The Secret of the Universe

 But what is all this fear of and opposition to Oblivion? 
 What is the matter with the soft Darkness, the Dreamless Sleep?
     -  James Thurber

 There is no darkness but ignorance. 
     -  William Shakespeare

‘Where are all the fucking freaks left in this world?’ he bellowed as he held on tightly to his beer. His two filthy friends were half-listening to JayJay in a fall-down bar off of Bloor St. The other half of these two stupefied nincompoops was deep in their cups, their skinny malnourished bodies gaining calories through their livers only.

JayJay continued, ‘All the true fuck-ups have left this cesspool of a planet. They’re orbiting a dwarf planet called Ceres in the asteroid belt. I can see them in my mind, rotating their post-apocalyptic hippie selves in the vacuum of space, somehow still sipping boxed red wine, their tongues bone-dry from the bargain basement tannins.’

Gordon and NoNo were mere flesh-upholstered humanoids passively receiving JayJay’s mouth frequencies. Their collective skin was sallow, a permanent neon tan had begun to stain their Caucasian epidermis. If they moved at all it was a sort of humid slithering, like eels.

He went on, ‘Why don’t you two fucks wake up? Open your lizard eyes! Unplug your cake-waxed ears and look up next time you go to the pavement for your smoke! Gaze deeply into the light-stained onyx of the midnight skies and see for yourselves that the only goddamned freaks left in this universe have abdicated to a smaller hunk of rock way yonder in space’. He paused for effect but realized these two mutes did not comprehend a single utterance. In fact, he was beginning to wonder if they were even sentient. He looked around and saw that the other humans in the bar were staring into their drinks, listening to the bearded singer playing bizarre melodies at an unbearably quiet volume. No, he decided, these two jackasses sitting in front of him were real, especially Gordon with his goddamn indian cigarettes and his mapleleaf lighter sitting on the table in front of him. And NoNo? Who gave a crap? That dude hasn’t spoken in weeks.

JayJay drank deeply from his glass. Yup, he thought, soon everybody on this shithole of a planet would be categorized and homogenized and identified. They’d be walking foodgobblers, rabid sex fuckers, weed-injecting passive mindvictims: all to serve the final apex when the personhood of the corporation finally stepped up to the irrevocable altar and wedded the 900-pound gorilla we used to call representative democracy. And the first step to this ultimate nirvana required the abdication of the freaks. The first that left were the visionary drug-addled pioneers – they left us through the portal of death. Next were the street-walking schizophrenics who spoke truths so powerful they shattered the illusion of humanity. Next there was the cleansing of the vectors of common dissent, the uncomfortable thoughts nagging in every person’s brain. Finally, they scrubbed up every floating particle, every amoeba of contrarian spirit and launched them all into the ether with a great space bazooka.

And this brought him back to the dingy atmosphere of the bar, the dissolute gurgling of his two drinking pals and his own nascent mortality. ‘Hey you two!’ he suddenly brayed, ‘Let’s grab a goddamn smoke outside!’ They tottered out into the urban thoroughfare and began to apply fire to the leaf of the highly-addictive plant of the genus Nicotiana. They each inhaled predictably and JayJay contemplated the atomized splatter of the smoke particles against the tiny alveoli of his lungs, how they efficiently coated them with a gum-like substance saying: The nicotine has arrived gents! Enjoy my pretties, my little fucking slaves! I like being in your stupid bodies and killing you. It’s what I do. It’s what I do.

Gordon took a pull on his cigarette, his eyes a little sharper out in the air. ‘JayJay,’ he said breaking the silence to his own astonishment, ‘I think, earlier, you were perhaps a little harsh in your assessment. Maybe we’re drunks but you’ve been matching us drink for drink. I also think there’s still a sliver of hope for the denizens of the earth.’ As he spoke, NoNo’s expression seemed as distant as the Andromeda galaxy. ‘There’s a guy I know’, he continued, ‘I work with him fixing up slum apartments sometimes for pin money – he’s an interesting cat. I can introduce you. He told me that he has figured out the secret of the universe.’

