Do Warehouse Agents Dream of Artifact Sheep?

Chapter 6

6

SOUTH DAKOTA

LEENA'S BED AND BREAKFAST

"It's definitely the Lava lamp," Artie said. He was in Pete's room at the bed and breakfast, with Pete and Myka and the artifact. Claudia, laptop in hand, watched him from the hallway, peeking around the corner, keeping the artifact on Pete's nightstand out of sight. Artie was wearing a bulky welding helmet on his head with the darkened face shield down. "This is the earliest existing prototype of the first arc welding helmet, designed by Frederick M. Bowers," he had explained, lowering the face shield. "The protective visor will stop the artifact in there from affecting me when I look at. Well, it should."

"Wait a minute," she had said. "Should?"

Presently he rejoined Claudia in the hallway, raised the face shield.

"What's that thing doing to them?" she asked. "They're just . . . sitting there." She had begun typing on her laptop as soon as Artie named the Lava lamp as their artifact. Now, she paused.

"Hard to say," said Artie. "We don't have any idea what this artifact is. Without knowing that, there's no way to—"

"Here we go!" said Claudia, excited.

"You've got something?"

"Maybe." She squinted at her screen. "Philip K. Dick! Oh boy. The science fiction writer was known to keep a Lava lamp in his home. I bet that's it! Didn't they find this thing in Berkeley? The guy lived a pretty messed up life," she told Artie, glancing up. "Did drugs, went mental, wrote tons of stories, believed that our reality was actually an illusion sitting on top of the true reality."

"Which was what?" prompted Artie.

"He had a vision, well, visions, really. Delivered by a red laser beam sent from an intelligent living satellite in space. Supposedly. VALIS, he called it. Vast Active Living, something or other, I don't remember exactly. Anyhow, he believed that it's actually still Roman times, like first century A.D., and our world, all of history, is an elaborate deception by the Devil, or some other real dark forces, hiding the true reality and our true identities from us. Keeping us confused. Obscuring the truth that we're all actually in Roman times. Early Christians, in hiding. Waiting for the imminent return of Jesus. Like, any day, now. What are you grinning for?"

"You passed up a perfectly good opportunity to joke about my age. That's all. Please, continue."

"Whatever, Articus. Listen, that's it, isn't it? What we're dealing with. PKD's Lava lamp. So what's it doing to them, and how do we get them out? Just bag it?"

"No, no. The link between Pete and Myka and the artifact is too great. If we disrupt that link without getting them out of its control first, it could permanently damage their minds. No, we need to be very careful." He glanced into the room, at the still forms of Pete and Myka. Both were seated on the floor and looking towards the Lava lamp on the nightstand as if it were an altar. "As for what it's doing"—he rubbed his chin—"it could be doing anything. If it is Philip K. Dick's Lava lamp, they may be in some sort of shared hallucination. It could be showing them false realities or nothing at all. They might be frozen in the instant of time when they first looked at the lamp, or they could be living out entire lifetimes. There's no way to tell."

"Well," said Claudia, at his shoulder. She peeked into the room, too, at Pete and Myka. "You have a plan to get them out, don't you?"

Artie opened his bag, the black satchel that he always carried, and peered inside. "I'm working on it."

# # #

SOMEWHERE IN WYOMING ON INTERSTATE 80

All through the rest of the evening and the dark of night, Pete drove them steadily east along the highway. Through Nevada, they crossed next into Utah. Passing near Salt Lake City, they continued east into Wyoming. The morning sun was rising in front of them, brilliant in Pete's tired eyes, as they approached Cheyenne. Japan or California or whatever it was exactly lay far behind them.