Chapter Two: Wake Up

Real Ambrose was a struggle to listen to, even with the calming morning light and a cup of soothing chamomile to make the experience suck a little less. Still, it was one of the three songs Bryce had told me to listen to, and I figured that if I could make it through that one, I’d be fine for the rest. Yes, I literally said that I wasn’t one to let my friends make me do crap, but curiosity is a bitch in a blizzard when it comes to something you’re halfway interested in. To a point I halfway expected there to be a sudden epiphany at the end of Real Ambrose that would make the song worth listening to, but in the end, suck was suck and I just had to bail, heading to my job without a wink of sleep because I worked in a coffee shop anyway. Phoebe, the owner, was cool enough to let me sneak an espresso whenever I needed a little pep to my step since I helped her with her taxes earlier in the year. Having a mother that does everyone in the neighborhood’s taxes tends to have its benefits, and a decent understanding of tax preparation and filing happen to be apart of them.

Driving through Philly is always hell in the mornings, especially when you’ve only had a couple sips of decent coffee. Wake n’ Shake was the best place I knew of to get a cup of regular black coffee, but lord forbid someone ask Isabelle to do something other than add cream, sugar, and a bit of flavoring to their cup. It was definitely a place for purists, which suited me just fine. Between our older clientele who actually paid for the robusta beans and our more affluent customers that wanted goat-butt coffee, Phoebe’s business wasn’t in danger of shutting down anytime soon, though fighting with her for offtime would make one think she needs all the help she can get. In all honesty she’d keep more workers if she wasn’t so stringent with the work schedule, which is probably why she likes me. If I wasn’t helping with some of the fine measurements for the baked goods we sold, I was usually crunching numbers or helping Pheebs keep Wake n’ Shake running while she managed her home life.

As luck would have it, Phoebe and Katrina had been in overnight, so everything was in top shape when I walked in, and there was even some cold brew ready to go for a quick sip to get the day rolling. I didn’t even have time to get to pressing the coffee before Isabelle came in with a smile to beat all others and a certain bounce to her step. “Well hello! If it isn’t our little country boy back from La-La Land!”

“Aren’t you a little old to believe in La-La Land?” I asked, getting the process started for a eworthy cup of joe.

“You know good and damn well I’m only twenty-four!”

“A year for every hour in the day. Still older than me, granny.”

Isabelle being Isabelle was about to give me a dour remark of some kind before she looked behind me and smiled. I almost ducked in time to avoid getting hit entirely, but Phobe still got the top of my noggin and some messy curls to go along with it. “Ladron, will you stop harassing women?”

I shot her a dirty look. “Just because I’m the only one with a Y chromosome in this shop doesn’t mean you can pick on me.”

Phoebe, in all her hotness, knew she could get away with saying, “No, it just means we make you do the dirty work and you don’t complain.”

“Right, next time the trash needs taking out, you know where to find Izzy.”

“Shirking already? I might just have to give you a write up for that!”

“Add that to the dozen others and we’ll make a mosaic or something,” I chuckled. “Anything happen while I was back home?”

Isabelle spoke before Phoebe could. “We got robbed.”

My boss sighed and rubbed her cheek. “Yeah, that’s kinda the big news.”

My jaw dropped. “Holy crap, is everyone okay? Who was working when it happened?”

Izzy raised her hand. “I was. The guy didn’t even pull a real gun, apparently. Cops caught him halfway down the street with a ‘die cast cap gun’.”

“... You got robbed-” I started.

“It was a stressful situation!”

“He almost put a cap in your ass.”

“Fuck off!”

Phoebe was too busy cracking up to care about my teasing and Isabelle wasn’t taking it to heart, so I left it at that and started asking about some of the things that needed to be done around the shop. Apparently there wasn’t much, but the app we used for our card-reader was down for maintenance, so we switched to the backup and got the shop opened for the day. I wasn’t surprised when Kara came in with a couple of guys I recognized from her little break-up messages, but I didn’t have to deal with them, and I’d already told Isabelle that Kara was on my shitlist. The day went by smoothly until my Discord started blowing up like I was suddenly the freshman with the perfect ass all the seniors couldn’t wait to sink their teeth into. At least, that’s what I thought when I saw my direct message list. I checked the majority of the messages after my shift since I don’t like wasting time on the job, but it’s not like it would have mattered. It was like half of the people I knew at school that were either LGBTQ of some kind or into obscure music were hitting me up out of nowhere telling me to listen to It Started At Primal, Real Ambrose, and Ad Infinitum: the three songs Bryce was trying to get me to listen to the night prior. Some of the gamer tags were from mutual friends, but a good seven or eight people were unfamiliar, and I didn’t really associate with that many people from school outside of my study group.

