like thinking of my love life. Not like I’ll ever have one again with this horrid appearance. Whatever, I’m getting sidetracked again. I’m rather tired, so I’ll just check if the bed is good. As I entered the single bedroom, I found a large black box on top of the sheets with a blue ribbon tied to it. There was a note stuck between the ribbon and the box, which I promptly took out.
“To my soon-to-be friend:
This is a welcome gift from your friendly neighbor. A new life awaits you, and you must dress to impress!
A tip of the hat.”
That pretentiously-composed card just filled me with questions, but the main one was “what’s in the goddamn box?”, which I could answer immediately. It may have been reckless, but I opened the present instantly, revealing a neatly-folded purple suit. It was definitely Gucci. I almost squealed in excitement. I tore off the god-awful fishing clothes from my body and promptly put on the haute couture composition. The box also contained an Armani trilby with high-quality fabric that matched the suit’s colour, as well as a pair of genuine snakeskin shoes and high-grade sunglasses, which I had to tape to my skull because, well, no ears or nose.
I felt like a million bucks in this outfit. It’s probably what it cost to put together, but I am not complaining. I was born to fucking wear this. These clothes don’t just fit my body, they fit my SOUL. I looked at myself in the bathroom’s mirror and smiled as much as my jaw allowed. But something was still missing.
I grabbed a black sharpie from one of the drawers, and proceeded to carefully draw a pair of smug eyebrows on my skull. Now I’m perfect. Just as I was about to throw away the box, I noticed an envelope stuck at its bottom. I opened it and found what appeared to be a wad of bank notes. Unlike the cash I recall from Earth, the bills did not depict any personalities, like presidents or queens, simply opting for a plain background where there were details about the currency.
Reading the text gave me some clues about the state of the world I was in. The currency was called Multiversal Monetary Credit, which, despite sounding extremely generic, made more sense than just using made-up words like dollar or kroner. Apparently, these credits were accepted in a large quantity of universes, where they can be used directly or exchanged for the local currencies. Certainly sounds convenient. A universal currency like that would be unthinkable in the society I lived in. It’s almost like people were allergic to unity.
Once I had a grasp of the economic system, I took a few of the bills and left my apartment. The donut shop from earlier was too tempting, and I wanted to test my hypothesis regarding what happens with the food that I eat. I immediately directed myself to the store and ordered a diverse assortment of sweets that mixed those flavours I didn’t know with the ones I was able to recall from the living world. Experimenting is important, but I wanted to have some safety in my investments as well.
I sat down on the most luxurious couch they had at the restaurant and crossed my legs like I owned the place. There was no point in wearing high-end clothes if you didn’t demonstrate at least a bit of swagger. At the same time, I was concerned about staining my new outfit with crumbs and gelatine, so I placed kerchiefs around my neck and inside the suit, just in case the food fell straight through my ribcage.
I took a bite out of the first doughnut. It looked like it was made of some kind of cyan variant of bread, and it had seeds embedded both inside and outside of its crust. As I chewed on it, I could feel a strong flavour that wasn’t comparable to what I could recall. Instead of being sweet or salty, it felt incredibly… savory. I don’t know how else to describe it. All I could muster as a review was “It’s pretty good”.
The moment of truth. It was time to swallow. Even in my lack of a tongue and lips, the two major elements alongside teeth that compose our ability to ingest food, I was able to push the food into my imaginary esophagus. It was like telekinesis, something I had previously considered mere science-fiction created for B-series revenge porn movies, and yet, feeling its existence inside my own body made me instantly believe it. I had no reason to doubt anything at this point.
I enjoyed eating, even those pastries whose flavours didn’t fit my tastes. It felt like retrieving a distant and pleasant memory, while also bursting through the walls of logic like a frosting-covered wrecking ball. I occasionally let out small moans that doubtlessly got me weird looks from the other patrons. I would apologise to them, but frankly, I don’t give a shit what they think. I’m a goddamn skeleton.
