#dicewriting

--

The day had started promising, CC thought. DeWitt Chapdelaine, her boss and mentor, had stayed out too late the night before and had called out with the brown bottle flu. That suited her fine. She couldn't deny that the old man knew his stuff, but he was also an asshole. Nothing she ever did would be good enough for him – at least, not now.

"You will acknowledge me," CC murmured to herself as she looked at the portrait of Chapdelaine that hung behind his desk.

But that was all the time she would devote to him today. CC was in charge of running the agency today, so she needed to be on her A-game. Whoever she got as a client today, she would solve their case faster and better than the old man would.

That thought lasted 23 minutes before CC got bored. She'd already solved the crossword, the sudoku, the junior jumble, the secret message hidden in all of the comics, the Slylock Fox, and now she'd resorted to reading the articles. Half of them were about events she'd already caught up on from the news aggregator on her phone and the other half were poorly written op-eds. God, she thought, the Gray Lady had fallen so low.

The local rag was next. That one was always more useful to CC – as an investigator, knowing the local goings-on was non-negotiable – but the real stars of the show, as it was every other day, were the wanted ads.

"'LFT salve, offering beehive'... 'Wanted: terrible chef for Ramsey/Kutcher joint'..." CC chuckled quietly as she let her finger trace down the columns of exhortations. It was the second-to-bottom one in the third column, though, that made her take her feet off the desk and sit up. "'LF: 16 people interested in getting stronger. Meet at the lot across from Pies Are Square in Kearney..."

CC finished by reading the date and time. "Wait," she muttered. "That's today. That's in two hours. Shit." Her coat was on, the lights were shut off, and the door was locked before she finished the invective.

--

CC wasn't an idiot. She didn't think that an ad like that would actually help her get any stronger than her regular soccer games did, nor did she think it would help her show up the old man, except in a tangential way that involved practicing her skills.

No, the ad was sketchy. Calling for multiple people like that? With almost no detail? Something was about to happen, and CC suspected it wouldn't be anything good. Kearney, in Nebraska, was a solid two-and-a-half-hour drive from the agency's location right on the border with Iowa.

CC made it in two hours ten.

She parked in the lot of a gym that was closed that day, sliding her 15-year-old Kia into the only empty spot amidst the few other drivers who'd had a similar idea. Don't be in a hurry to park close to your target – that was one of the first things the old man had taught her, alongside how to make coffee and what his order was. In deference to the cold, though, CC only parked two blocks away. Thankfully, zipping her coat up and pulling her hat down was an effective enough disguise for what she would be doing.

The lot was empty when CC reached it. Well, perhaps vacant was a better word. There were plenty of sandbags, dusty shovels, and piles of dirt, but not a single person, as if the Rapture had interrupted a squad of would-be treasure hunters. She watched the lot from the café across the street – their blueberry pie was like heaven – and for a solid twelve minutes there was nothing.

"Shit," CC mumbled under her breath. Whatever was going to happen must have already happened – or maybe nobody showed up at all. It was a possibility, even if she doubted it. Either way, she paid for her pie, tipped 100%, and crossed the street.

She stood at the threshold of the lot. "Yeah," CC muttered to herself, "it doesn't look like there's much happening. I should just head back to the office." She took a step forward. "Maybe the old man just won't"

---

"find out," CC finished as she completed the step. She blinked. Without any sort of intervening state, she had moved from the vacant lot to a... what was this place? Some sort of arena? It certainly had some Roman aesthetics, even if the columns left something to be desired and the sand covering the ground wasn't nearly fine enough to be legit. Something was in her pants pocket – a key – that hadn't been there before. She glanced around, and as she did, sixteen other figures popped into existence in what she assumed to be the same way that she had. At first glance, there didn't seem to be any commonalities among them all, aside from a certain, ahem, melanin imbalance between her and most of the rest. Some of them looked panicked, others determined, still others trying to scope out the crowd, but it was evident that all of them were surprised.

They barely had time to stammer out confused expletives before a voice fell into the arena like snow – shining, bright, and leaving a bite in the air. "Welcome, welcome, one and all! I'm so glad the sixteen of you could join me today. You're here because you want to become stronger, yes?"

A murmur of baffled assent rolled through the crowd.

"You've come to the right place, my friends – the right place indeed. Robo, Kero, give 'em the lowdown."

Timed perfectly, two others popped into the arena. They both stood around four feet tall – one of them looked to be a robot in the vague shape of a humanoid, all sleek silver, slender limbs, and black panels, while the other was someone in a frog mascot costume with some kind of purple sludge oozing to the ground from its mouth.

Hm.

CC revised that description in her head. It was a living frog mascot costume that was dripping some kind of toxic sludge from its mouth.

This was a little above CC's pay grade, she'd admit. Initial instincts told her that some kind of magic was at play here, while her second thoughts corrected that to advanced technology. Not that that made the prospect any better; she didn't know of any technology that would enable instant teleportation, let alone the robot. Maybe someone had got the jump on her? Drugged her and black-bagged her? Not impossible, but... CC shook her head. It would remain inexplicable for now. An answer would come later. She just had to stay calm.

"Welcome to the Colosseum!" the robot and the frog said in equally fake chipper affects. "We are Robo and Kero, and we'll be your guides for these two thrilling weeks. Over the course of this fortnight, you'll become stronger than you could ever dream of. All sixteen of you will…"

They stopped.