Thoroughly creeped out once I read some of the intensity in some of the messages, I resolved to at least look up the lyrics to the songs, but nothing in them really gave me any clue as to why anyone would want to listen to the songs. The first and last weren’t even supposed to have many recognizable words in them, so it just struck me as something odd. The weird crap kept adding up ever since Vaux Faker had made its way into my repertoire, though it’s not like I could ask anyone other than Mr. Weird himself about it since it was still underground like no other. I ended up finishing my shift at Wake n’ Shake with an hour to spare before my first class, so I went home to grab my board and another cup of coffee. Mr. Dorset wasn’t exactly the worst when it came to attendance, so I figured I had some leeway in my schedule, enough to stop by my favorite little bodega. As long as someone showed up long enough to pass his class, that was really all he cared about. The people who were serious about composition and making their own music were already knee deep in his curriculum or caught the VOD Tracy Davidson streamed during his first class. I would’ve been more adamant about going to his class if it wasn’t just making music, which Zephyr already knew how to do. Still, there was homework to be turned in, so I checked my laptop case for my class flash drives and grabbed the one for Dorset’s class.

With all of my crap gathered together in my backpack and my non-crap in my padded laptop case, I hit the streets with my trusty old longboard. The brand had long worn off the bamboo of the board, but it was still perfectly fine to ride. Passing the occasional cyclist and a few pedestrians on my way back to school brought me back to the familiar feeling of everyday life, where everything was pretty much as it should be. Yeah, I was single again, but I was pretty sure that Shelly would happily change that for me if I asked. Yeah, one of my best friends was being a dick, but I didn’t really care. Yeah, I was hiding the fact that my borther’s girlfriend was abusing pills, but… Well, that one was just what it was. Other than those three things, I wasn’t really worried about anything, and I could pretty easily whittle those worries away with facts and logic served on hard tack.

Getting to school is always the easy part, but getting to class? With the rent-a-cops patrolling campus, you can’t speed up the process any by hopping on a board or strapping on a pair of skates, and there are too many douchebags that throw crap at you anyway to try. No, I had fifteen minutes to cross Curtis, and I was trying to do it in a decent fashion without making myself look like a slightly portly, gangly fool. There weren’t any mirrors on my path for me to check, but I was sure that I was pulling off whatever style it is I happened to fit into well, and if I didn’t, then why waste time stressing over it?

A few of my classmates and I made it to Dorset’s class in time to not get chided or nagged at for being late, though it was always in jest when he did it. The class was as boring as usual, which is to say that Dorset gave it his all when it came to making music interesting, but if the spark wasn’t there, it just wasn’t there. For me, it wasn’t so much that I found his class boring so much as his tone of voice. His vocal range was abysmal for being a professor at a college of music, and it usually sat just in the middle of his register where it was at its drollest. He was a man worth listening to, just not a man that you could do so easily with. At the end of his class, I was preparing to hand in the next assignment online because I’d worked on it a few weeks prior when Dorset called me down to his desk and asked to have a quick word.

The deceptively dour-faced, wiry old man loomed over me, even with me being at least six feet tall without shoes on and with my hair wet. He sat back on his desk as I approached, seemingly as calm as the day had been, though something seemed a little off to me about his eyes. They didn’t stay in one place very long as I asked, “You wanted to see me, sir?”

“Yes, yeah, just for a moment, Mr. Gadai. Just wanted to talk to you about something you made, or rather, something you posted.” He looked over my shoulder, prompting me to do the same.

People were still leaving when I checked, but most of them were off to their next class or wherever they called home. “Gonna have to be more specific there, Professor. I kind post a lot.”

“It’s about Somnus and Montana.”

My heart skipped a beat, but I didn’t realize why my body rejected the idea of my professor hearing my music until a second later. “Professor… I never posted either of those songs.”

Dorset didn’t rest his eyes on me until the last student was out of the room. “You’re playing a dangerous game, son.”

“... Sir?”

He narrowed his eyes at me. “If you want your comps to stay personal, get them off of your school computer.”

“Wait, are you saying someone’s stealing the music I don’t post?” I asked, surprised that I’d get plagiarized.

