Gary’s not really present as they guide the paused ghost through dank, early night streets and twilight parking lots. He’s in his apartment lecturing Percy about how much weed he knows he’s been smoking and how he’s gotta get his head on right if he wants to go to college and stay in. He’s cycling through Percy’s friends, his exes, any dealers, and anyone else he’s seen Percy talk to lately, focusing hard to remember names, and faces, and Instagram profiles. Then Gary cycles through his own exes — ex-dealers, ex-girlfriends, ex-friends, any splits with rough edges that could brush up against his life again catch with jagged edges.

The seeping dark helps move Gary into autopilot as he slinks further into his head where the old stuff lives. Where all the times things could have went bad live and boil at his approach, soaking his feet and clothes so their fade lasts longer than it should. And so a chill bleeds in.

“Yo, Gary, you can stop. I don’t think this glitch cloud is going anywhere. Want a wasabi breadstick?” Diega’s eyes meeting his warm him back into the world. These girls always seem to reach into him with a burning piece of uncooked spaghetti to reignite the pilot light.

“Yeah. I could use a damn breadstick.”

WHAAAAT…Chill Monsters 8.mnstr was originally published in Moon Computer on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.

Dear Diary,

Do you ever feel like you’re just waiting to maximize? Like on those old Beast Wars cartoons? Like that episode where the tiger guy’s space pod got cracked and he wasn’t sure if he was an Autobot or a Predacon or a snow tiger till Waspinator was threatening to kill the real snow tigers, and he was like “That’s a dick thing to do. I don’t feel like a dick so I must not be one of these dicks here dicking things up.” Then he maximizes and Neo’s all the tiger teasers. Lately I’ve been thinking that everything in a person’s life is just lead-up to when they maximize. I don’t know why I’ve been thinking that. I think it’s just loneliness. I don’t know. I just don’t feel…it’s like I’m hungry but sandwiches and microwave burritos don’t help. Dale says I need a girlfriend. Mom says the same thing. Roger said maybe I don’t like girls and I accidentally exhaled “hillbilly bigot” cause he’s always talking about hating gays and gets in weird hissies when Mom watches Will & Grace reruns. He said if I was gonna be like that I could leave. At the door I said to Mom, “This is why we can’t have nice things.” I’m not sure what that meant. Mom told me Roger has to go in for colonoscopy tomorrow, so hopefully they’ll find butt cancer and he’ll die. If the world was perfect, we could use one of those machines like in Everything is Illuminated. Or whatever that Total-Recall-Jim-Carey movie is. We could use that after he died and forget Roger ever existed. That would be the best. I don’t know why everyone talks about it like I’m not interested in having a girlfriend. That would be the tits. If I had a girlfriend I probably shouldn’t say “tits.” It’d be so great if I had a girlfriend and she loved me so much and then I would be a better person from being around someone like that, cause she’d also be real cool and teach me things probably. Sometimes I love the future!

P.S. If Roger died, maybe Mom could marry a Mothman. He could teach me mind powers and I could help him revenge Richard Gere. Fuckin’ up Indiana like moth gangstas. I bet he wouldn’t have driven me to trying half an ecstasy and I wouldn’t have to be afraid of having drugs in my hair. Maybe I shouldn’t say “gangstas” anymore either.

Diary of Hunter Green 11.rtf was originally published in Moon Computer on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.

Two mice arrive on the moon. It’s serious business, but because they haven’t died a horrible, fiery or bone-cold space death, it’s also adorable.

Snakes in zero G space do one of two things: they become sad, scared, actual knots, or they attack themselves. Maybe they’re thinking, “Ah! What the hell’s happening?! How did I get here? Who put me here?! Ah! You! STOP!”

So, if you’re ever attacked by a snake, the trick is to get it in the air. Really lob it, just straight up. But always remember: gravity loves a good double murder. As the snake returns, you’ll have only split seconds to assess whether it’s done the dirty work for you up there and you can take one step to the right, or if you’re going to have to volley this legless vampire right back up into that blue yonder and become the best juggler that town has ever seen.

Don’t worry. This can’t go on too long.

