Chapter 6: Egress Interview

  Jeremy listened attentively as Ik and Oog argued the finer points of destroying a universe on Tuesday afternoons. The cubicle that the three of them used for their work was crowded with the casual banter, as the friendly argument disturbed Jeremy’s sensibilities. The enormous, shaggy forms of his mentors shook with frustration as they each attempted to make a point. It was currently Oog’s turn.

  “No, Ik, we can only frame it on Tuesday because it is always Tuesday here. The actual day doesn’t matter. Most of the population won’t care what day it happens.”

  He ran one massively clawed hand through the shaggy pelt of his fur as exasperation crossed his monstrous face. He took a short breath as his brother Ig grinned with protruding tusks at riling up his brother.

  “Do you think most of the population will care that their rent is due Wednesday when little Billy is being eaten by Amorthropomp the devourer of most things? No, they will be screaming and running toward or away from danger. The timing doesn’t matter.”

  Ik raised both oversized, clawed hands in victory as his rumbling laugh caused the cubicle walls to shiver. Jeremy absently placed a hand on his coffee cup to prevent it from sliding off his desk and smashing on the floor as it tap danced toward oblivion from the vibrations.

  “Exactly my point! Sapients always worry about stuff like that. They will be in the midst of the apocalypse, and the little details will get to them more than the big, horrifying events. The skyscraper is on fire and falling toward me; I sure wish wish that I had finished that last chapter from faerie smut and dragon butts! If they survive, they will wonder why they were even bothering to think about those things.”

  Oog shook their head negatively.

  “No, this is something we can’t agree on. The day the apocalypse happens is the day it happens. Not which day ending in Y happens to coincide with it.”

  Ik gestured widely enough that he almost knocked over the cubicle walls.

  “But the details generate earnings with more substance to them. Listen, I’ve been reading up on the accountants’ reports, and Jerry’s thesis on quality versus quantity states-”

  Oog’s snort blew a gust of wind through the space, forcing Jeremy to slap a hand over his paperwork to prevent it from scattering.

  “Oh, don’t give me that hogwash as a basis for focusing on individual generation when we are talking about a .001% increase throughout a hundred apocolii. That’s bullshit and you know it. The dream counters always overestimate things to make themselves look good.”

  Ik opened his maw to respond when Jeremy tentatively cleared his throat to get the attention of his direct supervisors,

  “Wouldn’t the correct plural be Apocalypses? And why aren’t we trying to prevent them from happening?”

  The two monstrous forms of his trainers froze as they realized they were overlooking his presence. Oog scratched the back of his shaggy head with one clawed hand in embarrassment. His brother Ik’s fur paled in panic as he glanced at his brother and mouthed the words,

  “Stall, I’ll fix it.”

  Ik turned in his industrial-sized swivel chair and started typing furiously at his computer while glancing at Jeremy repeatedly. The echoing thumps of his clawed fingers against the keys dug into Jeremy’s ears with their hurried panic. The gigantic furry trainers didn’t sweat that Jeremy had noticed, but they had both started panting lightly in a panic.

  Jeremy narrowed his eyes before Oog lumbered from his chair and knelt on one shaggy leg before the smaller figure of the human. He gently placed his lawnmower-sized hands on either side of the man now sitting nervously in front of him.

  “Er. Yeah. Sorry about that, Jeremy. We were wrapped up in some details you aren’t cleared to learn about yet. Hold still for a second.”

  Jeremy glanced at the clawed appendages blocking his escape from the cubicle and the enormous, intimidating smile of the fanged maw a foot from his face, ready to devour him. Jeremy tried to push his wheeled chair away from the beast in front of him with his feet while starting to speak in a panic of his own before seizing up and twitching.

  The kneeling form of Oog relaxed as he stood up in front of Jeremy and scowled at his brother. He shook his gigantic fist in frustration at his fellow trainer.

