Year of the Rhinoceros

Chapter 4: The Sublime Perception State — In Search of JB — Manny Eden Meets The Staff — Tammy Pon and The Mental Douche — Like a Moral Volcano

M. B. Neff ~ 57 Chapter 4 The Sublime Perception State — In Search of JB — Manny Eden Meets The Staff — Tammy Pon and The Mental Douche — Like a Moral Volcano DEEJAH’S CHAIR SQUEAKS. She hates it because it makes it difficult for her to focus, especially if she’s trying to meditate. Only no time to gripe now—she has three memos to punch out before Hunsecker arrives. After a short prayer to her god Harmusal, she rolls OWC letterhead into the IBM Selectric, trying not to glance at the new hire, but doing it anyway, noting how he averts his eyes as if afraid of her. She smells an OWC yes-mammal in the making, almost feels sorry for him. But hadn’t he flipped her off with his smart tongue? And only a few minutes ago? Also, his new gray suit, perfectly combed black hair and smirky face are really annoying. She feels a sudden urge to slap him, an urge she cannot understand. In seconds, the urge to violence grows overwhelming. Just as she’s about to jump up and whack the Eden prick with a full palm of fury, she stops. Tries to calm. Says quietly to herself: I must relax. This man is doomed. I will speak with the Hierophant instead. And then, as she does so often, Deejah transcends her limitations. She withdraws memories of her last visit to Danilo’s land. She imagines herself wet and thin as fog, her bare feet molding into the dark mud of the Oregon coast. Raising her head, she sees her body in the distance, a tiny fire-ant upon the rim of a black cliff. In a moment, she is there. Stepping, and oh so delicate, she teeters upon disks and balls of damp stone, her mind alert as a shriek, immersing into what Hieorphant Danilo calls: The Sublime Perception State. 58 ~ Year of the Rhinoceros Deejah seeks testimony to return to the Hierophant, one snatched by her alert perception from this land of fog-soaked earth and smoky black sequoia—and it wasn’t as if the age-forgotten things had to jump up and tusk-prick her. Wisps and apparitions were acceptable to report. These chimera were, as she learned, protophysicals. Projected reflections of what-had-been. The Aborning Solids struggling to regain their essence. Such phenomena hailed therefore as presagements of Harmusal’s return, Phase I proof of His Transepochal Resurrection reclaiming the earth—for the god, as a supernatural rake, was dragging the entire Ice Age back with him as he fought to regain the human plane. “WHAT HAS BEEN SHALL BE AGAIN!” Hierophant Danilo had triumphantly screeched from atop her cliff dais. “THAT IS SO!” Deejah bellowed with thousands of others in ritual thunderclap response, all eyes rolled white to the scalp. “WE SEE THEM NOW!” From the slopes of the Coastal Ranges to the dark promontories of Harris Beach, The Aborning Solids, like psychic soap bubbles, appeared and popped every few hours while whole geologic epochs advanced in bole-snapping, tidal crust waves and receded, leaving behind each day the scars of glacial drudgery. * * * DEEJAH BEGINS TO TYPE, the letter—a standard we-hear-you response to a government employee claiming whistleblower status. After a moment though, she stops, and listens. She detects movement in the coffee room. A woman’s laughter. Who is it? At least two people. Sounds of cup and pour. The smirky prick, Eden, hears it too. Deejah notes his face on alert. He sips his coffee. His eyes are wide, motionless. What does he expect now? From within the coffee room, a feminine voice proclaims: M. B. Neff ~ 59 “Female whistleblowers have fewer death-threat fantasies than males. You think, Varsana?” A second female voice, this one older and with a trace of Bahamian accent, responds: “You know me, Babs. I’m old enough to tell the truth about things now. I don’t have to be afraid anymore cause I’m fireproof.” Deejah listens carefully while staring at Eden. “Ring around the rosy, a pocketful of matches,” Babs says. Eden can’t figure that one. Look at him raise that eyebrow! “Where’s the—” Deejah hears Varsana suddenly lower her voice. Deejah can’t make out the last two words of the sentence, but it sounded as if Varsana used the words, Triumphant Beast—and she’s heard this before. It’s...