Professor Dorset looked at me like I’d been talking sports while he’d been talking classical gourmet. “... You…” He trailed off, looking confused before he started nodding. “Why don’t you take a little break from making music, Mr. Gadai? It would seem that your latest work isn’t up to par.”

“Is there something wrong, Professor? None of this is making any sense. Is someone stealing my music or not?”

“... Yes, someone may steal your music, but not for the purpose of publishing it. Then again, who are we to call the use of music theft when one doesn’t profit from it monetarily?”

“Yeah, right. I think.”

“You’re a good young man, Ladron. Don’t get roped into anything you know you shouldn’t.”

I cracked a lopsided smile. “What trouble could a sophomore get into here at Curtis?”

“You laugh until someone’s bleeding and everyone’s phone is dead,” Dorset huffed.

“That’s when we start partying with the Drexel guys.”

“Got an answer for everything, don’t you?”

“Not yet. I’m still working on one for when someone says that.”

“Smartass.” Dorset chuckled. “Get out of here, Gadai, and remember what I said about getting into trouble.”

“Will do, chief.” We waved each other off and I started climbing the steps to leave the room, Dorset’s odd attitude and knowledge of my failed songs making my skin crawl.

It was easy enough to brush off the older mans words when I’d first heard them, but actually thinking about them made me wonder just how the hell he’d found my songs, how they were linked to me, and why he even cared in the first place. The whole conversation had been odd from the mood to the topic, and everything in between. For once in my life, I was actually afraid of the world around me because it was starting to make less and less sense. Paranoia was starting to hit me, but I couldn’t figure out why the intensity was as high as it was. Sure, the mystery around Vaux Faker and the people who made and listened to the music was deepening around me, but that wasn’t usually enough to make me scared of nothing in particular. No, the more I thought about it,. The more I was sure that my subconscious was secretly drawing lines between Bryce and his flock of friends and Dorset’s warning. I mean, it had come in a form that was pretty typical of what I’d been taught back in the day in D.A.R.E classes, and it was obvious that I should stay away from the scary sounds that made my head hurt, but there was just something about the enigmatic nature of VF that was getting to me.

I headed to my Schenkerian Analysis class next and that was as fascinating as it always was, but there was just too much needling at the back of my mind, distracting me from Professor Brun’s usual theatrics and sensational style of teaching. She picked on me for a few minutes since I wasn’t paying attention in her class, and that’s a one way ticket to ending up on her own personal shitlist. It was well deserved, even if I didn’t want to deal with her and her half-stupid, half-family-friendly jokes. After that, I had a few core classes to attend that I blew through without much of a care in the world since the typical academics had never really challenged me. Ironically enough I still couldn’t play a string or brass instrument to save my life, despite having been in Curtis for a year and a half at that point. Neither had ever been my strong suit, but then again, neither were the totality of the musical industry, just parts of the whole.

With a much needed distraction in mind, I left campus for the day and headed home, not partaking in any after school electives because I really wasn’t interested in anything other than making music or writing in my own time. Even when I wrote, I usually made a melody for the words so that I never forgot the story, so there weren’t really any clubs besides the poetry ones that I really wanted to join. Even there I never saw the point in gathering in a club just to do things you do in your own time, but then again I was an introvert that really didn’t even need friends to be happy. Give me a hundred followers on soundcloud to critique my music and that’s all I really needed to be happy, so when I went home, I thought about what Professor Dorset had said and wondered if I really should take a break from making music. It was honestly my entire life, and if I were to put it on hold, I felt like I would be waiting to breathe until I started making music again. My mind told me to listen to the older, wiser man, but my heart told me to stop thinking and just find something to listen to before I got a migraine, so I did just that and threw Bonobo’s Black Sands album on my record player and let the vinyl carry me into a nice, calm state.

Ruddy Rodney pounded on my door halfway through Stay the Same, so I turned it down and he went away, that being the general extent of our interactions. If Rod’s not blaring his jazz like he can raise somehow Armstrong from the dead with volume, then I’m usually trying to shatter the windows in the house with whatever weird music no one’s ever heard of. Shelly and I have similar tastes in music while Rod and Bart are both more orthodox with their approaches to music, but we make it work in The House. Well, Rod and Shelly hate each other, but they pretend to be nice while Marissa’s over, so mommy and daddy evidently don’t like arguing in front of the kids.