  “Two days! Just two days, and we had to use the erasure protocol. Brown is going to wear our ballskin for boots when he hears about this.”

  Ik, sitting at the desk in front of his computer, raised a clawed hand from his keyboard to start rubbing his temples. A heavy sigh escaped his lips around his wickedly sharp tusks.

  “It’s a minor slip, Oog. If we hurry with the prompting instructions, Brown will never know.”

  In the coincidence of any universe that has ever had subordinates trying to hide something they shouldn’t have allowed to happen from a supervisor, a terse, displeased voice spoke,

  “Mortals sometimes try to show they have a monopoly on idiotic statements. Thank you for showing you two want to compete.”

  Ik turned his massive head with another defeated sigh to see their supervisor, Mr. Brown, hovering in the air at the entrance of their cubicle. The large pixie was tapping a foot impatiently in the air as a pleased-looking Beazlebubbah peeked his demonic head around the corner.

  Oog froze in front of Jeremy. His quivering, massive form almost in time with the twitches coming from the human. He cast a worried glance at the man.

  Ik spoke from his desk,

  “A mistake doesn’t need to turn into a coroner’s report.”

  Beazlebubbah’s head spoke with a wicked grin,

  “The philosophic nature of impermanence demands that we discuss the verisimilitude of that statement before any-”

  Mr. Brown cut him off with a clipped,

  “Do it.”

  Ik tapped a few more keys and looked at his brother,

  “He’s ready. Be careful, we only get three of these per quarter.”

  Oog scowled in return,

  “Don’t tell me how to alter memories. That’s just as bad as that advice you gave Gramma about the eggs.”

  Ik scowled back but remained silent. Oog turned back to face Jeremy, still twitching in the chair. His eyes had rolled back into his head. A panicked look crossed Oog’s furry features as he gestured to his brother. Ik tapped his keyboard calmly as Oog began speaking,

  “We were just finishing up our break discussing potential vacation plans to Acapulco next year, and the unreasonable cost of Lipton iced tea, when Mr. Brown arrived with Beazlebubbah here.”

  Jeremy’s twitching calmed, and his body relaxed as his eyes rolled back into a normal position. He slouched into a relaxed posture in the chair and cast a bleary gaze at the forms of Mr. Brown and Beazlebubbah. Mr. Brown floated further into the cubicle and looked at Jeremy with concern in his eyes.

  The demon slid into the cubicle just behind the pixie and nervously straightened his sailor’s jacket as he tugged one claw at the edge of his inappropriately labeled underwear to adjust it into a more comfortable position.

  As Jeremy tried to refocus the newly arrived forms of the pair, he spoke in a slight slur as his head bobbled,

  “Why ish Beeshzy dressed like Donald Duck in a porno?”

  Mr. Brown, Ik, and Oog all raised a hand to cover a smile at the words as Beazlebubbah’s face grew indignant.

  “I’ll have you know, mortal, that my mother picked this out for me.”

  Jeremy’s face scrunched into confusion,

  “How doesh that make it better? And why are you missing an ear?”

  Oog let out a snort as Ik outright laughed. Mr. Brown’s face went instantly blank of expression as merriment danced in his eyes. Beazlebubbah scowled and tugged the hem of his jacket down in a failed attempt to hide his underwear. He covered his rage and his missing ear with a burn-scarred hand. He snapped,

  “Filing needs one more signature from you to finalize your compensation allotments. Sign this.”

  The demon strode forward and pushed a sheet of paper against Jeremy’s chest. The demon shoved a pen into Jeremy’s hand and dragged the wheeled chair holding the human over to a corner of Ik’s desk. The monstrous form of the beast growled at the demon, who shied away with a scowl, still covering his disfigurement with one hand.

  Jeremy smiled at his supervisor and smoothed the paper onto the corner of the desk, and began reading it. Beazlebubbah let out an exasperated sigh,

  “I wouldn’t allow witnesses if this weren’t a legit document, Jackass. I swear this form is attached to the paperwork I was given by Mr. Habit.”

