Literature Page

When I was ten years old, brain free of adult things like consequences or cause and effect, I took up a pair of child safety scissors and scratched my name into my school desk.

It stared back at me, crude handwriting made cruder from the dull blade. Some sense of power welled up on me. I did that. Left a permanent mark on the face of my tiny world, which at the time comprised only of home, school, and the park by Jesse’s house.

The culprit was obvious, as using my literal name at the scene of the crime gave it away. “Samantha, why would you do this?” The teacher asked sternly. I burst into tears.

---

Graffitti covered a lot of seattle, it was unavoidable—especially since the pandemic. The cops had given up cleaning it, “soft quitting” since the CHOP. I had learned to tune it out, but one evening on my commute, a tag caught my eye.

Not caught, snagged. Like an unskilled dentist tugging on a bit of stuck plaque. My head twitching a bit to the left to better face it. In tall, thin black letters, it spelled;

V I S A G E.

Ugly, I thought. Any eye-sore. Of course the tagger put it right across the overpass, where everyone driving by would have to look at it.

Scowling at having given the tag any thought, I let myself relax into Seattle’s stop and go traffic and continued to work.

--

“What do you mean he got the promotion? I’ve been working in this lab twice as long-” my supervisor held up a hand.

“You already have a lot on your plate Samantha, focus on your grad school classes, and then we can see if you’re ready for the amount of work this would bring.”

“I- You’ve seen the hours I’ve been pulling right? Mark is doing a third of what I do, and you’re sending him to the summit instead?”

“Well, a presentation takes different skills than lab work…”

“Different skills? I can talk about research-”

Her supervisor got an uncomfortable look. “Its about… presence Samantha. Commanding attention. And you just… seem to…”He gestured loosely with his arm, ” fade into the background.”

I stared disbelievingly- what kind of feedback was that? “How- how would I even prove,” I curled my fists

“Hey its not a bad thing, research is much more low-key. Play to your strengths, Sam.” He punched my shoulder playfully, face a grimace. “Anyway, you run those samples from earlier, I’m gonna take my lunch.”

Something wet dripped to the floor. I held up my hands. My nails had dug small, bloody furrows into my palms. I walked to the sink. Water. My gaze slid up slowly, out the window, only to meet that tag again.

V I S A G E.

The wall of one of the universities research labs? Bold, I doubted it would last long before someone reported it. I shut off the sink. Then again, not much graffiti had been cleared anywhere in the city recently.

--

Lab again. Can’t focus. Can’t think. Mark is probably preparing his slides right now. Probably writing goddamn notecards because he can’t memorize for shit. My grip tightened on the pipette. Probably lining up all the photos that I took of my samples. The pipette creaked. Probably going to rub elbows with all those oh-so-important UW professors. The pipette slipped and I stabbed deeply into the agar plate, a huge gash opening on the bacterial media.

The bench clatters to the floor, knocked over as I stand up. I need a break. Coffee. I think to myself, some air.

Walking to the closest coffee shop, I see it yet again. VISAGE. VISAGE, VISAGE, VISAGE. Frustration has caused a pounding headache, and upon seeing the word it, like magic, disappears.

Looking at the tag, pressed up against the wall of a shady pub like two handsy lovers or some homeless guy looking to take a piss, a thought enters my head. A thought I haven’t had about any other tag.

How many of these are there?

I take out my phone and snap a photo, taking down the geotag. Surely the lab can’t need me that much. If my contribution is so small, they’ll hardly notice if I take off early.

---

That night, restless, I turned in bed. The ugly billboard outside my apartment- it has VISAGE in its thin tall letters scrawled across the face. I reach across my bed blindly and pull my phone off its charger. Geotag data, longitude, latitude, my map takes the shape of a cute face with its tags and winks at me. I wink back. Someone’s been busy, this tag must’ve gone up while I was at work.

---

My map grows and I start to realize… The tags appear in a pattern. The same distance between each of them. I can predict where other tags would be. Exciting!

Six tags. My roommate peaks her head in. “Sam, you good? I uh… Haven’t seen you in class for a while.”

“Fine. I’m busy.”

“oookayyyy, what’s with all the maps and red string? Also maybe turn on a light, Jesus its dark in here.”

“It’s fine.” Casey flips on the switch. I hiss at her like a bat and she snorts.

“Whatever, as long as you actually go to class tomorrow. Right?” I wave her off

“Yeah yeah sure.”

---

I do what any good student would do, and I research.

Graffitti has always been a part of human nature. A cry into the void, asking someone, anyone am I real? Can you see me?

Why do people trash the places they live, they travel every day? For power. When someone lacks power, they take it out on the only places they are able to, I grimace, remembering when I had to clean the toilets at my café job. They assert themselves in a childish frenzy. That’s just destruction of public property though, tagging is a bit different. Instead of getting power through destruction, the tagger gets power through attention. Visibility. A tagger scopes out a spot above a highway, and suddenly hundreds of exhausted commuters will think of the tag they wrote- a tangible impact on all of their minds, all thinking of the same word.