Kero, the frog, nudged Robo. "Seventeen."

"Seventeen." Robo nodded. Neither of their expressions changed, though it would have, CC thought, been just as noteworthy if they had.

They looked back to the crowd and returned to their script in unison. "All seventeen of you will undergo harsh trials and work harder than you ever have before, but you'll come out the other side with fire-forged friendships and true strength of body and will." A gesture to the blue, cloudless sky. "Our master, the Emperor, will be watching you all every step of the way, designing workouts and tests customized to you. In your pockets are keys to your lodgings, which you can find by exiting the Colosseum through the west gate." Robo and Kero clapped their hands. "We'll begin tomorrow morning at 7:00 AM sharp! Be here by then!"

With that, the two of them disappeared.

--

It took some time for all of them to introduce each other, get a bite to eat at the (surprisingly good) self-serve Mediterranean dining hall, and find their lodgings. Their lodgings turned out to be a spartan dormitory: two people to a room furnished with two beds, two desks, two chairs, two closets, and not a lot else, though CC was surprised to see that the closets did have properly-sized clothes in them.

Not that she planned to be there long enough for that to matter.

There were nine rooms, which was another thing that surprised her. The ad specified sixteen people; the total of seventeen had thrown the mascots. CC figured she was probably the extra one, given that she arrived at the lot late. But then, she had been the first one in the Colosseum… hmm. She'd need to puzzle on that one later. Why were there nine rooms? Was one of them intended to be empty? It also left one person on their own in a room – CC, in fact, and she was not upset about this.

She'd had the opportunity to meet everyone else and get a little bit of information about them, and she was hard at work at her desk jotting it all down in her notepad:

Fargo Falls, construction worker. 37, M, 5'11". Won't shut up and tells too many jokes. Wants to buff up his ailing bod.

Ryan Sykes, receptionist. 22, NB, 5'4". Wore a fake smile the entire time I talked to them, but was hiding some anger. Wants to move up in the company.

Abihail Moreno, gym owner. 41, F, 6'8". Taciturn, almost comically so. Could break me in half. Wants to leave her mark on the world.

Darren Marshall, cop. 24, M, 5'9". Very… enthusiastic. Would not trust him with a gun. Wants to "keep the peace".

Maye Goode, unemployed. 20, F, 5'0". Severely anxious to the point that I had to enlist the help of December to even talk to her. Wants to exist in the world.

December Anderson, line cook. 19, F, 5'7". Rash, hot-headed, very protective of Maye. Wants to help Maye get stronger.

Isaac McCoy, drummer. 32, M, 6'1". Lost in thought regularly. Likes to fidget with his sticks, which he brought with him. Wants his band to make it big.

Orlando Liber, programmer. 24, M, 5'5". Acerbic, crude, easily riled up. Wants to get in shape to impress someone.

Luna Brightstone, entertainer. 36, F, 6'0". Loves to be the center of attention. Skilled at sleight of hand. Wants to be renowned the world over.

Edgar da Silva, author. 61, M, 5'10".  Self-centered and constantly name-dropping his books. Wants to dominate the charts.

Aristophanes Smith, drifter. ??? (est. 45), M, 5'4". Evasive, refuses to talk to anyone. All he said was that he was a "drifting virtuoso". Wants to ???.

Des Sharpe, lawyer. 52, F, 5'6". Very organized, rational, no-nonsense. Might be an asset here. Wants to be more intimidating in court.

Eloise Hertzfeld, retired teacher. 89, F, 4'11". The kind of person who keeps a ruler on her just in case she needs to smack the back of your hands. Wants to be able to, verbatim, "crush a watermelon between my thighs".

Mina Ng, basketball player. 23, F, 6'3". Irrepressibly cheerful, loves dark humor. Total geek. Wants to best the men's basketball teams.

Chuck Darkly, librarian. 49, NB, 5'7". Hit on me relentlessly. I kicked them in the shins. Wants to be irresistible. Shoot me now.

Wallace Fuchs, firefighter. 26, M, 6'0".  Dead set on pushing the power of friendship and teamwork and the like. Wants to protect his loved ones.

CC stared at the list. A few of the names stuck out – people she'd already bookmarked in her head for being worthy of further investigation, whether for being reticent, obnoxious, useful, or suspicious. She closed her notebook, stood up, and stretched. Time to give her room a more thorough once-over.

--

The morning came around quickly; CC gave it even odds as to if it was exhaustion or some kind of drug. After a jog around the dormitory, a shower, spending a bit of time with Luna and Mina, and a quick bite to eat at the dining hall (she'd never had shakshuka before, but was pleasantly surprised), she was in the Colosseum just before 7. As she had been yesterday, CC was once again the first to arrive; the other trainees ebbed in one by one with various levels of tired and cranky written across their faces. Light conversation tinkled in the air, and CC wandered here and there to pick up on what the topics du jour were. Only her and one other weren't talking at all. CC made a mental note.

"Good morning, everyone!" the voice from nowhere – the Emperor – said. The voice had clearly been disguised with clever modulation; it wasn't familiar to CC, but if she considered the ranges of what it could have originally sounded like... "What a beautiful day, am I right? I hope all of you slept well in our fine Grade-A suites! We're really going to get started in earnest today, so make sure you bring your best selves! Robo, Kero, take it away."