  Mr. Brown spoke,

  “I can affirm that the document is attached to the forms you filled out with Yuudoh. I have confirmed with filing and Hallowed resources that they need that signature to complete your allotments, Jeremy.”

  Jeremy nodded and kept reading. Not seeing anything amiss on the page before him, he signed and handed it back to the demon. Beazlebubbah had a pleased expression that set the hackles rising, but no one questioned the demon as his form blurred out of the cubicle with soft laughter.

  Ik and Oog frowned as Mr. Brown looked thoughtful. Ik asked,

  “Can you look into that, Mr. Brown?”

  Mr. Brown nodded,

  “Demons laughing is seldom good. I’ll see to it. Jeremy, you’ll be finishing up a few more object appointments, and then Ik and Oog will get you started on persons of fated interest today. We have a timetable to be kept.”

  Jeremy nodded in acceptance as Oog and Ik both started protesting,

  “That’s too soon-“

  “It’s only been a day and-“

  Mr. Brown cut off the suggestions,

  “The deep end, boys. It’s always sink or swim around here. You both know that. See to it.”

  The oversized pixie in his suit looked at Jeremy with a determined expression,

  “Anything else?”

  Jeremy carefully kept the smile from his face. He stuck one hand behind his back and extended one finger to start a count as he asked,

  “Did Mr. Habit pass on the message about me going home to visit my family on the next shift break?”

  Mr. Brown’s eye twitched as his wings buzzed softly in irritation. He answered smoothly,

  “Yes. As a gentle warning for our future interactions, my offer of knowledge should have been courteously refused. Anything else? You know how to answer.”

  Jeremy nodded acceptance of this bit of advice before extending a second finger behind his back,

  “Noted, Mr. Brown, but you did offer. What are persons of fated interest?”

  Mr.Brown’s wings buzzed again in further agitation as he answered with a mean grin,

  “Here in scheduling, there are more duties than just the objects of destiny that affect the outcome of a reality’s fate. Key figures that can have an impact are also screened before being inserted into positions at appropriate times. Ik and Oog would have explained this, so you wasted a question.”

  Mr. Brown hovered with more menace than one would expect from a being a third the size of the human testing his patience. Ik and Oog leaned away from the confrontation developing before them. Protecting their charge from mistakes was different from letting hubris get him killed. Jeremy extended a third finger behind his back.

  “Is there a better way to make special requests from Chef Grumpsey in the break room than letting him get angry and throw knives when you ask him?”

  Mr. Brown floated closer to Jeremy as a faint purple light began to spiral from his irises in a technicolor display of displeasure.

  “No. And Chef Grumpsey is a girl. Thrice I ask, and done. Anything…else?”

  Jeremy smiled politely and completed the ritual,

  “But what about-”

  Mr. Brown snorted at the words with a ghost of a smirk and buzzed out of the cubicle. Jeremy softly laughed as he reflected that he had a bad habit of poking things that shouldn’t be poked sometimes. Ik and Oog were staring in disapproval at him.

  Jeremy slowly brought his hand out and waved the three extended fingers at them,

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  “Relax, guys, I know the rules to that game.”

  Ik shook his shaggy head as Oog rubbed at his temples in exasperation. Oog finished attempting to soothe his headache away and muttered.

  “Not as well as you think.”

  Jeremy frowned and opened his mouth to speak when Ik interrupted him,

  “Moving on, breaks over, and we need to get back to work. Let’s knock out a few more object assignments and then start on the P.O.D.s., Persons of Destiny.”

  Jeremy asked,

  “What’s the acronym for the objects?”

  Ik frowned at the delay but answered with a frustrated thumbs up,

  “P.O.D.s, Paraphernalia of Destiny.”

  Jeremy started rubbing his temples as Oog grinned. The human stopped rubbing his temples and scooted his rolling chair back to his desk, then asked calmly.

  “Why?”

