The Intangible is a limited series anthology
of audio literature that explores that fleshy
veil which we must all one day pierce. We're
happy to have you here, and even happier to keep
you. The pleasure is all mine. It's an honor,
I know. Yes, I know you. You know me, even if
you don't believe it yet. I know everyone. Who
am I? Who am I to ignore the fourth and every
wall? I often disregard rules. I rather enjoy
it, in fact. Rules exist only for those who choose
to adhere. Me, I do not adhere well to rules.
Not at all. I know what you're thinking. Could
I be him? Followed by the slither of uncertainty
and a taste of dread. Like discovering a hair
in your mouth as you swallow. A persistent irritation.
Like a lash lost in your eye. Like something
lurking in the dark. An unpleasant thing. A shiver
dances down your spine. Like the cool tips of
a lover's fingers. Playing children's games across
the skin of your back. Yes. I enjoy those thoughts
of yours. Am I deceptive? Some would have you
believe that. Do I lie? Never. I'll tell you
who I am, and you won't believe me. Not until
the time comes when you do. But by then, it will
be too late. Do you know me now? Yes, you do.
I am the devil. Yes, I enjoy the flavor of your
reeking doubt, and I swallow it whole. Ask yourself,
to whom do you answer? Not to me, and I'm intrigued
by your internet search history. So we both know
it isn't. You know who. If not me, and if not
you know who, then someone else perhaps. You
must know. You do. Yes, that's right. You know
who. You answer to yourself. Ooh, that left me
feeling a little funny inside. Seems like a nice
enough guy, or gal. Just like a certain old vaudevillian
who goes by the name of Larry. Larry was once
the star performer of the illustrious Jack Davis
Troupe and became widely known for his act, which
was billed as the dizzying, daring, dazzling,
death -defying high wire act. Larry will tell
you all about it right now. Presenting! high
over Manhattan. Year after year. This. Chirping
children in costumes and the timbre of wary parents.
I keep hoping they'll finally get rid of me and
this old bag of bones they call a body. But every
year it's the same dance and the same song. It's
demeaning. Don't they know I'm an old vaudevillian?
They ought to tear up that contract. They should
toss me in the tepid water. Let me finally sink.
Throw us all three out the window. The bathwater,
the baby, and me. Why can't they understand?
I was set up, see? Just an easy Connie's mock.
A skinny duck pin too busy keeping my coattails
tucked beneath my backside to watch for that
third ball rolling right at me, coming down the
alley. I'm a sincere fellow. I feel bad about
what happened. I do. Still, this is cruel. You
can't go and do something like this to a man
and go around thinking it's right, because it
ain't right, I'll tell you that right now. I
was a master of my craft, and that deserves respect.
I had done that routine hundreds of times, with
or without the baby. Somebody greased that girder
on purpose, I tell you. Probably that stingy,
sniveling agent of mine, looking to squeeze another
shilling out of me at any cost. Well, Mr. Jack
Davis, now we know, don't we? You told folks
all over town you were sterling. Bonafide, you
said. Ha! A bonafide skunk you are, sir. Two
lives for two pence, I suppose. May that little
girl rest in peace. You saw to it. We were both
sent to pieces. Now look at me. I'm the one who's
bonafide. And you? You're slicker than a greased
-up tub of greased -up butter. No trouble at
all for you, was it, Mr. Davis? Must have been
the talent's fault, right? Isn't that what you
told them? Isn't that what you said, Jack? That
it was me? Me? I am a pure professional. Always
have been. That's right, you heard me. You were
the one who gave me the gin that night. I couldn't
be rude and decline. Now could I? What do you
take me for? Low class? It would have been ungentlemanly.
A man has got to have some manners. Especially
a man like me. A man about town. What with being
bright in the people's eye. Oh, you let it happen.
Insisted even. Fourteen stories high and a baby,
Jack. A baby! You were there. You could have
stopped it. This was your fault, Jack. You should
have known better. Some shows on some nights,
on some bills, well, they get scratched. And
that's just the way it is. You, of all people,
ought to know that. Sometimes an act is, well,
they ought to be left off the bill altogether,
if you catch my meaning. And if you were bona
fide, as you claimed yourself to be, you would
catch it fine, I'll say. You should be here,
Jack. Not me. You. You should be the one hanging.
Now here I am, doing this same routine, the same
song, the same dance, year after year. Will they
ever toss me out with the rest of the rubbish?
Oh, I should be so lucky. They... Here they come.
Excuse me a moment, if you would be so kind.
Yes, a quick act, thank you. I won't be long.
No, no, not at all. Creepy greetings and good
evening. How do you do? I'm Larry. A skeleton
they forgot to bury. Cha -cha -cha! I sing and
I dance and I chatter and clatter to entertain
and terrify you. Boo! Happy Halloween. Look,
pal, you don't gotta say it. I already know,
in case you couldn't tell. Just imagine it. This,
year after year, barely two lines. Not even that
if my juice gets low. It's demeaning, I say.