One of you will get tired or turn on yourself. You’re probably both equally likely to encounter either scenario by anger or by shame. It’s the human condition. It’s also the serpentine condition. Maybe. We don’t get a lot of opportunities to ask them about their societal pressures or social afflictions. One of us always has their head in the clouds, full of tangy fear juice, which happens to taste a lot like cranberry juice, but with more sweat.

A possible loophole: trampoline.

Gravitas Anima.rtf was originally published in Moon Computer on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.

Principal Kelly didn’t know what to do about the mutant lagoon that used to be the school pool. And he didn’t know what to do about the kid who called him a white prick, Brendan Kerschl, or about calling the kid a white prick back. He was sure he shouldn’t have said that. He was telling himself to remember it and look for a time to show leniency. The problem was, there was no telling which kid would be a prick when and they were all trying to figure out how to press his buttons all the time, and some of them had shit home lives so you don’t want them to have shit school lives too, but shit, most kids’ school lives are shit. Damn standardized testing makes it worse every year and so do the god damn budgets being ripped to shit, taking away all the fun stuff like glee club and that larp thing and fucking French class. Shit.

Principal Kelly felt like his head was filling up with foam insulation, up to and out his ears. He realized he was supposed to be talking to the guy from Oasis Boys Pool Cleaning and Modelling about the school pool situation. He’d gotten distracted while thinking, What the fuck is pool modeling and how the fuck can you show up at a school to perform a service with your company name misspelled, and Jesus, this fucking budget.

The Guy from Oasis Boys Pool Cleaning and Modelling kept adjusting his hat and crimping the bill as he said, “Well, Mr. Kelly. I gotta tell you, I’m stumped. I’ve never seen anything like this. I don’t know how it’s got all this moss around it or the steam and heat since the heater’s been turned off. And the green-blue or whatever the hell glow it’s got? Man, I’ve just never seen anything like it.”

The change happened a few weeks ago. It’d been a while since they had it cleaned professionally, and it was starting to seem a little scummy. Kind of weird, but not really, cause it’s a fucking pool. Pools are gross. Especially pools that get lots of kids in them doing all sorts of gross things. But the scum wouldn’t quit.

One of the janitors that had tried to clean the pool went blind for about a day. Everyone thought she put too much chemicals in or something. After resting a few days, she came back and everything was fine. Day or so later, she tries to clean it again after she’s convinced the chemicals should’ve died down. No issue. Two days later, she’s in my office quitting so she can move to Arizona to be with her grandmother.

Principal Kelly asked, “Is it…Was it the thing with the pool? Cause we can get Shirley or Edgar to do it, it doesn’t have to be you. You don’t have to go back in there.”

“It…no. But yeah. But…it’s different,” she said. She looked nervous, exasperated. Like she was rushing to get somewhere.

“I mean, are you sure I can’t get you to stay? Is this about money? You know how the budget is, but I can see what I can do since you’ve always been good here. I mean, when a kid pukes around here and you come to clean it up, they say sorry and try to help. Anyone else comes, the kids are taping shit to their backs while they’re bent over cleaning up the damn puke.”

“It’s…I saw my mother. I saw my mother last night in the pool.”

“I don’t…understand. Your mom was there? What…how’d she get in? I mean, you’re not supposed to bring visitors here to use the pool. I’ll look past it, of course, but--”

“She’s dead, Ken.”

“Shit…Shit. You’re telling me…God, I’m sorry. I’m sorry for your loss. I am. But are you telling me you brought and unregistered visitor into this school to use the pool, and you brought your mom, and she died in the pool? Why didn’t you tell me about this? What--”

“No, Ken, shut up for a second. She’s dead. She’s been dead, for about seven years now. Last night, I was finishing up mopping the area around the pool. It was…bright. It was weird, the pool was bright, brighter than it shoulda been. But I had this feeling like someone was in there in the pool room. I looked up and there was my mom. Just standing and staring at me. She said that my gran was gonna die soon. In just a few months, maybe longer if she had some help, but she don’t have any help. She don’t have anyone out there with her. I blinked and my mom was gone, but I could feel it in my body. I could feel this was real. So I gotta get out there to help.”

“Shit.”