Eventually, someone new arrived at the restaurant. This person went straight up to the counter and ordered a pile of salt. They did not pay, but they received a plate with exactly what they had ordered. This complete nutcase grabbed the plate and walked up to my table, placing their strange order in front of me and sitting down without asking for permission.
I wanted to ignore this freakshow, but the moment I directed my gaze at them more directly, I realised that it was the same person I saw when I was riding the bus. Same mask with the same creepy grin and red eye, but different clothing, too complex for me to describe. Despite my wish to keep my thoughts to myself, I simply whispered “Who the hell are you?”
“Wouldn’t you like to know?” The person responded to my query with a sarcastic remark. It made me want to backhand that stupid mask into the next Jeremy Bearemy. Their voice didn’t sound male or female. It just sounded SMUG. They let out a chuckle and started talking again. “You don’t need to worry about it. I’m just here to drop you a little hint, Brain.”
Brain. They talked to me like they knew who I was. After their vague statement, the stranger grabbed a handful of salt and threw it at the mask they wore. I expected it to spread all over the place, but it disappeared as if they had swallowed it. What the dick?
“Man, the salt here really is something else, huh?” WHAT ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT, YOU AAAAAASSHOOOOOOLE!? “Anyway, bye.” The absolute fucking lunatic just up and left like nothing happened… Which I guess isn’t exactly wrong, but still, w h a t ?
I tried to analyse every one of their statements, but I couldn’t make heads or tails out of anything. It wasn’t cryptic- it was straight-up nonsensical. But they called me Brain, didn’t they? Were they teasing me about my intelligence- or lack thereof? Was it an actual nickname I had in life? I need to ask Neil about this. There was no way this person wasn’t involved with my death. I finished the few donuts I had left and got out of the store. I needed to return to my apartment and get some sleep after whatever that was.
There was little else to do when I got back to my new and cramped home. I simply took off my exquisite clothing and hung it inside the closet. Once I was back to my naked skeletal glory, I threw myself at the crappy bed without any regard for its integrity- or mine, for that matter. I was expecting to struggle with falling asleep, given my lack of eyelids, but fortunately, my loss of consciousness took place the moment I willed it. Convenient.
My night was dreamless. After being in a coma for god knows how long, my brain was probably hoping for a proper break. I could feel my synapses reconnecting and functioning faster once I woke up. Perhaps that would contribute to the recovery of my memories. Part of me was hoping that Neil would come to wake me up personally so we could start therapy or work as soon as possible, but that did not appear to be the case. Eager to get going, I dressed up and left to look for the dog’s office. Neither he nor the nurse could be found there, but I didn’t feel like wasting time.
Where could I go to independently research the leads I have? Oh, right, the library… Is there even a library in this place? I walked to one of the bus stops, which had maps of the district underneath their electronic marquees. As I carefully examined the map, I found various public libraries, including one that was close enough that I wouldn’t require taking the bus to get there. I paced myself there while also carefully looking at the people around me, in case I ran into that masked weirdo again, which fortunately did not happen.
As I arrived at the public library, I was met with a massive amount of documents and people, many of which looking just as mangled and bizarre as me. It eased some of my feelings of alienation, even if, by definition, I WAS an alien to this place. I asked the receptionist for help. Frankly, I was feeling really lost, and I wasn’t sure where to start searching.
“You’re looking for clues on your identity? What leads do you have so far?” The receptionist kindly asked.
“All I know right now is that I was a black surgeon from the United Kingdom… And for some reason, the word Brain feels related. I’m not sure what the time period would be, but some of this has gotta amount to something.”
“Okay, please come to me, I’ll take you to our information terminals so you can conduct your search.” The receptionist’s language bothered me. I could figure out what an information terminal was. I know for a fact that computers were a thing in my time. And I’m pretty sure I knew how to use them. Surgery requires the usage of high-end computers that aren’t usually available to the general public, so I had to master them whether I wanted to or not.