The two mascots appeared just as suddenly as they had the day before. "You got it, master!" Kero said, making a heart shape with its mittens. "Guests, we're excited to announce the theme of this training camp!"

"Obviously, this is all about strength," Robo continued, gesturing around at the faux-Roman surroundings. "And one of the best ways to gain strength is through competition. So, for the next two weeks, you'll be competing against each other to earn the ultimate prize..."

Kero joined Robo to say in unison, "The power to change the world."

The trainees murmured amongst themselves excitedly. It was a vague prize, certainly, but tantalizing enough. CC kept her own tongue still and observed the others. Isaac and Edgar were whispering to each other and Orlando was saying something that was pissing December off, while Des and Abihail were watching the mascots, calculation running behind their eyes. Wallace was patting Ryan on the back with a smile, and Ryan in turn looked like they were trying not to choke him out.

It was Abihail who raised a hand. "What kind of competition?" she asked, her voice gravelly.

Robo and Kero nodded simultaneously. "It's what we call... a death game."

The mood in the arena chilled as silence fell.

"The best training is survival of the fittest," they continued. "The offer we make to you is this: if you can kill someone else here and get away with it, the Emperor will acknowledge your strength and bestow upon you the ultimate power."

Darren crossed his arms and glared at the mascots. "What do you mean, 'get away with it'?"

"After the murder," came the voice of the Emperor again, "there will be a trial, where the lot of you will try to puzzle out whodunnit! If you get the right answer, the killer will be executed! But if you don't... then the killer will get the prize and all the rest of you will be executed instead!"

The silence stretched out longer this time, and was only broken by Maye hesitantly saying, "But what happens after—"

"So get to it, trainees!" the Emperor continued. Robo and Kero glanced at each other. "There's a golden dawn rising ahead of you. All you need to do is reach out... and take it."

CC snapped her fingers. She had it. All of the clues had fallen into place. "Hold it right there!" she yelled, ensuring that all eyes were on her, plus whatever eye-analogues Robo had. "None of that's gonna happen, Emperor! I'm going to pull back the curtain on your dumb little stage play, right here, right now!" She stopped talking and let a moment pass.

When the Emperor didn't respond, CC smirked, an expression well at home on her face. She stepped out of the crowd and began a lazy pace back and forth. A hint of a breeze set the half-cloak she generally wore atop her work clothes fluttering behind her. "My suspicions started yesterday," CC said, projecting her voice enough for everyone to hear her. "I don't know if any of y'all noticed, but there's one more of us here than there should have been. The ad in the paper specified sixteen, and the Emperor and the mascots had been expecting sixteen. For evidence, think back to how the mascots had to correct themselves after mentioning how many of us there were... but the Emperor didn't." CC stopped in place and pointed to the mascots. "The two of y'all could tell that there were seventeen of us. Why couldn't the Emperor?"

Robo and Kero shared another loaded glance, then looked into the crowd. "Well," Kero tentatively offered, "that's because... um..."

CC shook her head with a grin and shrugged. "Don't worry about making up an answer, because I already have the real one. The Emperor hasn't been talking to us at all, have they? We've just been listening to a recording!"

The sound of a crowd gasping in surprise would never get old to her.

"Obviously the Emperor prepared these recordings in advance, and these mascots here," she continued, looking back at the group, "have been acting live alongside them. I'd bet that the mascots themselves have some kind of way of queueing up the proper recording to play! But that alone isn't proof. No, the proof came just now – when the Emperor cut Maye off. They didn't even answer the question she would have asked. Now, Maye, you were going to ask about what happens after the killer is executed, right?"

Maye flinched back at being called on, but she nodded weakly.

"That's a useful question to ask! No doubt the Emperor would have answered it, unless, of course, they weren't actually talking. Now, let's talk about why. Why would the Emperor go to all the effort of setting all this up through whatever means they used if they weren't going to be here while everything unfolded? Sure, it's possible that they're a 'set it and forget it' kinda guy, but I don't think so. No, my theory is that the Emperor is..." CC swept her arm across the crowd. "One of us!"

She would use that sound as her ringtone if she could.

"They're not watching us from afar, because then they could just speak to us remotely. But if they were in the thick of it with us, of course they'd need some way to drop exposition on us without saying it all themselves... or letting anyone think the mascots were running the show." CC began pacing again, stroking her chin. "Why? I don't know, but let me add more fuel to the fire. Our living arrangements were also obviously planned with 16 people in mind. So what did the Emperor do with an extra person? One room out of the nine was supposed to stay empty, but I got put there instead. Do you know what I found there?"

Pause for a moment to let them take it all in, she thought, aaaaand... there.

"There was a door in one of the closets. Not the one that my clothes were put in, either. And it was hard to see, what with how well it was inset. It was locked and I'm not good enough yet to pick a lock on a door with no knob, but it was clearly a way for the Emperor to get around. I'd bet that door leads to somewhere important that they couldn't be seen visiting. The important part, though, is that I visited another dorm room this morning before breakfast. I knew the occupants in question wouldn't say no to a little fun; once we'd finished up I gave their room a thorough examination." CC grinned. "Wouldn't you know it? No secret doors to be seen. I think this is thorough enough proof to indicate that the mastermind of all this, the Emperor, is someone standing here right now."

The stunned faces of everyone around her told CC all she needed to know.