  Oog moved to his desk and answered,

  “Policy, they want us to look at each other when speaking. Says it ‘encourages accuracy and engagement in developing personal relationships’.”

  Jeremy locked eyes with Oog, then Ik, and gave both the finger. His comment was lent friendliness by his smile,

  “If it’s policy.”

  The furry duo rumbled identical laughs as they returned an intimidating clawed version of the salute, and Ik waved the subject away with a thumbs up to accompany his reply, following policy.

  “Please, get started on those P.O.D.s.”

  Jeremy smiled and turned to his desk. He took a roll of paper towels and a bottle of spray cleaner from a drawer in his desk and gave everything on it a quick wipe down. Once the happy and sad buttons were shined to his satisfaction, he nodded to himself.

  Feeling ready to start the next leg of his first day, he strained, trying to open his evaluation rubric until Ik coughed with little subtlety into his hand and gestured at the computer with his tusks. Ik scratched under one side of his security hat as his brother rolled his eyes at Ik’s masterful display of cloak-and-dagger spycraft.

  Jeremy remembered the detail as his face flushed lightly in embarrassment. The icons on his desktop trembled in fright and ran away from his cursor as he woke the screen up. Giving them a few moments to sort themselves out and shuffle back into position, he clicked on the one labeled, begin evaluations.

  The heavy rubric on his desk opened smoothly and without any noise. The blank page at the beginning of the guide had a blinking cursor waiting on the paper which started moving as someone typed text onto the page. Jeremy watched as text quickly began populating the page detailing his list of items to be catalogued during this session.

  After a minute or so of the text scrolling with increasingly worrisome amounts of item descriptions, the page turned. He waited a few more minutes before he noticed some of the items disappear from the list as it was populating. Jeremy asked as the text continued appearing,

  “Should I just start or…?”

  Oog waved at him to get on with things. Jeremy took a breath, double-checked the sticky note he had pasted to one corner of his computer terminal, and spouted the key phrase,

  ““Mechanica gecko, no, shiny butts, ho! I invoke the right of judgment. Bring forth the next applicant!”

  On the edge of his desk, a small plastic bottle appeared. The dirty and slightly peeling label on the bottle proclaimed it to be Doc Stuffy’s Nasal Spray! Under the title was a caricature of a slightly overweight Italian man in ratty blue denim coveralls with a ridiculous mustache under a comically bulbous nose. The character looked up from the label with a wide smile,

  “Itsa me, Lario!”

  Jeremy blinked.

  Well, that’s just offensive.

  “Hello, Lario. My name is Jeremy. I’m here to help. What is your purpose, please?”

  “Thatsa no way to start a conversation, Mista Jeremy. You didn’t even ask how Momma was doing!”

  “Be that as it may, Lario. We are not here for pleasantries. Please state your purpose.”

  The small figure of a stereotyped Italian frowned mightily at this response, but answered,

  “Very well. I amma the owner and ceo of the Super Lario brothers’ name! We get rid of the gunk in your nose and the gunk of bad guys existing!”

  It was Jeremy’s turn to frown.

  “Your brother? And where is he?”

  A gaunt face with droopy eyes and a haunted countenance peeked out from behind Lario’s shoulder. He shufflled out from behind his brother and stood drywashing his hands nervously as his tiny eyes shifted from side to side. His dirty and disheveled orange coveralls hung loosely on a malnourished frame. He let out a breathy and sad greeting,

  “Wahhh…”

  Lario gave his brother a dirty look but turned a strained, smiling face back to Jeremy,

  “This is my brother, Rue-egey. As I said, we get rid of gunk in your nose and the gunk of bad guys!”

  “And how do you do that?”

  Lario opened his mouth to answer when Rue-egey’s expression turned desperate as he interrupted in a rushed panic, as he edged away from his brother,

  “It’s acid! Please stop him! Don’t turn out like our last chosen one. Lario won’t let them decide who the bad guys are. He just melts everyone!”

