Gloucester Cathedral The western end of the cathedral

Frank greeted Sean and Bernice from accounting at the same time. Along with that damn mutt. (shivers) Frank sat his guests down. Bernice of all people wanted a matini as Sean smiled at his Henikin. Spanky was fixed up with his bowls.

So Spanky speaks Sean?

It is Sparky Frank, but yeah, I mean you got to hear this, said Sean pulling a tape from his sports coat. Without prompting, Sean put it in the cassette in Frank's EC and turned it on.

...

There is not much there Sean.

God Frank, I heard it. Hell I told you I played it this morning.

Shortly, after playing it thrice, the three could barely hear:

Rooooooooooooouuuuuuuuut Wooooooooooow

What the hell....blurted Sean.

The three discussed many things. Then Bernice, rather loose from her goose as it were, piped up.

My father used to tell us a story about an artesian in the twelfth century. Hans Lugerman was his name. Hans had grown up in a tradesman home. One of six that survived the plague, one of the many plagues in Hamburg. The entire family moved to Goucester because of that plague. A cousin from the central English city send for them since they both belonged to sister guilds.

The city had been 'founded' in the first century and by 681 a Roman Catholic abbey had been built. It was on that spot that the great Gloucester Cathedral and that is where Hans was enrolled to work with his boys in the ornamental guild on that cathedral.

In those days of old it took centuries to build a great cathedral throughout Europe. Gloucester began as Norman architecturally and ended up Gothic. That is how long it took to build this structure. Some three hundred years of construction and to this day the maintenance might as well be titled construction.

Cousin Francis brought Hans into this ornamental guild around 1150 A.D. Generation after generation worked on the cathedral. Guilds were sacred in those days, recognized by the aristocracy as well as the Church. Blood in those days counted as much for the tradesmen as the dukes and earls for heavens sakes.

Specifically, Hans was to work on door knobs of all things as well as an ornament seen all over the outside of the church called 'ball flowers'.  All day, every day, except Sundays, the family would work for the guild carefully crafting the ball flowers and the door knobs of this magnificent edifice.

Ah Bernice, we were going to....

No no Bernice, go on, said Frank, all of a sudden interested in this Hans character. Frank might have ended up with an accounting degree prior to his MBA but he had a minor in Literature of the Middle Ages and he was sick of being so consumed with the present 'plague' or whatever NORTHCO was perpetrating.

Sean rolled his eyes, but this Bernice was talented and he certainly did not wish to put a damper on things as they say.

In those days of yore the tiniest ornament took a long time to craft and then another tradesman from another  guild would help 'lay' or install the ornament on the building. And when one of these beautiful pieces of art cracked or fell off the structure, the artistes were hard at work.

You have to understand, the scaffolding NEVER CAME DOWN. Not for three hundred years. As a matter of fact they just completed a restoration on a spire nine years ago.

But Hans had a hobby as many of these artisans did.  He worked on a statue, a statue of St. Benedict. It was the Benedictines who actually 'owned' and operated the cathedral in those days. And he would secretly work on this piece of art nights and on Sundays; being very careful never to get caught.

Hans died fifteen years after coming to England and his son Hans dutifully filled his father's role in the guild. And Hans jr. continued work on that statue at the same time. The statue was truly a work of art and was finished shortly before the death of Hans jr.

The irony of this all was that two generations worked on this superb piece of art and it ended up in a little garden outside of a latrine in Bristol; in Bristol of all places, an old monastery of course for very few to see.

Frank was rapt in attention at this little speech from the chick in accounting. He knew of course the stories of the grand European Cathedrals of the Middle Ages. He knew something of the structures and the differences between Norman architecture and Gothic architecture as well as the volkeskunde adaptions.

 

Bernice continued. I do wonder sometimes, what is the place of the individual. I mean even Bob Dylan sings that we need to follow something or somebody. The story of the Hans' and their dedication to the Benedictines  is remarkable to me(although dedication to the guild was primary). But allegiances are funny because the artisans chose St. Benedict as their hobby.  They most probably knew how to read and write. I mean they had to follow plans carefully and certainly would understand the symbols on those plans much better than most modern day historians of the period.

 

I think I can see what you are saying Bernice, if I may be so bold. Frank gulped some more of his scotch as he continued.

We worship at the corporate edifice. Or at least we are beholden to these fictional rulers. We dedicate our entire lives to the corporate entity. A few of us will benefit from a pension of sorts if the markets hold, depending upon our point of departure. Of course we must remember that the average worker in management stays at one corporation all of five years or so.

But, in the end, will we even end up leaving a piece of art outside a urinal in some sacred spot?

Bernice nodded. Exactly, she said. And now I believe that we three are joining in our own hobby, yes?

Well Bernice, I cannot speak for Frank, but there is something happening here and only a few know what that is. I mean there are strange creatures, creatures made strange by something in the air; or something in the water; or something in the ground we stand upon.

Bernice, what do you know about Vegas? Interjected Frank.

Well, we have been there since 2005 at the least. I am not sure how long we were there before then. We might have purchased some company that had been in the same line of business-whatever line that may be. But there is no evidence of any income or outflow until May of 2005. I also discovered that shortly after May of that year, the Vice President actually visited the facility. For whatever reason is beyond me but a whole lot of money came in shortly after that from three different government agencies. 

I also know that we have 1400 or so employees there, about the same as we have here and the building looks EXACTLY LIKE OURS.  I found that out quite accidentally when Sphincter handed me the wrong file one day; a file that contained building plans and even pictures of the finished product. And the name of the manager of the entire facility? Sphincter.

