The Subtle Adventures Of Trico Webs

THE SUBTLE ADVENTURES OF TRICO WEBS by Ciprian Begu “Hey buddy, wait”, he shouted, but the dream went on. He was chasing serial killer John Cole, also known as #22434 of Folesom Prison, California. They were weaving through the desires and fears of the prisoner that were supplying the scenery. As a ghost, he was free to follow dreamers through their mind travels. As he was told, and had experienced a lot since he became what he became, the body of the ghost travels with the speed of thought because it is literally all made of thought. So, thinking of him, the prisoner, kept him locked on to his dream. The only difference between the ghost and the dreamer was that the latter had something that looked like a long hose of light connecting him to the body, which was lying in the prison cell. As far as our ghost is concerned, his last flesh covering was now being eaten by worms in a cheap grave . He had been found dead, with his head lying on his right cheek, on a table in a McDonald's restaurant. Now they were floating slightly above a field of grass, but instead of being green, the grass was all rainbowy as if the colors of the spectrum vibrated all at once. Hard to imagine when you’re awake, but, dead or dreaming, it’s all natural. In the horizon the prisoner’s mind produced mountains made of little pebble-stones and they could both watch a team of prisoners in orange Death Row suits sweating with the pick axe in hand, digging, trying to break the pebbles into even tinier bits. The vibration of the picture was those of old black and white movies artificially made in color in post-production. One of the inmates with the face of John Cole dug out a piece of hardened cow dung and threw it in the face of another inmate. Everybody started laughing and joking around. But, all of a sudden, the mountains became giant piles of cow dung and started to cave in, and it began to move their way. The inmate’s mind was creating havoc with the surroundings. "Wow, that’s a pile of shit", said the ghost. "Chill out man, you want to kill us both? To kill us. Get it? Aah, what’s the use…" The prisoner appeared to sense the ghost’s closeness, but his dream-body was still flickering too much to pay attention, being thrashed about by his restless imagination. “Hey, buddy! Slow down!” The prisoner heard him, got scared and his dream-body took the form of a bunny rabbit. Dogs appeared from nowhere and they were chasing him. The terrain suddenly became as flat as a pool table. Railroad tracks and grass lands with cows that grinned at the chase. They really seemed human and they laughed their fat bottoms off. The prisoner’s dream flew past a gas station with a prison guard as the vendor. From place to place there were giant black holes in the ground, like they had been made by titanic moles. “Wait, stop. It’s all right. Don’t be scared. It’s only me. I’m just like you”, the ghost shouted, but the dogs were barking louder than him and they almost caught up with the bunny. The specter suddenly changed into a tiger and roared all the dogs away. They vanished like bubbles reaching the surface of a pond. He saw the bunny now paralyzed, trying to hide behind a railroad track. The ghost could see he meant to run but he was glued to the ground the way it happens to everybody in nightmares. He covered his eyes with his paws hoping

the tiger would disappear by himself. The ghost came back to his usual form and asked with the kind of voice parents use to calm their children: “John Cole? Pay attention, please”. But at the sound of his name the bunny disappeared, sucked back through the light hose and into the gross body. The prisoner woke up, panting heavily. When he opened his eyes, the surveillance lamp lighting the corridor hit him right in the eye, blinding him. The patrolling guard heard him and immediately came to his cell sticking his nose through the bars. “Cole! What the fuck are you doing? You want your ass kicked right before they fry you?” *** Trico Webs was now a full-time ghost, but not long ago he had been a part-time call-center operator. One day, as was getting out the call center's central hall, he felt a sour taste in his mouth looking inside where, cemented on the easy chairs, the full-timers were still taking calls. Inbound. Outbound. They were all over the city. Providing people with crucial information about this and that, such and such. It was only about noontime. Passing by the plastic windows overseeing the large hall Trico suddenly felt pity for those poor bastards. But at the same time he felt a member of their club. The losers’ club. Today was his birthday but he didn’t care. Except for one thing. He was going to use it for something else. Something no sane human being would think about. The one thing original he’ll do in his life. They still