“Yeah.”

“Uh…shit.”

“Yeah. Shit.”

Lagoon High.rtf was originally published in Moon Computer on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.

It was the smell before anything. Salted air mixed with wildflowers and beach grass pulled Hereward Draper to consciousness by the nose. His eyes adjusted slow to the just-past-sunrise light off the water. For a moment, he thought he could make out a large, translucent shape in the distance. Something mostly ovate but with parts that flowed forth like falling water made solid. But as his eyes adjusted, the shape was lost and barely a memory.

A few days ago, Hereward tried to sell his plasma for cash for another tattoo, and if he traded Esther some old 70s comics, a taxidermied bobcat, and a switchblade with “Cool Breeze” engraved in the handle that he knocked off a gutter punk mean on a meth and mescaline cocktail, Esther would probably let him keep most of the money depending on the piece. The rest he could blow on smokes and food, maybe a day drunk for his friends, and some left over to kick to whomever was letting him stay on their floor or couch or in their car for the night. All of these divisions of funds disintegrated, though, when the nurse returned to tell him that they wouldn’t be able to accept his plasma. There was a discrepancy in the blood test. They weren’t sure of the cause, just that it didn’t meet required standards.

Disappointment trickled down his face, through his spine, and washed over him in a familiar panic. It was the first time Hereward had tried selling his plasma. He thought it’d be simple, but now he’d have to re-prioritize and spend his energies figuring out how to get at least enough money for a little food and some thanks for crashing wherever he’d end up crashing. At least he knew the discrepancy.

The Beard 2.hro was originally published in Moon Computer on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.

“I hate this.”

“Whaddya mean you hate it? Nothing’s even happened yet.”

“No, I hate this. I know when I hate something, and this is it.”

“Come on, it might not be too bad.”

“No, it’s just…It’s ridiculous.”

“Could be worse! It could be a, uh, a murder cave or somethin’. A cave of horrors or…knife cave. Would you rather have that, a knife cave?”

“Yes! I would. A knife cave or murder cave I can handle. It’s straightforward. But this? I don’t know what the hell’s in there.”

“I don’t mind a pizza cave. Smells pretty good. Looks like classic pepperoni. No fuss. Maybe we won’t have to get dinner later.”

“What kind of weirdo has reality-altering…whatever, hides out in a cave by the ocean, and turns the cave walls to pizza? I have no idea what could happen in there and it seems more and more likely it’ll be something worse than I can imagine. I can imagine dying, getting stabbed but good. Getting stabbed makes sense.”

“You think…whoever’s in there might turn us into pizzas? Some kind of pizza wizard?”

“Jesus, I hope it isn’t going to be all pizza-based. Who doesn’t love a good slice, you know, but if they start doing silly pizza shit in there, I’m leaving. I don’t care what happens, it gets silly, I get gone.”

“Hey, maybe it’ll be a good story. Somethin’ to tell the grandkids someday! If you ever have kids.”

“Just because you have kids doesn’t mean everyone else has to. I’m focusing on my career.”

“Hey, and I’m not? Just cause I got kids at home doesn’t mean I’m stagnant, or whatever. I got plans. ‘Sides, I gotta think about career too. Damn college tuition costs another $10,000 every time I hear about it.”

“Okay, I didn’t mean anything. Sorry, it’s just…this feels like a joke.”

“Maybe it is, to whoever’s in there. Whaddo we care, eh? It’s still a job worth doin’. Keep people from being hurt by whatever’s in there. Could even be an accident, you know? Some poor kid finds an old necklace, or gets zapped by something, and next thing they know they’re hungry and the walls suddenly turn to pizza. Or…you know. They accidentally blow up their own house while they’re asleep.”

“Yeah. That was a bad one.”

“Yeah, it was. Keeps me up sometimes. The fires. The kid. Someone could need help in there, Sid.”

“Sigh. Okay. You’re right, Eth. Okay. Let’s just…take a second.”

“Sure, sure.”

“Hphhh…Okay. Let’s do this. Power Face and Supercomputer. Another one for the books.”

“Damn right, Sid. Oh, and I’m gonna need you to come over for dinner next week. Make it Thursday.”

