Chapter 1
The stocky security guard nodded at him as Ken Nagib walked briskly past the big desk and toward a side door. His mind searched for a parting word, but as he saw the officer return his attentions to a digital handheld device in front of him he abandoned the effort and simply said "Yep," letting the employee door close behind him. Handheld web-browsing and online attractions such as Facebook, StumbleUpon and the many digital video carriers had become a vice of many with boring, routine-based jobs. It was, in Ken's opinion, a nose-eating and succubitic diversion from actual, carbon-based life. They may as well have hired a Baobab tree, which would certainly fit better in the museum's budget.
The Blair Diversity Museum brooded high above him as the lone curator made his way across the parking lot to his car. The night was still young, though he had spent enough overtime at work today to have been the last man out save for the two security guards on duty, rotating like some creepy, soulless planetarium display between the desk and their break-room. He whispered a simple charm to Horus, the falcon-headed hero of virtue and wished them both the strength of hawks to withstand the long night. Or maybe, Baobab... trees.... One more creepy and soulless thing, like everything about Ken's work. He flicked on the radio and began driving home.
At home, Ken was eating his supper, a TV dinner, while checking his online mailbox at the computer. To conclude his correspondences, he responded to a friend's reminder that yes, he would indeed be showing up to the wine tasting party and bringing a good red wine to sample. After finishing with the computer, he opened a cupboard and began rummaging for a set of ingredients. He withdrew and placed on the counter a small Ziplock bag of all-natural loose tobacco, another of ground Angelica root, and a bottle of Quinine tablets. He heated a super-sized coffee mug full of water in the microwave, while crushing the big Quinine tablet in a mortar and pestle decorated with hieroglyphic-style animals. He pulled the hot water from the microwave and added the powdered Quinine, followed by a pinch of each of the plant components. From under the counter he drew a bottle of Bacardi 151 rum and sprinkled a fly's tithe into the potion, then another. He added some ice cubes.
He drank the bitter concoction, then went into his ceremonial room and spoke a prayer in ancient Egyptian, which included the names of many gods. His shadow pulsated with the flames of two candles as he mentioned his patron and matron deities, Amun and Amaunet, and he closed with a special prayer to Bes, bringer of dreams. He was hoping to discover something meaningful in the chemically-aided dream quest he was attempting tonight.
He blew out the candles and once he was in his bedroom, turned on the light to look at his reflection in the mirror on the wall by his bed. Dressed only in his briefs, he looked terrific. He had the face of a charismatic and kind Arab, and a figure befitting of an underwear model. On his chest at thymus level was a tattoo of a stylized scarab-beetle with feathered wings outstretched. Maybe a lover would be revealed to him tonight, one less complicated and impossible then his last try at something real.
The light went out and into bed he crawled, his clarity of mind quickly descending back into the soupy, primordial oblivion of the sleeping and the unborn. Deprimatized by the alcohol, it wasn't for a few unnoticed hours that the other things in the brew took their effect.
Ken found himself in an old, familiar setting of a college party he attended while in school. Only his attention was drawn to a closed door he had never seemed to notice before. Sure, there were other doors -- but this one just seemed... wrong. Like he shouldn't have been noticing it but somehow he was. He abandoned his conversation, in which he was a third party anyway and put down his beer, going toward a Persian-looking man with his bristly goatee who stood next to the suspicious door. "What's in here?" Ken asked the man, who replied with a thick accent "That is... the new one. Some people needed it for something, but I don't know for what. You don't need anything in there, I can tell that much." "Obviously." Ken replied. He noticed a very young girl across the room staring at him between the noisy crowds, as if she could not believe her eyes. "Why don't you check it out?" asked the very masculine party-goer. "I guess, why not?" said Ken as he opened the door and stepped through. In an instant there were very digital-sounding alarms clanging in the air and the party was replaced by a scene of shaven-headed people in tight, synthetic uniforms running frantically down the halls. As Ken joined them, he took notice of the terrain. If the walls of corridors could be "Ergonomic," these definitely were. They hinted at something like H.T.Geiger's artwork, and the frantic people running down the oddly organic passages were also like something out of a science-fiction movie. From within each of their shaven heads protruded a small tube of some glowing, green material. The ending of each tube was rounded and had 3 tiny black wires sticking out, like hairs on a fly. And the people, though of different races and not all of them men, were all perfectly sculpted human specimens at the peak of their vitality.