  Lario’s false smile turned vicious as he reached into a pocket of his blue coveralls and withdrew a knife, advancing on his brother with chubby vengeance in his eyes.

  Jeremy ended the confrontation by calmly pushing the button with a sad face. The brothers struggled against each other on the label, screaming curse words at each other in stereotypical Italian accents as the bottle floated into the air, then dissolved into motes of light that faded away.

  Ik spoke up in disapproval,

  “Jeremy, I can see how you thought that was going to go, but you needed to follow the rubric. If Rue-egey had won that fight, the object may have been able to be used. Don’t cast judgment without using the Rubric again.”

  Oog winced in sympathy for Jeremy but did not disagree with his brother. Ik made a few notes on his computer with a frown on his face while Jeremy shamefacedly acknowledged his mistake before continuing his work.

  The next item appeared floating before Jeremy’s desk. After questioning Larry, the louffa of self-actualization for a few minutes, Jeremy gave him the go-ahead with a smiley-faced button press. The rubric dictated that moments of epiphany in the shower quite often changed a world more than one could expect.

  A thimble of precognition named Thomas almost got the sad-faced treatment when it revealed it could only be understood by a chosen one who was inebriated. Jeremy couldn’t see the usefulness in its operation, but following the guidelines of the rubric, Jeremy found that the chosen ones were often invited to celebrations of defeating the big bad guy. Quite often, halfway through the party, it was revealed there was another form to the ultimate evil, or a henchperson had taken over the objective to destroy the world, or a progeny of the big bad had taken up a quest of vengeance.

  In line with the rubric’s guidance, Jeremy gave Thomas the smiley-face of approval button treatment and kept the queue moving. Hours passed as Jeremy worked through an unending list of objects of destiny.

  They began to blur together as Jeremy became more skilled at following the complex process of determining the usefulness of the objects according to the Rubric. Occasionally, Ik or Oog would drop off a full mug of liquid stimulant on Jeremy’s desk along with a rumble of encouragement. Jeremy drank the cup of life giving energy without tasting it as he continued tapping away at his qeue of items.

  A particularly tricky calculator of bipolar illumination named Eugene had Jeremy going back and forth in the rubric for thrity-five straight minutes.At the end of that session he tiredly slapped the button putting it into the limbo of waiting for a reality where it could be useful. Jeremy rubbed at his face with both hands as Oog spoke from his desk.

  “You’ve done a decent amount of items for now. Hit the break room for a recharge, and we’ll get you started on your first P.O.D. after that.”

  Jeremy nodded, stood to stretch, and then wandered to the break room. He grabbed a snack of salted caramel pretzel pieces from the agitatedly screaming vending machine of Chef Grumpsey and stood near the sink. He had a typical workplace conversation with a giant, mosquito-headed coworker from the dream counting department about the grind of paperwork.

  He patiently waited for Bob to finish showing him wallet photos of his large gatherings of his millions of kids before politely saying goodbye and heading back to his cubicle with Ik and Oog. As he approached the walls of the cubicle, he overheard the brothers failing to whisper quietly enough not to be overheard. Jeremy slowed his walk to listen.

  “I want to help too, Oog, but company policy-“

  “Damn the policy, Ik. Grammy will take away our cookies.”

  “If Brown finds out we went against policy deliberately, we won’t be able to have those cookies since we’ll be dead!”

  Jeremy heard a distinct Oog-like grunt of dissatisfaction,

  “Fine, but if he gets toasted before the end of his first day, I get half your birthday cake!”

  Jeremy felt a conflicted sense of gratitude and annoyance at Oog. Wanting to protect him was admirable, but the primary motivation of cake and cookies seemed questionable. He carefully started whistling softly to announce his return as he started walking again.

  The coughing engine level noise of the whispered conversation cut off as he rounded the last corner into the cubicle. Ik looked apprehensive at Jeremy’s expression as Oog scowled with guilt as he opened his mouth to address his trainee. Jeremy cut him off with a calming gesture.

