Episode 21
The Nightgaunts Grooved
A Lovecraftian Romantic Comedy
... from the Files of Hydrogen Guy
Three times Deuterium Boy dreamed of the raven-haired woman, and three times was he snatched away before he could get her phone number. She was clothed in the white flowing robes of some foreign temple, trimmed in red and gold and stitched with the symbols of an unknown race. She was slender and shapely, her pale face and flowing hair reminiscent of the princesses of myth. Mystery hung about her as cats around a fishmonger's alley; and as Deuterium Boy stood breathless and expectant on a gilded patio there came to him the tart suspense and expectancy of a thing half-remembered, the pain of lost love, and the maddening need to get this paragon into his apartment with a bottle of wine and some Barry White albums.
When the third time he was awoken by the insistent horrisonance of his telephone, he had some decidedly blasphemous words for the interloping Hydrogen Guy. It was Saturday, and he had promised to help with the vernal ablution of the Hydrogen Cave. That is, the spring cleaning.
We come to Hydrogen Cave later that afternoon, and the annual ritual of sweeping, mopping and dusting is well underway. How's it going, lads?
Hydrogen Guy
Just dandy, thanks. I've cleaned out all
the urns in the tea cellar, blown the dust out of the Hydrogen Mainframe, and
now I'm alphabetising our mugs. Deuterium Boy's cleaning the Dangerous Things
Vault.
Deuterium Boy
AAAAAAHH!!
Hydrogen Guy
Everything okay in there, DB?
Deuterium Boy
Yeah, just a small fireball... Hey, what
do you want to do with the Cheese of Chandraesekhar?
Hydrogen Guy
The cheese so powerful it collapses stars
into black holes? What about it?
Deuterium Boy
It's getting bigger.
Hydrogen Guy
It's getting bigger?! How much
bigger?
Deuterium Boy
[pause] You know how you were wondering
how much it would cost to tunnel another twenty meters into the bluff?
Hydrogen Guy
Yeah... Are you saying I should start
calling contractors?
Deuterium Boy
I'm saying you'd better make it two
hundred.
Hydrogen Guy
Great.... D'you think if wejust threw the
Cheese in the blue box, Recycling would take it?
Deuterium Boy shrugs and turns back to the Vault. He goes through the involved sequence of sealing and securing the vault, and then returns to the kitchen where Hydrogen Guy is changing the shelf-paper in the cupboards. He sinks down into a chair at the table. Hydrogen Guy looks over and perceives his meaning.
Hydrogen Guy
Kool-aid?
Deuterium Boy
Coke. I need the caffeine.
Hydrogen Guy fetches a pair of glasses and goes to the fridge, filling one with the imperialist cola and the other with an unnaturally green liquid. He joins Deuterium Boy at the table and hands him the drink.
Hydrogen Guy
You look tired.
Deuterium Boy
Yeah.
Hydrogen Guy
I'm sorry again about waking you
up...
Deuterium Boy
No, it's not that. I've been having some
weird dreams lately.
Hydrogen Guy
Dreams of Uncertain Portent?
Deuterium Boy
You might say that. Whenever I go to
sleep I find myself transported to these strange lands filled with beautiful
country-sides, huge alien cities with fantastically high towers and domed
palaces, peopled by creatures both human and inhuman. And to the north are high
forbidding peaks where none dare travel, and it is whispered that unspeakable
things dwell there and practice unimaginable rituals by the light of the gibbous
moon...
Hydrogen Guy
You're describing West Virginia.
Deuterium Boy
No, gas was cheaper. And there was this
strange woman...
Hydrogen Guy
Ah, therein lies the nub...
Deuterium Boy
What?
Hydrogen Guy
You can take the alien cities and
unimaginable rituals under the gibbous moon all in stride, but it's the
dream-babe that gets your attention.
Deuterium Boy
Exactly. I can't stop thinking about
her.
Hydrogen Guy
She's captured your imagination. I know
the feeling. For two weeks after I saw "As Good As It Gets" I had these
intensely vivid dreams about Helen Hunt...
Deuterium Boy
No, no, no...
Hydrogen Guy
Trouble was that as soon I was about to
find out how good it could get, Jack Nicholson would show up and want to wash
his hands...
Deuterium Boy
You're missing the point. There's some
cosmic quality to her unlike anyone I've met in real life.
Hydrogen Guy
I fail to see how anyone could be more
cosmic than Helen Hunt.
Deuterium Boy
You're impossible to talk to, you know
that?
Hydrogen Guy shrugs.
Hydrogen Guy
It's too bad that Doug's on that mystic's
retreat in India. I'm sure you'd find his insights far more useful.