had quite a lot of work to do until their liberation into the frosty air of the evening. They all delivered quite a round of PR-smiles per minute with amazing jaw dexterity. Monkeys in a cage, he thought. No. Monkeys are happy. And they really smile. He wasn’t sorry he would not see their faces tomorrow. The lunch break was a gulp of coffee-infested air, mixed with microwaved conversations. The colleagues were nice. Too nice. Nobody is that nice. It was a lunch-break thing. Putting people to spend their free hour together into a corporate lunchroom can stir things quite to the boiling point of nicedom. Everybody is so nervously relieved that they’d even laugh. For real. Trico was visualizing the building he was in with no particular effort: an elongated box with people in it. Stirring about with a lot of important tasks to complete. Well, he wasn’t going to be one of them anymore. The plastic cave was so ergonomically sealed that no impurities from the outside world would enter. Not even a single molecule of conversation from the passers-by, in their way to their own bill-paying plastic rectangle. Completely cut off. Funny. What if the air-conditioners failed all at once and people wouldn’t notice until it would be too late? Then, they will suffocate to death with PR-smiles on their faces. Trico remarked to himself that this wouldn’t be at all a good thing for the overall image of the company. You can’t just die out on people that need information from you. As Trico’s imagination was carrying all sorts of possibilities, one more cynical than the other, Jane, a middle-aged executive in the call-center pulled in as if she had stopped at an intersection and the lights were about to turn green. “Mr. Webs…”

“-“ “Mr. Webs, the break is almost over” "Oh, Really ? Hadn’t noticed. So quickly, huh?” “Yeah. Okay, have a nice day then”, she honked, and skidded away with her glasses lighting the hallway to her private office. “Get laid, you bitch !”, Trico whispered. Dragging his will by an imaginary ball-chain tied to his right foot, he headed for the monkey cage with fibrillating motivation. He did it to feed his courage with all the filth. He wanted to see all the reasons for his decision one more time. Back in the call-room, Mr. Trico Webs, part-time call center operator, put his single headphone headset on. Not even stereo, he thought. The cheap bastards. He logged in to the dial phone punching in all his private codes and passwords. He was in. The computer screen gradually faded in to reveal the freshly cut lawns of Microsoft. It was as if the sun was rising from inside the monitor. “Well, people, today is the day”, Trico encouraged himself. *** This night the prisoner’s sleep was gentler. Most of it he had spent staring into the black void of the giant pits opened into the arid ground of a desert. He appeared hypnotized by the complete lack of any form emanating from the black pits. They call it dreamless sleep back in the uninformed world. Here, in the subtle realm, dreamers and ghosts wander from the beginning of this Universe and some choose to stare into the black pits, resting their desires, or sport around in search of satisfaction of the subtle senses. Trico Webs appeared as soon as John Cole entered his dream. Afraid not to scare him again and lose him for the second time around, he decided to stay disguised as a piece of rock. He wanted to make the contact tonight. He only had a few more days. The prisoner was in his usual dream-body, a transparent replica of his gross body. Behind him, the light hose was pulsating from time to time, keeping his body attached to his mind. This time his dream-body was very stable, a sign that he wasn’t thinking at all. “My friend”, the ghost whispered. The prisoner, standing at the edge of the pit, completely absorbed, instantly came out of his trance and his backside became his front side in a fraction of a millisecond. He was still a bit confused by the sudden change. “Where?...Who… is?...”, he stammered. “I’m your friend. Trico Webs is the name. I am from... aaa... parallel Universe. Been watching you, buddy. Just try and stay with me” “But…What are you? You look human.” “I am human, John.” “I know you?” “You don’t, but I know all about you, John. My world is far superior to yours. We can see everything in yours, but you cannot access ours. The only common ground is dreamland.” “Dreamland? World? What the hell are you talking about?” “We don’t have much time, John. You could whizz away any second and I’d lose you again and it’ll be some time ‘till I can speak with you again“ “What do you want with me? How am I gonna whizz away? Are you in your own mind?” “Nice expression buddy. Pretty much says it all. I don’t have time to chat with you, John. I can save your life and if you know what’s good for you, you should listen to me.”