I sat down in front of a thin computer monitor. The receptionist typed the data I had given them into various menus. I felt like a fucking grandpa, being patronised by someone younger than me. I know how to use a search engine, for fuck’s sake. Once the results started to display, the receptionist told me how to cycle through them, which increased my irritation. No way, you’re telling me that to change the page, I have to click on an arrow that points to the right? I am amazed beyond words.
Shrugging my annoyance off, I merely looked through the documents. Many of them included death certificates of black surgeons who died of brain injuries or illnesses. None of their faces seemed familiar to me. Other documents involved news celebrating the presence of black people in the scientific community. Reading those made me feel kind of giddy. I know I probably don’t even count as black anymore, but the sense of connection to those successful scientists felt good.
After roughly two hours of ceaseless research, I came across something that aroused my interest. A headline from a sketchy magazine about paranormal events that read “Genius black neurosurgeon mysteriously disappears after a run-in with the mafia”. I smiled, feeling like I had struck gold. I kept reading the article’s contents.
“On March 26th of this year [1996], Sheffield’s Saint Hieronymus Hospital suffered a major loss, as their top neurosurgeon, Doctor Ishmael Cassius, better known for his nickname Brain, had been absent from work for two weeks. Dr. Brain was a highly responsible and talented individual, who never missed a day of work, and even worked during holidays due to the difficulty of the surgeries he had to perform. His diligence had even caused doctors and patients who previously held racist views to change their minds about black people, because Cassius was a true paragon of the medical sciences who never let race or religion influence his choices.
His co-workers had immediately realised his absence, but refrained from commenting on the man’s disappearance, but once work started piling up, the Hospital’s directives requested that the police searched his home. Much to their dismay, they found no signs of life, or even any attempts of Cassius fleeing the city. Everything in the house was intact.
On the last night that Dr. Cassius was seen, he was asked to operate on José María Goyache, a known kingpin that dealt with various drugs such as marijuana, methamphetamines or hashish, who had seemingly been shot in the head, possibly in a failed trade or a sting operation. Goyache received surgery from Ishmael, but due to the severity of his injuries, even the doctor said he didn’t see a chance of him surviving.
Goyache’s criminal group is suspected to be behind the surgeon’s disappearance, but due to the lack of signs of a struggle in his home, we offer our own theories…”
The rest of the article went on to talk about ridiculous shit like being abducted by aliens on the way home, or secretly being part of a conspiracy to replace the white race. Maybe I shouldn’t take this information at face value… But all the things described in the article rang very loud bells in my head. Ishmael Cassius. Saint Hieronymus. The night of my last surgery. Seeing those names and events refreshed my memory. I knew that was me.
On top of that, Goyache… That’s the guy that Neil was looking for. One could say I killed him, even if I very clearly didn’t. I can tell that I had lost patients before. It’s impossible for a surgeon to avoid the touch of the reaper for long, and I know I wasn’t an exception, even if people considered me a genius. This didn’t tell me anything about that guy’s disappearance, but it certainly revealed a lot about my identity. I was satisfied.
For the sake of double-checking, I performed another search with my proper name, along with Goyache’s, just to see if that sensationalist magazine was telling the truth, and surprisingly, the only outlandish things were the conspiracy theories at the end of the article. Once I considered my search to be finished, I turned off the computer and left the cubicle. But before I got out of the library, I asked the receptionist one more question.
“Excuse me, do you have any information on this symbol?” After asking the question, I grabbed a pen and doodled the 死 sign from the stranger’s mask on a piece of paper. The librarian used a desk scanner to digitise the crappy drawing and ran a reverse image search on their computer. Now that’s the kind of tech I could barely understand.
“It appears to be a Japanese kanji. It means death, and it’s usually pronounced as ‘shi’ or other similar words.” Well, that’s not foreboding at all! I doubt I could find any concrete info about that masked person with just that lead. Death is a common word in any language, and death masks, as in, those molds that are made of people’s faces when they die, are likely to get in the way of any relevant results. I’ll just go look for Neil.
The moment I stepped out of the building, I sighed in relief, but this feeling did not last long, as I was assaulted by a figure I couldn’t perceive in time before I was tackled to the ground.
