Atlas on LSD

                "Real suffering is not known; it can only be experienced."
                                              - Urban Legend of Suicide-Mouse



     So I became aware of where I was while still awake. Doesn't that sound like the strangest thing you've ever heard? Anyway, I was walking beside a highway, naked, exhausted, having a hard time standing erect while slowly moving along the dirty, trash infested shoulder, and when I realized what my surroundings were, I looked at my right hand on a barbed wire fence which was keeping me on my feet. I must have been walking for a long time, because my palm was dripping blood. And the first thought that came to my now uninhibited mind was: "Does she still love me?"
    With painful effort, I raised my left arm as best I could at passing vehicles that were too few and far between, groping for their attention. It was a bit dark, but I couldn't tell if the day was dawning, or ending; either way, I was fucked.
    Then there were a flashing of lights, blue and red, and a sound of dirt and rock being crushed. The flash of the colors got more intense on the ground in front of me. Due to my lack of energy, I didn't panic, but simply fell to one knee. I lost my grip on the barbwire - my right hand merely slipping off - and both my hands fell on the dirt.
    A gust of wind blew on me from my left as a car passed by me and pulled over to the shoulder. It was a Highway Patrol vehicle with its red and blue lights flashing on top of the roof. An officer got out of it, running towards me, speaking into his radio about a naked man on the side of the road. As he got closer, I raised up my hands to him.
     "Help me, please," I said, my voice deathly hoarse, nearly a whisper.
     Before I knew it, Paramedics came, put me on a gurney, and slid me into the ambulance.
     "He's got less than forty-five minutes to live," one of them said after checking my vitals.
     I said something that was merely a whisper.
    The paramedic put her ear closer to my mouth, saying, "What's that, sir?"
     I repeated, "Does she still love me?"
    I then passed out, waking up two days later in the hospital.
    Now if you haven't quite figured it out yet, this all started with a girl - a gorgeous, harmonious female that brings tranquility by the sound of her voice, no matter what words she spoke. Her name was Kimberly Cinen, and I had met her at a rave hosted by a millionaire twenty-something in his mansion just outside of the town I lived in at the time. It was my first summer after graduating High School with no plans for a legitimate career, just continuing to sell weed to college students in my home town. That's how I would be able to attend these young "adult" parties. Well, I actually would give one of my customers a free eighth -  if they were fucking greedy, a whole ounce, but not this night - Kevin, one of my best customers was acquainted with the millionaire through a friend of a friend type of connection.
    The night wasn't too successful as time tick-tocked on because it was a rave for fuck sake, there's more than stiff competition when it comes to that kind of scene - there's a near monopoly over the euphoric desire - but I sold some dubs and eighths here and there; enough to get by with and be contented.
    I had positioned myself in the best place of the mansion where there was enough light and the music wasn't too loud for me to conduct business. It was a big sitting-room with couches, cushioned chairs, lazy-boys(one in which a half-naked kid was passed out in), a fully stalked bar that was dwindling, and a pool table at the opposite side of which I was sitting. I sat on the couch with the end-tables and ashtrays, lounging at one end, drinking an IPA beer and smoking a cigarette. There were some people in the room as well, other than the one passed out on the lazy-boy, four were playing a game of pool. I made it my business not to look at their faces out of professional courtesy because as people were coming in the room, few came in to buy from me, most were walking to one of the people at the pool table.
    Kevin walked in - more like spun in - and came up to me, wearing a green glow-ring around his neck, sweating in his t-shirt, and sucking on a pacifier. He did one of those breakdance moves where it ended with head jolting forward, and spitting the pacifier at me.
    "Errruption!" he announced. "Dance for your life!" He shook his head like someone imitating Richard Nixon, trying to make his cheeks move in waves.
     The pacifier bounced off my shoulder and landed on the couch.
     I said, "Where has that mouth been?"
     "Well," Kevin began to say, sitting on the couch next to me, "my mouth has been sucking on that thing, and that thing was up a girl's pussy."
    "Did you know her?"