“So what do you want?” "If you could concentrate I have a plan on how to get you out, John. Save you from the chair.” “Man, you must be really crazy. Nobody can save my ass now. The decision is final. I got no more appeals. I killed them all, I said I’m sorry to the judge and that’s that. Finito. And the Death Row cell block is kinda hard to get into if you know what I mean… I don’t see how you…” “Shut up, man. Trust me. I can get you out, period. But you have to concentrate. I’ll show you something.” “Show me what you want, man but make it quick. I feel tired” “No. Don’t get tired. Concentrate on me. Look at me, ok?” *** That day when Trico Webs decided to annihilate himself once and for all the guys at the office threw him a surprise party after work. For him it seemed like everyone wanted to make him change his mind. He got presents, handshakes and kisses from the ladies. Even Jane, the middle-aged executive came and congratulated him on his 30th birthday. “30. A round lucky number, isn’t it?”. Then she kissed him on the cheek and skidded away, her glasses lighting the path to the refreshments table. It was all fake and Trico Webs wasn’t a bit impressed. He knew it was just PR. The company was doing a bit of team-building, that’s all. After the party Trico Webs left the office on foot. He decided to leave his 1990 Subaru Legacy to rot in the parking lot of his workplace. This evening the city was trying to escape boredom in a futile attempt to have some fun playing with headlights, neon lights and apartment lights, turning them on and off. The streets were full of cars that shoveled people home from work. Their gaze was that of asses after a hard day at hauling boulders from the mine on their backs. And, just like the asses, who never leave their tyrannic feeders to go graze for free on the woodland pastures, these faces were taking the same exit on the freeway day after day, eating their breakfast while waiting at the traffic lights not to be late to the same office, to do the same things over and over again until they either crack up, die from cancer or kill themselves. Trico Webs was in the last category. He wanted everything to cease. He wanted his senses to go numb, to kill any experience of this recurring scenario. It was the third drug store he was collecting sleeping pills in. 20 tablets of Stilnoct, 15 capsules of Zimovane and 5 Zaleplons. Enough to kill two more of his workmates had they wanted to join the club. Robert Catskill and Mitch Budd looked pretty depressed to qualify, he found. He reached the McDonald’s. Full of people carrying their black trays with chopped dead cows and chickens wrapped in napkins and cellophane. Trico Webs had quit eating meat from the age of 18 when his father, who managed a small slaughterhouse near Sioux City, took him to work one day. On the “dissembly line” (as the workers called it) the cows were hanging head down by one foot in rows of about twenty at a time. The entire fifteen hundred pounds weight of the animals was resting in only one foot, 4 feet from the floor. They were mooing as they

were flown through the air by the giant steel ropes from which they were hanging, gliding above pools of both fresh and clotted blood coming towards the front of the line. There stood Joe Carter (“The Serial Killer” was his nickname). He was his father’s best friend. As they entered the main hall he raised his hand to greet them. In the other he carried some kind of machinery with a disk at its end. The disk was dripping with blood and Trico remembered how Joe turned his back on them as a cow was kicking about towards him. As it reached Joe he raised his weapon, pressed a button and the disk started to swirl. In a fraction of a second he touched the neck of the screaming animal and suddenly the giant sack of struggling meat began to cascade with blood. The cow was flown in the back of the dissembly line, where they kept them to get empty of blood, a necessary process for a tender meat, as his father kept underlining. Trico didn’t throw up, didn’t cry, didn’t even make a move to run away but from day on he swore never to eat meat again and he also began to hate his father. Now, visiting the animal graveyard he bought a big Coke and sat down at the table. He took the sleeping pills out of his pockets. They don’t give lethal doses of sleeping pills at drug stores, but you can buy them without prescription so Trico Webs just had to make a few stops to gather them all up. He opened up the capsules of Zimovane emptying the contents into the white plastic glass, stirring in it with the straw. The rest of the pills he laid on the tray waiting for the tables nearby to clear out of people. *** “Is that…? How can it be?” “Just relax and concentrate on me. Don’t worry about it. That’s not a bad thing. It’s a good thing, John. It’s good thing” “But if I’m here and I’m there? Who is me?” “Don’t get all philosophical John. You are where you are and that’s it. That’s only a body. Like a car. When