“Eh…we’ll see.”

“Okay. But Dhruv already got the stuff and he wants to cook for ya.”

“Just…let’s just do this and worry about that later.”

“Okay, okay. Cool, cool…But you’re comin’ this time.”

“Jesus, Eth! Okay, I’m going in.”

“Yeah, okay.” Supercomputer pumps her fist. “Let’s go! Whoo!”

Power Face Enters the Pizza Cave 1.hro was originally published in Moon Computer on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.

As you move through time, it moves through you. As with space. And sometimes, things can get caught in you, like dragging an open hand through a millpond. Some kind of detritus. What passed through and got caught in Hereward Draper was another kind of detritus, that of an ever rot deep in the cold of the cosmos, the loose cloud of energies that formerly made up a hunger with too much mind behind it for the other old wills of the gray dawn. Dead or dormant, and an unfortunate reminder that energy cannot be created or destroyed. Only transferred.

Maybe it can be changed, but that’s yet to be seen.

The Beard 1.hro was originally published in Moon Computer on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.

“No, come on, we need some answers,” said Diega.

“So, I’m kinda new to ghosts. I thought they talked,” said Gary.

“They do. I don’t know what’s wrong with this one. It’s gettin’ on my nerves, though. Hey, come on—”

As Diega grabbed the ghost’s hand, it looked terrified. Eyes as wide as they could go, a high-pitched, almost electronic whine emitted from its body. It seemed to be seizing.

The ghost’s light pulsed, changing colors. All anyone could do was stare at the spectacle. The ghost met Diega’s eyes as it shook and strobed. The whine grew, filling the room until the ghost looked straight up with its eyes closed and its teeth clenched, casting a final burst of pink light.

“Fuck!” said Diega, finally able to take her hand from the now suspended form.

“I don’t like none of this,” said Gary.

“I can’t tell how I feel. I mean, it was cool and I did record it for my Instagram story, but all the vague makes me feel…itchy,” said Estelle.

“Did someone hit pause or something? What’s this weird-ass thing doing now”

“He’s…disrupted, Gary. It’ll pass. I’ve seen it before. It’ll take a bit, though. Can you help us get it back to me and Estelle’s?”

Diega picked up a pair of hypercolor sweatpants from the floor and threaded her arms through the legs. Without putting her hands through the feet holes, she pushed against the ghost to find it would move and hover where it was motioned, as she thought it would.

“Yeah, I can help. But then I gotta get back to finding my brother. There’s some bad shit out tonight and he ain’t smart enough to avoid it. So, we just push it all the way back?”

“Yep.”

“Okay, you two push. I’ll order carryout since we’re going that way.”

“Fuck yes, Estelle. Blessed be. Oochie’s Pizza? Finally get those damn wasabi breadsticks and some ‘za?”

“Fuck yep, mama!”

“You’re too good for this world, E.”

“Ugh, you’re telling me.”

RELATED FILES ☾

Estelle: Home Screen — WHAAAAT…Chill Monsters.mnstr
WHAAAAT…Chill Monsters 6.mnstr
WHAAAAT…Chill Monsters 5.mnstr
WHAAAAT…Chill Monsters 4.mnstr
WHAAAAT…Chill Monsters 3.mnstr
WHAAAAT…Chill Monsters 2.mnstr
WHAAAAT…Chill Monsters 1.mnstr

WHAAAAT…Chill Monsters 7.mnstr was originally published in Moon Computer on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.

Hello! You’ve reached Helios Circuit support at GEM R&D. My name is Dave. How may I help you today?

O-kay. Right, okay. Yeah. Hmmm…Okay. So! You’re switching to Helios for your data storage and management because you had cloud storage but their security only covers one plane of existence…But during some of the data migration, one of your cult…uh, sorry, one of your “team” members disappeared in a silvery mist and the other was absorbed into the Helios Circuit. Do I have that right? Okay. Huh. Yeah, that’s definitely not the intended behavior.

Let’s see…can you tell me if you happen to have any sigils present and active? You do! You have one there and it seems to be active. Okay. Can you tell me the name of that sigil? If you happen to know it? “Marbas.” Okay. Let me look that up in our system. Just a second.