“*Glomps you.* Uguuuuu! Hewwo, Brain-hakase~! I can see you’ve been stalking little old me~! You silly boy, you could’ve just asked me out directly!” It was that goddamn masked idiot. The blood on my bones boiled with the fury of a thousand suns. I resisted my urge to shout various slurs at this incomprehensible, genderless creature and instead opted to grab them by the neck like it was a goose. I lifted the fucker over my head and pushed them against a wall.
“Enough of your bullshit, jackass. Explain who you are and why you’re so obsessed with me.” I wasn’t an aggressive person, but this person was pushing me over the edge.
“Kyaaaa~! No need to be so pushy, senpai!” The presence of all those weird words I didn’t understand just made me angrier. I couldn’t hold it in anymore, so I punched them in the stomach. “Okay, okay, I’ll stop. Jesus, calm down.” Once the idiot stopped acting like what they are, I lowered them, but without letting them go.
“I can’t tell you who I am just yet. It’s not the right time.” They were messing with me. I gave them a bloodlusted look through my sunglasses, which seemed to actually get through to them based on intention alone. “Buuuut, I can tell you that you’re a very important piece of existence, and you have powers you’re not yet aware of. The key to awakening them may be found along with the truth about how you died.”
For a change, they were being helpful, even if it still sounded like they were pulling my leg. “Okay? And how can I do that? Could you tell me, please?” I politely asked, holding back my wishes to smash the asshole’s masked face against concrete. Before responding, they took out what looked like a set of tarot cards.
“I’m afraid that’s not in the cards.” With that statement, the stranger formed a portal behind their back and disappeared from my sight. I’m too old to deal with this shit. Unsure of what to do, I returned to my apartment. Even though I had gotten most of the answers I craved, I felt defeated. That masked fool was playing me like a goddamn fiddle. And I still can’t understand what for, exactly. I don’t know shit about no damn powers, I’m just a surgeon.
And yet, pieces still managed to fall into place somehow. When I arrived at the apartment, Neil was waiting at the door. He seemed distressed, as he was pressing his paw against one of his arms, as if trying to stop some injury from bleeding.
“Neil, what’s wrong!?” Although I wanted to break the news about my identity, I was more concerned about his health.
“I was attacked by a strange person who is not from this universe… They wore a mask… It was some kind of shapeshifter… They were definitely the one who killed the witness…” The dog panted between sentences. Given his previous statements about the Tomb’s inhabitants being unable to die, this concerned me greatly.
“I’ve encountered them too. They seem to be connected to my death. But I’ve also discovered many things about my identity. You can call me Brain for now. I was a surgeon who worked on Goyache right before he died, but I don’t know what happened after that.”
“Good job on finding that out, Brain. I didn’t expect you to do so this quickly. I suppose that name fits your capabilities, heh.” Despite his injuries, Neil still cracked some jokes. “But that’s not what I came here to tell you. The masked killer told me where Goyache can be found. I’d tell you where it is, but… They’re definitely preparing an ambush. You shouldn’t go there unarmed.”
A surge of confidence filled my spirit. Even if I couldn’t discern the stranger’s motives, I felt like they weren’t going to kill me. They could’ve done so in any of our encounters. And that weird speech about hidden powers… I know I can solve this by myself. “Give me a gun, then.”
Neil was shocked by my response. His ears reeled back like I had thrown a ball at him, but he nodded. He took a strange pistol from his pocket and handed it to me, along with a note with the address. The gun was different from the stuff I had seen in movies. It was very sci-fi, with glowing creases and all. I assumed regular bullets wouldn’t be effective on whatever I was about to face. “Thank you, Neil. Now get your ass back to the hospital.” I expressed my gratitude for Neil’s vote of confidence and left.
I once again took the bus to my destination. The drivers and passengers failed to notice my weapon, as I had hidden it inside the void between my body and my clothes. When the bus arrived at the stop, I walked out and looked around the place. It seemed to be an abandoned part of the city, as numerous buildings were practically falling apart. Most of them looked like your average financial district buildings, but the one that I was supposed to go to was the one that stood out most: a ruined courthouse that bore no name.