you’re in the car you don’t think you’re the car, do you? Well, now you’re out of the car and you can definitely realize that you don’t have anything to do with it. But John, if it weren’t for me you wouldn’t know this. That’s how things work. And I came to help you out.” “Woe, woe, slow down there. You mean my name is not John Cole? Am I not prisoner 22434 in cell-block F aka Death Row? I wasn’t the one who killed them?” “Well…Hmmm…Yes, John, you’re not the one. Actually, you’re not even John. You’re free from all. You’re not gonna die electrocuted on the chair as long as you’re not in that body. That’s not an auspicious body. It’s useless now.” “Truth is I’m gonna die anyway in two weeks. They’re gonna fry my ass” “That’s what I’m telling you. Pay attention. You have to leave that body if you don’t want to die with it.” “If that’s how things are I have a lot of questions, man. If I’m not that body how can they fry me?…” “Come one, man. Trust me on this. If you’re in the car when the car hits the tree what happens to you, huh? We don’t have time for frequently asked questions. I may leave you any second now and you’ll never see me again.” “All right, all right. I trust you. I’ll do it. I want out. Even if you didn’t tell me where I’d go, but anywhere’s better, right? What do I have to do?” “Yeah…It’s gonna work out just fine, I promise. See this cord that seems to be made of light? That’s the only thing that keeps you chained to John Cole. If it weren’t for it you could be free. You just have to cut it yourself.” “But how. Do you have a knife or something?” “It doesn’t work that way John, we are not at the tailor’s. You have to say these words I tell

you. It’s called a mantra. But you have to do it while you’re awake.” “What do you mean awake? I’m fully awake, man. Never been more awake.” “Ahem. Whatever you say, man, but listen to me. Try to memorize these words exactly as I tell them to you. And when you wake up you’ll know them. Concentrate. Try to memorize: neti neti aham bhutasmi.” “Neti...neti a...ham bhut...asmi. Sounds like a curse, man” “Well, it’s not. It’s your only way out. Repeat it three times with your eyes closed, thinking of me. Write it down as soon as you wake up. Now, wake up.” “What do you mean wake up. I am awake.” The ghost suddenly turned his body into a tiger again. John Cole froze, then started to flicker with panic. He became unstable and he got sucked up through the light hose.” *** At first he thought he was dreaming. He could see the tables of the McDonald's from a position higher than everybody else, like he was floating. A lady dressed in a business suit, with smart glasses slurping from a milkshake. Cherry or strawberries, he wasn’t very sure. He looked closer. It was Jane, from the office. He’d never noticed her when he came in. She must have driven and reached the restaurant before him because he would have seen her if she entered. Or maybe not because he paid more attention to his sleeping pills. He didn’t notice her hair until now. Very sophisticated seen from above. Was it a wig or not? As soon as he had this thought, he found himself instantly transported to a very weird place. It looked like a wood, but the ground was pinkish-orange and the trees had no branches. Instead they were unusually long and they seemed to curve right at their end. The sky seen from this wood was even stranger than the wood itself. It looked like there were multiple suns supplying the light. “What kind of suns are these?”, he thought. Woooom. The wood vanished and now he was floating below a neon light. He realized that this was one of the “suns”. He looked down. Right below, Jane and her hair. “What’s happening? Where I am?” “Funny you should ask, my boy. Or should I say, my poor, poor boy”. The voice was coming from behind. Immediately he found himself seeing what was behind him. A man dressed like a Mexican bandito, with two pistols hanging out of a leather belt, floating 10 feet from the floor. He looked like Pancho Villa, or that guy from Bugs Bunny cartoons. Yosemite Sam. Only he was so transparent that he could see right through him. “Well, you got it boy. I’m Yosemite Sam, all right. In fact, I can be anyone I want. At least if I’m stuck here, might as well be having some fun, ain’t it? Get it? Aah, you’re useless.“ "How did you?...Who?” “Well, I guess it’s time for frequently asked questions, young sir. Fact is your wish has come true. You’re kind of dead. Kind of… Get it?”. And he pointed right below him. There, with the head and hands resting on the table there was a man who looked like he fell asleep. It was Trico Webs himself. “Hmmm. Didn’t see that coming did you boy?” The “dead” Trico was a block of ice and if it wasn’t for the surprise he would have been depressed by the whole thing. After all he wanted to die for real, not to dream he’s dead. Now the drugs were playing tricks on him. Or were they? “You mean to say you are real and that I’m really dead? But if I’m dead how can I still see?