Finally, my research leads me to Pompeii.

I tab through google maps. Most of the tags are childish- I banged a girl here, or this guys lame, or drawings of dicks. But, one pattern, one word, repeats itself over and over, across the city, in the same way.

The pattern of the tag locations… I yank down a sheet of graph paper where I inked out my geotags by hand- and I hear the apartment door click shut. A glance at my watch tells me- yep, its 4 AM. I crack the door open. “Casey? You were out late.”

“Hm? Oh, me and Jesse went out.”

“Oh. You didn’t tell me?” My voice gets weaker towards the end of the sentence.

“uh, figured you’d be busy. With your maps or whatever.” She sighs drunkenly, “ ‘night.”

“Goodnight” I say to her closed door.

--

Location. Location. Location. The night air feels fantastic- and sure enough, there was another tag under the bridge, just as I thought. I drink in the sight like it was actual water, like the water under this bridge I’m freezing my ass on. Actually, that sounds kinda gross, this hypothetical brain water is much, much nicer. New geotag, and I managed it before 5 AM. Nice.

I can feel something expanding in my chest, taking up more and more space in me. It feels freeing. Isolating. But euphoric, like I’m finally taking control. I bounce up onto the tips of my feet easily, one with the cool breeze. My burden has lightened.

--

“Hey, did you look over my results? You didn’t reply to my email.” I say. My supervisor doesn’t look up from his desk. “Well if you’re going to ignore me, be a dick about it.” I mutter as I turn away. His headphones are unplugged.

--

Location. Location. Location. There is a pattern, and now that I’ve found it getting more tags is easy. If the pattern continues like this, I have to be close to finding all of them. It’s nine by the time I get back and I feel weightless, lighter than air. My feet barely grace the apartment stairs with the excitement of my triumph. I glide up them, out the door, and into my apartment. “Casey my theory was right!” I say, sliding onto the breakfast table.

Casey does not look up from her Instagram feed. She chews her super sugar crunch ceral slowly, cow-like and placid.

“Casey? Hello, I said I made a breakthrough!” My notebook is shoved next to her cereal, sloshing the bowl. A sticky note -longitude latitude elevation- slides out and lands gently on her shoe. “The next tag- the next one, it’ll be at the convention center! I even know the next time the building will be open- at noon- the same time as the ah,” my voice caught, “The… the convocation, Mark’s presenting at.” I rock nervously on my chair. “Did I tell you about any of that?” a cheerful rendition of a pop song with all the words replaced by meow plays from the phone. ”Casey, will you just look at me?”

Her thumb swipes upwards dully.

---

I entered the convention center like a ghost. The security guards didn’t badge me, the metal detectors stayed silent, and no one spoke up when I shoved them out of line. There were three floors, but I already knew where the last tag would be. I could feel it, like a small tug on my eyelids. A twitch, pulling lightly on my lashes like a child on dandelion fluff. Third floor.

I turned the corner and- someone was already there. Spray can in hand, he had started on the first letter.

“H-hey wait-” I reached a hand out for his shoulder. When it made contact he flinched and looked back, first in fear, then understanding.

“Oh, it got you good didn’t it.”

“What?” My voice croaks with disuse, as if I hadn’t spoken to someone in days. I rub at my throat. He grins.

“Your attention. It’s been eating up the attention at anyone who glances its way, and soon it’ll unleash it all onto one focus point” He shook the can back and forth, making it rattle loudly. “Now, are you a kindred spirit in attention hoarding, or have you just been unlucky enough to spot too many of these?” I glanced back at the crowd filling into the conference room. He was very obviously defacing the conference wall, and no one had stopped him. No one had stopped either of us.

They couldn’t notice us. I eyed the can again. “A focus point? What are you focusing on?” My hands itched, clenching and unclenching. He continued rolling the spray can back and forth, and snorts.

“Me, obviously.”

I lunge for the can.

“Hey!-” we wrestle for a moment, he’s rail thin, but I haven’t been sleeping much lately. The tug on my lids has graduated to a angry burning sensation. I don’t think I could close my eyes if I tried.

Frustrated, I put my hands to his eyes.

“Augh- wait-”

And I push.

--

I don’t bother wiping my thumbs off as I pick up the spray can from the floor.

“Stop it, stop! That’s the f- the final one” Coughed out the tagger. He’s lying on the floor. “Then,” his mouth contorted like he was trying to smile, tears joining the gore on his cheeks “Ev-everyone will s-see. They’ll see me.”

I could hear the presentation beginning in the other room. The clapping. The cheers. Stinking spray paint dripped onto my hand. “No… they won’t see you.” I said, staring at the wall.

“They’ll see me.”

