Randal and Mint stood outside the house of the Narco-Shaman, waiting. Eventually, Randal remembered to ring the bell. The Narco-Shaman’s Mom answered the door.
“Is Scabby home?” asked Mint.
“Oh why yes he is dear,” said the Nacro-Shaman’s Mom “Come on in, come on in.”
She opened the door wide and beckoned the two enter. They stepped inside and looked around. The sitting room they found themselves in was a shrine to bland corporate cuteness. Every surface was cluttered with sickening cherubic tchotchkees, goo-gaws, trinkets and the occasional doo-dad.
“JEFFERY YOU HAVE GUESTS” the old woman bellowed with Herculean volume down the basement stairs.
“Go on ahead down Dearie,” she said, catching Mint in the eyes and startling her.
Randal and Mint descended the stairs and into the basement through a dank fog. The windows were covered with black material, blocking the harmful rays of the beautiful sunny day outside.
The only light in the room came in the form of the blinking colors emanating from the incredibly complex-looking network of machinery which occupied at least half of the room. It was a mishmash of computers and everyday items that contain small computers wired together into some techno-horror yard sale. Scabby sat at what appeared to be the command center for this elaborate maze of hardware.
“Do you have it?” asked Mint.
“Well that really depends. You made some pretty extraordinary claims. You piqued my curiosity, but before we go any further I’m going to have to demand some kind of proof,” said Scabbie, tenting his fingers and leaning in to seem menacing, causing his long hair to fall in his eyes.
“Alright, I have it here,” said Randal, opening pulling it out of his bag.
“Where did you get it?” asked Scabbie, eyeing the box greedily, his fingers rubbing together unconsciously.
“At a Mall about 70 years from now,” said Mint, smiling.
“Oh that’s right, you’re from the future. Like I said, very extraordinary claims.”
“I am,” corrected Mint “The caveman to my immediate right is from the past, the original Earth actually.”
“Give me the game and perhaps I’ll believe your claims.”
Randal held out the box and Scabbie snatched it from his hand like a crocodile grabbing a chicken. He let his eyes drink in the graphics for a moment. Dungeon Warp 27. If this was real, it was undeniable proof of the claims. Dungeon Warp 6 had only just come out.
“Alright, as soon as this installs we’ll see what we can see won’t we?” said Scabbie, still trying to sound cool in that oblivious sort of dweeb way.
* * * LOADING * * *
“It’s called Epiphazine,” said Mint “You take the inhaler, inhale a puff and immediately you get a moment of absolute clarity of thought.”
“Followed by an awesome three hour body buzz,” chimed in Scabbie “But if you two are half as serious about time travel as you seem to be, you’re missing something.”
He produced another vial from his bag.
“Polymorphine, a powerful hallucinogen. Except it’s not a hallucinogen because it doesn’t affect the mind. What it does is destabilize your morphic field. You become what your mind creates. Sounds like a lot of fun, but it’s dangerous as all Hell. Don’t want actual bugs crawling in your skin right?”
“Why would we want to mess with our morphic fields?” asked Mint “Wouldn’t that simultaneously accomplish nothing and possibly disfigure us in horrible terrible ways?”
YOU ARE READING
The Second To Last Human Alive
Science FictionAn extraordinarily lucky man is blasted into space and killed in a freak accident, only to be revived nine apocalypses later to find himself one half of the last remnants of humanity. Now he and a woman from this strange future must travel through t...
