It starts as a buzz in the back of my mind, like television static fading to silence when I try to peer into it. I find my focus slipping off to other mundane matters unrelated to the cause of my distraction. Then the whine in my ear like the whistles they use to call pets, which humans are not supposed to hear.

  The sound grows to a cacophony, blotting out all other sounds and bathing me in silence. Finally, my vision begins to close in from the edges, narrowing the scope of my sight until I can see no more than three percent of my visual field in a rough, hazy oval at the center. I begin to remember, and I turn around in my chair.

  He is always directly behind me, the blindest of spots, never visible to my cameras or mirrors. My eyes sweep the room back and forth until I feel the darkness spreading through the tiny window of sight I am granted. Shadow pools in the corner of my room, and I remember.

  If I look hard and concentrate, I can begin to peer through the darkness, and a shape resolves. Humanoid. Gaunt. The glimmer of jade in the irises. Sometimes I can swear I see the edge of sharp teeth, but it’s hard to know what’s real in those moments.

  I never remember, not until he returns, then the memories flood back like falling into a dream, slamming down on the unreal landscape of a life that someone else lived in my body. In that moment, I am someone else, though I recall all the moments that I am me.

  I knew he would have something to say about my experiences with clinical psychology. He always knew. I wondered, sometimes, how often he was there, in my blind spot, leaving me unaware of his presence by way of whatever strange, esoteric power he wielded. He never explained his powers, he simply used them.

  I assumed it must have been some psychic field generator, something that normally pushed my attention away from his existence in all forms, but which he diminished so I could observe and interact with him. Psychic invisibility. How it was accomplished I could not say, it was certainly far beyond my capabilities, but it worked for him.

  ~You were busy, today~

  The voice felt like a memory, springing to life within my head while my ears remained blocked to external sounds. I could hear my breath, the thudding of my heart, and my own voice vibrating through my bones when I responded. It was polyphonic, with at least seven tones I could distinguish rippling out in harmonies from a moderate tenor at the center. My response sounds dull and distant, humming through my skull.

  “I was. It was unpleasant and exhausting.”

  ~They will never accept your behavior. You will not be able to fool them. You must continue to embrace your experience and allow them to think you are simply odd~

  “I do not have an alternative plan.”

  ~You did well, not to lie. They must see you as honest, always, or they will persecute you. However, you must only tell the truth they need to hear~

  “How will I know what they need to hear?”

  ~They will show you~

  The answer was vague and unsatisfactory, but by then I had learned that searching for clarity was a waste of breath. I accepted his response with silent regard, and moments later the oval of darkness pulsed with distortion as a point in space gleamed into existence between us. The point stretched horizontally into a silvery line that seemed to extend in both directions indefinitely. The line spun and defined a circular field of scintillating colors that flowed from the outside to the center, as though gathering power. The circle tumbled over and bulged into a sphere, semitranslucent and still flowing to the center.

  My perception struggled to comprehend the next phase, no matter how many times I watched it occur. It is difficult to describe, because it was physically impossible. Points around the sphere’s surface with very specific geometric structure bent the distance between the outer shell and the center, so that looking toward either the outer point or the center felt the same.

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  Then the surface of the sphere began to feed into those points like draining water, stretching the mass of energy as the points and the center grew more attuned. The effect of sameness grew, the field expanding from each point, until the entire surface of the sphere was devoured, and the circumference folded outward from the center, blossoming into a hole in space.

  It was a doorway, the other side of which led to a pristine laboratory with long workbenches covered in materials, half-finished projects, and equipment to test, observe, and fabricate the things I would need to be able to accomplish my tasks.

  I rose from my chair and picked up my notebook, drawings of various concepts littering the pages in cryptic, scattered pieces, then stepped forward and through the portal, into the devastation of the ruined city.

  The Man In Black followed me, drifting off in my periphery, and the challenge I faced in trying to focus on him was such that I rarely bothered to try. My vision expanded again in the other world, and my hearing returned, the whir of processing equipment filling the silence that had smothered me.

  ~I need a weapon~

  “What form?”

  ~Staff. Repulsor strike, ranged concussive pulse, and a crystal slot~

  He liked to add things to my designs that sometimes played havoc with the crafted purpose. I’d learned to anticipate disaster.

  “What range of crystal effect?”

  ~Elemental, empowerment, and calling~

  My mind had already begun the calculations to estimate materials and time to craft the object, and with his stated modifications I restarted the emitter to accept the heat variation of elemental effects, and the power capacitors to prevent overcharge.

  “That will take me six hours to fabricate. I will need you to acquire me one thousand grams of kalfon…”

  I paused and looked toward the refreshment station to see if my previous request had been accommodated, then turned to face toward him, my vision sliding all over the mass of darkness that drifted in the empty air.

  “And the herbal tea I requested is still empty.”

  ~My apologies, I’ll see what I can do. Get to work~

  I was already moving to begin my work when the words fell on me. I felt the burning urge to refuse, to demonstrate the lack of compulsion that he held over me, to tell him to do his own work and get me my fucking tea. I nodded instead.

  Overhead a hologram projector blinked to life, and the image of a strange alien creature sprung to life, crawling up through the floor like it had been sleeping in the concrete. It was beige, its hide a flat tone throughout, with joints that could easily invert for bipedal or quadrupedal movement. Its head was elongated, like a reptile, but its hide was smooth all the way back to its spine.

  Running down the length of its back was a bushy trail of quills, about a hand’s width, in length, that lay relaxed against its back, but could spring up if it was angry or anxious. It had only gotten angry at me a single time, when I asked about its origins, and I had not bothered to ask again. It was, after all, just an artificial intelligence construct.

  When it spoke, it was a soft, echoing sound that faded in and out of the air, like it was calling up through a well. It perched up on a workstation, by appearance, at least, and looked at me quizzically.

  “What is our purpose, today?” It asked without moving its jaws, its sharp teeth hidden behind the innocuous thin-lipped grimace it always wore.

  “We’re building someone a stick.”

  “I like sticks. Sticks are fun to hold, to swing, and to break. And they taste good when they are fresh and juicy, or after they have gotten soft and rotted.” Sometimes it reminded me of a small child, or an animal. The program was only a few months old, but in the growth of artificial intelligence that was practically a whole generation. I’d made ongoing improvements and allowed it to learn independently.

  “This one is for hitting people with, I believe.”

  “Ah, the swinging. Yes. What material will we be using?” Amusement. The familiar creature was already calling equipment to life.

  “Resin. Can you pull up a drafting screen and start the water boiling for some coffee? I don’t think I’ll be getting any tea, today…”

  “Why not grow some?” It seemed like such an obvious question, but I felt a sudden pang of resentment that I hadn’t considered such an obvious solution to this problem weeks ago. I could just grow it.

  “Put it on my list.”

  Later, as I lay in bed and the memories drained from my head like vacuum seal bag, taking out all the fun, risky, engaging parts of my existence, I tried to hold onto my familiar’s quizzical face, the interest it showed in my work, the readiness to cooperate with me to achieve greater goals. I gripped the memory tight, trying to recite its words to myself to hold on.

  I awakened with a startle from my dream, all wisps of it faded and black in my mind, not even a theme to capture. I looked over at the clock, asleep for seven hours. It was better than most nights. I fell back into my pillow, turning over to find a comfortable position, my eyes slowly sinking closed again.

  I wished it had been one of my adventure dreams, I always enjoyed those. It was like playing a game in my sleep, exploring some other person’s journey, with magic and intrigue. But it was nothing, just a blank hole of time asleep. As I drifted back off I felt the urge to embrace my experience. And I knew I had to tell people the truth they needed to hear. They’d tell me.