    "No," Kevin answered. "And come to think of it, I think it was actually up her ass."
    I jumped up off the couch yelling, "Damn, fucker, I just bought this leather jacket!"
    "And it's a brown jacket to boot," Kevin said, pointing a finger at me and laughing, "hard to tell if there's a shit-stain." He then put down his finger, raised his hands to his sides, and said, "Come on, man. Just fuckin' with you. Sit back down, relax. Smoke a joint."
    Sitting back down, I said, "Not right now, I'm working."
    "How's business tonight?" Kevin asked.
    "It's fair. Not the best, but as expected. I do better at frat parties, or a music festival."
    "Why's that? There's a lot of people here. I rolled a damn good fatty with what you gave me. Everyone in the circle loved it and I told 'em to come in here to seek you out."
    I finished my beer, then said, "Yeah, some did, but in the rave scene obviously there's a different demand and tonight the supplier of that demand is well stalked. And as I can see, you've had a taste."
    Kevin broke out laughing, took off his t-shirt, and began moving his arms to the music.
    "Dude, it ain't no taste," he said. He closed his eyes, still moving his arms, then bobbing his head. "It ain't even a piece of pie, it's the whole pie, man."
    "Must be good shit," I said, putting out my cigarette in the ashtray. "Want some water, dude?"
    I meant to get up to get a bottled water from the bar when Kevin put his hand on my shoulder, his eyes then opened, his expression serious.
    "No," he said. "I want to ask you what I've never asked another man."
    "What?" I asked.
    "Can I suck your dick and quench my thirst with your cum? I mean, I'm not gay, I just want to taste something alive."
    I calmly took his hand off my shoulder, and said, "Um, no, Kevin."
    "Okay, that's cool," he said, looking both relieved and oblivious. "A simple question, and a simple answer. I'm gonna get some water."
    "Hold on. Who's the one playing pool selling the ecstasy?"
    Kevin put his t-shirt back on, found the glow-ring and pacifier, and answered, "Well, the chick who tongued it in my mouth on the dance floor said if I wanted more, talk to the pretty blond playing pool."
    I finally looked towards the pool table and saw there was only two people playing pool. One was a tubby, balding middle-aged man wearing glasses; the other, his opponent, a girl with blond hair in a pony tail, wearing a tight gray tank-top, and black, baggy jeans.
    "Just her?" I asked Kevin.
    "Yeah, as far as I know. Now, excuse me." Kevin walked to the bar.
    "See you later," I said, not noticing Kevin was already out of hearing range.
    If there were those in the world that did not believe in 'Love at first site,' I was no longer one of them at that moment. I could tell, even by the somewhat dim light, and the short distance between us, that she wasn't wearing any make-up. I assumed she felt she did not need any because I sure as hell concurred. I immediately wanted to talk to her when I noticed the pool game was finished.
    My eyes wandered to the dude she was playing against. He was looking at me with a blank expression.
    "Fuck," I thought. "A goddamn sugar-daddy. She's nothin' but a pretty face for his product."
    Our eyes were still locked on each other's until the dude's head tilted in her direction, rising an eyebrow as emphasis. He then put his pool stick on the table and walked over to the bar, going behind it, apparently to make some mixed drinks. Kevin was leaning on the bar, jugging down a bottled water.
    I looked back over at the pretty blond, and low and behold, she was looking right at me, grinning and giving me a nod before finishing her beer. I apparently was struck by cupid because I felt a tingling sensation go up my spine. A hot and horny couple, down to their underwear, making out, fondling each other all over, came into the room and fell onto another, vacant couch, and were about to fornicate for all to see. Other people who were in the room yelled things like: "We're about to see a show," "Go get(so and so), tell 'em to bring his camcorder."
    I cared not for the free sex show and kept staring at this beautiful girl, fully clothed, and simply holding a pool stick. She noticed the live porn going down in the space between us and was watching more people come in from the dance floor, but she also could see I didn't take my eyes off her even as it was getting crowded. I stood up and made my way around the growing audience.