Deuterium Boy snorts and picks up a pile of mail from the middle of the table.
Deuterium Boy
Speaking of Doug, there's a postcard from
him here. From Las Vegas.
Hydrogen Guy
LAS VEGAS?!
Deuterium Boy
"Having a wonderful time. Met a showgirl
I suspect is reincarnation of Kali. Craps table is most enlightening. Letting it
ride. Warmest regards, Doug-sensai"
Hydrogen Guy
I'll wring his bony rubber
neck...
Deuterium Boy
Aw, c'mon. Skeletons will be
skeletons.
Hydrogen Guy
Hmf. Just remember, that's the Cave
account he's blowing on craps and showgirls.
He drains his Kool-Aid.
Deuterium Boy
Back to it?
Hydrogen Guy
Right ho. We're pretty much done in here;
if we both tackle the garage, we can get it done in a couple of hours. I want to
get back up to the Institute and finish editing a paper that has to be sent off
on Monday.
Deuterium Boy
Sounds exciting.
Hydrogen Guy
Yeah, well I'm no rubber skeleton. Let's
go, my Don Juan of dreamland; the Hydrogen Garage awaits!
That night Deuterium Boy stood at the head of the seventy stairs of light slumber, which lie above the seven hundred steps to the Gate of Deeper Slumber, and boldly resolved to seek out the mysterious woman who occupied his thoughts. He turned to the Security guard at the top of the stairs and asked if there was an elevator he might use. The guard shook his head, but pointed him towards the Escalator of NyQuil.
Once through the Gates, Deuterium Boy made his way through the Enchanted Woods and set out on the road to Dlunt, which lies beyond the river Hoon, and where by an ancient law it is forbidden for any man to kill a degu. (Not for fear of any terrible vengeance, but because the ancient wise-men of Dlunt declared these lanky cousins of rabbits to be "absolutely precious".)
Dlunt was a quaint and pleasant village, with peaked-roof cottages surrounded by fragrant gardens reminiscent of the English countryside. Deuterium Boy immediately entered the ancient pub called The Cock and Zoog and ordered a dark local ale. He was dismayed to find that the object of his quest was not in the Cock and Zoog, and was momentarily at a loss on how next to proceed. After a second ale, however, he fell into conversation with a group of local men.
The men were degu baiters, an essential occupation in Dhent due to the town's ancient and respected law. The town was frequently in danger of being overrun, and so the baiters would lure the degus past the town limits with white chocolate (of which degus are extraordinarily fond), and then what happened next was of no concern to the town council. Occasionally a degu baiter would not return, and the next day several degus would reappear in town significantly fatter; so the job was not without its hazards.
The locals were pleased to have Deuterium Boy in town, for tales of his deeds had penetrated even this far into the dream lands. They regaled him with tales of others who had passed through. Neil Gaiman was a frequent visitor, as had been a prominent author from Providence, Rhode Island whose name they all inexplicably forgot; and one of them proudly displayed a cookbook autographed by Ainsley Carter, who had had an immensely popular cooking show on CBC called "The Hypnotic Gourmet".
Then their voices lowered as they told Deuterium Boy that currently staying in town was the dark mage Savadini, who falsely claimed to be Belgian. Deuterium Boy wondered aloud why anyone would falsely claim to be Belgian, and the local men said that the ways of Savadini were beyond human ken.
Savadini was an old opponent of Deuterium Boy's and Hydrogen Guy's in the waking world, whom they had faced early in their career. Of late Savadini had turned from the ways of crime and was increasingly dwelling in the world of dreams. Deuterium Boy thought to himself that he should see Savadini, as he was one who knew the dream lands well and might be able to provide him with some valuable information. So after two more rounds of ale, Deuterium Boy thanked the degu-baiters and set out to locate the cottage which Savadini had rented.
The cottage was easy to find, as it was the only house in the village that all the degus avoided, and a Belgian flag was flown from the roof. He found Savadini working in the garden, clipping herbs of a vague description, and wearing a wide-brimmed hat with had corks hanging from string all around its edge. The dark mage waggled his thick eyebrows at Deuterium Boy and greeted him warmly. The hat, he explained in a convincingly non-Belgian accent, was to keep "the bloody demon-flies from biting me bloody nose off". He invited Deuterium Boy inside for a cup of tea.
After exchanging inquiries about mutual acquaintances and similar pleasantries, Deuterium Boy outlined his quest to Savadini and asked if he knew anything of the beautiful apparition he sought, or where to find her. He was overjoyed at the mage's response, despite the darkening of Savadini's face.
