Chapter 1: The Auction

  Felix Chandler licked his lips in anticipation. His eyes darted from the rusted padlock of the storage locker to the assembled crowd around him. Sweat beaded his brow. His heart raced as he thought of the treasure trove hiding behind the unit's flaking corrugated steel door.

  “And we’re at two hundred,” said the auctioneer, David Eddings, gesturing at the crowd with a pair of bolt cutters. “Can I get two-fifty?”

  “Two fifty,” Felix called out, his voice cracking slightly. He felt his heart skip a beat in the ensuing silence. For a moment, he wondered if he’d be able to get such a steal of a price.

  “Three hundred,” said someone from the crowd. Felix recognized the obscene voice. It came from that odious wannabe-famous-podcasting-quasi-influencer - Johanson.

  Turning, Felix found himself looking at the smug visage of his ultimate nemesis. Behind the stupidly handsome Australian man, a camera crew was filming. Johanson had recently gotten a deal with Netflix or something.

  “Three-fifty,” Felix squeaked out. His knuckles turned white as he gripped his bidding card in rage. The war had begun.

  Several frantic minutes and hundreds of dollars later, it was over. David Edding’s voice rang out with that most glorious of phrases: “sold once again to Mr. Chandler!”

  A triumphant grin threatened to crack Felix’s face in two as he watched the dejected crowd begin to disperse. Johanson lingered for a while, like he always did, wearing a sour expression as his camera crew began to pack up.

  “Felix, mate,” said Johanson in his annoyingly charming Australian accent. “Could we just have a quick look inside? It’s for the documentary.”

  One of the camera men looked up, his expression hopeful. Felix was quick to crush that hope.

  “This locker’s mine, Johanson,” Felix replied. “No looky-loos. Better luck next time!”

  With that Johanson let out an exasperated sigh and finally began to skulk away. The anger that emanated from him was nectar to Felix’s senses.

  "You really wanted this one, huh?" David chuckled, positioning his bolt cutters around the lock.

  Felix nodded, bouncing on the balls of his feet in his excitement. “Look how old the lock is. It’s been out of circulation for thirty years. Imagine what could be in there! Vintage spoons, even an antique clawfoot tub!"

  David paused, his weathered hands resting on the bolt cutters. "You know, Felix," he said, his tone turning paternal, "I feel like I should tell you this as an old friend of your parents. Collecting is a great hobby. But it's no substitute for genuine relationships with real people.”

  Felix's fingers twitched as he resisted the urge to snap back. Couldn't this old man let him have his moment, the highlight of his month? What did he care for people? In his experience people were untrustworthy, unreliable, toxic cesspits of disappointment. Look at Johanson for example.

  “Can we get on with this?” Felix asked, his tone acerbic despite his attempt to control his anger.

  After giving one last disapproving look, David grunted and pinched closed the bolt cutters. The antique lock scattered to the floor. Once the door lifted, a musty scent of forgotten treasures wafted out. As his earlier excitement returned, Felix knew that this was what was truly important in life.

  Half an hour later, Felix was already carting out the first of his finds, a smile still plastered to his face. He'd been right, the locker was chalk full of fantastic collectibles. The ones in his cart were just the easiest to sort and move. Pushing on the door to the parking lot, he struggled to pull his cart through.

  "Hold on there, mister," came a gruff voice from outside, thick with a central-Texan twang, "let me give you a hand." Felix nearly stumbled as the door was yanked open.

  "Thanks," Felix said, looking up at the newcomer as he wheeled his cart through. He didn't recognize the man at first. He looked like your stereotypical country farmer. Then Felix saw the string-bean of a girl behind the man. They'd been at the auction, Felix realized. The 12ish year-old tomboy in jeans had her eyes fixed on a set of leather-bound binders in Felix's cart.

  "Look dad," she said coming up behind her father and tugging on one sleeve. "He found coin collection books like the ones we're working on."

  Felix felt a thrill of delight. Another collector! He walked up and plucked the first binder on the cart.

  "Yep," he said, proudly displaying the first page of Lincoln pennies. Though there were a few missing coins, like the ultra-rare 1909 VDB, most of the page was filled and in near mint condition. "Everything from pennies to quarters up to 1976."

  The collection binders had been one of Felix's more valuable finds. The penny book alone exceeded the amount he'd paid for the locker by several magnitudes if he chose to sell it. Felix's smile faltered when he noticed the look of longing and defeat in the little girl's eyes. Her father, noting the change in her expression as well, put a large hand on the girl's shoulder.

  "Now Abby," the man said, his voice full of warmth. "None of that moping. Auction hunting is a lot like fishing. They call it fishing and not catching for a reason. This is much the same thing."

  The little girl nodded solemnly and looked at her feet. Somewhere, deep down, a sense of wrongness bubbled up within Felix.