The statues at the entrance were so damaged that I couldn’t tell what they represented. Not lady justice, no lions. Nothing recognizable. It inspired poetic images of a corrupt system where justice was so warped that it could be considered shapeless. Pretentious, I know, but I don’t know, just humour me for a bit. I adjusted my luxurious suit and took my firearm out of it before promptly kicking the massive doors to the courthouse to literal splinters. I don’t know if the wood was just worn out or if I had grown absurdly strong… I’d put my money on the former.
The crashing sound of the destruction caused by my kick repeated itself numerous times throughout the empty halls of the courthouse. From the outside, they looked like they stretched into eternity, but when I stepped inside, I could see my destination clearly. An open trap door on the floor, right in the middle of the hallway.
I took joy from each of my steps toward the hole in the ground. The image of an efficient and lean man, wearing clothing that was as expensive as a small house and holding a potent killing machine in his hand as he went on to face his own destiny… It made my mind tingle. They should make a movie like this.
Brushing aside my masculine fantasies, I jumped into the trap door and landed in an underground courtroom that seemed intact, despite the damage that the rest of the building had suffered. Inside it, I saw two people. Goyache, looking just as skinny and old as he did in my memories, but with the incisions I made on his skull still present. It was almost as if a slight breeze could blow the top of his head away. I could swear I put sutures on it…
The other person was, obviously, the masked entity. They sat on the judge’s stand, spinning the gavel atop his gloved finger like it was a basketball. I could tell they were chuckling underneath that stupid mask, judging by the brief movements their upper body was making.
“You’re just in time, defendant. The court is now in session for your trial. Judge Nocturn Ghadd presiding.” At last, the masked jackass stated their name. That’s one less question. Five million to go.
“The hell are you talking about, clown?”
“Order in my court! You have the right to shut the fuck up and sit down!” Nocturn snapped right back while smashing the gavel on the table, but I wasn’t about to take any of that shit.
“That’s what they say when you get arrested, not when you’re in court. You couldn’t even get that right.”
“Oh, we got ourselves a smartass, then. In that case, I’m getting you a government-assigned attorney, see how you like that.” Upset by my remarks, Nocturn took out several cards, which seemingly caused the sudden appearance of various monsters in the courtroom. These monsters looked like some kind of snowmen mixed with imps, but they all wore two-piece suits to match the situation. The one that appeared next to me in the defence stand looked the shabbiest of them all.
“The court requests that the prosecution presents their opening statement.” Nocturn’s mask shifted its pattern into something that resembled a weird cat as they pointed to the prosecution, which was another one of those strange snowmen.
“The defendant, Ishmael “Brain” Cassius, stands accused of malpractice and the murder of José María Goyache, who also happens to be our first witness, hee-ho.” The snowman spoke in a very high-pitched voice. I looked over at the old man, who looked even more confused than I did.
“HEY WITNESS! Get yo’ ass on the stand and state your name and occupation.” The judge yelled at Goyache, who merely gazed around the room as if he didn’t understand what he was told, but one of the snowmen, presumably the bailiff, pushed him to move to the witness stand. “NAME, OCCUPATION, NOW!” The “judge” continued to shout at the confused old man. I felt pity for him.
“José María Goyache, pharmacist.” As the old man finally replied, Nocturn smashed their gavel once more. “NO LYING UNDER OATH, YOU STUPID SHIT!”
“Okay, okay, I’m sorry. I was a kingpin in life. I ran the biggest drug ring in the UK with help from my network in the rest of Europe.” That made more sense, although, in a way, one could say a pharmacist and a kingpin aren’t that different. Just kidding, that’s a stupid comparison.
“So how did you die, exactly-ho?” The prosecutor continued his line of questioning, and although it was hard to take that 4-foot tall snowman seriously, he was trying his best, damn it!
“I was shot in the head.”
“By the defendant?” The prosecutor pressed.
“No. It was a thug from a rival group. A deal-gone-wrong sort of deal.” The courtroom fell silent. Nocturn’s mask turned into a poker face.