After Rodney got his knocks in, Shelly invited herself into my room, onto my bed, and then onto me me in the span of like, three seconds and one bounce. She then proceeded to bounce on me like I was a damn trampoline, or at least a tramp. “Hey, hey, hey, hey, hey-”

I would’ve looked at her if I could’ve seen straight, still being bounced along. “What, what, what, what?”

Shells planted her rump on my lower stomach and her hands on my shoulders. “Word got around about Kara!”

I rubbed my eyes under my glasses to try and get the blurry off of them. “And I care why?”

“Because that bitch broke your heart!”

“Kinda. She scraped it. Mommy Shelly already kissed my booboo better, so don’t sweat it, my gal.”

“... Dude, are you depressed or something?”

I stared at her. “Uh… No?”

“When’s the last time you ate?”

“Uh…”

“Bathed?”

“Last night.”

“Talked to someone because you wanted to?”

“I don’t do that.”

“Well, have you considered that it might be because you’re depressed?”

This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.

I rolled my eyes. “No, it’s because I’m jaded. You don’t have to be depressed to be jaded.”

“But a lot of jaded people are depressed, and you can’t tell me otherwise,” Shelly said resolutely.

I shrugged to the best of my ability. “Yeah, and?”

“When’s the last time you smoked?”

“When I was at my brother’s, though that’s not like it’s any of your business.”

“You told me you only smoke when something’s on your mind, right?”

“Shells, seriously, I’m fine. It was just some family business, y’know?”

She gave me a disbelieving look, as if she’d heard the same spiel before. “If I find out you’re lying to me…”

I patted her leg, her holey jeans augmented with some cute leggings underneath. “I wouldn’t lie to you, Shelly. You’re like, the only person I know who’d beat the shit out of someone for the sake of helping them.”

“Damn straight, and you better not forget it, alright?”

“God, you act like my big sister or something.”

“Think of me as the overly-friendly aunt with wandering hands.” She winked at me.

“Okay, this is officially weird.”

“Oh, come on! I haven’t even sexually harassed you yet!”

“And why don’t we keep it that way for today? Don’t you have class early anyway?”

“Ugh, don’t remind me. You’ve got me for the wake-up call, right?”

“Don’t I always?”

“Yup. Which makes me wonder when you sleep.”

“Eh, I’ll sleep tomorrow. I’m about to plug in and start comping if you wanna stick around.”

“Oooh, a little collab?”

“Yeah, we can post it on your secret Soundcloud,” I teased.

Shelly colored, her cheeks pinkening adorably. “It’s not a secret! I just don’t have that many followers on there yet!”

“I’m one of sixty.”

I got hit for saying that, but it was worth it. “Like you have any more!”

“Couple hundred, but you know that.”

Shelly glared at me, but it was routine at this point. Her being so physical was odd, but invading my personal space to essentially flirt and fool around was old hat. “Just because you have a better variety doesn’t mean you’re actually better.”

“No, living and breathing in pitch perfect harmony makes me actually better. It’s just a Ladron thing, I guess,” I answered, drumming a steady beat on her thigh in six-eighths time.

She scooted back to a place I would’ve rather she not have been, her assets having nothing at all to do with why. No reason whatsoever. “Seriously, man, how do you just… Make music all day? Like, I swear you make enough for a second life or some crap.”

“You’ve probably heard of my show, Hannah Montana.”

“Pssh, whatever, dude. I’m gonna invite Marissa over later if you want to hang with us for a bit.”

“I’ll-” I almost said ‘pass’ before carrying on with, “have to take you up on that. I guess it wouldn’t hurt for me to break routine every now and again.”

“Right? You’ll enjoy yourself, I promise.”

“So you say. Are you gonna hop off my schlong now?”

Shelly wiggled her brows at me. “What, you don’t like having sexy bombshells sitting on you?”

“That’s a loaded question and you’re sitting on a loaded gun that misfires.”

“Cute.” She patted my chest. “So when are you going to get over Kara?”

“I’m evidently over her already. Maybe I need to make a sad song to prove I don’t give a shit.”

“No, you need to get back out into the field to prove that you don’t give a shit. Maybe even get a little rebound action to prove that little Johnny still knows how to dance.”

“Shells, I don’t like sex.”

“Well, have you ever had it and not been pressed into it?”

“No.”

“That’s probably why.”

I gave her a flat look. “So you doing the thing you do is because…?”

“No one else really gives you shit like I do.” She grinned evilly.

“Oh my lord, will you screw off?” I asked, laughing.