"With that out of the way, let's talk about the Emperor's identity," CC said. "Like I said, their motives remain a mystery. But I don't need to know that, because I know who the Emperor is – and I'm going to unmask them right now!"

Fargo's eyes widened. "Wait, but that means—"

"You can't possibly know!" Eloise added.

"But I do!" CC whipped her index finger forward, aimed squarely at the figure in the center of the group. "The mastermind of this whole affair is... you!"

Abihail Moreno looked at the offending digit. Looked back to CC's face. Narrowed her eyes. On any other day, that expression on someone so much bigger than her would have given CC pause – but she couldn't stop herself now, any more than she could fly. "I'm sure," Abihail said, "that you have evidence of this?"

"Don't worry. By the time I'm done, you'll be begging me to stop," said CC, sneering. The atmosphere grew heavier around them – but, CC was pleased to see, Abihail now found herself flanked by Luna, Mina, and Isaac, and it wasn't because they were taking Abihail's side.

"So be it," Abihail rumbled. "Show me what you've got."

"Gladly. Des, take notes. I know you have a notepad on you." CC began circling the group. "Let's talk more about yesterday. In fact, let's talk about the moment I pulled up into town. I don't know how far any of y'all came to respond to that ad, but I'm based out near the state line, Iowa side. The local parking situation is a mystery to me, and I was in a rush. I parked a couple blocks out from that vacant lot at a local business that was closed that day. At the time, the place didn't seem too special to me, but now... Moreno's Gym, that's its name. Abihail Moreno, gym owner, I posit that the gym is yours, and that you set up this whole stunt two blocks away from your gym! It's sloppy, it's lazy, it's you thinking you're smarter than everyone else."

CC put her hands up conciliatorily and kept going before Abihail could interject. "But hey, that's circumstantial. It could be a coincidence. A big coincidence, sure, but stranger things do happen. Let's keep moving. I was late to the party – I only stepped into the lot about twenty minutes after the meeting time – but I was the first one to show up here. I'm assuming it was some sort of first-in, last-out queue. What this means is that I got to watch everyone else arrive. Plenty of people were scared – " here, she gestured to Maye and Darren – "and plenty others were trying to keep their cool – " Aristophanes and Orlando – "but only one was counting everyone up aside from me, clearly to check if everyone had made it in. Guess who it was."

"But if you were the first one here, and you were one of the people who was counting people up, aren't you just as suspicious?" Des asked.

CC's eyes gleamed. She understood. Des didn't suspect her, but she was keeping her honest – making sure there were no holes in her story. "Impossible," CC said, pulling a creased receipt from her pocket. "This is my alibi: proof I was at the diner across the street until twenty minutes after the meeting time! If I were the mastermind, I wouldn't show up late to my own event. What if someone else got in before me and fucked everything up?"

Her gaze stayed locked onto Abihail. If that stony façade cracked just once, even for only a moment, CC would see it.

"But, again, still circumstantial. So is the fact that, both times we've all been out here, she's been staring daggers at the mascots, even when the recordings were playing. Almost like she's been daring them to step out of line! Whoever Kero and Robo are, they're not here by choice, and the mastermind wants them to remember whatever consequences are in store."

Everyone glanced to the two mascots, who adamantly said nothing. Kero, however, folded one hand into a fist at her side, extending her thumb. A confirmation – and one that many in the crowd wouldn't even notice.

Abihail swallowed.

"Let's not forget," CC said, giving Abihail the most obnoxious smirk she could muster, "the most damning evidence. Both times something hasn't gone as planned, when Kero and Robo had to correct the number from their script and when your recording played over Maye's question, the two mascots..."

Everyone was hanging on her every word. She could roll them like a yo-yo and they'd be begging for more. CC lived for this feeling.

"They looked directly at you, Abihail."

The façade cracked.

"Motherfucker," Abihail growled in a voice a few octaves up from the gravel she'd been gargling up until then. "You think you're so clever, don't you?" She took a step forward, but the three people around her grabbed her arms.

"Ah, ah, ah." CC waggled a finger in Abihail's face. "Nobody's getting hurt today – and that includes me."

Abihail's expression darkened. "I don't think so." Like they weighed nothing, she tossed her would-be restraints to the side. With a clap of her hands, everyone vanished – everyone except for her, CC, and the mascots, who were busy enough trying to get out of blast range. The ground underneath Abihail, no, the ground throughout the whole Colosseum rumbled violently as columns and stone and entire buildings disappeared into the earth. In their place rose a marble structure all around Abihail and CC that, at first glance, looked like a half-scale model of the Parthenon – but with all the details sanded off, like it had been recreated from memory. Rubble littered the floor of the Parthenot, rounded pieces of marble maybe six inches across in any direction; perhaps, CC thought, they were the leftovers from Abihail not knowing how much she needed to use to build this place. "Everyone else may get away from this scot-free," Abihail called from her position across the Parthenot, "but you, Callista, you're going to pay."

With another clap, Abihail hurled herself towards CC way faster than she should have been able to. CC dove out of the way, barely avoiding the body blow. It shook her, but CC knew she couldn't let it show. She jumped back to her feet. "Do you know," Abihail said, a scowl tearing apart her taciturn features, "how much went into this? Do you know how much I had to study to even create a pocket dimension, let alone outfit it the way I wanted?"