  “Ik, Oog, relax. I need to do the job correctly. It’s too important. Let’s go ahead with Mr. Brown’s schedule. I’ll be fine.”

  Ik and Oog looked at each other with an expression Jeremy couldn’t read on their enormous, furry, tusked, monstrous faces. Oog pursed his lips around his tusks and nodded. Ik nodded back in agreement.

  “Alright, Jeremy. Follow me.”

  Ik stood from his desk and grabbed his security hat from a hat rack a third the height of a telephone pole near his desk and lumbered out of the cubicle. Oog gave Jeremy a solemn salute of good-luck-buddy. Jeremy nodded in acknowledgment and followed Ik down the hallway of cubicles to a section of the department topped with barbed wire.

  Small towers of scaffolding were positioned strategically at the border with security pixies manning the positions with intimidating mirrored shades and wicked-looking firearms. Ik stopped at a checkpoint with a thick silver gate covered in runes. Ik spoke briefly with one of the security pixies who checked a clipboard, eyed both of them suspiciously, then waved them through.

  Jeremy and Ik proceeded through a series of similar gates that clashed spectacularly with the beige cubicle walls that grew higher with every section they passed until merging with the ceiling and transforming into a black brick until reaching another rune-covered silver gate with a squared-off section of black and yellow striped caution tape on the floor in front of it.

  Ik tapped a pattern of numbers into the security console set into the wall next to the gate with a comment.

  “You’ll get issued a specific code in the future for unsupervised scheduling. For now, we’ll use mine.”

  The runed gate slid upward into the ceiling, and they entered the room. Inside, there was a single black stool of a type of metal Jeremy couldn’t recognize in the center of the room’s white linoleum floor. Set into the ceiling above the stool was a patinaed gold colored band of bolted metal with a shining silver iris mechanism about three feet wide in the center. On either side of the room, set into the walls, were two more iris-shuttered mechanisms banded in other metals. One with a green tint to it, and the other a blood colored red rust.

  The gate slid shut behind them.

  Ik retrieved a tablet from a shelf near the door and handed it to Jeremy. It was about a foot square with three buttons along one side that Jeremy recognized from sorting the objects from his normal work station. A fourth button was at the bottom center labeled in calm blue Times New Roman font, reading Escape.

  As Jeremy took the tablet from Ik, the top of the screen lit up with two circles. Inside one was a green check mark, and an angry red X in the other. The bottom of the screen was illuminated with an electronic version of the Rubric from Jeremy’s desk. He swiped left, then right on the rubric to confirm its use. A small search bar was visible at the top of the rubric.

  Ik spoke into the silence of the room,

  “Stick to the Rubric as closely as you can. I will be just outside.”

  Jeremy took three deep breaths,

  “You won’t be here to help?”

  “No, policy is one scheduler at a time in the room. I’ll debrief you after.”

  Jeremy opened his mouth to ask a question when Ik turned to the door with abruptness and left the room. The door slid shut behind him. Jeremy stared at the door, nonplussed.

  This is different, why?

  He shook off the feeling of foreboding and turned to the empty chair seated below the iris-closed opening in the ceiling. Taking another breath, he lifted the tablet before him as if it would protect him from the events about to unfold and tapped the check mark on the screen. The rubric on the screen flickered and began flickering pages at blinding speed.

  A short whooping alarm sounded before the ceiling aperture irised open and an sh colored figure dressed in white squawked in alarm as it fell through the opening. The figure slammed onto the seat before him.

  Jeremy observed the ashen-skinned figure wearing a straitjacket seated in an uncomfortable position on the metal stool before him. Its clawed feet rested on the bottom railing of the stool as it shifted uncomfortably. The creature was naked from the waist down, giving Jeremy an uncomfortable view of its male prominence.