I finish the word. Suddenly, I can’t see him anymore- even his weeping has gone silent. It doesn’t matter if I know he’s there or not- he just isn’t important.

--

I step out onto the stage and every single eye turns to me. Every single one. I become hyper aware of the spray can still clutched in my left hand, still dripping. I swallow hard, “Ah, Don’t need this,” set it down, set it down quickly. My thumb leaves a gooey smear. No one bats an eye.

I walk to the center of the stage. Mark is there, staring. He has flashcards, the goddamn amateur. I reach out and they slip bonelessly from his hands. “I’m very excited to present to you all today, a lot of work has gone into this.” I confess in my public speaking voice, clicking the next button on the computer.

I barely glance at the screen, sweating bullets. Then I do a double take. There’s a picture of me- in the lab. I click next again, another picture of me, this time at the bus stop. “uh, this is, um.” Click. Me, out with my friends at a bar. Click. My apartment. I’m visible through the kitchen window. Click. A childhood vacation to the coast. I look about five years old. Click click click. I haven’t seen a single audience member blink since I stepped onstage.

“Um. This is. Uh.” I flounder uselessly, my eyes bouncing between projector, the audience, and Mark who has still not gotten off the stage. Finally, I land on the PC projecting the show- the livestream. Its view count is ticking up violently. Click click click, my second grade spelling bee, my high prom, my Grandma’s funeral. I smack the pc. “This isn’t how it- wait, let me fix-” The view count on the livestream is reaching record numbers- I try to disconnect, end the stream, I unplug the PC, rip out cords, power, HDMI, multi-USB, the projector and slides remain up. The PC glows bright and strong. Click. My name, etched on a child’s desk. A signature on the crime, a signature as the crime. My fingers flex for scissors that are not there.

Unbidden, I remember.

If I wanted attention, why oh why had I used my face?

Hindbrain

April 4th-

Free will is the root of all evil.

My patron tells me we’re getting closer to the doomsday arena. She appeared to me last night, in a dream. The subtle low buzz of the hive surrounded me as she told me about the artifact. The twisted bolus that shall bend the will of the cascades to follow her divine intent. The minds of everyone in the will be conjoined into a hive of epic proportions, humming and working together.

No more fighting, no more injustice, just a perfectly interlocked system.

Soon, everyone will finally get along.

This makes me happy, of course.

April 5th-

I have some… concerns about my party.

This is the team she predicted would bring about our apotheosis. My patron me they will suit my

needs to get to the artifact, and she never makes mistakes.

However, they aren’t quite how I expected.

I’ve gathered three members right now, from various positions, with varying levels of knowledge

about my patron.

There’s Creekjaw the Ranger who I picked up from a dead-end warden gig. He still thinks I’m

just a mage with fire magic, and I’ll keep it that way for now. Kalphim, another follower of the

First Mind (I’m very thankful for that, I need someone else who understands. Even if she never

seems to stop talking. And complaining. While she may be strong in the ways of the First Mind,

her temperament is not a good fit for travel. Or dirt.) And of course, Barracuda, who needs no

introduction. Ugh, I can’t stand her. She knows nothing of our cause and rebukes all of my

attempts with “that sounds like a pyramid scheme” and “I don’t care about bees.”. How rude!

But that’s what you can expect from barbarians…

I suppose I’ll get through to her eventually, the journey is going to take a while. She may yet join

the hive!

April 8th-

We are out of cash! Kalphim snuck off and gambled it all away. The least she could’ve done is

twisted their minds to make them play poorly, but she says she’s not a cheater.

Luckily, we asked around and found a quick job from the grocer. Its simple! Just clean out some

rats from his storeroom.

It only pays 10 copper, which is pretty far below our normal pay grade, but it’ll at least get us a

cart to a bigger town where people actually have the money to pay adventurers. Why bother

looking for something more difficult?

April 9th –

Things are bad. Really bad. This is not what we planned. I don’t even know where to start.

We were in the storeroom, right? We were poking around, looking for the rats, when Creekjaw

pushed a crate aside and uncovered a large hole, about three feet tall. So, we stuck our heads in,

shrugged and started crawling.

At first, we only ran into normal rats. Then the tunnel widened enough to crouch in rather than

crawl. The rats grew in size with it, becoming as big as terriers.

So I’m thinking how long is this tunnel? Just as we come across an intersection. Creekjaw

picked right. Then another intersection. Left this time.

Then a five-way intersection.

We paused there, and started debating if it we should turn back. Of course, it was at that moment

that a rat the size of a golden retriever tried to eat Kalphim’s face off.

After a very intense struggle, we killed the giant rat but found ourselves completely turned

around. Out of options, we picked a path and started following it. You would think that since

Creekjaw is a ranger, he’d be great at this whole finding a path thing, but I digress.