“Ah, you know you love me.”

“Just a little. Seriously though, get off before this gets awkward.”

“Maybe I want it to get awkward. Ever think of that?”

“I’ll pull on your pubes.”

“That’s just rude!”

“Then scoot, missy.”

She scooted forward and backward, making things weirder for me than they had been. “Scooting.” I rolled over and got Shelly underneath me so I was on top, pinning her to my bed. I didn’t get a chance to make a remark before she said, “So this is what it looks like when you take charge. Could be hotter.”

“Funny as always.” I let her up. “Would you mind grabbing me a cup of coffee?”

“Coffee my ass. You shake enough without that crap.”

“You just wish I was your boytoy so you wouldn’t need a vibrator.”

She sighed. “Truer words, La-La, truer words.”

I rolled my eyes and got off of Shelly entirely, sitting next to her on my bed. “Hey, can I talk to you about something real quick?”

“Oh? Ladron’s actually opening up?” She teased, giving me a warm smile. “Just giving you hell, what’s on your mind, guy?”

I shot her a look. “It’s nothing really, but still it’s been on my mind for a couple days.” She gestured for me to continue, so I did. “What do you know about Vaux Faker?”

“I know that it’s not usually any good. Hell, even Bryce’s take on it really, really sucks.”

“You ever hear any of the hidden messages?”

“Nope, guess I’m not one of the unlucky few.”

“Right. Just wondering.”

“That’s not all, is it?”

“Not quite. Feels like I should be asking if you can keep this quiet or something.”

“You know I will, if anything then just because I like secrets.”

“Fair point. See, the thing is that I made a couple of songs over the break and while I’ve been home that have hidden messages in them, only I didn’t mean to put them in there.”

“Creepy.” Shelly said casually.

“Kinda, but that’s not all. So I send my creepy little discoveries over to Ulbrich, right?”

“Bryce?”

“Yeah, he’s made a couple of VF style songs and I was hoping he might know why the shit’s popping up in my music. Next thing I know he’s being a total prick and telling me to stop making music.”

“Wait, Bryce Ulbrich is not that kinda guy. Even if he wasn’t as sweet as a peach, he still wouldn’t be that mean. Not notably, anyway.”

“Right? That just didn’t make any sense to me, but then Bryce told me to listen to some of his songs in some stupid order and got like, half the homo sexual-sapians in school to-”

“Wait, what did you just say?”:

“I got a bunch of messages from random people telling me to listen to Bryce’s music.”

“... Yeah, okay. That’s weird, but that’s not it, is it?”

“Nah. So earlier today I’m in Dorset’s class, right? Well, he has me come down after his lecture and starts talking to me about the last couple of songs I made, but the only thing is that those songs never left my school computer.”

“What?”

“Exactly. Dorset started giving me this crazy warning about not getting into something dangerous, but I had like, no clue what he was talking about, and it’s like he just changed into a different person all of a sudden. I mean, yeah, a teacher at a music school’s gonna be a little weird, but not that kinda weird, you know?”

“Yeah… I guess. I dunno, Ladron, something sounds really fishy here.”

“That’s what I was starting to think, but I’m prone to paranoia. Something just isn’t sitting right with me.”

She smiled deviously, her canines popping out over her lower lip like she was a vampire with a fang disability. “That’s because I’m sitting to the left of you.”

“Good one! Ha! Ha! Ha!” I barked.

Shelly nudged me, giving me some serious side-eye. “Fake laughs are bad and you should feel bad. Anyway, you might want to do some more research into Vaux Faker and see what comes up. I’ll do some talking and listening if you want to comb the web.”

“I don’t know if there’ll be too much more out on the internet about it from the last time I checked, but it never hurts to be sure. Thanks, Shells.”

“Anytime, La-La. Speaking of time…”

“Yeah, yeah, your essay on measures is done. You have the coffee?”

“It’s in my room with your name on it, cutie pie.”

“Glad doin’ business with ya. You know, this is a wonderful friendship we have here.” I smiled and patted her back.

“Wait, are you friendzoning me?”

“Were you waiting on me to ask you out or something?”