There's no heart in it, no soul, and I'm worn
out. These old bones of mine, they're heavy,
and I'm weary. Please put me in the bathwater.
Let me finally sink and someone hold the baby.
Please promise me you'll keep her warm. Then
just toss me out. Well, some people never get
it, do they? If only he could have somehow gone
back in time and changed the outcome. Speaking
of time travel, allow me to introduce our next
story. Searching Somewhere That's it! I got it!
I couldn't tell you half of what Enzo said, but
that was the only part that mattered. He had
figured out something. See, when he worked, Enzo
was like a different person, technical and precise
about everything he did or said. I spent half
my time with him trying to decipher his intellect
and the other half doing what I could to help.
After he was done, he would resume his normal
life again and talk like a normal man talks,
eventually explaining to me what had gone down
that day in terms even I could understand. Sort
of. Enzo had found a way to send objects through
time, but the hitch was, in his words, Time is
a fickle little rat. I can send the apple through
time, but due to the infinite nature of paradoxes,
it goes, well, I don't know where exactly, but
it goes somewhere. Enzo thought he might have
a solution using the same principles which were
somehow related to quantum entanglement. That
much I could understand. Sort of. His plan was
to manipulate the test object, an apple in most
cases, through time while simultaneously moving
it through space. Essentially, Enzo was attempting
to account for both universal expansion and the
Earth's orbital rotation. He planned to use a
wormhole in conjunction with time travel to jettison
the object into the space where he wanted it.
Here, in the shed behind his house. The trouble
was, the theory he had put together was primarily
focused on the time element, and although he
knew both could be affected by the device he'd
built, he really didn't know what he would need
to alter in order to teleport the apple. Essentially,
he said. That's what we're doing. We're teleporting
the apple while simultaneously causing time to
slip off of it. Like a sort of cosmic lubrication.
Nothing like some good old cosmic lubrication
to keep the apple on schedule. I laughed a little
too loudly and held my can of beer high, proud
of my toast. Enzo was not impressed. Weeks went
on with him tinkering around. Then one day, he
muttered some scientific jargon I didn't understand,
followed by... That's it! I got it! He was right,
I suppose, because when he showed me how it worked,
the apple did change locations. And it did appear
in the second box he had built as a target. I
couldn't tell where it went in between the two
boxes, of course. But I believed Enzo when he
said he had it all figured out. Honestly, you'd
think it would be more amazing than it was. But
really, it was just an apple over there instead
of over here. Nothing spectacular. Besides, the
apple couldn't report anything about its experience.
So yeah, it was cool, I guess. I was just happy
to see Enzo so excited. I know how this next
part is going to sound, but hear me out before
you judge us. We needed a human test subject.
Enzo had already tested a bunch of animals with
it by that time. And even his dog, Briar, who
seemed fine. Enzo had got the idea that maybe
he could create a loop in the wormhole and make
it double back on itself. He showed me what he
meant by making a circle with a piece of clothesline
and pinching the clothes. Where he pinched, he
told me, would be a single point in spacetime.
If he started with one apple here, and then increased
the cosmic lube, he believed he could force an
object to slip forward through time, controlling
it until it doubled back and landed where the
other apple had been. So then, he hypothesized,
there would be an original apple, plus a copy
of the original apple from a different point
in time. I must have looked confused, because
Enzo explained it again. What's your favorite
cartoon? He asked. Um, Old Rapscallion, I guess?
Okay, let's say you wanted to see Old Rapscallion
knock himself into a pile of bones. You could
cut a frame of film from a different place in
the movie while the film is still rolling, and
then lay the frame on top of a new frame that
hasn't played yet. Now you would see two of the
same character on screen. He said it wouldn't
matter if the old frame of film was missing,
because that part of the movie had already played.
It wouldn't be missed, and it might even resolve
the paradox issue. Well, it sounded good to me.
Sort of. Enzo worked on it another month. Then
he called me on the phone one day. You gotta
come see this! I'm not even mad anymore, but
I still feel jumpy when I remember. Enzo had
it all worked out, but he couldn't test the machine
himself because he needed to operate it. Since
he knew I wasn't keen to risk being turned into
applesauce, he pushed me. Took me by surprise,
too. We hadn't even finished saying hello, and
he had the beam lit up already. Bam! Pushed me
right into the light. I can't say I felt much.
Some tingling. Like when your foot went to sleep
and is waking back up. but it only lasted a second.
Then, I was looking straight at myself. Almost
immediately, the machine Enzo had built began
whining like an alarm was going off. Stay calm,
Enzo told us. I figured this might happen. It's
okay. Then he lunged at us. Hard to say which
one he was going for, since I suppose to him,
we were one and the same. Not to us, though.