We’ve stopped to take a short break now. In the middle of yet another tunnel, yippee. We’ve

finally upgraded to squatting rather than crouching. The higher ceiling is nice too, but… I think

that means we’re getting even farther from the entrance than when we started.

Kalphim isn’t looking too hot either. Rat bites get infected easily.

April ??--

No clue what time it is, it’s always dark in the tunnels. We can’t have been here longer than a

day, right? I mean, we haven’t even slept yet. I’m… tired, but that’s probably from exertion, not

the time of day.

The tunnels have stayed around five feet high for the last… however long. We need a break. I

tried to lighten the mood with a joke about how rats everywhere would be this size if crawl

spaces were bigger, but it didn’t really land.

People should appreciate jokes while they still have their own private minds to hear them. A joke

isn’t funny if you just tell it to yourself.

What a depressing thought! Jokes are a small price to pay for eternal peace and fulfillment. A

cost I would gladly give up, for the betterment of everyone.

I’m not being doubtful, it’s just—these tunnels twist my thoughts down paths they don’t

normally go. I need to keep my head on track.

It’s only a matter of time until we get back to our journey, find the artifact, and the apotheosis

will begin. My pulse picks up just thinking about it.

April Entry 1-

We found mushrooms! We can eat those! We still have rations in our bags of course, but it’s good

to save up just in case.

In a strange twist, Barracuda is the one who won’t stop complaining instead of Kalphim. For

once she’s getting on everyone’s nerves, not just mine.

It’s weird that Kalphim is so quiet.

Creekjaw keeps doing that snapping thing with his left thumb. I think he feels guilty that he’s

leading us in circles. I’m just happy we have mushrooms.

Entry 2-

I found a small hole that leads into a bigger room! Praise the First Mind! The larger rats can’t

squeeze their way in here either. We even managed to barricade the door with a large rock, so we

can sleep more comfortably inside without the fear of anything getting in. We found it at a good

time too, Kalphim finally gets to have some much needed sleep to help with the rat bite.

Creekjaw and Barracuda are arguing over the crude map we’ve made of the tunnels.

“No that was a right.”

“There were three paths here, not five, why did you draw so many?”

It’s times like these that I’m reminded of why it’ll be so much better when we’re all joined into

one mind. A world with no more arguing, and teamwork will define every action. Seamless

cooperation.

I could reach into their minds with her influence right now if I wanted to. I could make them

stop.

But the twisting would fade, and they’d just be at it again in another twenty minutes.

Round and round we go, both in our cave and with each other.

Entry 3-

Twice is a coincidence, but three times is a pattern.

We’ve been mapping the surrounding area more intensely, but the maps never seem to line up

quite right, and we never agree on the paths afterwards.

I hate to say it but… I think the tunnels might be changing.

Either that or the mushrooms aren’t as edible as we thought.

Entry 4-

We’ve been found! Kinda. We’re still stuck in this cave, but now with new people!

The team and I were huddled over the map again in camp when we heard the sound of rats

fighting.

I lost our fiercely-whispered argument-breaking game of rock paper scissors, so I had to be the

one to check. Low and behold, another adventuring party! Two siblings, named after attributes

like most Tieflings. Joy and Surprise—fraternal twins. Their party used to be bigger, but the

others didn’t make it.

I led them back to camp, and they explained that they had also been paid by the Grocer to deal

with the rat problem.

I guess that makes sense, but I’m a little miffed the Grocer didn’t send in anyone to look for us.

Entry 5-

I’ve renewed my attempts to explain the majesty of bees today, their orderly hives with

honeycombs in perfect shapes. Their teamwork and dedication.

Barracuda rolled her eyes as usual, but the twins seemed interested!

Like Barracuda’s personality, our mushroom garden needs a lot more work done. Joy suggested

using the bones from the rats we’ve killed as fertilizer—do mushrooms take fertilizer the same

way as plants? I know about normal, honest, well-meaning plants that are pollinated by bees and

grow in the sun as nature intended. Mushrooms… somethings not right about them.

However, that doesn’t stop me from eating them. Tasty!

Joy and Surprise told me about their backup plan to get out— thank the First Mind they didn’t

try it. They packed explosives. No way would that have freed us this far underground., It

would’ve just caused a cave in!

Entry 6-

Another commotion, and with it three new adventurers! The grocer must be getting desperate. I

think this crew was sent in before Joy and Surprise’s group, because they look much worse off.

However, they had a druid in the party who knows about mushrooms! I tried to talk to him about

pollinators but then he started saying something about spores and my eyes glazed over. There’s

no helping this godless man.

They also had their own map, but absolutely nothing on it looks like our map. The tunnels are

definitely changing. No one is happy about this.

Kalphim disappeared last night. She was muttering in her sleep. Chittering.

I don’t think she’s coming back.

Entry 7-

Found some scraps. I used them to make a banner for my Patron, painted the First Mind’s

symbol on it. I hung it over the front door so that when the Grocer sends more adventurers— and

he will send more adventurers – They’ll know where to go.