  It groaned lightly and blinked its eyes at him in confusion. Its long, swept back, pointed ears and eyes with completely red sclera lent it a dangerous, fey appearance. The being shook its head to clear some of its confusion and started inspecting the room.

  Jeremy glanced at the rubric on his tablet. He dearly missed his old cue cards from the retirement home. Lifting a hand to straighten his security hat to reassure himself, Jeremy read the opening line from the rubric.

  “Hello, my name is Jeremy. I am the person responsible for your presence here. We will get you to where you need to be as soon as I can get some questions answered from you. What is your name?”

  The creature pulled its gaze from its inspection of the room and focused on Jeremy. Its red eyes narrowed, highlighting the yellow pupils among the blood-red sclera. The upper body of the creature twitched, straining at the straitjacket. The stitches at each of the seams holding the creature restrained bulged, but held.

  It noticed Jeremy’s repeated uncomfortable glances south of its border and wiggled its hips inappropriately. Things jiggled, and Jeremy glanced away from the sight.

  The moment he looked away, two distinct points on either side of the straitjacket poked from inside the fabric on the sides of the creature. Jeremy shifted in place as he carefully ensured his expression was blank. The creature relaxed its body and spoke, drawing Jeremy’s attention back to it.

  “I am Wilhelm DeDrow, and I am going to use your kneecaps as maracas as I dance in your chest cavity if you don’t stop staring at my dick.”

  The rubric on Jeremy’s screen flickered as pages sped by. Jeremy coughed in embarrassment but relaxed marginally as the familiarity of following a script eased him into the task before him. He read the next prompt,

  “Thank you, Wilhelm. What were you doing before arriving here?”

  Wilhelm blinked again and opened its thin lips to reply before frowning in displeasure. The thin skin of his face, combined with the high cheekbones, crinkled his expression in a mildly disturbing way. His mild frown lent an air of rage and unklitered dismay.

  “I was at the board meeting, we were discussing a street rat that had caused some minor trouble, and our stock had inexplicably fallen. I was trying to justify a use of company resources to take the little shit out. I almost had them convinced it was a good idea…why am I even telling you this?”

  Jeremy read the scripted reply,

  “This facility is where fateful encounters are determined. Your actions were flagged for review, a mild compulsion magic was put in place for me to determine if your actions were fated to occur at the proper time.”

  “C.O.P.E.? Eh? I thought acquisitions had paid my dues and I would be left alone.”

  Jeremy’s tablet flashed a warning on the screen and changed swiftly. The rubric was replaced by an angry blinking warning label. The screen changed again, and a new instruction flashed in vibrant red letters.

  Insider fating detected, red button now.

  A long series of warning beeps issued from hidden speakers in the room as the door to the room started slowly opening.

  Wilhelm cleared his throat to catch Jeremy’s attention. When Jeremy looked up at him, a wide smile of pointy teeth behind the thin lips greeted him.

  “Too late.”

  Wilhelm burst toward Jeremy. The straitjacket holding his arms in place, shredding as it came apart from the sides. As Wilhelm tore through the fabric with the knives he had in his hands, Jeremy tumbled in panic with great accidental wisdom away from the fast-moving bits of sharp metal. The tablet went flying to one side of the room as he flailed to get out of the way.

  Cackling laughter erupted from Wilhelm as Jeremy heard Ik’s growling voice coming from outside the room. The cackle rose in volume, muffling Ik’s concerned queries about what was happening. Jeremy heard the frantic, repeating crash of a large, hairy fist against the door before Ik’s enormous clawed appendage shot through the gap at the bottom of the door and gripped the edge. Shrieks of protesting gears and metal began as Ik began forcing the door up faster.

  The nude, ashen figure of Wilhelm slid like a baseball player under the rising door as he cackled, waving one of his knives at Jeremy in a jaunty salute as he escaped. Wilhelm slashed viciously at Ik’s clawed hand as he slid underneath the door. Jeremy heard a roaring scream from Ik.