Say what, Sean blurted out.

Yeah, Sphincter.

Well what's his first name?

Are you kidding me? What is the first name of our Spincter, anyway?

All three burst out into laughter at that one. Ha

Just then Sparky spoke up:

Rooooooooooooouuuuuuuuut Wooooooooooow

Well whatever the translation, I need to let him out. So Sean went to the door and opened it as Sparky rant outside. After completing his business, Sparky came back in and sat on the floor right by Frank; much to his chagrin. And speaking of chagrin, Spanky has the weirdest grin, thought Frank.

The trio, led and mediated by Frank for the most part, hit upon a plan.

Bernice would continue in her attempt to procure files from Sphincter. And she would keep an extra eye on figures that might shed some light upon what was what at NORTHCO; which was about how specific this entire 'investigation' entailed; at least at this point.

Sean was going to hit Algie a little harder, with the other two conspirators' full understanding that Algie kind of traveled between two universes and it was important to get to him when he was in their reality.

Frank was going to work as best he could gathering information from the second floor operations and see what he could get by way of records from the evil Thomas.

The three decided upon a song with their last drink of the evening:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=G_dT70sbyP8  Winchester Cathedral.

Sean and Bernice moseyed over to Sean's in order to play house.  Sparky had no leash, and it had been that way for two weeks now. There just was no reason for it. There had been a light snow that had stuck around and when they got to Sean's place and approached the door, Bernice noted little foot prints that appeared to approach the front door and then veered right. She quickly moved to the left, following the small prints in the snow until she saw that they ended on the left or east side of the home.  There was a small basement window where the steps stopped but there was no immediate sign of entry through the window.

Bernice rushed back and informed Sean. The three mammals entered the house and Sean, after switching on the lights, ran downstairs to the basement and checked the windows; all the windows. No evidence of entry, but there were marks on the dust at the one window in the southeast corner.

Sean came up and informed Bernice of his findings telling her everything was okay, but he was panting some just the same. The two humans circumnavigated the house finding nothing. Sparky's dish was upside down, but that proved nothing. On the other hand, the overturned dish certainly did not alleviate any of their trepidation.

After relaxing with a doobie and a beer, the two took out their anxiety in...well they kind of relieved each other and fell into a fast sleep.

Sean awoke in a start. What the hell is that? He thought as he got out of bed and kind of 'snuck' into the living room. He actually lingered at the threshold of the living room from the kitchen and his heart began racing and his breathing was much troubled.

There were three of the midget clowns, with the stereo playing some carnie music, playing ball games with Sparky. They were tossing around a ball. Sparky was hitting it in the air with his nose.

He looked down, my god I have pissed my own pants!

Sean awoke in a sweat. A dream. Holy clown suits!!! Quickly he 'checked' and confirmed that he had not wet himself during the night. Bernice from accounting was still by his side.

Since the sun was about to rise with rosy fingered dawn's introduction, he got up and out to the kitchen fixing his juice and coffee. He took a peak into the living room and...there was a bright orange ball in the middle of the goddamn floor. Sean blessed himself with a trembling hand, shaking his head. My good lord, why hast thou forsaken me?

Frank awoke soakin wet.  What the f...........? He jumped out of bed and ran to the shower. Coming from the shower he stripped the bed. The colors of the sheets were off, somehow. He tossed them into the hamper. Sara the cleaning lady was coming this pm from the service. He opened the window a crack. Even with a high of 42, it was not going to be that bad. He sprayed the mattress with lilac scented whatever and went to the kitchen.

In his robe he fixed coffee and had a shot of orange juice. Maybe he has the 'bug', he mused. The though always made him smile. His mother had been an abject alcoholic and would constantly complain that she had the 'bug'. Like it was some plague on her house.

By the time he was dressed and out the door Frank was 'reved up' and ready to kill, as they say. Suddenly there was a knock at the door.

Say what!!! Frank went to the door, no one was there. He relocked the door and went to his car through the kitchen into the garage. He stepped right on the bicycle sitting between him and his car.

What the hell is that doing there? He kicked it over to the side and felt a pain in his right foot.

Damn!!

As he pulled out of the driveway, he noticed something strange. As if his morning had not been strange enough. There was a puddle of water created by melting snow. He could swear it glowed blue.

Frank arrived at the office rather calmly, listening to a little Marshall Tucker. On his desk was a message from Dr. Kevin. He stuffed it in his pocket and decided to return the call on his 'private' cell at lunch when he was slated for a walk.

Jenny knocked and entered. Thomas is here Frank.

Oh hi Thomas. How are you today?

After the door closed, Thomas sat down and looked around. Like he was making sure that it was just he and Frank.

There is a conspiracy going on here with NORTHCO and the liberal/socialist agendists Frank. I am sure of it. Listen...

I am not sure I am in the mood for this right now Thomas, I....

LISTEN TO ME FRANK!! Even Thomas was surprised at his outburst, but he continued none the less.

You know I am in residence on the opposite end of the Project?

Sure Tom, everybody knows you live with your mother...but...

Well, I could not sleep and so I took the garbage out and there were these midget clowns in the front yard. Jumping and laughing and as soon as I close the door, they scampered away.

This was interesting, thought Frank. I mean Tom is a right wing nut but it is all a matter of perspective. I mean what do I care what his politics are. I mean I just want to know the facts.

And Frank noticed something else about Tom that he had not noticed before. Tom's left eye was greenish in color while the other was dark brown.