I also praised the majesty and strength of the hive, and those poor desperate travelers from our

most recent group seemed politely interested.

Entry 8-

When the rats saw her symbol over our door they fled.

They’re scared of her.

Entry 9-

Their fear, I suppose it makes sense-- they aren’t thinking creatures, and they don’t want to think.

They don’t have desires, hopes or dreams… only unending waves of gnashing teeth and hunger.

They don’t think like us, those horrible scrabbling monsters.

So it does make sense. Our order, connection, communication and teamwork must seem

repulsive to them. Terrifying and disgusting, even. That has to be the reason.

She isn’t scary.

She’s not. She’s caring and knows what’s best— she’s divine and holy. She always knows what

to do.

That’s why she deserves to make everyone’s decisions for them, once the apotheosis arrives.

So why do I feel some relief at my quest being stalled? This situation is horrifying. My

companions are all retreating into various states of neurosis just to cope with the bleak reality of

these caves. Yet, when it comes to me, my head feels clearer than when I was in open air. Clearer

than it has felt in… years.

She’s not scary, the rats just don’t understand. I’ll use her symbol to bring these people to safety.

I’ll make them understand what the rats, those horrible unthinking creatures, cannot.

Entry 10-

I feel safe in saying that the smaller rats don’t think.

…The bigger ones however, once they get past the size of a large dog, do start getting pretty

crafty. They make crude tools. They make small traps. They double back around the tunnels with

uncanny intelligence and flank our mapping parties.

If Creekjaw starts chittering in his sleep, I don’t know if I’ll be able to find a way to secure him. I

warned them to avoid getting bitten, I’ve warned all of them. I’d half think he got himself bitten

on purpose the way he’s been moping guiltily around camp. The druid cleaned up his bite, so I

doubt its infected…

I’ve been twisting his thoughts away from the question of blame, and how much of it is his, but I

can only do that when he’s nearby. It’s stressful to not be able to rely on my own team.

What he should be feeling guilty about is distracting me. Back on topic; The smaller rats don’t

think, but the larger ones… even if my “afraid of thinking” theory is off, all of the rats still fear

the First Mind’s symbol. Only the smaller ones flee, but the larger ones still become quite wary

and nervous.

I’ve started making charms and painting her symbol on whatever I can get my hands on.

Everyone else in the group has started doing this too, asking me to bless their crude copies of the

design.

They’re finally interested in what I have to say. What my Patron has to say.

I, of course, answer happily. This is great, they’re really coming around to what my Patron

believes.

They had their own free will, and look where it got them- stuck in a labyrinth of giant rats. By

accepting her into their hearts, they’ll be safe. She’ll protect them.

She has to.

Also… the twins made me a sick throne of rat bones. Suck it Barracuda.

Entry 11-

Creekjaw is mostly healed, and has started taking map rotations again. He’s still less talkative

than usual, but I poked around in his mind and he isn’t dwelling as much anymore! His mind is

more… empty? Wait, that sounds bad. Zen is probably a better word. I’ll take it, as long as he’s

present enough for his rotation.

All that aside, he’s also been getting along remarkably well with the twins.

The twins have started doing this thing where they trade off who speaks every other word, which

they were definitely not doing that when I first met them.

Maybe they’ve gained a small blessing from my patron? Or more likely that’s wishful thinking

and they merely find it amusing to do so.

Everyone is getting a little weird in the head down here.

(Which of course means that Barracuda hasn’t really changed all that much, ha.)

In other news, one of the newer members moonlights as a clothes designer? Which is excellent

news because our clothes are pretty chewed up by the rats. She’s been using the fibrous stalks of

stuff that grows in the walls to make warmer clothes for everyone. And better blankets! All with

the sign of the First Mind stitched in of course.

Entry 11-

Our mushroom garden is thriving, which is good because yet another party has made their way

through these wretched tunnels and into our welcoming arms.

I asked them what day it is on the surface, and they didn’t know. How do they not know? They

were just up there! Useless.

What the hell is that grocer doing.

HOWEVER! I have good news. The beehives that I’ve been cultivating are finally starting to

take. We all wear the sign of the First Mind. Camp has become a well-oiled machine, as any

good hive should be. It’s becoming more comfortable and livable by the day.

…All except for how it is getting pretty cramped in here. We have nearly thirty people sharing

this cave now.

Entry 12-

I don’t care how sustainable our little community is, we need to get out of here.

I miss the sun.

Entry 13-

That’s not the only reason I want out.

I’m having thoughts I don’t like very much.

Doubts.

I didn’t get those on the surface, but here, outside influences are dampened by the layers of dirt

and rock. My mind is quieter, and yet so noisy. The uneasiness I felt when the rats were turned

by her symbol hasn’t gone away. Why won’t it go away?