Ah, okay. So, I see here that the Marbas sigil isn’t one of our officially supported sigils. No, I mean if it’s not officially supported it doesn’t necessarily mean that it won’t work, but it means that it’s difficult to predict its behavior, you know? It just means we can guarantee that it will work all the time or as expected. So I totally understand that the Marbas sigil worked fine up until now. That’s how it goes sometimes. But since it isn’t officially supported, it may be difficult to fix this issue…uh…cleanly. But I might have a few things we could try. I don’t want there to be any data loss or anything. Or, yeah, or any loss of your team members, there. No, definitely, yeah. We don’t want that.

Can you tell me what the sigil looks like? Okay. Started as chalk and animal blood. Yeah, sure. Okay. Got it, yellow and glowing, kind of hovering above the floor. Yeah, good. Okay. Can you tell me a little bit about the design of it? Okay.

Oh, uh, real quick, did you already try banishing and then re-summoning your sigil? You did. Great! Oh, that’s when the second person was absorbed by the Helios Circuit? Oh, gotcha. Okay. Sorry. You know, we just always have to ask. Sometimes that does the trick. But gosh, I’m sorry to hear it didn’t help in this case. I’m sure he’s…uh…

But, okay, sorry about that. So, can you tell me about the design of the sigil? Great. So, it’s a little complex…Okay…. So…Okay, I just want to confirm that I understood you correctly. It looks like a guy…a guy’s face, sorry. It looks like a guy’s face with a…uh knight’s cross for a nose. Okay… And this guy, the sigil, has a cross as a dangly thing…Okay. Where his…Where his what would be? Oh, ha, okay got it. Okay, anything else? Looks like a trumpet’s going through him and he’s wearing…a bandana? And there’s a bee in there? Oh, not the bug, the letter. Okay, got it.

Hm. Okay. Well, I’m looking up Marbas and…I’m not seeing that that really matches that sigil’s description. Hm. Let me see here…Let me, uh, I’m just going to check one more thing. And thank you for your patience with this, we really appreciate it.

Oh, thank you. That’s very kind of you to say! Yeah, we’ve got a good support team here. We just, you know, we’re a team of people that likes to help people, so…Ah, thank you.

Okay, let’s see…Oh! Oh, okay, I think I see what’s going on. I think you actually have the sigil of Bathin there. Yeah, I’ve looked through our system and I happened to remember the, uh, the dangle you mentioned from helping another person. Oh, you know Bathin! Ah, great. Okay.

So, as you may know, Bathin can take one wherever they want to go, helps with astral projection, and can suddenly take people from one country, location, whatever to another. So, I’ve actually seen this exact behavior before. Sorry about that! It took a bit to jog my memory, but your great, uh, sigil description finally did it. What’s that? Oh, ha, yeah. It was the dangle.

So, your team member that disappeared in the silvery mist, I’m pretty sure they were just transported elsewhere and at the same time started astrally projecting, possibly unbeknownst to them if they haven’t done that sort of thing before. And the other team member that was absorbed into the Helios Circuit, I believe the sigil just used the Helios as a conduit for its transportation effect. So they might just be…elsewhere right now. Yeah. They’re likely just fine, yeah.

One of them just texted you? Oh, that’s fantastic! Awesome, yeah, that’s great! It was the one that looked like he was absorbed…oh, and he’s just a few towns over? That’s wonderful news. That’s great, yeah. Okay!

So, you should be able to banish that sigil without issue. You might wanna try, like Purson or something like that as a replacement. One of the sigils about finding lost things, yeah. One of those should help you get your team members back quickly. And it should help you identify any data leakages that could occur with the data migration. You’ll probably want to discuss this with your CSM to find the right sigil for your needs and configurations, though. That’s what I’d recommend.

Oh, and speaking of configurations, you’ll want to unplug and plug back in your crystals hub before spinning up another sigil. Yeah, it’s just best practice, you know. Give them a good recharge in the sun or with silicate or something too, yeah. That’s a good idea. Couldn’t hurt!

Great. I’m so happy I was able to help you today! Aw, well, thank you. You…you’re too kind. Thank you.

