the delete-man. Who
told you about the radio signals?”
“This is ridiculous! I’m a
fucking famous artist! Do you really think you’re gonna get away
with this shit? Fuck. You’re a criminal man.”
“Go on, tell me who.”
There was a long pause. During
which I took out my notepad. I tore off the top sheet, the one with
the message on it, and put it in my pocket.
“Claude Packard.”
“Where can I find him?”
The pause this time even longer.
I could hear Sewerbird quietly cursing to himself as he evaluated
the situation.
“Don’t tell anyone I told you
any of this.”
“Why would I?”
“There’s a design bureau called
Mixed Sources. He works there.”
“All of this seems very tame.
Why were you so afraid to tell me about it?”
“You don’t understand. Even I
don’t understand it. But the delete-man is supposed to be some
really heavy shit. Only a few people know about it. Nobody knows
where it came from, but any time it comes up, it’s always linked
with some pretty messed-up stuff, man.”
“What stuff?”
“Demons and stuff. They say even
if you just draw it, you summon some powerful shit. Like, powers,
man. Powers that could tear the world apart.”
It was my turn to pause. I
wondered if he was playing with me. It took me a few seconds to
realise he wasn’t joking.
“Hahahaha! What?! Are you
serious? Is that what you were so worried about telling me? The
most pathetic, childish conspiracy ghost story I’ve ever
heard?”
“You’re the one who wanted to
hear it. There it is, man. You’d better believe it though. For your
own sake.”
“If it’s so scary, why were you
gonna build big delete-men everywhere as your art?”
“I just said that to Josie. Just
trying to impress her.”
I leant against the wall,
chewing it over.
“You gonna let me out now or
what?”
I knelt down and slid the
notepad and my pencil under the door.
“There you go. I hope you know
how to make paper aeroplanes.”
Chapter 5
Neither Vicky nor Monika was
home when I arrived. There was a note on the TV, and eight missed
calls on the phone, as well as a message. The note was written in
tall, loopy, elegant-but-rushed handwriting. It read:
Joseph, where the hell are
you????
Going to my place B
Bringing Vicky with me.
Call me ASAP!!!!
X
The missed calls were from
Monika too, as well as the message on the answering machine. I hit
the button to call her back, and she obviously saw my number,
because she answered the phone almost mid-sentence.
“…eight…no, eight-thirty,
Joseph! Christ, what the hell were you doing? Did you forget about
Vicky or something? Or were you just expecting me to take care of
her all night? I’m serious, I actually thought you had run off and
left me with her. I’ve been panicking all day.”
“I’m sorry. I lost track of
time. What’s that noise? Music? Where are you?”
“I’m at home with
friends—waiting for you to come pick Vicky up so we can go
out.”
“You’re boozing it up with Vicky
there?”
There was a menacing pause
before Monika spoke again.
“I swear, Joseph. If you was in
front of me I’d rip your other arm off. You’ve got no right
to—”
“Sorry, sorry. I didn’t mean it
like that. I’m sure you took great care of her. I just got held
up.”
“Whatever. How soon can you get
here?”
“Twenty minutes, max.”
Monika let out a long, tired
sigh.
“Ok. Get here fast, Joseph.”
I put the phone down and left
the house, jogging to the tube station. I got lucky with the trains
and found myself on an almost empty carriage heading towards
Monika’s place.
The stops seemed to take
forever, and the spaces in between dragged on. I picked up a
newspaper lying a few seats down and browsed it.
After skimming the football news
I flicked my way to the front of the paper. It was one of those
free papers; the kind with day-late news and not enough space to
properly write about any one thing. One headline in particular
caught my
told you about the radio signals?”
“This is ridiculous! I’m a
fucking famous artist! Do you really think you’re gonna get away
with this shit? Fuck. You’re a criminal man.”
“Go on, tell me who.”
There was a long pause. During
which I took out my notepad. I tore off the top sheet, the one with
the message on it, and put it in my pocket.
“Claude Packard.”
“Where can I find him?”
The pause this time even longer.
I could hear Sewerbird quietly cursing to himself as he evaluated
the situation.
“Don’t tell anyone I told you
any of this.”
“Why would I?”
“There’s a design bureau called
Mixed Sources. He works there.”
“All of this seems very tame.
Why were you so afraid to tell me about it?”
“You don’t understand. Even I
don’t understand it. But the delete-man is supposed to be some
really heavy shit. Only a few people know about it. Nobody knows
where it came from, but any time it comes up, it’s always linked
with some pretty messed-up stuff, man.”
“What stuff?”
“Demons and stuff. They say even
if you just draw it, you summon some powerful shit. Like, powers,
man. Powers that could tear the world apart.”
It was my turn to pause. I
wondered if he was playing with me. It took me a few seconds to
realise he wasn’t joking.
“Hahahaha! What?! Are you
serious? Is that what you were so worried about telling me? The
most pathetic, childish conspiracy ghost story I’ve ever
heard?”
“You’re the one who wanted to
hear it. There it is, man. You’d better believe it though. For your
own sake.”
“If it’s so scary, why were you
gonna build big delete-men everywhere as your art?”
“I just said that to Josie. Just
trying to impress her.”
I leant against the wall,
chewing it over.
“You gonna let me out now or
what?”
I knelt down and slid the
notepad and my pencil under the door.
“There you go. I hope you know
how to make paper aeroplanes.”
Chapter 5
Neither Vicky nor Monika was
home when I arrived. There was a note on the TV, and eight missed
calls on the phone, as well as a message. The note was written in
tall, loopy, elegant-but-rushed handwriting. It read:
Joseph, where the hell are
you????
Going to my place B
Bringing Vicky with me.
Call me ASAP!!!!
X
The missed calls were from
Monika too, as well as the message on the answering machine. I hit
the button to call her back, and she obviously saw my number,
because she answered the phone almost mid-sentence.
“…eight…no, eight-thirty,
Joseph! Christ, what the hell were you doing? Did you forget about
Vicky or something? Or were you just expecting me to take care of
her all night? I’m serious, I actually thought you had run off and
left me with her. I’ve been panicking all day.”
“I’m sorry. I lost track of
time. What’s that noise? Music? Where are you?”
“I’m at home with
friends—waiting for you to come pick Vicky up so we can go
out.”
“You’re boozing it up with Vicky
there?”
There was a menacing pause
before Monika spoke again.
“I swear, Joseph. If you was in
front of me I’d rip your other arm off. You’ve got no right
to—”
“Sorry, sorry. I didn’t mean it
like that. I’m sure you took great care of her. I just got held
up.”
“Whatever. How soon can you get
here?”
“Twenty minutes, max.”
Monika let out a long, tired
sigh.
“Ok. Get here fast, Joseph.”
I put the phone down and left
the house, jogging to the tube station. I got lucky with the trains
and found myself on an almost empty carriage heading towards
Monika’s place.
The stops seemed to take
forever, and the spaces in between dragged on. I picked up a
newspaper lying a few seats down and browsed it.
After skimming the football news
I flicked my way to the front of the paper. It was one of those
free papers; the kind with day-late news and not enough space to
properly write about any one thing. One headline in particular
caught my
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