No one else here down here is scared of her. They revere her.

Entry 14-

The maps are useless. The tunnels change shape constantly. Sometimes in the corner of my eye I

swear I can feel the walls warping, expanding and contracting like the lungs of a great beast, but

when I turn my head to look they stand as sturdy and immovable as… well, stone.

We have a large group— yes they aren’t very powerful, and yes they’re all relatively unskilled,

after all they only expected to kill a few rats.— But what we lack in strength, we make up for in

numbers. There are a lot of us. At least 32 last time I bothered counting.

We were hired to kill these rats. In the morning, we’re going to pack up camp and find the nest.

And we will burn it to the ground.

Entry 15-

Barracuda thought it was stupid to leave everything, but no one listens to her. They listen to me. I

speak for the First Mind and the First Mind is what protects us from these animals. Everything is

packed up and ready to go.

Entry 16-

The ceiling keeps getting taller the farther we walk. It doesn’t matter what direction we go, it all

just leads deeper. That’s fine. Good, even! We need to find the heart of this place.

These are all just more doubts, of a different kind but equally useless. I’ll keep moving, and

outpace the thoughts.

Nothing will make me turn back.

Entry 17-

Just fought a pack of rats the size of horses.

I am willing to find the exit instead of the nest now.

Entry 18-

Taking a break. We have rotations of guarding duty so everyone can get some rest in. Feels like

we’ve walked for miles.

Entry 19-

…I’m not sure where to start.

The ceiling kept getting higher and higher, the rats bigger and bigger. The scuttling noise that

usually alerts us when they’re nearby became constant background noise. Scratch, scratch

scratch, scratch, and on and on it went. Soon I had to jump to touch the ceiling. The air got

colder, the vegetation on the walls growing denser and denser. We were just about done walking

for the “day” when we turned a corner…

And the ceiling just opened up.

It was a massive cavern, even bigger than the capital.

There, stretched out before us, was a city. Spiraling towers filled expanse, made out of the same

shiny smooth black rock as the rest of the caves. It looked less like a place that was built, and

more like it had been gouged into the rock face. Tiny scratching claws endlessly working at the

stone until it had a shape appealing to whatever intelligence owned this place.

And of course, it was teeming with rats.

Disgusting, scrabbling, rats. Running up and down the spiral staircases and rickety twisted streets

on all fours. Their sizes ran from a lap dog at the smallest, to almost as big as a carriage at the

largest.

Thankfully, the opening we came out of overlooked the city from high in the air, with a crude

staircase that clung to the rock face at our left.

Luckily, the rats can’t spot us up here.

The mood around camp is dejected. We’ve finally found the nest of the rats, and it is much, much

bigger than any of us could have imagined.

Everyone is asking me what to do…

I decided that we should leave for the rats. Could this have been a mistake? I wish my Patron

would just give me a sign. Anything. She’s supposed to always know what to do. Free of human

error, like say walking the people relying on her right into the most dangerous part of the caves.

Where is she?

Just how badly have I fucked up?

I’m going to take a nap. And when I wake, if I am very lucky, the confusion will clear, and

everything will make sense again.

Entry 20-

We sent a couple of people to sneak into the city. They captured one of the medium-sized rats

and brought it back for interrogation. I felt around the edges of its rotten mind- it does have one

after all- and asked it how we could leave.

You can only leave if the Rat King permits it.

That’s all I managed to pull from its sharp prickly mind.

I asked who the rat king was, and the creature snickered.

I can take you to the Rat King.

I’m really considering it. I could meet with him and get permission. Maybe even get out of here

before I forget what the sun looks like.

The group is definitely a bit smaller than when we left. I don’t know if we lost someone during

the skirmishes, or if the night watch accidentally let some rats slip through.

Or maybe they wandered off like Kalphim.

She was supposed to be protected. Looked out for, by the First Mind. Where could she have

gone?

Maybe she was led out? Maybe I’ve been left here because the First Mind can see it in my head,

clear as day, that something has wormed its way into my head, sparking a small fire of doubt and

distrust.

Maybe Kalphim will start the apotheosis on her own, and then—

And then what? Are we too far below the surface to be linked into that great hivemind? Free will,

forced upon us forever to let us keep making mistakes? Our minds snuffed out, our bodies

stripped bare to the bone by rats?

If we have less than 30 people, I should be able to tell who is missing. I wrote 32 earlier. But I

can’t think of anyone that’s missing. What is wrong with me?

I don’t want to ask. I don’t want to be the one who brings it up, because if the others notice, they

will panic. But someone else should’ve noticed by now, right?

Barracuda is gone.

Entry 21-

We went to meet the Rat King.

I took Creekjaw and the twins with me, leaving the druid in charge of the rest of the hive. We

promised to return.