Okay, and…I’m so sorry, what was your name again? Crystal? Crystal Tenebris. Okay, thank you. Hmmmm. I’m not seeing an account for you within your organization’s account…Oh! Oh, it’s under Susan, you say? Okay. “Susan Lemquist.” Okay, got it.

Ah, found it! Great. Thank you, Susan. Now, is there anything else I can help you with today, or did you have any other questions? Okay! Well, you have a wonderful day, Susan. Yeah. Oh, it was nice talking to you too. Okay. Mmmm-bye.

Helios Circuit Tech Support-1.w1z was originally published in Moon Computer on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.

Deshawn’s basement is choice. Only good velvet paintings, of cool shit like tigers and this one of a beach at night with a giant flame in the middle. He’s so cool it makes me uncomfortable.

On the way down the stairs, I see something move out of the corner of my eye. I try to look, but I can’t focus on it at first. And then it grows. It’s black and spinning and I think, “Fucking, again,” and it’s so annoying at this point I’m not even scared I’m losing my shit anymore.

Deshawn moves past a pool table and some mounted fish towards a computer, and I rush to a couch in case I need to say I passed out. The black orb spins and grows larger in the room and again no one sees it. I focus on the flame velvet painting and the maplewood paneling behind it.

The orb grows until it’s everything, all I can see again. I feel something like electricity reverberating my insides with the revolutions of the black mass. Like it speeds up my atoms or something and then puts them on pause over and over. I try to think about Carla, but this thing is too much. The flame velvet painting flashes in my head sometimes too, and at first I think that means I’m coming out of it, but it’s something different. The painting has a black glow when it flashes, and then the flame comes alive and burns and I feel all of it, the glow and the heat and the burning deconstruction.

Each of these episodes is feeling longer. I’m not sure if one’s gonna play me for keeps. The orb keeps spinning. The computer screen from the library earlier appears in the distance of the orb-space. As soon as I notice it, I’m tossed forward into the screen’s static. The painting fire appears again, and then I’m returned to the static. The orb returns, then it returns me to the fire, then the static, then the orb, and on and on, and if I can fucking puke in here I’m gonna.

A high-pitched whine starts because why wouldn’t this get more annoying, then there’s that wind-sucking sound again and I’m back in the basement. Everyone’s crowded around Deshawn at the computer except for Daryl who’s sitting next to me, staring at me like he just saw a truck swallowed by a sinkhole.

He whispers, “Bud, dang! Hey! Hey, bud! Ya ok’y?”

“Who is, even?” I say, playing it so party-cool, I think.

“You’ben starin’ at that velvet thing for 25 minutes, man. And’jer pupils are so big I though you’s havin’ a stroke or somethin’.”

“Nah, I’m cool, man. Just too many shots from the jump. I’m cool, I’m cool.”

“Ya, uuuhh, ya wanna leave? It’s ok’y, bud. I got plen’y of chicken fingers at my place and stuff. I could keep an eye on ya.”

“I’m good, I’m good. It’s cool. What are they all at the computer for?”

Daryl looked nervous. Probably worried for me, I guess. He rubs the back of his neck and winces like when he isn’t sure about something.

“Ah, they’re lookin’ up that baseball diamond stuff. From way back.”

“What stuff?”

“Oh, ya don’t know about it? It’s, uh, from way back. There’s that woods around the baseball diamond by the element’ry school. Folks say there was some kinda…uh, bad stuff that went on there. Real bad stuff.”

“Never heard about that. Wait, how do you know? You didn’t move here till a few years ago.”

“Oh, yeah…Well, someone at work told me about it.”

I don’t know if I’m being weird or he’s being weird. I don’t care, though. I just need to get through the night and the party. Without feeling like I choked it here.

“So, bad how? Like, did someone get bloodied up or murdered or something?”

“Yeah. Murdered. An’…weird stuff.”

Carla must see us talking, cause she yells over, “Hey, you guys know about this?”

“About what?” I say.

“The Satanists. The Satanists from the baseball diamond,” says Deshawn.

Y2K the Man, Savior of 2000 and the World 4.hro was originally published in Moon Computer on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.