Wouldn’t my eyes be dead too?” “You people. What have you been reading? Who told you you see with your eyes? I bet it’s the eye doctors isn’t it? Ha ha ha!Those fools. They’re blind and they want to tell you all about stuff they see under the microscope. Man, they’re in for a surprise at the funeral! ” “Hey, hey. You talk too much. Who are you anyway? What’s with this scenario?” “Don’t you get it yet? You wanted out and now you’re out. You’re dead, man. As far as they are concerned, you’re a pack of dead meat.” Some customers started to stir around the body of Trico Webs. They called the manager. He came, with his red McDonald’s hat and his important commander allure. He threw a few orders to the lesser employers. The message was clear: “Get them out, quick”. “Sir, are you all right?” Then the events gradually precipitated until the point that the manager realized Trico Webs was no bum fell asleep on the table. “See how they scoop around? They don’t know anything. You don’t know anything man. Now, about the punishment.” Trico Webs started to feel things are not quite as unreal as he thought in the first place. He was really dead. In fact he wasn’t, but he was. This was too confusing. Nothing prepared him for this. He thought that you die and you’re off like a TV. No signal, no picture. And now this? “I don’t know what to say. I thought I will really die. I was prepared for it. I’ve been preparing for it for months now.” “Well, tough luck. You don’t get it your way. Or maybe you will. Later. But not in your own terms. You see, mister Webs, if you don’t mind still being called that, we’re running an organization here. The rules are very clear and they’re already laid out for everyone. Even in your life down there you had chances to learn the rules of this Universe, but you thought they were just superstitions or myths. That was your call. Now, I’m only here as a guide. I’m harmless and a lot of people even find me entertaining. But there are still others who you’ll have to meet for some procedures. And they’re not as nice as I am.” “All right, already. So I’m not dead, yet. So what? I don’t give a shit. I’ll just kill myself again in this body. It looks just like the other. Are there any drug stores around? Ha ha!” ”I wouldn’t be joking so much if I were you, mister. It looks like you still don’t get it. You don’t have a body now. At least not the kind you think. Let me show you.” In a fraction of a second Yosemite Sam pulled out his two guns and emptied all the magazines into Trico Webs alleged body. “See? You can’t be killed. Actually, this body is not a body as you know it, sun. It’s a mind body. You’re covered by your mind and whatever form you desire you will get. The drawback is that you can only hear and see. The rest is down there. But you wanted out and now you’re out. Not a great deal after all, ey?” “Man, people can’t even die and finish with it. I just want no more of anything. I’m all tired of running around doing nothing. Now you say I’m dead, but I’m not dead, I’m being punished by some guys and the guys aren’t like you and they have some procedures. I don’t see any meaning in this.” “Fact is that in a few years you’ll get what you want. Let me explain myself. You had a human body with all the facilities. Now , you decided you weren’t gonna use it for what it was made so you threw it away. OK, no problem. What you want, it can be done. However, the plan was that you weren’t suppose to die so soon. You would have died in a few years in an “unfortunate” car accident with your “future” wife. You know her. That woman in the McDonald's. “ “Jane. Jane Goodman? That bitch?”

“You say that now, but you should have stuck around for a few more weeks. You’d have been matched by the Gamdev, the guy who handles all the matchmaking between human bodies. You two were on his list from the guys upstairs.” “Gamdev? Who’s he? And the guys upstairs?” “Haven’t you heard of Cupid or Kamadeva. Well, the Indians were almost accurate” “You mean there really is a God of matchmaking? Come on! I thought it was all bullshit.” “And there’s a lot more where that came from. And he’s not a God, he’s just a kind of engineer. A professional. And there are 23 millions of other professionals, too. But we should get to your case. It’s pretty simple. You will go to hell.” “Woe, woe, woe. What are you talking about? I’m not going anywhere.” “Don’t worry. It’s not eternal, like you may think. Let me put it this way. This Universe is like a big prison, OK? And every prison has it’s solitary confinement cell. Well, popularly, that’s hell. It’s kind of like 30 to 40 in regular penitentiary. Only you have more chores.” “So, somebody wants me in prison? But why? I didn’t do anything bad.” “Son, don’t go there. This is not elementary school where you break the window and nobody sees you. Man, if you only knew how many people were watching your every bathroom break or every time you jerked off. It’s not the every day things like