Oh, CC thought, so she's gone way off the deep end. "That doesn't matter," she said aloud. "Do you know how bad a mystery you set up?"

"What?!"

An idea sparked in CC's mind and she backed away from Abihail a few steps. "I mean, come on. You got this whole game set up for two weeks. You're clearly expecting there to be multiple murders – and you also clearly don't expect anyone else to survive by the end. This is a perfect set up for a death game mystery, and you went and ruined it with your- your sloppiness!"

"Shut up! I don't need to hear that from you!" Abihail flew through the air with a devastating punch, one that missed CC by a hair but grazed her with plenty of shrapnel from the crater it made. "It would have worked fine if you hadn't been here!"

CC skipped back further, just next to one of the pieces of marble debris. In one smooth motion, she kicked it up into the air and launched it at Abihail, hitting her in the face. Abihail hissed and stumbled back. "What's that saying?" CC said as she juggled another piece of marble on her foot, thankful that she'd worn the reinforced shoes. "If you don't expect the unexpected, you won't find it? Looks like you shoulda expected more." The second piece of rubble flew through the air, clipping Abihail on the side of the head.

Abihail made a low noise that reverberated through the ground and scythed her leg at CC, a blow that could have taken her head from her shoulders if CC hadn’t hurled herself backwards. "I'm not letting you leave here alive, Callista. I'm going to have to reset all this again. But at least I can take your power as a consolation prize!"

"Ha!" CC couldn't stop the laugh from bubbling out of her. "Reset it again? This isn't even the first time you tried a stunt like this?! Lemme give you some advice, Kitano: tighten up your game and learn how to keep your mouth shut!" Another marble lump, another direct hit – this time on Abihail's chest.

"Speak for yourself, Callista!" Abihail howled. Her movements were flagging, CC noticed. She just needed to push a little more. Another punch came CC's way, but without any of the ferocity CC sidestepped it deftly. "I'm going to break your jaw if you don't shut the fuck up!"

CC lowered her center of gravity and bounced from foot to foot. "Good idea, if ya can do it," she said, flashing Abihail the shit-eatingest of shit-eating grins. "Why don't I give ya a practical demonstration?" As she landed on her right foot, she let her tension coil up before springing into the air in an elegant backwards arc. A textbook bicycle kick – one that cracked Abihail squarely on her jaw. The impact lifted Abihail off of her feet, and when she landed, she didn't move to get back up.

--

"So how do I get out of here again?" CC asked, looking at the two mascots. For the first time since she'd seen them, Kero and Robo actually sounded... calm. Relieved. They'd removed Abihail's body, promising to take care of her. CC didn't know if that meant Abihail was alive or dead, and she couldn't be bothered to care.

Kero and Robo – no, Paz and Jacky, they'd said – looked to each other. "We should be able to let you out the same way the Emp— Abihail sent everyone else back. Once you have the power to edit this space, it's theoretically easy," Jacky said.

"We've been able to collect that from her," Paz agreed. "This is going to be our home. Best if we know how to spruce it up."

Jacky leaned in conspiratorially. "I don't think it's as hard as Abihail made it out to be."

"Whatever suits you." CC gave them a one-armed shrug. "Now would be choice. I need to get back to the agency."

Jacky and Paz nodded simultaneously. "Then we'll just..." Paz said before trailing off. "Huh. Are you sure that's the world you want to go back to?"

CC narrowed her eyes. "I'm tired. What the fuck are you talking about?"

"Your signature doesn't originate from the world you were pulled from." Jacky tilted their head. "It's not a problem, it's just weird."

"Yes, whatever, send me back to where I came from. Did you not hear me say I'm tired?"

The two mascots clapped their hands together. "As you say! Maybe we'll cross paths again!"

"I hope not."

--

CC arrived back in reality less than five minutes after she'd departed, which she checked and double-checked on her watch, her phone, and her car's clock. She couldn't explain it, but it did really seem like some kind of magic was at play. She'd have to put in a lot of time, she knew, to disprove it. For the time being, she'd get back to the office and take a nap.

Sure, it was sectioned off from the main road well, but it was impossible not to notice. Even if you discounted all the signage around it warning you of danger, injury, and indemnification of legal responsibility, it was still a hole that could swallow two cars simultaneously and still have room for the contents of a swimming pool as a digestif.

The odd part about the hole was that it never seemed to fill up, no matter how much it ate. Well, no, the odd part about the hole was that it existed in the first place. Actually, the odd part about the hole was the rumors. For something as strange as the hole, rumors would be expected – but surely it was a bit unusual that so many of them revolved around how happy everyone was in the world on the other side of the hole.

For one, how would anyone know? Nobody ever came back from the hole. That could mean they're happy wherever they are, but it could just as easily mean that they're dead, or, like, eaten by a hole monster.

('Hole monster' is what they called me in college. No? Bad time for a joke?)

The curiosity, though – now that burned. I'll make no secret of disliking my life. There wasn't much fulfilling about sanitation work, no matter how important the job was. I moved here in the first place because I didn't have any more ties to where I grew up – and I never really fit in there anyway. Not that I'm fitting in here.

It's a kick in the teeth, right? You go somewhere to make a fresh start, only to find that all the same problems followed you there. You still don't know what to do with yourself. Everyone already has their own circles, and trying to break into them feels like you're standing outside of a fence rattling the bars. You start to romanticize the way things used to be, even if those things were, objectively, horseshit. In the end, you can't make people care about you. You can only put yourself out there and hope.