  "Hold up, Abby, was it?" Felix asked. He extended the binder to the girl. "Tell you what, why don't you go ahead and take this one?"

  Abby's eyes widened. She looked up at her father for permission. The man wore an uncertain expression, staring at Felix with an assessing look.

  "That's far too generous mister," he said at last. "I don't think we can accept." Beside him, Abby's gaze shot from the binder in Felix's hand to her father back and forth, obviously struggling not to speak out in protest.

  Felix, however, only felt more certain about his decision.

  "Nonsense," he said. Pressing the binder into Abby's hands. She clutched onto it like a life preserver in a storm. "Consider it a contribution from one collector to another."

  Without another word, Felix turned and began trundling away with his laden cart. Abby's father, who'd been left speechless by the exchange, finally gathered himself enough to call out. "Thank you, mister! Much appreciated." Abby called out her thanks as well.

  Felix didn't turn. He just put up a hand in a sort of backwards wave. He felt good, but in a different way than before. As he neared his car, he wondered at the feeling.

  I already had all the coins in that book, so it wasn't much of a loss. He thought to himself. He smiled again, remembering the girl's expression of wonder at receiving the book. It reminded him of his first outing with his father to a coin collectors' depot on his tenth birthday. Now that he thought about it, that had been the start of his very first collection. Felix felt warmed by the memory.

  Satisfied with the day's outcome, he happily pushed his cart towards his car.

  -

  Felix's dinged up Volvo groaned under the weight of his latest acquisitions as he pulled into the driveway of a sprawling country house. The setting sun cast long shadows across his overgrown lawn, highlighting the eerie silhouettes of discarded furniture and knick-knacks strewn about the property.

  "Home sweet home," Felix muttered, his eyes gleaming with anticipation. He hefted a box of newfound treasures from the backseat.

  After squeezing through the front door of the house, Felix began navigating the labyrinth. Towers of collectibles loomed over him, some stacked higher than his head. He lovingly patted a nearby pile of vintage lunchboxes.

  "You'll have new friends soon," he cooed, setting down his latest haul.

  Felix’s stomach growled as if in response. Storage locker wars were a hungry business. He had to suck in his sizable gut a couple times on the way to the kitchen. Some of the gaps between the stacks had gotten pretty narrow. Opening a freezer stuffed with frozen meals, he rummaged out a pair of hot pockets.

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  As he tossed them into the microwave, his phone buzzed. Felix grimaced, recognizing his sister's number.

  "Hello, Maggie," he answered, his voice flat as he turned on the microwave.

  "Felix! I was worried. You haven't answered in weeks."

  He sighed. "I've been busy."

  "With what?" she asked. "Spending your inheritance on junk and sitting alone in that landfill you call a house?"

  "It's not junk," Felix snapped. His free hand stroking the top of his nearby toaster collection. "They are collectibles. Antiques. An investment! And the house... it's all I have left of mom and dad."

  Maggie's voice softened. "I know it's been hard since they passed, but Felix, you can't keep living like this. Ever since Vanassa-"

  Felix hissed like a cat that had just had a glass of water dumped on it.

  "Did you actually just hiss at me?" came Maggie's shocked voice on the other end of the line. Felix nearly hung up in his frustration.

  "You know I don't like talking about she-who-must-not-be-named!" he shouted into the phone.

  "Fine, fine, Felix. We won't talk about Va-" Maggie paused for a moment, willing herself to continue. "We won't talk about she-who-must-not-be named. But Felix, seriously, when's the last time you left the house for something other than your hobby? When's the last time you've gone out with a girl, or even had a meal with a friend? You weren't always like this. Where did my brother go?"

  Felix didn't respond right away. His mind drifted back to before his fiancé left. He'd been fit, almost extroverted. He'd been normal and so incredibly, unforgivably young, confident in his prospects of a bright future as he applied for some of the top law schools in the country. He wanted to stay lost in the memory of those better times, he knew his next memory was approaching with inexorably certainty. The phone call from his father - the one that would change everything. Then came the memories, a jumble of images and sounds. The funeral, the wood ring whirls of his mother's mahogany casket, the cheap sounds of synth pipe organs, the photo of her behind a wreath of flowers, the phrase said in a hundred different hushed tones of varying degrees of sincerity as he was told over and over again, "I'm so sorry for your loss." That sinking feeling deep in his gut as he felt all color draining from the world.

  Felix shook his head, banishing his recollections. He was better now. Dr. Halstead had given him the all-clear. He didn't even take his anti-depressants anymore. Felix's voice was tired by the time he'd gathered up enough energy to respond.

  "I don't need to leave, Maggie. I'm fine here.”

  Silence filled their conversation again, neither sibling knowing what to say to the other. Finally, Maggie sighed audibly.

  “Fine Felix, you do you. Just try and visit your niece and nephew sometime. They miss seeing their Funcle Felix.”