Savadini
'Ken oath, mate! I know precisely the Sheila
you're gettin' on about. She's a priestess of the Temple of hidden Kodor, the
mountain where the gods dwell.
Deuterium Boy
Terrific! And how do I get to
Kodor?
Savadini
Nobody bloody knows. It's hidden, isn't it?
That's the whole bloody point! The gods bloody well like their privacy. Only one
man's been there, and that's Ainsley Carter.
Deuterium Boy
Gods? Which gods?
Savadini
The gods of Earth, mate.
Deuterium Boy
All of them?
Savadini
Too right.
Deuterium Boy
You mean Zeus and Apollo and company, and
Thor and Odin and all the bunch from Asgard? Brahma and Vishnu and the Egyptian
jackal-headed god of death, Anubis?
Savadini
Er..., well, not those gods.
Deuterium Boy
More of the Father, the Son and the Holy
Ghost sort of thing then?
Savadini
No, not them either, mate.
Deuterium Boy
Then which gods, specifically?
Savadini
Bloody hell! Gods, just gods, all
right?!
Deuterium Boy
So just some Unspecified Collection of
Gods?
Savadini
Yes!
Deuterium Boy
I don't see what's so terrifying about a
vague Unspecified Collection of Gods...
Savadini
The Unspecified Collection of Gods aren't the
trouble, mate - those gods are wimpy buggers themselves, but they got the
Alternate Gods lookin' out for them, and those bastards'll subject ya to diddly
unspeakable horrors as soon as lookitcha.
Deuterium Boy
The "Alternate Gods"?
Savadini
So as to distinguish them from the Unspecified
Collection of Gods of Earth. Nasty, incomprehensible denizens of the chaos
beyond conventional time and space.
Deuterium Boy considered.
Deuterium Boy
And where can I find Ainsley
Carter?
Savadini
Persistent bugger, aren't ya, mate? In
Beaujolais in Ug-Mithir, where he cooks for the red-masked King Hurturbrise. But
I advise against it, mate.
The day was wearing on, and despite their disagreement, Savadini offered Deuterium Boy shelter for the night. But there was something in the atmosphere of the house, amplified by the locals' tales of strange sounds and lights coming from the house in the darkest hours of the night, that made him wary. He politely declined, and thanking Savadini for the information and the tea, took his leave. Savadini warned him once again not to seek out hidden Kodor where the Unspecified Collection of Gods dwell, and incur the wrath of the Alternate Gods.
For three days, Deuterium Boy journeyed over the strange and varied countryside on his way to Ug-Mithir. The road swung wildly, sometimes drawing very near to the waking world, through country that was unremarkable and almost familiar; sometimes drawing dangerously close to that limit beyond which a dreamer almost certainly would never return. In those regions the colours took on a supernal quality - reds, greens and golds of vegetation which almost seemed some other alien colour entirely. The trees ranged from cyclopean towers miles high, their tops disappearing above the first layer of clouds, to almost comically small - whole forests of fully grown oaks, maples, pines, spruce, and alder only a few inches high. Nonetheless they still held that impression of wisdom that ancient trees untouched by man possess.
The border of Ug-Mithir was midway between these two extremes of dream-reality, and there he was met by a company of knights in incarnadine armour, astride nimble and muscular two-legged violet zootlehoppers, which hooted and snuffed and pawed the earth as Deuterium Boy spoke to the riders. Word had traveled ahead of him, by what means it was unspecified, that he was on his way to Beaujolais, and the Hurturbrise the king of Ug-Mithir had sent them to provide an escort. The lead rider helped Deuterium Boy onto the back of his zootlehopper, and with mighty hoots and hallays they set off at speed for the city.
They arrived just past noon, riding through the gates of Beaujolais to a chorus of trumpets from the dwarves on the battlements. Deuterium Boy had never visited Beaujolais before, and was awestruck. The city seemed to be one continuous, fractal and organic building. Arches soared over the streets from rooftop to rooftop, and the whole city possessed an intricate symmetry, all focusing on a point of inversion that was the cascading jumble of towers bursting through the sundered dome of Hurturbrise's palace at the city's heart.
In the palace Deuterium Boy was welcomed by scores of clerks and baronets, and was presented to the scarlet-masked king Hurturbrise himself. (Despite the king's warmth and his generous reputation, strange rumours circulated about what lay behind the mask. Deuterium Boy had his own theory, but it is too terrible to relate.) The king proclaimed a night of feasting and held a huge reception in Deuterium Boy's honour. Deuterium Boy, who had only wished to speak to the king's chef, would have preferred something decidedly more low-key, and was impatient to get on with his quest. Nevertheless, he attended the reception, and through its course he hopefully inspected the face of every dark-haired woman he was introduced to.