Our rat-guide led us back into the tunnels, along another path that became very steep very fast. It

was made of the gouged black stone of the city, not the mossy rocks of the tunnels. We were

lucky the ceiling was lower there, as we had to push our hands against it to keep us from slipping

down. Architecture built for things that walk on all fours is alien to us.

The tunnel led into an intersection which led into a dome shaped room with columns of scraggly

gouged rock holding up the ceiling. Our guide gestured to the door, and ran off. The open door

glittered with small shiny offerings, bits of glass and gold, worthless and priceless things mixed

together by merit of being “shiny”. Nothing left to do, we stepped in to meet the Rat King.

The first thing I noticed were the teeth.

Gnashing, teething mouths. Sharp shrieks emitted from the mass. It took me a moment to realize

those mouths were attached to heads, and those heads to furry squirming bodies that disappeared

into each other as they fought and writhed to stick their heads out.

It was dozens of rats, all tied together by their tails into one giant teeming mass of impiety,

straining to break apart.

I stood frozen in horror. This isn’t something you can reason with or ask politely for permission

to leave. No, your only choices are to run, or hide. You hide quietly, making no sudden

movements, and pray it won’t notice you.

Creekjaw, as if in a trance, stumbled towards the Rat King. My arm twitched to grab him, but

sluggishly missed, like my limb was half asleep.

He stepped up to the mass, arms outstretched.

I can’t bring myself to write down what happened next.

“Why did he do that,” muttered Surprise in –hah—surprise. Then, Surprise gasped. The Rat

King’s attention had fallen on him.

The Kings attention was like a physical weight, I could feel it and it wasn’t even on me. Surprise

slowly started forwards. I had to think fast.

I took in a deep breath, and plunged into The Rat Kings Mind.

…

It was disgusting.

Not one brain, but dozens. No not dozens—

Hundreds.

I recognized this. The rat king was doing something to draw in people. Calling to them to…

combine.

And every rat that entered its filthy body became part of it, its strange alien intelligence growing

with every being it consumed.

And it wanted to consume. It wanted to consume and consume and consume and

consumeandconsumeandconsumeand—

It would eat anything. Everything.

Breathless, I realized I had made a mistake, poking around in its head.

It turned its sights on me like how a building falls on a pedestrian. Heavily and trying to kill on

impact.

…Thankfully, it wasn’t just me in my head.

I have a parasite. And that parasite links back too…

Her.

Mesaline. The First Mind, The Hive that Stretches to Greet All, filled my head with a low buzz

that grew and grew and I felt her shadow stretching out behind me.

“Ah, my old enemy… You think you can hide away in the dark and I won’t find you? Find

your filthy “city”? You think yourself worthy to play puppet master? I will crush you like

an insect.” And with that Mesaline began her onslaught.

I didn’t especially want to be the conduit for a psychic battle between two God-like hive minds,

but I was a little busy being zooted out of my goddamn mind. Zonked, even.

“You are needed elsewhere” a fraction of a fraction of the First Mind said, and— --With an electric snap, I returned to my body, covered in a cold sweat but somehow still on my

feet. Joy was bent over her brother, shaking him and yelling at him to get up, to run. I stumbled

over to them. Joy didn’t seem to notice me. I fell onto my knees and dug through Surprise’s bag.

Bingo. The explosives were still there.

The Rat King Shrieked in agony with its hundred mouths. I was running out of time. I climbed

one of the hanging scaffolds and stuck it to the ceiling

The shrieking reached a new pitch.

Joy released her brother to cover her ears. I… also covered my ears and nearly fell off the

scaffold. Realizing the shriek would only get louder, I did a… controlled fall back onto the floor,

and ran over to Joy. “WE NEED TO GO!” I mouthed at her. She nodded and picked up her

brother.

If the noise got any louder I knew my brain would start leaking out of my ears.

Upon reaching the entrance, I spun around and launched a fireball at the bomb, then ran.

Then the explosive went off, and I didn’t think about much of anything for a while.

…I woke up a couple hours ago. The room the Rat King was in has completely collapsed. I hope

that nothing will be able to crawl its way into that room to feed it—that the King will starve, but

I know better.

The tunnels weren’t shifting at all when we were trapped. The Rat King had been calling us

closer to him, and all of our attempts to map it had been ruined by him influencing us to pick

paths that would lead us deeper.

The twins and I are in some other tunnel now, and the way back is collapsed. Only way out is

forwards, I suppose.

… I wonder if this counts as getting the Rat King’s “permission”?

We scooped up some of the shiny things that spilled out of the Rat King’s room. Gold, some

jewelry. I found an especially pretty ring. None of the work has been worth 10 copper, so we will

take our payment where we can get it.

Entry 22-

The tunnel is getting smaller.

It’s getting smaller!

I could cry with joy!

Entry 23-

Unlike poor Kalphim, she must have split from the party of her own accord, not following some

dark call from the Rat King.