  To his surprise, Felix felt a small smile stretch across his face. His niece and nephew were pretty great. Madison was always super sweet to him, always drawing him pictures which he kept on his fridge. He also liked talking about Pokémon cards with his nephew, John. John’s collection wasn’t bad for his age - due in large part to birthday gifts from Funcle Felix every year. Felix’s Pokémon collection though was a work of art. He had mountains of rare cards and holographics dating back to the first printings.

  “I suppose I could pencil in a visit sometime next week,” he said at last.

  They continued on with small talk for a couple minutes before Felix was finally able to politely end the call.

  The microwave beeped at him Felix accusingly. How long had the let the hot pocket sit in there? He set the timer for another minute and watched the pizza pastry rotate on its clear little platform.

  "Vanessa," he said aloud to himself, despite his standing policy to never do exactly that. It had been a long time since he had thought of her. It had taken years of therapy, but he'd finally forgiven her for leaving. It wasn't easy dating a chronically depressed person in mourning. Sure, she could have done it better. She could have done more than packing a bag and leaving a short note along with all her possessions behind.

  Thinking back, the things she left had been the hardest part. Felix hadn't had any idea what to do with it - the framed photos of them together, her clothes, the stuffed bull plushy he'd won her at the rodeo one year. No matter how much he'd tried to call or reach out, she never came back to get any of it. In the end, he'd rented a storage locker, filled it with everything she'd left, locked it, and never returned.

  The microwave beeped again, telling Felix it was time for his snack. Grabbing one of his hot pockets and putting it into its cardboard eating sleeve, he returned to sorting his recent acquisitions. He took a large bite into his pizza snack. A spurt of steaming hot tomato sauce blasted into his mouth.

  “Yeaow!” screamed Felix, dropping his snack and clutching his face.

  He flailed about, unwary of his surroundings. Distracted as he was, he failed to notice bumping into one particularly tall tower next to the kitchen door. Time seemed to slow as objects rained down. Looking up, the last thing Felix saw was a large stone statue hurtling towards him. It was some kind of Hawaiian tiki man. He recognized it. He’d bought it at a flea market for $10 some years back and then promptly lost track of it in the stacks.

  “So that’s where I put that thing,” he absently thought, before the statue crashed into his head and all went dark.

  -

  When Felix woke, he noticed with surprise that he wasn't in any pain. No throbbing head, no burnt mouth. There was, however, something wrong with his eyes. No matter how hard he tried to open them, everything stayed pitch black.

  Am I blind? He thought, his heartbeat elevating. He waved a hand in front of his face. Nothing, not even the outline of his hand or a suggestion of movement.

  Felix tried to call out “hello?” but although his mouth made the shape for the words and air left his lungs, no sound came out.

  Am I blind and deaf?!? His heartbeat was now thundering in his ears.

  It was at this point that Felix noticed he wasn’t standing, sitting or laying down. He was floating - presumably - in midair. Though he could move his limbs, they touched only the eternal nothingness around him. Felix found this revelation to be quite distressing as well.

  Before he could spiral into panic attacks at his inexplicable circumstances, a giant computer screen appeared before him. Blocky multicolored letters began to type themselves out on the screen. Felix read on in mute shock.

  Zīthar gūth.

  ...

  Jūtar rāsh gūth dāth - Na-kēra

  ...

  Auto-Translation Feature Initiated on Target Successfully

  ...

  Scanning Target Anomaly

  ...

  Target Scanned - Human (Mundane - lvl 0)

  ...

  Investigating Root Source

  ...

  Source found - Unregistered soul transference from Sector RR012-5 to Sector FR312-9

  ...

  Attempting re-route

  ...

  Re-route failed

  ...

  Attempting re-route

  ...

  Re-route failed

  ...

  Processing alternatives

  ...

  Archive Search: "System Precedents"

  ...

  3,493 Precedents found

  ...

  Investigating Standard Operating Procedures on file

  ...

  132 unique Standard Operating Procedures found

  ...

  Calculating procedure for optimal subject acclimation

  ...

  Optimal Procedure Found - I3.05.21 v6

  ...

  Initiating Procedure I3.05.21 v6

  Felix wanted to shout in frustration, but he could only shake with impotence. Soul transference? Precedents? Standard Operating Procedures? What the hell was going on?

  The text disappeared, replaced by a sudden explosion of confetti and blaring trumpets. Felix gave a silent shriek in surprise as new text filled his vision.

  "Greetings [insert outlier's designation]. Due to unforeseen circumstances related to karmic quantum entanglement, randomizing variables, and/or general cosmic shenanigans, your [insert outlier's afterlife system/realm] was interrupted. All connections to your previous reality have been severed. We here at [redacted] sincerely apologize for the inconvenience. Please hold while we connect you to your local system administrator.”

  As soon as he finished reading the text, the black expanse around Felix popped like a bubble, replaced by a harsh white light that filled his vision.