During Gordon’s oration – he’d never heard him talk so long and never as eloquently – JayJay’s face slowly moved from initial annoyance to a knowing, dastardly expression. How he has waited for this moment! For these jerks to pipe up. Hey, even NoNo’s faraway look was a type of endorsement. And yeah, he definitely wanted to meet this fucking weirdo who would throw Gordo the odd bone.

Gordon led the three of them up a narrow wooden staircase to an apartment on the second floor above a laundromat on Wellesley St. across from St. James’ Town. It was a handful of nights after their queer conversation at the tavern. None of them had slept well in the intense heat of the past few days. They were in the midst of a record-long heat wave, another harbinger of end times. Much as a body contracts a fever to expunge and murder vile bacteria and viruses to survive, so too does the earth, it would seem, heat up to kill off its parasites. And JayJay knew that humans were those parasites. The earth also had other tricks up its sleeve that a body did not: it could freeze the intruders to death in an ice age, or thoughtfully step in the path of a streaking comet. Much like a depressed human might amble in front of a city bus.

Gordon banged an indecipherable series of knocks on the door to the unit. JayJay in his unwashed shorts and Goodwill T-shirt and NoNo in his ubiquitous ratty trenchcoat waited a couple of stairs down. It was pretty late and the sounds of the street were muffled in that stale and humid staircase as they waited in a chasm of pseudo-silence. The door was then opened rapidly and Carmine suddenly appeared in the frame of the doorway. He was an extremely slender man, mixed race, well above sixfeet, and wore an obscenely coloured kimono which was open at the chest revealing his ribs and a pair of Calvin Klein boxers. He had a neatly-trimmed mustache with slicked-back hair. His unsmiling face conveyed a contradictory tenderness. As the trio entered, a blast of cool air-conditioned air saturated with marijuana smoke slammed into the front of their drooping bodies.

‘Hey Gordo, thanks for bringing your friends,’ he said in a smooth resonant voice which jarred the ear only due to its incongruity with the emaciation of its host. The pith of its tone was almost feminine. ‘You all know Gordon pretty well, I assume,’ he continued, looking conspiratorially at JayJay. ‘He is both the asshole you think he is and a portal to the divine. I work him like a dog and pay him with poisons. You know, intoxicants. But it isn’t his fault or anyone else’s. Self-medication is one way of conforming to this deeply insane world. No one should judge the journey of another’s suicide. On the other hand, NoNo has chosen a profoundly philosophical path, that of the silent witness. He does no harm except to the shell his spirit has chosen to inhabit in this most superficial of existences. Anyway, I’m sorry I have been remiss, please have a seat.’

He pointed to a vomit coloured L-shaped low backed sofa on which sat a small dog. Its soft, clear eyes seemed to indicate that within its tiny form an advanced soul rested, watchful and benevolent. It perhaps was on its last way round before nirvana, choosing to skip the customary last step of humanness, perhaps in protest. They sat as Carmine passed around a large water bong. Alcohol was strictly taboo at his place Gordon had warned but most everything else was condoned, and even encouraged. After the formalities, JayJay felt the urge to speak. Always a talker, he had fallen temporarily into dumbness the moment he laid eyes on Carmine. But people were people, he thought, and I’m sure that chap was wondering about me too.

‘I don’t think I have to tell you’, he began quietly ‘that I mostly agree with what you’ve said. I would expect as much given your bold quest for wisdom. I assume you speak metaphorically when you say that you have uncovered the secret (if there indeed is one) of the universe. I am at the stage of my life where I’m on a razor’s edge. On the one side, I am still prepared for a self-destructive fate; on the other, I fear I have become too comfortable with this mode of existence and would kick and scream if I were to be given the hook from the stage.’
‘A fellow traveler, I see,’ remarked Carmine.

‘Of course, of course,’ JayJay said with mild impatience. ‘We seem still to have arrived at the same place, but maybe that should not be too surprising. All of us should eventually converge here.’

‘Where is here? The waiting room of hell, or its opposite?’