It was enough to make you really wonder about the hole. Was there anything on the other side? Was there another side? Was it just a pile of corpses, two cars, and 660,000 gallons of chlorinated water?

Hell. I mean, was there anything keeping me here? My long-term prospects were nil. I had nothing to keep me occupied – no projects, no friends, no hobbies, no vices. No restaurants I would miss or bookstores I'd need to visit one last time.

It felt like a spontaneous decision, one that I made on my morning jog as I approached the hole. In retrospect, though, I'd made it months before.

--

Considering that you couldn't see the other side of the hole while standing at its rim, the amount of time I spent falling was surprisingly little. I only spent five, maybe ten, minutes alone with my thoughts, which was better than an average morning jog. I thought about using the time to tell a story to myself, maybe, but I've never been especially creative; by the time I would have been able to come up with one, I would have already been spat out the other side.

The other side, by the way – I wasn't sure what to make of it. It looked the same as where I'd come from. The only way I could tell that I hadn't just been returned to sender was that it was a winter evening instead of a summer morning – and in this town, you can really tell the difference.

In other words, a fluffy bank of snow cushioned my landing.

Everything else was identical. As I jogged down the hill, I could see the two rival coffee shops catty-corner to each other, the video rental place that had gotten clearance from city hall to have a 1/10th-scale statue of Christ the Redeemer on top of its building, the bank that used to be a pizza place that used to be a different bank. Even the people were—

No. No, that wasn't true. The people were different. It was subtle, but it was there. Were they... walking more slowly? Or maybe it was that they were lingering longer, talking to each other longer... More smiles on faces. More people greeting each other.

Well, that was just fine. A town with a slower pace? With friendlier folks? That sounded like paradise to me.

I arrived at the apartment that was mine where I came from. My key worked in the lock. All of my belongings were where I expected them to be. Best of all, it looked like nobody had been using the place for ages – I could take up lodgings with impunity.

I was going to make it work this time. I knew it.

--

I've been here for a year, now.

My first attempt to jump in the hole again was at four months.

I've tried regularly since then. It doesn't go anywhere. I jump into it and it just brings me back here. Not a different version of here, just... here.

I'm trying. I'm trying so hard. I want it to be better here. I want to be better here.

But no matter where I go, no matter where I am, it's still me. I'm still me.

I'm the problem.

Being around friendlier people doesn't matter, because I'm the problem. I'm broken.

There's something fundamentally wrong with me at my core. That's not something a new locale can fix. That's not something that other people can fix. I don't know how to fix it.

I moved back to Silent Springs a year ago. Ancestral home was here, you know? Besides, after what happened, I needed to get the hell out of Dodge quick, and a town where I had a place waiting for me was appealing. (Even if it was Silent Springs.) My parents bought a two-bedroom shotgun house just before I was born, and with the interest off of that, by the time I was leaving for college, they had a two-bedroom shotgun house. They left it to me in the will, and when I got back into town I saw why.

My parents and I didn’t get on, not after I came out, and I’m sure they were none too broken up when I went out of state for college – well, community college, anyway. I didn’t actually graduate high school, which didn’t endear me to them either, and a school well away from Silent Springs suited me and them just fine.

Of course, it’s not like they had the money for that – and they wouldn’t have paid for it even if they did – so I was moth-walleted the entire time I was there. First year I made my way through a conga line of minimum wage embarrassments, but the second year I got an apprenticeship with an actual, factual private eye – DeWitt Chapdelaine. Now, don’t get me wrong, DeWitt was an asshole. A real grade-A prime cut of douche. Putting the ‘dick’ in ‘private dick’, you get it. But he was a dick who was good at his job, and I worked as his apprentice for a good few years after I got my associate’s. Of course, like I said, after that I had to get out of there and fast – and with not much money to my name.

Silent Springs was different than I’d remembered it. When I was a kid, it was my favorite place in the world. There was a park I went to every weekend – it’s where I learned to fish and ride a bike. Once or twice a year there was a street market and I’d get to pick out something I wanted to take home; I still have the longbow and the leather gloves. I’d sit on the stairs at the back of my parents’ house eating popsicles and getting my hands sticky before rolling down the hill down the way and throwing them back up.

You know. Idyllic.

When I came back, what I found was a town past its prime, largely populated by elderly folk who didn’t recognize me – and no wonder, since I looked completely different and was going by a new name. The few people who knew my last name, I just told them I was a relative from out of town, which was true. Everything in Silent Springs looked fine on the surface – the park was still tidy, the old train depot was still home to a revolving door of shops, and even the one-room library operating out of Widow Bartlett’s former hair salon was still, well, a one-room library.

But nobody moved into Silent Springs. It just wasn’t something that happened. I couldn’t count the dark looks I got when I pulled into the old Callista place, which, by the way, hadn’t been maintained since my folks died. Broken windows, shingles missing, a family of alarmingly-hefty raccoons squatting in the bathroom – and here was me without money. On the one hand, it was a free place to stay, which I couldn’t turn down. On the other, the raccoons weren’t looking for new neighbors and the county animal service people were an hour away and didn’t care.