Towards the end of the reception, Deuterium Boy slipped out and returned to his room, where he collapsed in a profound exhaustion. When he woke from his nap, the moon was shining large and terrible through his window. He slipped out of his room and headed for the kitchen, intent on speaking to Ainsley Carter.
He found the chef alone in the kitchen, chopping vegetables. His face was familiar to Deuterium Boy from his cooking show. It had been several years since Carter's disappearance in the waking world; prior to his disappearance, there had been rumours that the popular chef was growing increasingly obsessed with the study of certain occult cookbooks. Afterwards, some said that he had discovered a curious silver ladle inscribed with bizarre hieroglyphics that allowed permanent passage to the dream lands and the strange voids beyond. But nobody ever listened to those people.
Carter looked up from his chopping and greeted Deuterium Boy with a broad smile.
Carter
Deuterium Boy! Welcome to the finest kitchen in
Ug-Mithir. I expected that you would come to see me.
Deuterium Boy
Good to meet you, Mr. Carter.
Carter
Please call me Ainsley. Maybe later we'll be
able to relax with a Sleeman's and you can tell me all about my old
country.
Deuterium Boy
Anytime!
Carter
Excellent! No, I understand from my friends
below -
He pointed significantly at the ground.
Carter
- that you are looking for hidden
Kodor.
Deuterium Boy
Ug-Mithir seems to be a very
well-informed country.
Carter
There are unseen listeners in all the lands of
waking and dreaming, Deuterium Boy. Both King Hurturbrise and I know where to
find them and what questions to ask.
He turned back to chopping his vegetables.
Carter
You know you can't just walk up to Kodor and
expect entry. You need to know certain things. For instance, the Temple is no
longer a Temple - it's now a dance club, Club Kodor. The Unspecified Collection
of Gods like to dance to the latest cosmic tracks. But if you want to get in,
you need to get past the Alternate Gods. I found out the hard
way.
These days, I dedicate all of my cooking to the Alternate Gods, either directly by naming my dishes after them, or indirectly by including a lot of heavy creams or cheeses. To this day, Deuterium Boy, there are secret kitchens in parts of Paris where ancient rites are performed by the masters of nouveau cuisine.
He collected the chopped carrots, onions, and unidentifiable roots on his cutting board and brought them over to a large pot boiling on the range, and tossed them in.
Carter
Right now I'm preparing a dish for Hurturbrise
for tonight's feast. No one but he has ever enjoyed it and survived.
Deuterium Boy
Really?
Carter
Oh yes. During a certain phase of the
preparation, which you are fortunately too early to witness, I must recite the
Six Hundred Unspeakable Litanies over the pot...
Deuterium Boy
How are you supposed to recite them if
they're unspeakable?
Carter
I've often wondered that myself.
Deuterium Boy
In a nutshell, what makes them
unspeakable?
Carter
I'm not entirely sure. You see, they're written
in a language ancient since the dawn of time. But the forbidden book I smuggled
out of Nepal that I drew them from assures me they're unspeakable.
The effect of the litanies, my friend is striking. In every dish, there is included one genuine Alternate God. A small one only, but nevertheless, it makes one hell of a canapé.
He turned the heat down on the pot and put the lid on. Deuterium Boy regarded the pot with unconcealed horror.
Deuterium Boy
Maybe I'll skip the banquet.
Carter
That would probably be for the best.
Deuterium Boy
Now, Ainsley, about finding Kodor...
Carter
Yes - Kodor. Tonight, by the light of the moon, you will find a ship in the harbour with silver sails, bound for Hyperborea. The voyage will take some weeks and land you in the opal city of Lash Garnashik. From there hire a llama train to take you across the trackless Lashan tundra - I suggest going to a one-eyed man named Karrak. The llama train will take you as far north as the frozen river Reng, and then go no further. Buy a strong llama before they turn back, and follow the Reng northwest into the black mountains until you come to an immense cave which has no name in the languages of men. Go as far as you can into the cave and you will find a carved staircase leading upwards to an endless plateau. Looking north from the plateau, you will see in the endless twilight a forbidding light on the horizon. Head towards it. After several days the plateau will start to slope downwards, gradually, by a greater and greater amount. Eventually it will be too steep, and you will start to fall. Do not fight it - at the end of the fall you will find yourself across the street from the club at the foot of hidden Kodor.
Deuterium Boy
Holy Hannah! Ainsley, isn't there a shorter way to get there?
Carter shrugged.
Carter
I suppose you could take the tram.