‘Nothing less, Carmine, than the cockpit of the inter-dimensional flying craft. Each of us, or severally, has been forced at one black time or another to assume the controls. Usually it’s after a crisis. But I intend to do so at my leisure and at the appropriate time.’ JayJay lit a cigarette. ‘Do you mind?’

‘A little. There are poisons and there are poisons. But please proceed, I haven’t yet allowed my spiritual pursuits to descend completely into the puritanical.’ Carmine reached down to the coffee table and took a sip of a dark beverage out of a tall glass. Gordon and NoNo then reached into their pockets to extract their own cigarettes.
There were no clocks in his apartment. And from his living room no sounds from the outside were audible even though a large window looked down into the lamplight of the street. The soft whirr of the air-conditioning obliterated the world’s cacophony suspending them in a peculiar mellowness. Time was stretching here, and contracting – like a slowly vibrating rubber band. JayJay felt weightless. He didn’t know, or give a damn, about how his pals felt – he scarcely looked at them during his chat with the man of the house.

‘And yet...’ Carmine continued, ‘perhaps we should talk a bit about the secret. You mentioned earlier how you thought that it was all just a metaphor, this secret, and I understand your error. Because of our intense discomfort with our physical selves, their mortalities, and our tenuous hold on the physical world, we often explain the ineffable to ourselves using a proxy, such as metaphor. I am telling you now, my good man, that this secret is as real and solid as this table here in front of me.’ And, at this, he reached down and rapped on it a couple of times. ‘Listen,’ he said, ‘Gordon tells me that you’re a working man, that you drive a truck delivering packages for UPS. Not a bad gig. I would like you to do a favour for me and pick me up a package from the airport. It comes from a very small country in Africa that has changed names many times. There is nothing illegal about it. There is simply some rare metal and one other interesting item contained in the package. I took the liberty of sending it to an address of a friend that runs along your route.’ He paused, waiting for any reaction. There was none. ‘She is a fascinating woman I assure you. Once she meets with you I’ll make plans to retrieve the parcel. Then we can talk again about the secret.’
JayJay, open to adventure, agreed to the proposal. Later on as they were leaving his place he turned to his host: ‘by the way, that shit we smoked was ace. Thank you, brother.’

‘Always,’ Carmine replied as he closed the door. And just like that the technicolour kimono was lost to sight.

The following Tuesday JayJay was in his UPS van, dressed in those workingman duds which he so abhorred, cruising the streets in the northwest of the city. At least the social mores these days allowed him to have a few tattoos poking out from his shirtsleeves and even permitted a small stud earring. He was listening to an eclectic music mix through his phone as he passed by Weston Rd. on that bright and sunny morning. There was a pause in the music, and then the first few strains of “Strange Fruit” sung by Billie Holiday came through the speakers. It begins with seventy long seconds of instrumental, and then come the first few words that strike terror into every loving heart: Southern trees bear a strange fruit / Blood on the leaves and blood at the root. The music gnawed away at the façade of brightness that the city was selling, right through the glossy veneer to its skeletal mass. He knew, that hidden in the recesses of this large metropolis, the crackheads and pill poppers were still up from yesterday, crazily, desperately trying to fall into a sleep, a deeper stupor, to try and dream just one more time. The shut-ins, the psychiatric invalids, the recently bereaved and the permanently marginalized, and certainly, the furiously starving streetkids, kept searching for respite: a little corner in which to hide away from the merciless and unyielding world before eventually drowning into a pavement of despair. In short, that what we see in the wide boulevards and gleaming skyscrapers belies the uncanny suffering in the crevasse of the human psyche.
He pulled into a smaller street just off of Trethewey Dr. and looked for the address that was on the package. When he had picked it up earlier that day at the depot it did seem a little odd – it was unusual to get a parcel from that small West African state. The package itself was of medium size, neither smaller nor bigger than a breadbox. Its weight was rather light for its size and on it there were several colourful stickers indicating that the package was fragile and to handle with care. He stopped in front of a small, detached home, red-brick and post-war. Surrounded with well-manicured bushes, explosions of flowers from all corners of the spectrum lined the pathway to the door. Grabbing the package, he climbed the steps and knocked on the wooden door in his authoritative UPS manner. A few moments passed. He knocked again. He now vaguely heard some noises within and a minute later the door opened. In front of him was a clear-eyed, white-haired, sturdy-looking woman well north of 80 years of age, probably even 90. She was dressed in clothing that would have looked fashionable in 1971 at the height of the hippie era.