breathing in bacteria and killing them, or stepping on lice that you did wrong. It’s not even all the stakes you ate before you decided you won’t eat meat anymore. It’s not that. That could have been balanced somehow. But it’s the pills that did it. And your intention. You wasted a body capable of doing its real purpose. But you blew it.” “And how am I suppose to guess what’s my purpose? That was why I wanted to die. I didn’t see any purpose. How was I to know?” "Well, that I’m not gonna tell you,that's for sure. Besides, I barely understand it myself and what I know I’m not suppose to tell guys like you. You’ll have another chance to figure that out on your own. But you should not follow the scientists. They’re fools.” “When do I get the chance, man? Come on! Tell me. What are we suppose to do?” “No can do. It doesn’t work like that. Anyway, even if I told you, you wouldn’t understand.” “You’re killing me here.” “Be patient. Let me explain what I can. I’m no Jamarad, the guy who will be your judge, but I think you will get a sentence for “unnecessary waste of sound and healthy body” cumulated with “advanced state of ignorance of the Universal laws”. Then they’ll put you in hell for a few decades and if you’re reformed and you learned your lesson you’ll get out and be born into a body again.” “And in that body? Will I find what my purpose is?” “Hmmm. From what I know you’ll have to wait for at least 8,000,000 lives until you’ll be promoted to human life again. Only humans and the other 400,000 species above them can figure these things out. But, until then you’ll be changing only animal bodies. And they are kind of stupid to figure anything out.” “Animal. I don’t want to be an animal.” “Quit bitching, man. The wheels are already set in motion. Better listen to me. I think I know a way out for you. But it’s a narrow one.” “Please, man. Anything. I just don’t wanna end up a cow at the slaughterhouse.” “Listen up! You’ve committed a major offense by killing yourself. Normally you’re doomed for hell and then 8,000,000 reincarnations until you get to be human again. You only have a few more years as a ghost until they come and get you. They won’t bother until your life would have expired. And, like I told you, you would have died in a few years in a car accident. That old car of yours is a piece of junk.” “And who are they?” “The Yakshas? They’re the ones who handle ghosts of suiciders. They have the power to

grab you and get you to one of the 28 planets you call hell. You’ll be put to work there until you get reformed. Then you’ll be forced into the cell of an amoeba or something and start your cycle again.” “What do you mean again?” “Well, it’s complicated, man. And I don’t even know all the details. Thing is, it's all an endless cycle. But you can break it as a human. You’ll have to figure that one out on your own. But I can help you with one piece of information. A shortcut. Listen carefully.” *** John Cole woke up. The light from the security lamp blinded him again, but his face was already radiating with hope. He closed his eyes and started to concentrate. “Neti neti aham bhutasmi. Neti neti aham bhutasmi. Neti neti aham bhutasmiiiiiiiiiiiiii” The body of John Cole collapsed all of sudden as it was expelling the last remains of air from the lungs. In an instant he saw himself floating above the prison cell, looking down on his body. The eyes were open and the hands frozen with the fingers spread. “See? It wasn’t that hard.” “You! I really got out. I’m really, really free, right? I can’t do anything I want now, right?” “Well, you’ll figure things out. Someone will come and explain everything. Now, excuse me, I gotta go. I’m sorry, but if it wasn’t you, it would have been me.” “Sorry? For what? You set me free man.” But Trico Webs wasn’t listening. He closed his eyes and began to concentrate. He started to recite what sounded like another mantra. “What are you doing, man? Hey, mister, what are you…” All of a sudden Trico Webs vanished, being sucked up by a hose of light. *** “Remember,son. As soon as he’s out you have two minutes to get in or else the body is spoiled and it’s of no use anymore” “OK.OK. I got it. But are you sure this is gonna to work? And one more thing. Am I gonna feel anything on the chair?” “What kind a question is that? Of course you’re gonna suffer. But at least you’re not gonna suffer 8,000,000 births again. That’s the whole point, silly! You suffer on the chair once and you get a clean slate as a human again. That's one of the hidden perks of the death sentence. I’m sorry for mister John Cole, but he deserves it. He killed much more people than he was trialed for. And he would have got away with it if he was killed by a death sentence.” “Thank you, man. I owe you one. But who are you? You didn’t say…” But Yosemite Sam or whoever he was, disappeared. “John Cole. John Cole. John Cole” , Trico repeated. And there he was. Looking down on a sleeping fellow in a prison cell.

THE END