“Are you telling me it wasn’t Ishmael Cassius that killed you?” The prosecutor was sweating bullets. Or he might’ve been melting. Couldn’t tell, honestly.
“I don’t even know who that is.” It was difficult to hold my laughter in. I mean, did I even have a reason not to laugh my bony ass off? It’s not like this is a legitimate court.
Nocturn placed their palm on their face. “Great, I wasted all this effort into making a set piece for our showdown, and it didn’t go at all how I expected it to go. I THOUGHT YOU ACTUALLY KILLED THAT GUY, BRAIN!” Nocturn’s disappointment was like music to my ears.
“I did surgery on him, but he was practically dead already by the time he got to the hospital. Waste of public money, if I’m being honest.” I explained the situation to Nocturn.
“Ooooh, I get it now! Wait. No, I don’t” They’re not very bright, are they?
“That must have been my whore wife’s idea. She’s always trying to control every aspect of my life.” Goyache replied with something that caught my attention.
“Women, am I right?” Nocturn let out a misogynistic comment that only made Goyache laugh.
“So, Goyache. I vaguely recall interacting with your wife. Is there any particular reason why she was so controlling of you?” I was practically doing the attorney’s job for him. Come to think of it, he hadn’t even spoken yet.
“She was basically using me as a puppet to run the ring. I’m pretty sure she was doing some weird cultist witch stuff. One time, I saw her rip the flesh off someone for declining a deal. Not even sure how she did it.” Goyache’s statement was very relevant to the court record.
“So, from your experience. Do you think Mrs. Goyache could’ve used her voodoo shit to kill someone who could not save your life? Perhaps even reduce that person to nothing but a skeleton?” I pressed on his statement with my hypothesis.
“That sounds like her, alright.” A smug smirk formed on my skull as I heard this response.
“Your honor, I rest my motherfucking case.” Nocturn was unamused by this chain of events.
“Uuuuuugh. This blows. You were supposed to break down, thinking you had killed this dude and jumped into a vat of acid mixed with red food dye, or something. But noooo, you had to actually take control of your own fate and find out the real circumstances behind your death. You definitely awakened your powers.” Nocturn whined like a small child who couldn’t be taken to Burger King after school.
“Cry me a river, bitch. Now, explain all that garbage about powers and fate.” I triumphantly claimed my victory. Nocturn snapped their fingers, and all the snowmen- as well as Goyache- disappeared from the room.
“Okay, but drop the attitude, or I WILL cry. Hard.” I would’ve rolled my eyes if I had them. “So basically, there’s this thing called the Multiverse. it consists of a tree-shaped cluster of worlds that infinitely branch out based on meaningful actions. You’ve probably heard of the butterfly effect, so I’ll refrain from explaining why there are so many universes. But there are certain beings who exist outside of the conventional rules of the multiverse. Some cultures would call them gods, but it would be more accurate to call them Concepts.
I am one of those Concepts. Ordinarily, existences like mine are incorporeal, and we control the flow of fate in a passive, sort of unconscious way. But we also have a will. However, the only way to manifest our will is to create a physical vessel and give up part of our power. When we become physical beings, we lose that pseudo-omnipotence and immortality, but gain so much more in return.”
Why were they dropping all this shit on me? I understood what they said, but not why I should know it. “So what concept are you, Nocturn?”
“I am the embodiment of Conflict and Consequences. I am the millions who die in wars. I am the one who truly kills the idiots who get into bar brawls. I am the punishment that follows all the conflicts that ever begin. And I can control the outcomes of most situations. But obviously, there can be no consequences without causes. And that’s where you come in, my friend.”
It was hard to take in, but I could sort of get it. “Aha, so I’m the Concept of Cause, and you’re the Concept of Effect.” Nocturn clapped happily.