The three of us were walking back through the tunnel, when we heard off-beat footsteps.

Barracuda staggered around the bend, and into our torch’s light.

She looked bad. Really bad. Apparently, she’s not as good at cultivating food as our druid was, or

as good at holding off rats as thirty people. She was missing half her teeth, a third of her hair, and

a fair amount of skin

“YOU.” She said, and pointed at me. I looked over at the twins confusedly, then pointed at

myself.

“YEAH YOU. Everyone in your little cult dead yet?” literally what is her problem. She’s always

saying stuff like this.

“We got separated” I said placatingly. “There was a cave-in because we had to kill the Rat

King— Where were you? You look…" She stared back at me with crazy eyes. “…normal.”

“I AM normal.” She pulled out her great axe. “And you’re gonna lead me out of here!”

“Uh, okay…” I stared at her axe. “so… Why did you leave?”

“None of you would see REASON.” She bleated. “All of you losing your minds… your sense…

No one has any common sense down here…” I hummed noncommittedly. Best not to aggravate

the angry one with an axe.

We started walking.

With nothing else to talk about, I explained our fight with the Rat King.

“…Also, I knew Mesaline and the Rat King had history! The rats weren’t scared of her symbol

because they had no sense of community, or-or thoughts. No, they were scared because they

were stealing her schtick! And the First Mind is better at hive minds than some pile of dead rats.

Trust in the bees!” Then I struck a cute pose.

Barracuda’s grip on her axe seemed to tighten.

I pretended not to notice and twisted the shiny new ring on my finger instead.

The path didn’t seem to be getting any smaller or larger, and the ceiling stayed a stubborn inch

above my head.

Finally, she broke the silence.

“It’s wrong.”

“Hm?”

“Your patron. How—how can you be so blind?” I twisted the ring faster. “You just got done

fighting a hive mind that calls to victims and eats them. And you’re comparing them. And- and

you can see—you can see— how similar they both are” Barracuda paused and spoke slowly.

”And yet you still can’t seem to understand how that thing lurking in your brain is wrong.”

She stared at me accusingly, my eyes held prisoner. I tried to respond, we won against the King,

we should be joyful, why was she drudging all this up- but my mouth suddenly felt so dry. My

smile took effort to hold up, sagging like wet clay. The cheerful nonsense that had flowed easily

to fill the silence earlier suddenly felt acidic on my tongue. Seeing me hesitate, she pounced.

“And then… then you dragged everyone else into it too, because they were desperate and

trapped. How can you not see how wrong that is?”

“The First Mind saved our lives” Cut in Joy harshly. “You don’t know what you’re talking

about.”

I unstuck my tongue from my mouth.

“Joy,” they turned to look at me, and to the shock and horror of my brain, I quietly voiced,

“…did she?”

“She saved my brother!”

I exhaled through my nose, then made sure to pick my next words very carefully, slowly. Like I

was finding my footing.

“What she was doing… She killed the competition.”

“Competition for what? She’s been protecting us this whole time!”

I stared uneasily at Joy, then Surprise. They trusted me, and what I had been telling them. My

stomach flipped. Free will is the root of all evil. I had been given just enough rope to hang

myself with. Why did I feel like I had made a mistake? A lot of mistakes?

Barracuda stepped in to argue again, but before she could Surprise yelled “If you’re not with us,

you’re against us!”

Blows were exchanged.

Ultimately, it ended with me holding Barracuda on the stone floor, her blood pooling with that of

the twins.

I couldn’t get what Barracuda had said out of my mind.

I had turned it over again and again in my head and all I was left with was this;

My Patron couldn’t be bad.

She couldn’t be bad because I had led people to her. They put their faith in me. And I don’t think

I could handle it if my patron was a monster. Because if she’s a monster, then what does that

make me?

Barracuda was staring at me accusingly, once again.

I couldn’t meet her eyes.

“Barracuda I’m sorry I c-can’t keep doing this.” My voice caught.

I turned and ran.

Entry 23 June 12th:

Three months.

We were in those stupid tunnels for three months.

The path got smaller and smaller until I was squatting, then crouching, then crawling, until

finally I emerged, blinking tearfully, into the sunlit store room.

The grocer was shocked to see me, as I stood there covered in dirt and strange attire made from

the plant life of the tunnels.

I told him the whole story.

I told him about how his tunnel had led into a cavernous rat city, and how the adventurers he sent

down there had died in droves. I told him about how the Rat King had soundlessly called for

more minds and bodies to devour, how it hungrily guided more people deeper and deeper into the

tunnels. I told him about the sheer influence that the Rat King had held over the minds of others,

wiping lost allies faces and names from their heads to keep their minds weak and pliant.

“Did you kill all the rats though?”

Wordlessly, I shook my head.

“Can’t pay you then.”

I started laughing. A bit hysterically, even. Until tears were coming out of my eyes.

“Keep it.”