A Fine Pair - Pt. 01

Hot winds, laden with the power of strange energies blew through the windows. The stark, pastel-banded scenery of Arizona flashed by under the tires of the De Tomaso Pantera as they drew ever closer. The occupants, one knowing too much the other knowing just enough, passed the time as best as each could.

"I don't see the problem," said Jake. "If you're getting more powerful, that's a good thing isn't it?"

Gene scowled at his friend and passenger in the car seat. Jake could be very annoying at times. Disturbing even. His habit of drinking Jim Beam as they drove made the whole car stink of booze.

Two days earlier, it had caused them real troubles with the police. Gene had a hell of a time convincing the officer that he hadn't been drinking. Instead it was the raccoon in the passenger seat, Jake.

Luckily, Jake refrained from speaking. The situation was difficult enough without smashing the officer's comfortable reality. Trying to explain an alcoholic, and talking, raccoon would only have made the situation untenable. Explaining why the talking raccoon had a heavy Bronx accent would've shattered the boundaries of reason. Fortunately, Jake limited himself to winking at the officer periodically, an action that left the man doubting his vision and his career choice. After Gene passed a breathalizer test three times and Jake proved to have no symptoms of alcohol poisoning, the befuddled cop let them go with a warning that they'd better do "something" before "something bad" happened.

As the growling Pantera hurtled down the highway, they approached that enigmatic "something" every passing second.

"It's simple," said Gene. "The aliens first visited Earth 12 years ago and have been immigrating here ever since, right?"

"Right. How come I ain't never seen no aliens?" Jake took a long drag from his cigar.

"They're all in California."

"I mean the extra-terrestrial kind."

"Jake! Don't be insensitive."

Jake blew a smoke ring at Gene.

"Anyway," continued Gene. "Try to stay with me. Ever since the aliens arrived, the force of magic in the world has increased a hundred fold. I believe their interstellar drives caused a darcintramatic transfigural infarcrament."

"Yeah, I got that once when I ate too many Jalapenos."

Gene sighed. "No Jake. They caused a distortion in the membrane of our local space-time and that has moved us off the path of the poly-universal medium."

"And that's bad, right?"

"Definitely," said Gene. "The distortion moved us into the wild plain of the multiversal terrain where magic is more powerful; where we used to be in the olden days. It could have significant effects on the planet."

"Like mebbe you could become so powerful you make yourself president?"

"Please! Who in their right mind would want that job? No, what I'm talking about is people who 'might have' been able to influence the energies of Magic just a little bit will suddenly be able to influence it a LOT. That could be catastrophic."

Jake tossed down the last of his Jim Beam and refilled it with fresh ice and more booze  from a new bottle of Wild Turkey. He threw the empty bottle of Jim Beam back into the large, battered leather satchel beside him where the bottle would be refilled for later use.

"So what?" Jake muttered around the glass. "Lots more folks will find coins behind their ears. Everybody wins, I say."

"Everybody loses actually. The art of 'controlling' magic is lost. Few people direct their thoughts anymore because they've ceased to believe in the power of magic. Without any negative effects from their stray thoughts, Humanity no longer understands how powerful their ideas are. Suddenly, and without warning, people's murderous thoughts toward one another will take one an unexpected reality."

"What does that mean for us?"

"It means we have to find the cause of the membrane distortion...and reverse it."

---To Be continued---