The Universe's Mixer

It had been weeks since the debut and finale of his paean for Christine, as performed by Hannibal Lecter. It had been weeks since the farewell of his friend. Erik had tried often to return to his manor, but it had been at turns too loud and too silent for him to endure.

But again and again, he found himself rising from the cellar depths, in something like shame or embarrassment, remembering that Hannibal Lecter had fought to keep Erik in the world - not apart from it. He felt as if he were shaming his only friend's memory. He felt as if he were dishonoring the efforts that the exemplary young man had extended. And so, when he could endure the shame no more, he finally returned for good to his manor on the edge of the City, behind its metal fences and cold stone walls and vibrant gardens that no wife now tended.

He found the only way to endure the ghosts in the manor was through the mocking relief of a bottle. He was deep into a bottle of gin by the time the moonlight slanted through the shades of his upstairs library. Erik half-turned toward the window, and only then recognized that he'd been sitting in the dark for nearly three hours. His night vision had always been exceptional - a freak trait of nature that had saved his life more than once or twice.

Swallowing directly from the crystal bottle in his hand, he shut his eyes and tried to find some semblance of peace in the silence of this place. There should have been his wife's laughter. There should have been the faint rustle of his friend's suit coat as the young man read over one of Erik's arrangements. Instead there was --

Nothing.

Nothing.

The watch was brilliant. Press a button and a tiny holographic map if The City showed up. It was better than psychic paper, and if she ran into anyone else to talked like her gran, might give her a little bit more credibility in the world saving department. She kept the map open as she ran, which made it difficult to remember to look both ways before crossing the street --

HONK!

"Sorry! Sorry!" Clara apologized to the irritated motorist who stopped just in time. There was a twinge of terrible, overwhelming guilt just then as she stared at the driver shaking his fist at her. Her face fell. Her heart ached. She'd almost just died a boring, ordinary death. Her large, expressive eyes sparkled but she didn't cry. The car honked at her again and Clara had just enough sense to walk to safety on the other side of the road.

Before she could dwell, Clara looked down at the map on her watch and noticed that the map had shifted again.

"No! No! No! Why won't you let me go where I want?" she shouted. Clara looked up to check her surroundings, and found herself standing in front of a rather ordinary apartment building with two doors facing the street. Reluctantly, Clara remembered what Peggy said and checked her belongings. The address on her ID and key matched. One of the apartments was hers.

Clara exhaled, deeply irritated and pointed up accusingly at the sky, "Listen you! City, or whatever you're called! You brought me here. You knew what you were getting! Now there are people getting hurt. Why won't you let me help you!"

She probably looked a bit mad, shouting up at the sky, but she didn't care.

( TBC )