‘Come on in JayJay,’ she said. My name’s Ruby. I see you have a present for me. By the way, how’s the weather out there you beautiful son-of-a-bitch? Pardon my language but I love to swear, it’s the only goddamn vice I have left. Alcohol almost killed me in the 1940s, pills in the 50s, heroin in the 60s and bad relationships (which I consider a toxic drug) in the 70s. In the 80s and 90s I was lost in a weed-induced fog, but since 2000 I turned to cursing a whole hell of a lot, and to vegan baking.”

He was led into a somewhat darkened living room, its walls adorned with mixed-media artwork depicting fantastic representations that bridged light and darkness, the triumph of the spirit and the degeneration of the will. But the general feel of the house was one of grandmotherly comfort imbued with the sanctity of the acceptance of the diverse. He now sat down in the couch on which was draped a homespun white doily. She soon brought him some hibiscus tea after asking if he could stay a few minutes to chat. They sat there in silence for a while taking sips from their glasses. The package sat between them on the coffee table, its presence almost like a third person.
JayJay began, ‘Ruby, may I ask, how you know Carmine?’

‘Oh I’ve known that boy since he was a little fellow. Actually, he’s a distant cousin of mine from a branch of the family tree. Course that doesn’t matter a good goddamn since all of us are part of the same human family and come from the same elements as the stars. We’re all ploughed in their dust.’

‘He’s a deep guy, the little I know of him.’

‘Deep and shallow. I applaud his efforts to cut through the bullshit of our era and get to the meat of reality but sometimes I question his methods, and truth be told, his motives. I tell him as much every freaking time I see him. But I’m one to talk, I’ve been just as guilty as him and have been down every wrong path. I’m not sure if my long life is a gift or a punishment. You see, my parents were big adherents of Spritualism back at the turn of the last century.’
‘You mean like Charles Dickens and Harry Houdini?’

‘Yes, exactly. There is something extremely comforting about an easy conduit between worlds. The practice offered my parents a soothing alternative that seemed to marry the promises of religion and the progress of science, including the support of the progressive causes of the day like the abolition of slavery and women’s suffrage. There was, of course, a sinister side to things though. Degenerate motherfuckers, pardon my language, fraudsters and sociopaths would use the guise of the best of Spiritualism in order to dupe and take advantage of its followers. There are stories my parents related to me that make me almost believe in the Devil. ‘

JayJay twiddled his thumbs and looked down. ‘Well,’ he said, ‘the Devil is a really hard sell for me. And please don’t apologize for swearing, I am a past master of it and heartily encourage its use. Anyway, in my opinion the origin of evil is as weak in its premise as the origin of good, and is most likely a false dichotomy. To me, we could very well be living in what Einstein feared to be an indifferent universe, but at the same time we are obviously being bathed in love. Love is almost inexplicable but surely does exist. But the Devil’s greatest talent is convincing us he doesn’t.’
At this she laughed so heartily and for so long that JayJay started wondering for her sanity. She finally leaned closer to him and looked in his eye. ‘I am sure that you were my lover in a previous plane of existence but that probably freaks you out because you misunderstand old age. All younger people do. Look, enough of this stupid banter and let’s get to crux of the matter. I am taking this box cutter and I am going to open the package right here and right now. Don’t worry about it honey, Carmine knows exactly that I would be doing this. He’s coming later tonight to pick it up. It’s his. He thinks for sure it contains the secret of the universe and I am sure it does. We may disagree on motivations and methods but I’ve never seen him be wrong on the big questions.’ At this she moved to the mysterious box and began to apply the sharpened steel to its sides. Carefully she flayed the packing tape, thoughtfully she surgically disassembled the cardboard, tenderly she sliced open the bubble wrap until two items remained, wrapped in paper.

