THE KNICK PAPERS: part V by Jesse Jarnow October 10, 1999
Oberlin, Ohio

Dean:

After the second show at the Knick, stuck under the windshield wiper of my car, along with about 37 flyers for upcoming shows by so-called jambands (it's your fault, Budnick), was a manila envelope. Inside was a tattered manuscript written on a hodge-podge of legal-pad paper, the backs of multiple receipts from gas stations across the greater northeast, and several XL-II labels. Here it is. It's confusing the fuck out of me, but perhaps you can make something of it.

Jesse.

Part I of this story appeared in the October issue.
Part II of this story appeared in the November issue.
Part III of this story appeared in the December issue.
Part IV of this story appeared in the January issue.

"I see." She was getting farther and farther away. I went after her and noticed that I, too, was floating... sort of. My feet were still touching the ground, but I couldn't quite feel myself walking. Having been myself worn out from the set, and especially the frustratingly long path we chose to wend our way around the perimeter of the arena, I was tired. Suddenly, though, I wasn't anymore. I was completely unaware of my body. It was a strange sensation, to say the least. "If this is the ante-chamber, then where does it lead?"

Erin turned around. "There's no real answer for that."

"Then how about a fake one?"

"We're about to ascend," she said simply.

A rush of euphoria overtook me. It was not unlike the one that rushes through my veins every time the houselights go down and the band takes the stage. Nor was it unlike the one that lifts me up when Chris throws the brights on at the peak of Also Sprach. It was everything all at once. The experience was beyond visualization. The most accurate description would be of every spot-on Kuroda light display superimposed on top of each other. It was still spot-on, too. Exactly perfect.

The experience was total. My body shuttered and quaked, convulsing, and eventually settling into a high-speed vibration that I didn't notice anymore after the first ten seconds. And then, whiteness.

I was in a totally white room. Erin was gone. I was by myself... sort of. There was no apparent light source, nor were there any apparent exits to the space; just anti-septically clean walls and Mike Gordon, dressed in day-glo green, sitting in an easy chair on one side of the room.

"Hi," he said, no hint of expression in his face..

"Uh, hi Mike."

"Welcome."

"Gee, thanks."

"I guess you're wondering why you are."

"I'm wondering why you're talking."

Wordlessly, Mike's mouth began to expand out at the edges, pushing his cheeks upwards. Gradually, his face morphed into the maniacal grin on the cover of "Billy Breathes". His eyes bulged. The whole thing took about ten seconds. His face stayed like that for a long moment before returning at the same rate to its original non-expression.

"This is eBase." He spelled it out for me. "That's a lower case e, big B, everything else small."

"Thanks."

"We're presently on what you might refer to as the dark side of the Earth's moon." He swallowed. "We're not from this galaxy."

"Far out."

Mike puzzled over this for a second. "Yeah, I guess so." He paused before continuing. "When you see us onstage, that's not really us. We're mediums."

"You mean... actors?"

"Sort of. Those tapes you found; those are transmitted to us from our laboratories in our home galaxy. The contents of them, the music you perceive us as playing, represent the latest findings of our scientists. We communicate in what you think of as music. Quite frankly, some of it is a little beyond us. Paul plays the tapes through the speakers. We act, mostly, as conduits for the..."

"Hey Mike?"

"Yes?"

"Is that why you stopped playing Destiny Unbound?"

"Pardon?"

"It was faulty logic, right? The scientists realized it was wrong."

"I suppose. Why?"

"It was still phatty."

THE END.