Shelly glared at me for like, ten seconds before getting up and leaving me in her wake, surprised and enlightened. My own obliviousness shocked me, but I can’t say that it was a surprise in itself that Shelly was open to a relationship with me. However, I expected her to want to wait at least a couple of days before trying to catch me for herself. I didn’t think I was that desirable with my somewhat doughy frame being backed by the slightest hint of muscle tone. My messy black hair had never done me any favors in getting girls before, and the man behind my glasses seemed largely unimpressed with his own looks whenever I saw him, so I rarely worried about the opposite sex as far as romantic relationships went. I enjoyed female company, it was just that I didn’t feel the need to put my peepee anywhere other than my underwear most of the time, and the seldom whim that made me wank was as fleeting as my faith in humanity.

I resolved to buy my best friend and only female roommate a bag of Halloween candy and an eighth of something green and smelly as a bribe for her forgiveness. It could also be seen as a peace offering, but bribe sounds better in my book, so I’m going with that. The night was young by the time I was ready for a slumber, but I rarely slept two nights in a row and I’d slept the previous night, so I dedicated the midnight oil to making more music since that was kind of my bread and butter. Instead of making the beat first, I went ahead and did a challenge run, posting some sound bytes on Soundcloud in a folder so people could do my little challenge with me. I put out six different percussions, a few string instruments, and a couple of electronic type noises that all worked decently together. I ended up making two songs that I ended up calling Moonshine and Daybeam. I didn’t hear any hidden meaning in either of them at first, but a second listen through the first song made me wonder just what in the bloodiest of steaks was going on because I distinctly heard, ‘The pattern is the pattern, the ear-tour will yield’ on repeat, as well as ‘Fracture, Shatter, Break, Mend; The fear is in the ground, we will all rise again.’, which were similar things to that in which I’d heard from before in VF songs.

With Shelly mad at me and Bryce being a dick, I figured that the worst I could do was nothing, so I did something. I loaded up Soundcloud, found my playlist named ‘Peer-Pressuring-Polly’ and started it. From the first notes of It Started At Primal, I was creeped out like a crepe clown came to town just to perform at my birthday party, except I hate clowns, my birthday's in winter, I hate parties, and crepes are holy and to be untouched by clowns in general. Everything about the song was just wrong from the grinding bass to the screeching vocals.

Verily verily verily, I;

Verily Verily Verily, I;

Verily Verily Verily, I;

Sow the seeds; We mul-it-ply

Verily Verily Verily, I;

Verily Verily Verily, I;

Verily Verily Verily, I;

Lift the seals and open eyes!

For the sake of fairness, I’ll admit that the lyrics to that one weren’t terribly disturbing, but the rest of the song? It was just hard to listen to, and it wasn’t because it had to rhythm, though that was a part of it. No, everything about the song together and separately just seemed as though it were the antithesis of everything I knew about music altogether, but I didn’t even have time to get over the fact that serious, non-illegal-but-still-legit crimes had been committed against me and all people who’d made music in history. No, the crossfade started playing Real Ambrose while my mind was still weak, and I don’t say that lightly. Getting through the entirety of It Started Primal had taken some nerve and a lot of shock on my part, which I’m not kidding about. After the first minute, I don’t think I could have even gotten my headphones off in time to stop the rest of the playlist since I was just that much of a vegetable. The corn was real during the first song, but during the second?

Potato time.

Real Ambrose’s lyrics hadn’t seemed like they were that disturbing the first time I’d heard them. At least, not the first half anyway. The words had heat behind them to be sure, but listening to them with my mind still being raw from the insanity that was It Started Primal had me seeing the song in a new light. Namely, it had me hallucinating with my room turning into a den of some kind around my very being as I listened to the song. It wasn’t as if things were melting away. No, my desk simply faded away like it had never been there before along with my electronic equipment and some of my analog stuff. Bryce’s music still played in my ears as I came back to the semblance of reality that my mind could handle at the moment, which was little to none. I remembered who I was and where I should have been, but I knew that I wasn’t me, and it was obvious that I wasn’t in Philly anymore. The low light of the den was interesting to me since it came in streams of different colors, which made me realize that I was experiencing some manner of synesthesia to account for the lack of visible light in the semi-cramped space I was in.

Looking around yielded brownish-greenish black walls and streams of warm colors, so I figured that I’d follow the warmest one wherever it went since I had nothing better to do and I couldn’t hear the music anymore. Time didn’t seem to be made of the right kind of fabric at the moment, my long time experience as a person in the fourth dimension telling me that we’d gone from Kansas to Oz and I was Toto. I knew I had to be Toto because I was walking on four legs and it seemed pretty natural, but that was pretty much all that was remarkable about the body, and that includes the fur. Nothing seemed out of place, and that was another thing that helped ground me, to keep me on the level. For one, Ladron Gadai was notoriously lacking in the body hair department, and my facial hair never grew beyond a couple of inches anyway. Having a full-body beard didn’t sound like something I could pull off, so I figured that I’d suddenly gotten really, really high and thought I’d have fun as long as I wasn’t having a bad time.