The first small object she opened first, it was a piece of rare earth metal found abundantly in the originating country but almost nowhere else. Sadly, the fight over this metal had caused decades-long wars because of the factions trying to control the commodity for sale to rich Western countries. She then picked up the second object. ‘Here’, she announced with only a little fanfare, ‘is the secret of the universe.’ And with that she proceeded to unwrap it and held it up between them. It was a completely intact human skull, but it was clearly not of a modern human nor was it that of an ape. JayJay was stunned. He knew only a little about human origins and was fascinated about the subject. In recent years new discoveries of human-like species in caves here and there had turned the study of anthropogeny on its head showing that there were many human-like creatures existing at the same time and, rather than looking for a missing link from our simian ancestors, it might be truer to say we are an amalgam of many different yet similar creatures. Our whole view of what it is to be human rested on such fragile underpinnings, any new dig could reveal a completely different beginning. And if this was so, how could we be certain of anything?
Ruby held the skull up in front of them, their eyes accustomed to the dim light except, now, several light beams tinged with motes of dust came in through the front window and cast a spotlight on this puzzling artifact. They observed it for what seemed like an eternity as questions kept flowing through their minds. He thought, how did Carmine get this? Is this the real thing? What is his intention? What is going through Ruby’s mind? How the fuck did I get involved in all of this? And then, in the depth of the silence he heard Ruby’s voice penetrating his consciousness as if coming from far away.

‘So, this’, she proclaimed imperiously, ‘this simple fossil is the secret to the universe.’ She bowed her head even as she kept her arm raised. She held the skull as if reciting the Mourner’s Kaddish, the ancient Jewish prayer for the dead.

A few weeks passed. JayJay, Gordon and NoNo met as usual for their sessions to liquefy their brains in taverns strewn throughout the city. Of late, JayJay had been a tad less vile in his condemnation of his buddies and of society in general. He still felt the same way though and perhaps just thought that a new approach would yield happier results. One evening, Gordon texted JayJay saying that Carmine wanted to meet up with the three of them that night sometime after 11 – he wanted to live up to his promise to again discuss with them the secret of the universe. That he wanted to meet up again was of immediate interest, where he wanted to meet was downright riveting. JayJay kind of knew the area, it was outdoors in one of the valley systems of Toronto – lush, heavily forested arms of small rivers and creeks that moved south from the Oak Ridges Moraine down into Lake Ontario. It was up a scarcely used trail up the east arm of the Don River, north and east of where the Don meets Taylor Creek. He’d been up there a couple of times before: the river spreads out a little there, its beds of large round stones lining the flats. And there were also steep, rugged woods towering ten storeys high running to either side – and in these woods were winding trails accessible only on foot, single-file trails that wound upwards and downwards seeming with no end. But to go here at night? Well, at least there was a moon, a few days past full, and a clear sky so he thought it would be ok.

They arrived on foot at the parking lot at the trailhead, each coming from his own direction and mindspace. JayJay opened up a wineskin and offered it to the others, NoNo lit a blunt. ‘Okay guys, this is going to be unpredictable’, JayJay said. ‘What was his tone on the text? Have you spoken to him recently, Gordo?’

‘No, not since the night we all saw him. I texted him a few times to see if he had any work and he said no, that he was working on another project that was taking up all his time. But he’s cool, just a searcher like us.’

JayJay thought about giving Gordon a shot like, you, a searcher? Only thing you look for is the next buzz or maybe a girl now and then. But he felt strangely docile. He looked over at NoNo going to town on the joint, his face lit up by its embers. No, this could be good, he told himself brushing away a few doubts that were in the back of his mind. This could be a special experience, one for the books. I talk the talk of loving freaks, and here’s me now walking the walk of loving freaks. So, I’m no hypocrite.

