Page 49 of Colin Gets Promoted and Dooms the World
“You mean your plan to impress your boss by saving the city?”
“Yeah.”
“But really it’s about punishing the people who’ve bullied you?”
“Right.”
“Butreallyit’s about your pathological need for power, which is actually a desire for control over a frightening and chaotic universe?”
“Uh…”
“Sure, I remember.”
“Did you find anything that points to whatever is making people disappear?”
Lex shook their head. “Nope. There are too many possibilities, even after cross-referencing rituals involving Management.”
I sighed.
“By the way, if you’re going to save the city, you might want to hurry it up,” Lex added. “Things are getting weird.”
“How do you mean?”
They gestured at our surroundings. “Dude, look around. It’s a beautiful morning in Central Park and we’re practically the only people here.”
I blinked, head turning. Lex was right. There should have been people everywhere, jogging or cycling or riding in horse-drawn carriages while said horses pooped in front of them. I’d been so wrapped up in my own problems that I’d failed to notice how eerily deserted the park was. Come to think of it, the subway had been emptier than usual on my way in to work as well.
Troubled, I walked along for a few more minutes beforeremembering my failed attempts to see the future. Ms.Crenshaw had mentioned other ways to divine information, hadn’t she? “What about taking a shortcut?” I asked. “Seeking answers from someone who can perceive in ways that we can’t?”
Lex eyed me sidelong. “I thought you said those poor bastards in Analysis and Logistics keep dying.”
“Yeah, their brains explode or whatever. That’s why I’m wondering about other options. Like, I dunno…the Prophets of the Black Sun.”
Lex grimaced. “Fuck those jerks. The only people they let into their little cult are cis-het white dudes, and—get this—they wearsockswithsandals.”
“Yeah,” I muttered, “so I’ve heard.”
“But you could try talking to the spirits of the damned. I ask them questions all the time.”
I stared at them as they loped alongside me. “Seriously?”
Lex shrugged. “Sure. I mean, what else do they have going on? They’re languishing in perpetual darkness, suffering for the rest of time. I think they appreciate it when I ask them where I left my keys or whether the latest M. Night Shyamalan movie is worth seeing. It gives them something to do.”
We walked along in silence for half a block. “Are they big fans of M. Night Shyamalan’s work?” I finally asked.
“Not really. But they keep hoping the next one won’t suck.”
The damned really are just like the rest of us, I thought.
I considered Lex’s idea all the way back to the office, and once we’d sent our orgy detritus down to the incinerators that burned somewhere deep underground, I finally said, “Okay. I want to talk to the spirits of the damned.” Then I paused. “Um. How exactly would I do that?”
Lex rolled their eyes and sighed. “Meet me in the Repository at five fifteen and I’ll hold your hand.”
You might have messed aroundwith a Ouija board when you were a kid. If so, you should probably know that they’re actually powerful conduits to the realm of the damned. Even the cheap, flimsy versions you find in toy stores and New Age boutiques are imbued with traces of dark magic. When I followed Lex into a small room on the Repository’s main floor, however, I discovered that the board we would be using was the real deal.
“Fancy,” I noted as I peered at its dark, polished wood. The board sat on a round table bracketed by two chairs in the middle of the room. Surrounding us were glass-fronted cases holding a wide range of divinatory objects while black candles flickered from every available surface, making spooky shadows crawl and shift across the ceiling.
“Yeah, it’s pretty cool,” Lex said as they settled into one of the chairs. “It’s made from the mortal remains of Elsabeth Brünner. The letters and numbers are carved from her bones, and the planchette is stuffed with trimmings of her hair and fingernails.”