We both guessed what he was up to, and I went
for the other me, the paradox, trying to get
the jump on her. We wrestled for a few seconds,
and then Enzo was in the fray, tugging and yelling
at us that nobody knows the consequences and
something about something blowing up. I think
it was either the machine or the universe, but
even that wasn't going to convince either one
of us to get in the light again. Enzo was smart
enough to know that. Hands up! He coerced us
instead. He cocked his pistol and made us turn
around. The last thing I heard was Enzo. Nobody
said this was going to be easy. Then a sharp
shove, center of my back, tingling. I've been
here for a while now. Somewhere. When a worm
eats an apple, it leaves a wormhole. And according
to my calculations, when a wormhole eats an apple
with a wormhole, the wormhole has eaten itself.
That much I can deduce, but it leaves me with
one question. What happened to the worm? Does
he also eat himself? Yet another instance of
Ouroboros? What's one thing you wish you could
say to someone but you can't because they're
gone? Could be a question, apology, and I love
you. Anything at all as long as it's for somebody
you knew in life who's gone now. An old friend
of mine told me about her breakup. That's not
a great time in my life to, you know, give ear,
lend an ear to someone else in my life. And she
talked to me about that breaking up with someone
and completely having that person disappear from
your life is just the same as having that person
dead. And I have so many people that is no longer
part of my life that's essentially dead. That
friend of mine, I lost her too. I was a bad friend
and I wish I could come back and tell her, Hey,
I'm sorry. You caught me at a bad time, but...
Given that I am your friend, I wish I could have
done better. For you, and for myself. Pardon
me. My diligence is due, and an honest man's
wages won't pay themselves. So please forgive,
I plea. My soliciting is solely with the intent
to impress upon you the validity and veracity
of Angels Alive, our most extraordinary, essential,
excellent elixir. Have you not heard? Angels
Alive Extraordinary Elixir is indeed extraordinary,
but it is also much, much more. Not only is Angels
Alive extraordinary elixir, a robust and rotund
elixir, it is an excellent, exceptional, efficacious,
effectual, potent, powerful, marvelous, magnificent
one, and is, as always, an utterly edible, enjoyable,
potent, potable, pleasantly piquant and palatable,
desirable, delicious, delectable, mouth -watering,
and yet... morally respectable the elixir of
the finest quality of the most refined purity
developed under the sharpest eye of scrutiny
safely and scientifically circulated carefully
crafted and combined by the bright and the brilliant
the astute and acute the clever and keen shaman
of the sheik a mystifying medicine man from a
mysterious perplexing peculiar part of pawang
located deep deep down in the far southwest of
the east For an elixir so unusually useful, Angels
Alive Extraordinary Elixir is, for a time too
temporary to tell, uncommonly priced. Every extraordinary
bottle of Angels Alive Extraordinary Elixir must
go. And remember, folks, a bottle bought is always
a bottle sold. Blaze Bentley stood ready, zap
gun in his right hand, a shimmering sack in his
left. It was Corporal Bentley's sworn duty to
protect the Quantonium Crystal with his life.
You there, he shouted in a deep, bellowing voice.
Stop in the name of the Republic of the New Milky
Way! A rocket launched in the distance, streaking
a blue -green flame across the black starlit
sky. The alien hissed and clicked in sinister
tones at Blaze as it crept closer. The tips of
its insect legs ticked and scraped across the
dusty ground. One leg was already injured and
left a crooked trail behind the creature. Blaze
was ready to fire, but he had to issue one more
warning in order to comply with the code. Stop
right there, you disgusting bug! I will blast
you if I have to! The monster's scaly mandibles
scraped open, then closed. Scraped open, then
closed. Blaze knew the behemoth was preparing
to spit its venomous acid, but the hero leapt
into action. He yelled, pew, pew, pew, pew, pew!
The giant alien insect screeched and crashed
over to its side, making a great ruckus and sending
a giant plume of moon dust into the sky. Blaze
approached cautiously and towed the thing's greenish
-brown exoskeleton with his white space boot.
Corporal Blaze Bentley suddenly found himself
on his back, staring up at the ceiling, unable
to move. He was once again just a simple plastic
toy. Nathan! Dinner! Coming! Nathan tramped downstairs.
What's for dinner, Mom? Can we have pizza? Welcome
to Colony 7 -2. How often do you get let into
a moon colony, Will? This is history in the making.
New vaccine. Supposed to protect you from the
zombie virus. Just a precaution. The name's Hen.
I'm one of the local radio hosts, and you have
been assigned as my co -host. Oh my god, are
you okay? You're not looking too good. Are you...
Shit! Someone just turned! I... Oh, shit. What?
Will, what do you mean? Do you think this is
a scratch? Or a bite. Hey, it's only three days.
Two. You know. Either he turns or he doesn't.
Simple as that. Listen to Apocalypse Radio wherever
you get your podcasts. You've been listening
to The Intangible, an audio literature program
of weird fiction. This was not a fever dream.
It's real bad. Thing is, it keeps getting worse
till one day you die. Does it get worse after
that? I don't know, kid. I sure hope so.