Tales from the P.A.D.

Simple Minds

Humans aren't that special. We like to think that we are, but that's just arrogance. We say we are better because we can laugh, we can love, we are smart, we make things, so on and so forth. Don't get me wrong, I appreciate all of those things, but when you think about it, all we've done is taken things unique to humans and elevated their importance specifically because they're what we do best. It's in our nature on an individual scale to take what we are good at and think it's more important and valuable than what we are less good at, and we do the same on a species scale. However, we really are the same as other animals. Our complex brains merely result in a more complex expression of our base, animalistic thoughts and desires. I have my recent trip to Paris to thank for reminding me.

We here at the Paranormal Anomaly Department do not get any days off. Our work is too important and too clandestine to allow for such things. That being said, the boys and girls up the ladder know a happy worker is a helpful worker, so they find little loopholes and workarounds. As such, I found myself temporarily transferred to Site 452 in Paris for two weeks in August for "data gathering," which basically meant it was my job to wander around the city at my leisure and keep my eye out for anything strange. It apparently didn't matter that I don't speak or understand a lick of French.

Things were uneventful for the first week and a half. I was diligent and had made sure to check the Eiffel Tower, Notre Dame (it was a shame she was still being rebuilt after the fire), the archway, and just about every fancy restaurant I could find, all covered by the P.A.D. as work expenses of course. I had a lot of pushback from the locals due to my inability to speak their language, but when it came down to it, they all knew English and I didn't care if I was being a stereotypical American jerk. It was my not-vacation-vacation, and I was going to enjoy it. Everything was fine until I decided to visit the Louvre.

Most people would just visit during regular hours. They'd take the tour. They'd stand packed like sardines and strain to get a picture of the Mona Lisa on their phone to post on social media. But not me. I was on vacation and was feeling special, so I figured I would treat myself. There are few places a P.A.D. agent can't get into save locations guarded by the P.A.D. itself. Our tech is state of the art and sometimes even semi-anomalous once rigorous testing has determined it to be safe. That meant that my I.D. badge was more than enough to get me inside the museum at 2:00 AM on Thursday morning. It was a good thing I decided to visit when I did, too.

I didn't know if they were featuring any special exhibits, but even if they were, I was fairly certain that there was no normal technology out there that could change the orientation and gravity of each individual room and corridor, and yet that is exactly what had occurred. No alarms had gone off and the power was out. My best guess was that whatever had rotated the museum segments was messing with a few other laws of physics too. I tried calling for backup and was able to get through.

"Oui?"

"This is the American Agent on temporary assignment. I'm at the Lourve. We need a squad down here ASAP."

"Parler correctement français ou être ignoré." It's thanks to the bodycam footage and audio recordings the P.A.D. keeps that I can even relay what was said. One of these days I should look up a translation.

"What? Sorry, I don't speak French, but I know you speak English. I need backup."

"Vous, Américains stupides, pensez que vous pouvez nous diriger? Nous allons nous en occuper. Nous vous suggérons de partir. Notre équipe arrivera sous peu."

I had no clue what they were saying other than the word "stupides," and they evidentally didn't care if I did. I decided to stay and keep investigating myself just in case.

I neared a corner and saw that there was a ninety-degree rotation past the wall. I tossed a quarter from my wallet through the invisible barrier. Once it crossed, it fell forward onto the floor. There didn't seem to be any damage incurred from crossing the barrier, so I gingerly inched my way forward. The moment my toe crossed, everything shifted and I was pulled in. It was a bit disorienting, but it only took a few seconds to readjust. I made my way from room to room, pistol at the ready in case the cause of these gravitational anomalies was sentient and harbored ill will toward intruders.

It only took about a minute before I heard footsteps. I passed through a doorway and fell upwards to find a shadowy figure in a brown monk's robe holding a large book. The figure faced away from me and was approaching the Mona Lisa. There was a low rumbling sound, and then the entire case holding the painting detached from the wall and floated toward the figure. It caught it with its free hand and then turned to face me, revealing it was a middle-aged white male.

"Imbécile. Reste en dehors de mon chemin," he said.

I replied not with words, but with several rounds of lead. The man laughed as my bullets changed course a foot in front of him and flew into the ceiling. I emptied my clip and charged at him. I wanted to test his limits and see if he could only use his powers in short bursts. My bullets flew every which way except at him.

I was now close enough to try to use my bare hands. I dropped my pistol, which flew to the left. Thinking fast, I made a haymaker with my right fist. Sure enough, my punch was accelerated as my whole body was pulled to the right. My hand stung from the blow, but not nearly as much as it must have hurt him as we were both sent hurtling to the wall. I landed on my feet and he fell onto his back. He used his own body to cushion the Mona Lisa.

He had managed to stay holding the mysterious book through his tumble. It flipped a few pages of its own accord. The room then rotated and sent me flying back onto the floor that was now where the far wall had been. My assailant remained on the wall as he climbed to his feet. It had now been confirmed that the book was the cause of the anomalies, and so my goal became to remove it from his grasp. I ran and managed to catch my pistol as it fell to the ground. I scrambled to reload but was unable as I was smacked to the ground by an invisible force.

The man tossed me around a few times. A few of my ribs were cracked and I was feeling nauseated from the constant gravitational shifts. The only thing I could think to do at that moment was to play dead, so I did. I closed my eyes and let my body go limp. It worked, and the man stopped flinging me around. I heard his feet touch the ground near me. He was coming to confirm his kill.

"Vous étiez arrogant de penser que vous pourriez me correspondre."

Maybe it was because I've seen too many action movies, maybe it was because I really am a stereotypical American, or maybe it was just because I was on vacation and wanted to have some fun, but I had to get in a quick quip.

"Donde está la biblioteca," I said as I opened my eyes. He was standing directly over me. He was confused by what I had said, and so he was too slow to react. I knocked the book out of his hand and sent it into the air. He tried kicking me, but even while injured I was still better trained than him. I grabbed his ankle and yanked, knocking him down and making him drop the Mona Lisa. I then rolled on top and pinned him by the neck with my left forearm. I reached out with my right, caught the book as it fell, and snapped it shut.

The entire museum began rumbling and shaking as the anomalies were undone and the rooms spun back to normal. I had already cuffed him by the time the local French P.A.D. agents arrived. I was glad they had decided to investigate. My adrenaline was wearing off and the pain of my injuries was sinking in. Thankfully, the Mona Lisa, as well as the rest of the art, had not been harmed. The man himself was determined to have no anomalous traits, and so after a thorough interrogation that revealed his goal was to steal and sell valuable paintings, his memory was rewritten to exclude knowledge of the anomalous and he was released. The book is still in P.A.D. custody locked up somewhere for the foreseeable future.

It's rather funny. He had all that power. He had arcane knowledge the likes of which most cultists could never hope to hold, and what did he do with it? He used it to steal some art. He used an anomalous artifact with the power to control gravity just to make a quick buck, or Euro, or Frank, or whatever they're using down there these days. Who knows what would have happened if he had possessed loftier goals, but thankfully we will never find out. He just wanted money so he could meet his normal human desires of comfort and things that stimulate the five senses. It's a good thing we caught him. Now, that book will never be used again by anyone for any reason. Anomalies are always bad unless we can use them to contain and hide the existence of other anomalies, and this book would just cause more problems than it fixed.

Things are better this way. Anomalies belong in our containment. We know best.