“Ding ding ding, jackpot! Now, I know you’re probably wondering stuff like “why am I a Concept? I thought I was just a surgeon!” or alternatively “if Concepts can’t die, why the hell am I here?”, and to that I’ve got all the answers you need! We used to be part of a bigger Concept: Fate. The driving force of all things that happen, but we got separated because we had beef with another Concept, Chaos. I took a chunk of Chaos’ subconcepts, hence why I’m part of Conflict, so you got split off from me and reincarnated into a human being until you had restored enough of your power to manifest again. The separation of the body and soul that is caused by death allows for the soul to gain a stronger presence, hence why I waited until you died to contact you.”
Did I have a reason to believe all this jargon? No. Did I believe it anyway? Yeah. Even if it was fucking absurd, it resonated with me. It was as if I already knew all of it but simply forgot about it. “So what now, am I supposed to become one with you, or something?” Wait, that sounds too sexual.
“Hehehehe, no. It’s not really possible for two concepts to merge after they’ve split. All we can really do is stay together permanently. It’s like marriage, but without the sex!” Thank goodness. I’m not even sure if this thing has genitals, let alone human ones.
“Wait, I have a question. If we, as a whole, make up causality, how were things being decided when we were separated?”
“That’s what Chaos’ role is. It tries to take control of the threads of fate the moment Causality sleeps on the job. It’s not a common occurrence, I swear, I’m good at my job. I tried to keep consequences logical even when the causes were random. It’s not easy, lemme tell you.”
“So are we supposed to kill Chaos or something? Would that even be possible?”
“No, that’d be dumb. Concepts can die, yes, but it’s kind of pointless to kill one, because they just come back eventually, due to it being something that exists in people’s minds. It’s why Cause manifested in you. I don’t think Chaos is even looking for us, so it’s better to leave things just the way they are because life is beautiful! Well, there really isn’t much else we can do in this universe anymore, so what say we go to my place and cause some fools to fight to the death for arbitrary and frankly out of character reasons?”
Nocturn seemed like a really strange person, but at the same time, I felt a sort of affinity with them, now that I had gotten the truth out of them. It was difficult to describe, but I no longer wanted to stomp on their face until it was a small blue stain on the courtroom’s carpet. Wait, that reminds me, I didn’t get to use the gun. That’s so lame. Why would anyone tease a cause and then have no consequence to it? It’s literally like a reverse Chekhov’s gun! Bah, I’ll keep it in case someone wants to make that movie idea. Saves them money on props. People used to tell me I looked like Sam Jackson if he had long hair… Or any hair at all.
“Sounds Gucci to me.”
And so, the Masked Motherfucker met with their other half- or rather, quarter. Well, it’s not an exact proportion… Agh, it doesn’t matter! Anyway, they finally reunited after the mysterious separation of Cause and Effect. It would not be difficult for them to abandon the Blank Tomb, as Nocturn possessed the ability to open the borders between universes. Brain felt slightly sorrowful for not being able to say goodbye to Neil, or getting one last serving of those delicious donuts, but maybe in the next universe they’ll visit, they’ll have similar stores?
“Haha, no. There’s nothing in Universe-0, you dumbass narrator!” Nocturn suddenly yelled at nothing. I know I just said I can tolerate him more now, but I’m starting to have second thoughts.
“Concept: Cause has reunited with Concept: Effect. Numerous imbalances have been created in the state of Universe-87. It is not known where their base of operations will be located next. It is expected to see numerous spatio-temporal distortions appear in other universes. What course of action should we take?”
“Await the appearance of said distortions. The possibilities for their current location are far too varied, and we cannot act until we deduce a pattern. Once enough data has been collected, we are to pursue them. But for the time being, we must wait. The damage they can cause in a year is not great enough to be a cause for concern.”
“With all due respect, sir, I must remind you that we are dealing with a psychopathic Concept who has already wiped out multiple realities.”
“Not to worry. They are limited in their current state. There is only so much they can destroy right now. They’re a lazy idiot, regardless.”
“That is true. Apologies for my impertinence.”
BRAIN & NOCTURN WILL RETURN FOR SHANG-CHI 2- I MEAN, “KIRSCHE’S ABHORRENT ADVENTURE”
Nocverse 