I kept following the light trails down the tunnel that branched out from the original den until I broke daylight, the gradual incline leading me to a grassy knoll and a clear blue sky. The next thing I knew, I was surrounded by predators of all shapes and sizes as if my arrival had been the signal they’d been waiting for. In the moment I knew I was safe, that I was among friends or associates, but I didn’t know where the general feeling of ‘Stay on your side, I’ll stick to mine’ came from. It was familiar and inviting, as if the boundaries of the tasmanian devil were respected by the tiger, and the lone wolf’s by the bear. Each had their own little space and in that space they were Judge, Jury, and Executioner, which I respected as a loner myself. Even among the less threatening species around me, I knew that they could hold their own, that there were bigger fish in the sea than I. It was humbling, but not in a bad way. Up to a certain point I wanted to dive back into my hole and not come out to face the animals/people waiting for me, but I knew it would be rude to waste their time since I’d taken nigh on twenty-one years to greet them properly. How I knew that, I didn’t know, but I was well aware of the fact that I had a snout and that was cool.

Stepping out of my den with caution in my paws and my ears high, ready to pick up the slightest noise, I prepared to give an opening statement. Or blather. Whichever. However, Just as I opened my mouth to speak, the scene before me faded just as my room had and I found myself in a new place, but back in my familiar body. Away from the smells and sights of the world before, I found myself lost in the memory of the land. The air had been cleaner, more floral than that of anywhere I’d been. The world had seemed to be made of brighter colors, everything more vivid and realistic in turn while the smells had been more intense and diverse, which I attributed to my animalistic senses. The warmth that I held close to my body with my fur reminded me of blankets during cold winter nights, but as a hug that kept my body defended against the roots and rocks in the tunnels I’d painstakingly dug for both safety and slumber.

The squeal of a microphone brought me back to the new location I found myself in, the man before me being barrel-chested and jolly in disposition. He seemed like a friendly fellow with his white, U-shaped haircut and red cheeks, but I didn’t want to assume anything. After all, I had just been some manner of small animal before, and I had no idea what was happening at the moment. I waved at the man and he gave me a wink, thumbing his nose and giving his beard a stroke as his hideous scarlet suit stretched along with the motion. I checked my own clothing situation and saw that I was wearing a snow leopard-print three-piece with a black metal pocket-watch, black metal rings, and a black and white handkerchief in my breast pocket.

I took out my hankie and cleaned my glasses because I thought it made me look casual in the face of whatever the hell was happening to me. “So when did I drop acid?”

The heavyset man chuckled, his voice as deep and welcoming as I’d assumed it would be. “With intent you will surmise; begin, continue, then demise. All that starts will have an end; the cycle keeps turning, begin again.”

I was surprised that he spoke in literal music, as in with bass and trombone to accompany his lyrics, but I was a little confused until it hit me. “Ad infinitum. Until the end of time.”

He winked and the scene changed once more, but this time I was in bed and nothing was happening. The odd feeling of being out of touch with reality was gone and the familiar feeling of being me was back, which I appreciated then more than ever. In my haste to make sense out of what had just happened, I neglected to see the early morning sun and was late to Wake n’ Shake for my shift, though Phoebe forgave me since I looked like hell. Feeling as bad as I looked, I made it through the work day and the school day one after the other, but before I could get off campus, my History of Music professor from the previous year, Ms. Benson, caught me as I passed her on my way to Clancy’s. I wanted to hurry up and get some comfort food from my favorite little Mom n’ Pop, but Benson wanted to chit-chat and ask about my nonexistent hangover. She went ahead and assumed the worst of one of her best students in recent memory (Her words, not mine) and told me that she’d happily whip me up a quick batch of her sure-kill hangover cure. When you’re not hungover, you tend not to be dehydrated, which would be the point of drinking a slurry of different sports drinks.