It took a month of solid work to get the Callista place back to something approaching livable, and not once did anybody offer to help. Hell, it was a month after that before my neighbor – who once was my godmother – bothered to acknowledge me.

Why was everyone in town so closed off? They didn’t know me, sure, but I was kin as far as they knew. Eventually they started calling me the Yankee, since I’d moved in from up north, never mind that I definitely hadn’t been in the northeast. They used it to get out of talking to me. ‘Don’t talk to the Yankee.’ ‘You know how Yankees are.’ And this was progress.

You can imagine that my fledging PI agency didn’t get much business. Even in the old train depot, where rent was dirt cheap, I was only barely making ends meet – and I was mostly taking ‘missing cat’ cases.

Now, the room in the mansion? Rent there was lower. Power and water included. And the amenities, my god. A pool. A spa. Two private lakes. There was another smaller house on the property, just in case you didn’t have enough space, and then that house had its own smaller house.

At the time, I didn’t think to question any of this, which wasn’t a good showing of my investigatory skills. You need to understand, though: I was desperate. I’d been living off beans and rice for half a year at that point and I had enough money in savings for one more month of rent. The last case I’d taken was two weeks before and even that was just finding someone’s glasses case.

If I got the room at the mansion, at least I’d have a month or so of living large before I ran out of money.

I drove down to the estate later that morning – the GPS named it Steele Point, and it was maybe only 15 minutes out of Silent Springs proper. If I’d kept following the highway that way, I’d’ve ended up at the fort – which, eventually, I’d have to do more than a few times – but that day I turned off at a driveway that wound its way through a wall of trees. As soon as I cleared those, my engine stalled. That wasn’t an odd occurrence – it was a Civic from the 70s that I’d bought for $100 and a promise – so I put the brake on, locked up, and resigned myself to getting under the hood when I was done at the mansion.

It was July, and the driveway spanned a good mile further. By the time I got to the door, I’d had to take off my top and it was only out of decency that the undershirt hadn’t followed. The gloves stayed though. That was non-negotiable.

Steele Point was every bit as ostentatious as I’d imagined. The whole thing was brick – not just a façade – and the main building was at least the size of five old train depots side to side. The lawn was a mishmash of shrubs, flowers, and moss; the tree line surrounded the estate and journeyed down to the water, which I couldn’t even see yet because the house was blocking it from view. There were three different garages plus a driveway along the side that could have easily fit four more cars side-to-side.

I loved the stupid place on sight.

A signboard near the front door – I’m sorry, one of the front doors – directed applicants towards the rear; in the rear, a sign at the patio door asked visitors to ring for entry.

I’m not much for people telling me what to do, so, in my own little act of rebellion, I knocked.

Nevertheless, the intercom erupted in a burst of static. “Nina Steele,” said the cheerful voice on the other end through a haze of crackling and hissing.

“Ms. Steele, just who I was hoping to talk to,” I said, applying my standard CC Callista charm, i.e., being about three degrees nicer than normal. “I’m here about the office space for rent.”

“Hallelujah!” Nina drawled before breaking out into ecstatic laughter. “I’ve been losin’ my gee-dee mind with no one else ‘round here. I’ll pop the door, you come on in. The Red Room is just across the hall from the smokin’ chambers, near the wine cellar. I’ll talk with ya more there.” She ended the transmission and the lock clicked open.

It was there that I started wondering. Was I the only person who’d come about the room? It sounded like it. I cursed at myself for not doing more research. Had someone died here? Was that why others in Silent Springs hadn’t jumped at the opportunity?

Then I asked myself, would I have stayed away if someone had been murdered here?

To my shame, the answer was no.

The indoors of the estate were modern and well-kept: polished hardwood floors, granite countertops in the dining area, brand new furniture in the sitting room. Expensive-looking rugs lined each space, immaculate to a one even in the kitchen.

In the... kitchen.

Who’d put a rug in the kitchen?

For that matter, where was everyone? There wasn’t a single sign that this place was lived in: no stray hair, no crumbs, no furniture slightly out of place. But there wasn’t any dust, either. So nobody was here, but also the place was being kept spotless.

I shook my head. There was a mystery here. I hoped it wouldn’t be bad enough that I wouldn’t get the office, and then I felt ashamed.

The Red Room wasn’t hard to find: even aside from being near the smoking chambers and the wine cellar (which, to my pleasure, did also have a hallway leading up to outside), it bore ‘The Red Room’ on its door in embossed cursive. Inside, the walls were colored a deep sumptuous crimson, with a red mahogany desk bigger than my bed and two dark red couches. Cabinets and bookcases lined the walls, and the chandelier hanging from the ceiling lit the room with a soft golden light. Where the rest of the mansion looked straight out of 2020s room design, the Red Room was a throwback to a century earlier.

There was nobody here, either. I sat down on the couch and draped my overshirt over the back. A coffee table in between the couches proffered a glass and a jug of ice water, which might have been the most kindness anyone had paid to me since moving back to Silent Springs. I was halfway through it when someone started talking to me and I dropped my glass.

“You made it! Wonderful! Excellent!” came Nina’s voice from an intercom on the wall. “Don’t worry ‘bout the cup, I’ll get it taken care of. Now what say you and I have ourselves a little chat?”

“Uh, sure.” I glanced around the room. Nobody steadfastly continued to be there, and I couldn’t hear anyone from in the hall. “Be happy to. Where are you, by the way?”