They proceeded up through the trail until they got well in, their route nicely illuminated by the three-quarter waning moon. It followed the river through its turns until darkness seeped from the walls of dark green forest. They could hear the soft swooshing of the water and the sounds of their feet on the dusty path beside the river. Eventually they came to a bend in the river where they could make out the opposite shore about 30 metres across the water. The far bank was a gradual bed of stones and standing on them was a tall, thin figure. It must be Carmine. His form was half-bathed in ethereal moonlight, his other lost in shadow. He beckoned to them and motioned them to ford the river on a series of large rocks that jutted out from the surface of the river. It wasn’t difficult: even in their state of mild inebriation it was easy to make it across.

They realized, once they got there, that the flora on the far side of the river was much wilder then the one they had left. Even though they were in the centre of a massive megalopolis it felt that, here, they were in a lost wilderness. There were no paths on this side. The trees looked jagged, menacing. The river looked as a torrent. As they approached Carmine he addressed them in a steady yet electric baritone: ‘Gentlemen, I am so very glad you used the freedom of your will to join me tonight. It is almost midnight and that is the time for deep thinking, even prayer.’ The three of them could now make out his face. It was his eyes that struck a gong of fear in their hearts. They shone with an atavistic savageness, glowed with a primitive gleam.

‘I have indeed uncovered a great truth, the answer to a riddle, an abstruse secret’, he went on in a controlled voice. Until then they had been focussing on his eyes, but now, as he swept his arms upward they saw he was cradling a human-like skull in his hands, the skull from Africa. He held it surely, like one who’s had long hours handling it, he held it as one might a small infant. ‘For many nights I have been here, ever since the night of the full moon, to delve deeper into the very heart of the secret. And at first light, this very morning, it was revealed to me!’ As he spoke, his voice rose slightly and pulsated with a fine tremor.

Gordon now interjected with some urgency. ‘Carmine, what drugs have you been taking? What are you on?’ He could see now that Carmine looked extremely unwell, his already thin body and angular face were collapsing in on themselves.

‘Well, you know’, he replied almost casually, ‘over the years I have grown disdainful of the recreational use of drugs. Suburban white kids taking them as kicks and freaking out in their mom’s garage. I have always maintained that psychedelics should only be practiced by true shamans and always with a singular question in mind. Well, this I have done. I have been completely and utterly zooed for 4 days and nights, my friends. I haven’t slept a wink. Seven tabs of acid, 5 grams of mushrooms, 2 peyote buttons and (I’m very grateful to my friend Ruby for this) one full dose of DMT.’

‘What? Ruby supplied you?’ JayJay asked incredulously.

‘Why not? She’s just as invested in all this as I am. And if you think about it, aren’t all of you? This isn’t just any secret, this applies to everyone, to all of humanity.’ As he said this, his eyes brightened for a long moment. And then, just as suddenly, they dimmed as his body violently shook and listed to one side like a foundered ship. Throughout, the skull was never in any danger: it remained unharmed in his sure hands. After a few moments he righted himself and recovered enough to say, ‘Ruby and I are cousins you know. She understands, she’s lived enough to know. Listen’, he continued in a weary voice, ‘come with me I want to show you something.’
He moved a little deeper into shadow and started walking up an unseen trail. Reluctantly, they followed him showing their discomfort to each other only through their expressions. The trail began to rise up into the dark, steep thicket and soon they left the river down below. It was dim in that wood and they stayed close and in single file behind him. A gloomy silence descended onto the group as they walked on and on. Finally, they reached a sort of landing up near a support column of a bridge that spanned the wide ravine. The column was completely riddled with vibrant, lurid graffiti. Way down below, they could make out the glint of the moon on the flowing river. He stopped and turned towards them.

‘Gentlemen, here is where the secret will be revealed.’ They gathered a little closer around him as he lit a small kerosene lamp and held it with his other hand. He was now shaking visibly. ‘This is what you have been waiting for, my sane children. The lunatic will often speak truths that others eschew, the fool alone is spared the wrath of the King.’ He started to move towards the bridge supports. ‘Stay where you are and follow me by the sound of my voice, I will leave the light for you.’ As he moved away from them, they heard him mumble almost to himself: ‘The subtle insights I have enjoyed, the tiny victories I have felt, I wish you all could know.’ They saw him place the skull inside his shirt and could see him begin to climb the structure.

