Mosaic Masochism

A classical masterpiece creeps from my pocket as my phone starts vibrating violently. Huh, a phone call at this hour of the day? Slipping my phone out of my pocket I can already feel the disappointment rising through me like a tidal wave. Guess it’s time to be pinned to another worthless assignment, why did I even sign up for this garbage in the first place? I slide the green circle of misery upward, and immediately hear my pain begin to play through the speakers.
“Agent Michael Hastings, your assistance is required effective immediately, located at the western mountains” explains the man on the other end. I don’t really have any other choice, declining an assignment could cause numerous unexpected casualties. “On my way boss, make sure nobody enters the scene before I arrive” I tap the red button on my phone. Breathing a heavy sigh, I swing open my car door and climb inside, there isn’t much time to lose, I turn the ignition on and press on the gas, my car flies down the road at great speeds.
As I cruise down the western roads, I reflect on the circumstances that led me to my current position.
* * *
June 14th, 2036, warfare had been raging on for what feels like ages. I was placed in the middle of the battleground, lost and scared, like a puppy abandoned on the side of the road, comrades getting struck down by metallic cased death pills. I closed my eyes, warmly embracing the inevitable clutch of death, a clutch that never came. A faint whistling from what felt like miles above, curiosity encompassed my mind as I tilted my head upwards to receive an eyeful of exactly what produced such a harmonious hum. Although, I didn’t need to look upward for long, an earth-shattering boom rung out across a mile radius, stunning anyone in its path, the ground shook and cracked as if the world’s worst earthquake had abruptly begun beneath my very feet.
The silence that ensued afterwards, though only lasting seconds, felt like an eternity. I build up enough courage to swivel my gaze around to the origin point of the cracks, I metal plated syringe-like object, stuck so perfectly symmetrical through the surface of the earth, a green liquid leaked through the perfectly crafted point. They intend to inhumanely take care of us through the slow and painful demise of radiation poisoning? Bloody psychopaths.
* * *
Well, if that was their intention, they failed pretty damn miserably, all the radioactive liquid that flowed into the ground, stayed in the ground, quite literally. About a year after the war, reports started coming in from all over the state. Anomalous properties started manifesting within certain areas, all acting uniquely depending on the environment around the radiation.
In order to fight these fantastical events, or as they are often labelled nowadays, Anomalous Landmark Events (A.L.Es), the Tasmanian Police Department gave rise to the Supernatural Environmental Eradication Department (S.E.E.D). Feeling a slight tinge of guilt from being an active participant in the war, I signed up for the department, didn’t expect it to be such a pain in the ass though.
A bright beam of light pierces through my windshield, causing me to reflexively slam my foot down on the breaks. Well, if that isn’t an amazing greeting to a potential death hazard, I wouldn’t have the foggiest idea of what is. I take a step out of my car door, choking a little on the smoke coming from the tires of my car. My partner was already standing there, awaiting my arrival.
“What’s with the slow arrival Michael? Becoming senile in your old age?” He teases, trying to provoke a reaction out of me. “Oh, har har, just give me the current known details on the new A.L.E.” I retort, this is hardly the time for jokes.
“As far as well can tell, this one is a cognitive hazard, controls it’s victims, making them increasingly violent towards themselves.” He informs me. “Just themselves? So, it turns you into a masochist, eh?” I rhetorically question back.
I gesture forwards with my hand, signaling for me and my partner to move forward in order to observe the A.L.E in action. In unison, we creep up to the edge of the mini platform that happens to be the only thing that provides any separation from whatever this thing would happen to be.
Peeking over the edge, I am abruptly dazzled by an ocean of what could pass as a billionaire’s personal art piece. A bafflingly gorgeous, euphoria inducing amalgamation of colourful cliff rock, warped elegantly into a blessing for the eyes. The first stage of the A.L.Es cognitive effects, it draws you in with splendorous beauty. Fortunately, I am easily able to resist stage one mind tampering effects, as I have had to deal with many throughout my time working for S.E.E.D. Not so fortunately, my partner was unprepared. Before I could even lift a finger to react, he plunged his arm deep into the mosaic soup before him.