Deuterium Boy arrived at the box-like building that was Club Kodor and commenced waiting in line. The flashing strobe lights that adorned the building's face illuminated a line of beings human, nearly human and horribly not-human. But at the dark club of the Unspecified Collection of Gods, all that mattered was the capacity to be swept away in a terpsichorean frenzy to those strange unknown rhythms, and the ability to pay the cover and produce valid picture ID.
Deuterium Boy slipped an extra gold piece to the tentacled doorman and whispered the password that Ainsley Carter had given him in its ear. The doorman directed him up a hidden flight of stairs behind a velvet rope.
The upstairs was far quieter than the pulsing chaos below. It was decorated in a subdued South Pacific theme, the light of tiki torches bouncing off the several mirror balls. A jukebox sat in one corner. In the centre of the room was a great bar, tended by a cone-faced bartender. A number of tables, all empty, were arranged on the floor around the bar, and along the walls was a circle of booths, their occupants hidden in shadow. Deuterium Boy did not peer too closely at the booths, for he knew their occupants were none other than the terrible Alternate Gods.
He chose a table not far from the bar and sat down to wait. He fiddled with a coaster, uncertain what to expect. He vaguely felt the rhythm of the club downstairs reverberating up through the floor to his feet. The rhythm was strange and alien, unlike any earthly music, with a tempo that sped up and slowed down at erratic intervals. Deuterium Boy shuddered to think of the unspeakable madness which that rhythm implied.
He lost track of how long he sat, attempting to amuse himself with coaster party tricks. The idleness and the rhythm below must have lulled him into a kind of trance, for all at once he caught a flutter of motion out of the corner of one eye and he realized he was surrounded.
The creatures were all black, with smooth, oily skin. In over-all shape they were thin and humanoid; but their great leathery bat-wings, barbed twitching tails, paw-like hands and inward curving horns were demonic in character. They made no sound; and their most terrifying aspect was that where a face should have been, there was nothing at all.
There were eight of them - he was surrounded on all sides. They crept closer with terrible purpose.
Deuterium Boy asked himself - what do you do when you find yourself surrounded by nightgaunts?
He reached into his Useful Things Belt and produced a Deuterium-O-RangTM, which he always kept close by, even in dreaming. The nightgaunts held back, waiting for him to make his move.
He flung the Deuterium-O-RangTM. It hit the jukebox, which whirred and changed disks. "Friday I'm in Love" filled the lounge. The mindless nightgaunts forgot him entirely and started swaying and dancing.
Deuterium Boy smiled. No nightgaunt can resist the Cure.
"Now that the party's started, why not have a Caesar?" a voice behind him asked.
Deuterium Boy turned and found himself staring up at the tall, raven-haired woman wearing the robes of a priestess - the woman he had been seeking. In one hand she held a tray and a notepad.
Deuterium Boy
Sure.
Avalia
Welcome to Club Kodor, Deuterium Boy. I'm glad
you finally made it.
Deuterium Boy
You knew I was looking?
Avalia
I had hoped so. I'll be right back with your
Caesar.
She looked around at the empty tables.
Avalia
Listen, it's a slow night, and the nightgaunts
never drink anyway. Can I join you?
Deuterium Boy nodded his assent. She turned and walked back to the bar, and a few minutes later returned with two Caesars, one spiked with heavy water.
As the night wore on and the nightgaunts grooved to the Cure, the Clash, and Morrissey, Deuterium Boy and Avalia spoke of sights they had seen in the dream lands, and then in the waking world, and finally of more intimate things. At some point, Deuterium Boy cannot remember when exactly, the hands they rested on the table intertwined.
Finally, one by one the nightgaunts crept away, and then even Deuterium Boy began to feel the dawn pulling him back. He commented on this to Avalia.
Deuterium Boy
Where can I get in touch with you in the
waking world?
For the first time that night she hesitated.
Avalia
You can't. In the waking world, my body is on
life support - practically dead. And what's more...
She bit her lip. Deuterium Boy gave her an encouraging gaze.
Avalia
-- my legal name is Stanley.
Deuterium Boy
Oh.
Avalia
The dream lands are a lot like the Internet in
that respect.
He tried not to show his disappointment. Now it was Avalia's turn to give him an encouraging look.
Avalia
The club's Elder Management, though, has
guaranteed my job security after my body dies. I'll always be living here, at
the foot of Kodor.
She smiled coyly.
Avalia
And those thoughts of yours about Barry White
can still happen.
He returned her smile, and they lean closer --
A telephone rings in the waking world, and is knocked off the table by a deftly thrown pillow.
[Fade to black; roll credits]