Nina giggled. “Don’t jump the gun now – I’ll get to that. I’m more interested in you. You’re Chrysanthemum Callista, right? Real mouthful of a name ya got there.”

The hairs on the back of my neck stood up straight.

“Saw some’a your ads in the paper,” continued Nina. “Real professional stuff. Did you really catch a serial vandal?”

“Well, yes, technically, when I was back in – look, what’s going on here? There’s like nobody in this entire godforsaken mansion.”

Nina tsked. “Now, now, there’s no need for that kinda language, is there?”

“Really not my point.”

”Really is mine. But anyway. Like I said! I’m interested in you. I’m glad you were the one who answered my posting. It gets reaaaaal borin’ here without fresh blood. It’s so dull ‘round here, in fact, that if you can do one thing for me, I’ll let ya use the Red Room for free, and you can live on-site. Room and board, gratis. Whaddya say?”

Have you ever felt, actually felt, dollar signs pop up in your eyes? It hurts more than you think.

“I’d say that price sounds right to me.” Caution had flown out of the window, dragging with it curiosity and common sense. “What’s the job? Need something found?”

“In a way.” From the other end of the intercom was a sound like Nina snapping her fingers. Nothing changed in the Red Room, but outside the door the modern décor flickered out like a bad TV image. In its place was, well, more Red Room: the same wood, the same colors, the same embossing on the doors. The sounds of cackling laughter and strangled screeching rang out through the halls, and the light from outside abruptly extinguished itself. “CC, I need you to find me.”

“What the FU—”

“Language!”

---

I won’t deny it. That’s when I should have run like hot dogs were BOGO at the cart near the old mill. But the appeal of free rent, free housing, in a mansion – even a haunted one – won out. Who doesn’t like a bargain?

By the end of it, I’d searched every room in the building, plus every room in the other building, plus every room in the other building, plus every room in the other building. The estate was clearly not as empty as I thought – an ooze of some kind dropped on me in the kitchen, a poltergeist kept staring at me whenever it thought I wasn’t looking, and I had to threaten a banshee-harpy with a birdcage if it didn’t stop trying to gouge my eyes out. Every single room, from the bathroom to the art studio, had an intercom that Nina giggled at me from. It wasn’t until I’d circled back to the Red Room that I realized what was going on.

“I know where you are,” I announced to the room at large after downing the rest of the water jug.

The intercom turned on. “Do tell! I’m positively burstin’ to know!”

“I’ve searched every room this place has to offer. You agree to that?”

“I’ll say it in red if it helps!”

“And you also agree that you’re not in a secret passage or a hidden room or anything like that.”

“Arrrr! You’ll find no cowards here, matey.”

I stared down the speaker, which almost seemed like it was staring back. “In no place did I find the other end of any of these intercoms – which means that there’s nowhere you could be broadcasting from! On top of that, the lights turned on and off with your singing when I was in the sauna, so you’re obviously somewhere where you have command over the electrical system! Therefore! Given all this, and given that this house is inarguably haunted...”

I whipped my finger around and pointed at the intercom. I lived for this part.

“You, Nina Steele! You’re possessing the mansion itself! Tell me I’m wrong!”

A rush of laughter turned into harsh static through the speaker, and a breeze began spiraling around the Red Room. It tightened its radius until it was a whirlwind just in front of me, the force of it pushing me back a few steps, until—

It stopped.

In its place was a young woman, translucent and floating just a hair off the ground. She couldn’t have been any older than me – well, okay, you know what I mean – and she watched my face with a radiant smile. Her blonde hair, cut into a bob that was all the rage around the time my grandparents were born, framed a heart-shaped face; she was maybe three or four inches taller than me and was practically buzzing with excitement. “You’re right! You’re so right!” Nina said, wearing a smile that could have lit the room on its own. “Here, lemme shake your hand!”

I couldn’t ask about the logistics before Nina did just that. It was like holding the hand of a person who was part La Croix.

Nina let go approximately one second before it became awkward. “I’m soooo happy you did it! You’ll stay here now, right? We’re friends now, right?”

“Well—”

“Oh!” Nina tapped herself on the head. “I bet you’re worried about the state of the estate. I’ll take care of it!” With a snap of her fingers, the light went back to normal, and the screaming beasties quieted down. “I make the look modern when I’m expectin’ company, but I prefer the older styles when it comes down to it. So? What’s your verdict, Judge Callista?” She beamed down at me expectantly.

I was powerless before the onslaught of a cute girl offering me free rent.

---

That was two months ago now. I moved into Steele Point right away. I even found a buyer for the old Callista house who didn’t mind the occasional raccoon fight. Nina turned out to be a bit of a detective fanatic – apparently there wasn’t much to watch on TV or streaming that she liked outside of Law & Order reruns. She possesses a pair of reading glasses whenever I’m leaving on a case, and she’s more than happy to offer her insights or look into places I can’t see. When we’re in the office, she insists on being my assistant-slash-secretary.

The screaming beasties are actually decent roommates on the whole. Jammy is a whiz in the kitchen as long as you don’t ask where it sources jelly from. The poltergeist, Brandon, is quiet and likes watching what ‘the livefolk’ get up to; I’ve introduced him to soap operas. Talula, the banshee-harpy, took a few weeks to forgive me for the microaggression, but she’s got quite a set of pipes on her.