The Zima Confession
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(Helsinki – 2013)
Andy Mitchell sat at his desk, staring at the paper in front of him. Somehow it had all become too much. Past failures crowded in on him. Even Richard. Especially Richard – he was going to be the biggest failure of all. What were they doing to him? What use was any of it? Everything he had ever done had unravelled.
After their meeting in Helsinki, Mitchell wondered what good would come of it.
Almost none, probably. He didn’t blame himself for that aspect of this whole mess. He had followed the correct procedure. Well, as much as possible. He’d reported back to Skinner that the procedure didn’t seem to work properly – it had been even worse than the previous time.
Skinner didn’t seem to give a damn except that Mitchell hadn’t got Richard’s signature in the correct way at the proper stage.
But he had dismissed all that nonsense from his mind by now. Even if he’d got the signature in the proper way, what difference would it have made? Richard wasn’t real any more. How could his signature be of any importance? Richard hadn’t been in touch since and everything was still in the drawer waiting to be collected. Perhaps Richard had decided to do nothing about this whole thing and keep himself out of harm’s way. So much the better if he had.
Later, in the bar, it was clear at least no lasting damage had been done – in as much as Richard, or some husk of his being, had no recollection of anything he shouldn’t know about.
Mitchell imagined how, to Richard, the world must be made of shadows projected into his consciousness. It must be a strange way to live. Like living in Plato’s cave.
As he put his signature to the paper, it was suddenly blurred by a teardrop. The tear surprised him. But then he simply folded the piece of paper twice, put it in an envelope and tucked it into the inside pocket of his suit. His best suit that would soon be ripped to shreds, covered in black oil and soaked in blood.
The shadows of two men are walking together but on separate paths. Where is this place? We are floating in space. The brightness is too bright, the darkness too dark.
Mist begins to obscure the blinding brightness. Cloud-like wisps lightly tumble upon themselves, thickening into shadow, making everything incomprehensible. Slowly, it begins to rotate, like a dying galaxy.
Then nothingness.
Yet there is a sense of something new; something approaching.
Hidden by shadow, something disturbing is near and getting nearer. Vermiform, it oozes from the darkness. A colossus; tattoos on its long, limbless body glisten like rubies, emeralds, sapphires and countless other multicoloured jewels as it emerges. It moves by undulating lazily, pushing before it a head in the shape of a blunted lozenge. It hesitates, then goes forward again, zigzagging from shadow into ever brighter light, revealing shimmering fractals glittering on its surface. It is magnificent! A fallen angel. A Lucifer.
Its monster head, an expressionless mask, moves from side to side, seeking prey. Its metal eyes hunt.
Suddenly the head splits wide open, transforming into a gaping pink mouth, exposing fangs like curved needles. Richard woke up. He was bathed in sweat.
It was that dream again. Why did he keep having nightmares about a damned snake?
5. By Email
(London – 2013)
Andy Mitchell was dead. The email said so.
“How can they be telling me this by email? It must be a hoax – a spoof email perhaps?”
Having just awoken from the nightmare about the snake, everything still felt unreal to Richard, so he found it hard to take in. A fake email from HR would mean there was a breach in the firewall. But a serious breach in security for an email like this wasn’t at all likely. The message was real. Andy Mitchell was dead. Richard reread it a dozen times wondering what could’ve happened to his boss. A heart attack? Car accident? The email didn’t say.
He remembered the last time he saw him. It was while he had been staying in the Grand Sokos Hotel for a project. Mitchell had suddenly turned up in Helsinki and rang his room at quarter to midnight. It was summer, so it was still broad daylight. He had got dressed again, gone down to the lounge bar to meet Mitchell and they had drunk until three a.m. By then they must’ve been as pissed as newts. His recollection of what had happened was very hazy. To start with, the conversation had been normal enough. Mitchell had talked enthusiastically about music and playing bass for some band in his youth. But then he turned a bit odd. He became more and more morose. Suddenly it all came out as anger. He ranted for a while about what a bitch his wife was. He mentioned he was in serious debt.
He talked about being psychic, quite seriously. Then, bizarrely, he produced a pack of cards. He wanted to absolutely prove that he was psychic for some reason. Were they Tarot cards? Richard seemed to remember they were cards with letters on them… and didn’t Mitchell start talking about politics or something at the same time? It was as though he was trying to prove Richard wrong every time he asked a question. Questions that had something to do with…? Richard couldn’t remember. They were probably drinking that goddamned Salmiakki Koskenkorva – liquorice vodka. That would account for it. It had got quite weird and rather irritating, and the whole political thing had got really annoying in the end. Mitchell kept telling him to remember the facts, and repeatedly saying, “You need to wake up,” just repeatedly saying “You need to wake up now,” to whatever point he made. Well, they were both completely drunk. The standard of debate couldn’t have been very high. It was probably a slur of barely intelligible babble.
Suddenly Richard had an uneasy feeling. A feeling Mitchell had said something important to him he’d completely forgotten.
And then he remembered the email Mitchell had sent him two days ago. He had dismissed it as a jokey way of saying they had to go for a drink sometime. He read the words again with a feeling of d'ej`a vu, or a feeling of having read them in a different life:
“Remember Helsinki? Have you made a decision yet? It’s getting urgent. Let’s arrange to meet soon.”