At The Sign of The Screaming Monkey's Head
Episode 4 - Cohabitation
What has gone before
Fred is awakened from a dream, shown a rock or something with etching on it and a rolled up parchment with words and an equation. They seem familiar, but on the razor edge of his consciousness. He is given some dark steaming concoction to drink, and enters into a dream state and orally relates it to Kindly Bob and Sylk. He wakes and when asked to continue relating the dream, he describes a different scene. Kindly Bob and Sylk need answers and tell him to drink more - he passes out and …
Strange would be the sight if someone entered the Sign of The Screaming Monkey's Head at this moment. They would be presented with the image of a greyish unkempt man slumped on a bar stool, two incongruent characters at his side.
On his left, an expanse of darkness, leaning softly over and whispering in his ear. On his right, a flickering brightness in an apron, murmuring rhythmically into his other ear. Before him, a bit of stone, and some sort of cloth or paper.
"You are nearing a decision point," Sylk breathed into the right ear, affecting the left hemisphere of Fred's brain.
Sing song from Kindly Bob directly to the right hemisphere:
"Many are the answers,
many are the questions,
what not to know?
what not to know?"
They worked in harmony, splitting the brain function, separating Fred's personality, opening up potentialities. Their need was great. What had happened?
Kindly Bob, still chanting, raised one of Fred's eyelids. The eye darted to and fro, up and down. “He's in," he told Sylk.
Gently they lifted him, still whispering and chanting, and carried him to the back room. Laying him on the bed, they left, closing the door behind them. Kindly Bob paused outside the door, manipulating something on the wall. A faint hum, and the doorway slid to the side and disappeared into the corner. He and Sylk rearranged some boxes against the wall, and surveyed what was now a simple storage cubby off the main hall. Nodding at each other, they returned to the main room. Sylk asked "How long?"
Fred looked at his watch-less wrist, and considered the question. Looking back up at Sylk, he pressed his lips tightly, then replied, "30 hours, according to the Formulary. But, he went under too fast. I don't know what that means."
"Too fast?" asked Sylk.
"Well, faster by about a third than what I was told. It should be within the margin." He stopped, looking back toward the hidden storage room. "I think.” Then, “Shorter or longer though? Shorter would be better." Shaking his head slowly and looking up at Sylk with a small grimace, he added, "It's hard to say. Why two dreams?"
Sylk just nodded and sat at the bar with furrowed brow, and took up the stone and vanished it into his cloak. Kindly Bob folded and put away the parchment. They exchanged knowing looks, and Kindly Bob drew Sylk another Stout.
"Hard days are coming," said Sylk, regarding himself in the mirror behind the bar. "Indeed. And harder nights," was the grim reply.
Kindly Bob prepared himself a green liquid, and Sylk raised an eyebrow.
"Ahh yes, the Greene Faery," said Kindly Bob, hoisting his glass. "'Tis a slight indulgence."
With an easy movement, Sylk gained possession of the glass, but found himself with a stout in one hand, the illegal drink in another, and a knife at his throat. Raising his eyes slowly from the knife to lock gazes with Kindly Bob, he said, "You will look funny with that knife sticking out your ass." It was an observation, not a threat.
Kindly Bob considered this a long moment. Slowly he retracted the knife, and then it was gone, as quickly as it appeared. "I forget myself," was his only apology.
Sylk poured the green evanescence out onto the floor, where it was absorbed by the thirsty wood planks. Handing the glass back to Kindly Bob, he said, “You are an addict.”
"My kind cannot get addicted. Not in the usual sense. Sometimes we crave--release. But, you should know that. It's in my bio."
"No," said Sylk. "It's not."
Kindly Bob cocked an eyebrow. "That's interesting," he said. "I wonder what else we might want to know about each other that was left out?"
"And was it deliberate?"
"They do nothing accidentally," said Kindly Bob.
Sylk added, “I was told you were an addict.” “My kind cannot get addicted,” Kindly Bob repeated. “And we are notoriously quick.”
“That was in your bio.”
“How did you get the glass from my hand?” Sylk stared through Kindly Bob a moment and then replied, “I was told of your predilection. It seemed right that you should attempt to imbibe.”
“That’s not an answer.”
Sylk took another drink.
Kindly Bob blurred, and the knife was in his hand then gone.
Sylk raised his glass, made a toasting gesture and said, “Yes, you are very fast.”
Kindly Bob continued, "You should not have been able to get the glass out of my hand.”
“And yet…”
“How?”
“I reached out and took it.”
If Kindly Bob was frustrated by Sylk’s taciturn replies, he did not show it. He changed tack. “You seem to know more about me than I do about you.”
Sylk took another drink. Kindly Bob stood impassively, and waited. Sylk drained the glass, and set it in front of Kindly Bob, and said, “There is not much to know about me. I was born on Cielo Sin Sol and had training from my youth from one of those rare entities - an actual master.”
Refilling Sylk’s glass, Kindly Bob said, “You telegraph nothing. Nothing I could see…” He paused, attempting to relive the event in his mind. “It felt like time stopped."
“Time does not stop,” said Sylk.
"You on the other hand are not particularly quick, not that I had noticed anyway. Yet, you had the glass before I realized it." Incredulously, "That has never happened."
Sylk took another drink, then said, "We have some time to compare notes. There seem to be - gaps.”
Kindly Bob poured himself an acceptable drink, and they began exchanging information in low tones over the bar.
After about 90 minutes of low earnest discussion, Sylk rose and stretched. Hoisting himself up onto the bar, he straightened up his spine. Sitting tall and still, legs crossed, hands on his knees, he closed his eyes.
He took a long deep breath, held it for 8 powerful heartbeats, and let it out slow and controlled through his nostrils, another 8 count. Small furrows in his brow relaxed and disappeared. One more slow deliberate breath and he opened alert sparkling eyes, turned to Kindly Bob and said, "Let's prepare for what may come."
"I wish I could do that," Kindly Bob said, a wistful look on his face.
Sylk was mildly surprised. "Your kind doesn’t need sleep."
"There's a difference between needing, and wanting," was the flat response.
The night passed. The grimy windows, once the darkest feature along the far side of the tavern, were now ghostly panels of grey, betraying the coming dawn.
"We've just got time for a sweep and a mop," Kindly Bob said to Sylk, pointing to a closet on the opposite wall. "I'll get these dishes and glasses, and fire up the stove." They busied themselves, preparing for the breakfast trade.
At 6 a.m. there was a tap at the tavern door. Sylk vanished from the room, and Kindly Bob, looking fresh and relaxed, went to unbar the door. As he let in the morning waitress, he whispered to himself, “Why two dreams?”