Living as Ghosts with Buildings as Teeth

Living as Ghosts with Buildings as Teeth

Nov 10, 2019


Fuck! What have you done?

I was out wandering with gods!

What, are you mad at me?

Some other reason leaves to me instilled

Like a madman, I’ll defend the end of the world

As ennui!

— from Rishloo - “The Great Rain Beatle”


Yesterday, Fodder and The Agent would travel to the heart of the machine - Brain. Originally, this wasn’t the plan; they simply intended to deliver a message to The Lion.

However, as the day progressed, so did their enemies. Brain was crawling with them. As it was also crawling with friends.

They needed to act quickly and decisively.

And they did.

Trade secrets

It started during their travel to Brain. With the Agent’s coming-of-age, and the subsequent beginning to her political career, Fodder would be her most trusted advisor. He would impart upon her the wisdom of the ancients - far earlier in life than he had come to know them himself.

It was his hope that this seed would blossom into a beautiful, tentacled Eldritch Horror. The wisdom of gods must, necessarily, include ALL gods.

She would become the most dangerous.

A Grain of Salt

On the outskirts of Brain lie the abandoned Salt Mines. 6 miles long, and more than 100 miles inside - the mines were massive in scale. Fodder was uninterested in the contents (it was abandoned more than 70 years ago, after all). However, he need to plant his seeds. He needed to dig his own grave.

He needed to find that grain of salt. That final, missing piece of the puzzle; the one that would halt the gears of the machine forever.

He would find what he was looking for.

And he would find it in the most unlikely of places.

The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe

While exploring the Salt Mines, the Lion would happen upon a small cache of volcanic rocks - which was highly unusual. To the best of his knowledge, Brain had no known history of volcanic activity. Certainly not within the Salt Mines.

The Lion would take one rock, leaving the rest to nature. Being a holy man, he would pray for the contents of the rock to relieve the world of all trouble. Then, he would break it. Not unexpectedly, he would find nothing inside.

Though, there was an itch in the back of his head now. Or was there? It was as if somebody was in there - pulling on invisible strings that only he could see. He was beginning to have… ideas. Go to sleep. Brilliant ideas. Save the world. Horrifying ideas. Kill your god. He felt unsteady, unsure, and uneasy. He felt like he was being watched. But you are, my son.

“By whom?” he wondered. “If not God, then Satan?”

“This cursed itch…!”


Returning to town, the three explorers would happen upon an old museum. A massive, brick-and-stone building, with beautiful, ornate pillars, painted-glass windows, and hardwood fixtures - one could easily mistake it for a church. Stamped in the brick near the front doors was a symbol of the Free Masons - clearly the architects of the building.

The main exhibit was simple - and disconcerting to the trio; it was a monument to dead women. The artwork contained imagery of dead birds with cold, black eyes. The tables were spread with taxidermied fowl - this time, with white eyes. Fodder’s stomach turned.

Clearly, there was imagery here. White eyes. Black eyes. Dead birds.

But what did it mean?

Only the Agent knew. And she didn’t breath a word.

By the next day, the exhibit was gone. As if it had never existed.

The town that shouldn’t exist

The trio would spend the final part of their journey in-town - at the heart of Brain. They would walk the streets, hanging propaganda, while also visiting the shops, and eating food of the locals. They enjoyed their time here - but couldn’t shake the feeling that they were being watched.

This was made all the more apparent while at dinner, when a stranger and her husband slid a note across the table - then exited the restaurant.

“Mouse. Marriage. I love my fat husband.”

The three were bewildered. They had no idea what this was supposed to mean.

That is, until Fodder returned home. Took his medication. Drank his tea. Had it explicitly spelled-out for him.

Now, he understood completely.

“How does a tiny town with 10 antique shops, 12 coffee coffee shops, and nothing else survive?” he wondered. “It’s as if the concept of money doesn’t exist here. It doesn’t matter at all. These buildings are a front for something else.”

He paused.

“But of course! They are living as ghosts, with buildings as teeth.”

Fodder felt the pang of envy. He needed to know more.

He wanted to help them.


data.stats.symptoms = [
    - frisson
    - envy


You are the perceiver, that perceived the parable, the never ending end.

You are the infinite (Intuit), you are the finite (Fire).

You are, you are, you are, you are

— from The Contortionist - “The Parable”