The speed in which it spread was incredible, creeping up his arm and covering a whole half of his body before I could even get a blink in, my partner turned from a regular human into a sparkly zombie hybrid quite literally in the blink of an eye. His face slowly contorted into one of nothing but unbridled rage and disdain. Although, I do not feel like the victim of unfounded hate.
I watched in slight curiosity as this Marvelous Mosaic-Man Mass stretched out its arm, presumably reaching for something nearby, I only began to become concerned once the reflective hand grasped itself around a nearby, very point looking, rock, finally getting through my thick skull the reason I don’t feel any hate being pointed towards me.
The landscape humanoid thrust the rock down straight at its foot, chipping a massive cavity just above the ankle, I wince in shared pain as I watch a steady stream of sparkle speckled blood-spurts fountain out from where the rock had hit. Seems it hadn’t decided that one strike was enough. Another strike, agonising screams could be heard for miles on end. Strike two, I’m frozen with shock, I can’t even lift a finger, all I can do is watch. Strike three, ironically, just as the third strike would signal the end of a round of baseball, the same number of strikes signaled the end of the poor man’s life, the shine of cognitive function left his eyes as I watched him bleed out directly in front of my panicking body.
I sit still with fear for at least five minutes, considering what I should do. Fight, or flight? I considered the two choices before resting on a single simple philosophy, flight was never an option. Confidently zipping up my specially made hazmat suit, I dive into the disgustingly viscous artistry nightmare below me, I must find the source object.
Feels like ages since I entered this silver pool of mirrored misery, finding the location of the source object is proving to be a whole lot simpler than I expected it to be, all you need to do is follow the feeling of the vibration produced by it, that flow freely through the thick liquid substance. In the middle of this echolocation nightmare, I witness the one object that managed to create such a hostile soup. A single, mosaic, pottery vase. From what I can observe, the vase excretes the liquid straight from the hole at the top, allowing it to freely flow equally over the edge of every side.
I reach out, my hands successfully wrapping themselves around the handles on either side of the vase. Lifting this thing out of the water is proving to be more difficult than initially anticipated however, as the viscosity of the liquid is making it seem heavier. With a little bit of strength and time, I can pull the vase free from the clutches of reflective syrup, I pick the vase up and store it in an appropriate cognitive hazard labelled storage container, wouldn’t want its mind-altering effects misleading another member of staff at HQ.
Unsure if my mind is playing tricks on me, I could’ve sworn I just observed a plume of some kind of gas rise from the ground beside me. I quickly gaze at the floor, I feared something like this could have occurred, the liquid is evaporating, and this gaseous substance has already spread out far beyond the main area. I think I breathed in way too much. my vision is going darker. I’m losing the ability to feel. I…
* * *
I come to. I must have blacked out from the inhalation of a foreign gas, can’t believe I was stupid enough to leave my gas mask in the car, forgetting to put it on during an incredibly important mission. I put my hand to my face, well, I’d like to say it’s my hand but what’s this? My entire arm has been replaced by one made from mosaic, but it doesn’t seem to be spreading or even attempting to infiltrate my behaviour.
I swivel my head around, checking my surroundings. The vase is gone, HQ must have already come to take it, they’ve likely already pronounced me dead, I was out cold by the time they arrived. Whatever, I’ll head back now, my assignment has now officially been completed, better give me a damn raise for putting me through this.
I trudge back to where I left my car, tired and worn, thank god the car is still where I left it, I have no idea how I would even manage to get home otherwise. Cruising back down the cliffs, I can’t wait to get home, feels like I need to black out again, voluntarily this time. As I was thinking about sleep, my right arm moved on its own, flying all the way to the left of the car and sending my car spinning down the road. I can’t control the car anymore; adrenaline hits an all-time high as the metal railing fast approaches…
Radiation in the environment has finally dissipated enough for the development of new Anomalous Landmark Events to cease, Tasmania is peaceful once again.
August 25th, 2042. Michael Hasting’s body has been recovered from a nasty car crash. Cause of the crash is still unknown.