Once I got away from the lovely world that is people pretending to care, I got home and got my coffee from Shelly’s room. She got me a dark roast and that was fine, but I generally preferred a medium or light since they had better fragrances, and I’m nothing if not a nut for good coffee. Still, it was a good brand and it was what l favored, so I wasn’t complaining. I didn’t have any classes the next day, which would usually mean that I’d be making music all night and all day, but I just couldn’t find the motivation to do it. I didn’t even finish my cup of coffee, and that’s rather unusual for me. It took me three hours to contact Bryce, but it only took him thirty seconds to agree to meet up with me and discuss what had happened. We set a date for midnight and I prayed that my sleep wouldn’t be as restless as my day had been.

Bryce met me at my usual dive, Clancy’s, late at night for a burger and a talk. He got a burger while I loaded up on chili cheese fries and a tenderloin, compliments of Harry the sketchy chef. After we got our food, I opened the conversation with, “The fuck is going on, Bryson? This shit is beyond normal level of crazy, man.”

He nodded a couple of times and shrugged, dipping one of his fries in his side of gravy. “Well, man, there’s a few ways to explain this, and I’m kind of tired, so you just ask what you want to ask and I’ll find a way to answer.”

“Alright. What’s the deal with Vaux Faker? Why does it have hidden messages?”

He gave me a look. “I should’ve started. The reason VF has hidden messages is because it’s supposed to. Without the special frequencies, it wouldn’t have any power.”

I stared at him like he’d lost his damn mind. “Have you lost your damn mind?”

“You hit me up because you broke through, right?”

“... Meaning?”

“You felt your spirit form. Spoke to Santa. Ad Infinitum and all that, y’know?”

“Dude, you’re shit at explaining things.”

“Well, maybe that’s because I barely know anything,” Bryce huffed.

I sat back in my seat, visibly frustrated. “If you barely knew anything then why did you pretend to know shit?”

“Because I do know shit. I was born into this, man.”

“Then explain!”

“Fine, if you wanna be a little faggot about it.” The look I gave him was enough to make him shoot me a shit-eating grin. “So you know the human hearing range is like, Twenty to twenty thousand hertz, right?”

“I do now.”

“Right. Anyway, outside of the regular frequencies we can hear, there are certain frequencies and soundwaves that interlink and cross slash crash against each other, but that happens all the time. The special thing about Vaux Faker and the messages is that they’re made up of the crashing, liking frequencies. You with me so far?”

“... So things I’m not supposed to be able to hear make things I can hear?”

“Exactly. Think of Vaux Faker as a genre of spell, and think of the messages in Vaux Faker as the quick and dirty way to cast spells.”

“... You’re high as fuck.”

“It’ll be like, ten times easier to just show you.” He snorted, rummaging around in his pocket before pulling out an odd looking whistle that was somewhere between an ocarina and a pan flute. “This baby right here is mine and mine only. No touchy, only looky, capische?”

“Aye, aye, craptain. Is that your buttplug?”

“That’s homophobic.”

“I ain’t scared of you, homo.”

“Fear me and my rainbow ray!”

“I’ll give you a quick kek and ask if we can get back on task. Are you gonna blow the whistle on a system of magic older than time itself or something?”

Bryce smiled. “Not as dumb as you might look. Now listen close and hear me when I say that this is gonna blow your mind. Stay cool okay?” I nodded and he pressed his lips to his little device, his cheeks puffing out slightly as he somehow spoke his native language of something European through the whistle-whatchamacallit.

I didn’t ask what he was saying, but I knew the effect it was having on our surroundings. Immediately the same inky blackness that was filling the night outside was creeping into the diner, the lights shining, but not putting off any light. Soon all I could see was the lights and the excited, fearful chatter of the few patrons and employees in the diner at the ungodly hour. Then just as slowly as it had started, it stopped and the darkness receded, life continuing on as if it had never happened for our waitress. She stopped by to bring me another order of double-crispy regular fries with a smile and a wink, topping off Bryce’s water with an icy pitcher. Once she was gone, I looked at Bryce’s confident smirk and was tempted to burn him at the stake for witchcraft and black magic.

Instead of going all Salem on his ass, I settled for asking, “What the fuck?”

“You wanna do that too?”

I looked at him for a moment, one that seemed to stretch on long beyond it’s deserved

Span. It took me time to answer because Professor Dorset’s words were ringing through my ears, his warning as clear as day in my mind. There was no doubt about it. I was on the cusp of something greater than myself; maybe even greater than music. Bryce had shown me the possibility of a world beyond that of which I already knew, and me being me I knew that I’d regret it for the rest of my life if I turned down the chance to do something cool with noises.

“I’m in.”