As they watched him they felt strangely rooted to the spot, and powerless to stop him. JayJay was just able to call out, ‘What does this have to do with the skull? The secret?’

‘It has everything to do with the skull’, he called down from the half-darkness as he continued to climb up and horizontally along the girders under the bridge. ‘In examining the skull over these weeks it has confirmed to me the consummate meaninglessness of what we call existence.’

‘But how?’ JayJay exclaimed upwards to the dark figure. ‘I can see how the failure of religion to explain human existence was disconcerting to a devout Europe, and I can guess too that the skull could represent the Enlightenment’s failure to scientifically explain human origins – because as we find more skulls which disprove more and more the clean lines back to the primordial ooze, our very beliefs are in danger. But certainly there are enough other explanations from the East or Aboriginal spirit cosmology that can bridge the gap!’
‘Aha! Exactly. That is precisely what I am doing, chum.’ Carmine called down. ‘Bridging the gap.’ They saw now that he was suspended from the bottom of the bridge over the deepest part of the ravine, but they could still hear him clearly. They could also still make out his form because the moonlight continued to exquisitely reflect upon him. He now held the skull in one hand above his head.

‘Well, what the hell are you doing now?’ JayJay hollered. ‘I thought you were going to speak of this secret. And while I'm at it, why don’t you come down? You’re kinda freaking me out.’

‘Ha ha ha!’ he started laughing. ‘Again, JayJay, right on the head, you nailed it. Freak out: but that’s exactly it! The secret is the skull. The skull whispered its secret to me. The secret is about the freaks.’

He paused again for a while, and then he began again. ‘Mr. JayJay, let me tell you another, smaller, secret: you are a very wise man, do you know that? You see, one day Gordon was blathering on while we were putting up drywall in some shithole of an apartment complex – oh don’t be shocked! Gordon can be quite the talker (can’t you Gordon?) if you’re willing to listen. I am actually quite a good listener, it might surprise you. Anyway, Gordo was talking about your little theory of the freaks, you know, about all the freaks being the first to go – blasted out of this garbage dump of a planet into some orbit somewhere. He said you always went on about it. You remember now? Yes, well, when he told me that, a kind of light bulb went on inside my head, you know? Soon after that this beautiful skull came into my possession, then the idea came and the plan was hatched. Do you finally see?’

JayJay was trembling. What the fuck was going on? This was exactly the type of obsidian nightmare he’d had on his worst LSD trip when he’d almost lost his mind. He somehow just managed to say, ‘No, I don’t see.’

‘Well, let me make it simple for you!’ Carmine abruptly shouted. His voice started to change. It began issuing inaudible sounds that almost resembled words, until, presently, this otherworldly voice rose disturbingly to a low scream. Eventually, the broken sounds began to coalesce here and there into actual words until, finally, everyone could distinctly hear the following: ‘I am one of the freaks that you spoke of that chooses to leave here through the portal of death!’

And with that, he let go of the girder and his body fell down the height of ten storeys into the darkness below. Quickly, the trio made their way down through the dense underbrush to the water’s edge. Near there they found him, his head split open on the bridge’s foundation, his hand still somehow holding the skull. As they drew nearer to his lifeless body, his hand seemed to lose its grip on the skull and it slowly rolled off the footing and was lost, down into the swift, dark waters.

JayJay looked around him desperately. He saw Gordon’s eyes fill with tears. And NoNo? Well, NoNo simply turned to face them, and he said: “Wow.”

It has been years since the incident. After that night, none of them ever saw the others again. JayJay heard that Gordon moved up to Sudbury for work. NoNo’s fate was perhaps to disappear forever into the vast and bottomless abyss of the city. JayJay himself stayed at UPS and eventually met a kind woman, got married and had children.
As part of his job, he crisscrosses the city all the time. And every single time he passes over that particular bridge he knows, without the shadow of a doubt, that under it, in the swift, dark waters lies the secret.

The secret of the universe.