    Arriving in her presence, I greeted her with a 'Hello,' and told her my name as politely as a gentleman should. She extended her hand - to my surprise - and I shook it, then, to my utter shock, she moved closer to me, her mouth speaking into my ear over all the commotion of the free sex show on the couch behind me. It slipped my mind entirely.
    "What's your name again?" she asked.
    I said in her ear, "Want to go someplace where it's quieter? I have something to ask you."
    She answered, "Sure, let's get a drink first."
    I followed her around the pool table to the bar where the guy she was playing a game of pool with was finishing up three mixed drinks.
    "Here you go, Kimberly," the guy said, handing her one of the drinks in a red plastic cup.
    "Thank you, Jay," she said, giving him a wink.
    "And for you," he said, holding up the second drink in my direction.
    "Wow," I said. "Thanks."
    "My pleasure."
    "What is it?" I asked him.
    "Well," he began to say, grinning, "I don't know what it's called, but I do know how to make it."
    I took a sip, then said, "Oh, fuckin' good, man."
    "I'm happy you like it," Jay said, then drank his own.
    "Him and I are gonna talk somewhere more private," Kimberly told Jay.
    "All right," he said, giving her a thumb-up. "I'll take care of things from here. Maybe check out the stage porn." He looked over at Kevin, who was staring at himself in the mirror behind the bar. "Hey, dude," Jay said to him, snapping his fingers as Kevin gradually turned his head while jugging down his second bottled water.
    "Huh," Kevin uttered in reply.
    "Want a drink?" Jay asked him.
    "I'm already drinking one," Kevin said, after finishing the water.
    "I mean one with more of a taste." Jay began to make another nameless, sweet drink.
    "Come on," Kimberly said to me, and we made our way to the backyard and sat in chairs beside a pool. People were either swimming slow laps, or fucking against the edge of the pool; not as dramatic as the couple in the lounge. The light from the pool dimly lit Kimberly's face as she took some sips from Jay's nameless drink.
    "What is it you want to speak to me about?" she asked.
    "Well, Kevin told me you were the one to talk to about scoring a hit of ecstasy," I replied. "I'm a low-level pot dealer. I've been doing it since sophomore year in high school. And I just graduated and am thinking of moving to a more profitable substance."
    "Okay," Kimberly said, leaning back into the chair, sipping her drink.
    I continued, "I wanted to discuss about scoring around a hundred pills from you."
    "Is that it?"
    I thought she seemed disappointed that all I wanted from her was ecstasy pills, and I felt this type of business-talk bored her, but honestly I needed a lead-in for an excuse to speak with her in a calmer, quieter atmosphere.
    "No," I replied, "that's not it. The truth is I just wanted-" I stopped mid-sentence. It was the first moment I got shy around her, and after that night, the last.
    Kimberly leaned forward again, and asked, "Wanted to what?"
    I gathered my confidence once again to say, "To whisk you away from that turmoil and chaos inside, and be somewhere quiet so I can hit on you properly. There, I said it: the truth."
    The girl being humped against the side of the pool erupted in orgasm.
    "Almost quiet," Kimberly said, giggling.
    "Is Jay, you know, your boyfriend, or your father?"
    "No, not my father," she exclaimed, her nose frowning in disgust. "Though he could be; he's forty-six."
    She stood up, moved her chair closer to me, then sat back down.
    "His real name is Craig," she said softly, close to my ear. "And he's my primary boyfriend, whom doesn't mind me with others."
    While speaking the last few words, her hand went to my thigh, then moved along to my crotch where she groped my erection.
    "I've never been with someone younger than me," she said.
    "How old are you?" I asked.
    "Twenty-five," she replied, then sucked on my earlobe.
    "Um," I uttered, "neither have I."
    Kimberly backed away from me a bit and sat straight in her chair, and said, "I've got hits of acid in my pocket. We'll get a room at the Palm Tree Hotel where I'll interrogate you in my own way to make sure you aren't with Law Enforcement. And when I feel we're done, I'll show you a paradise you could never imagine existed."
    We left the rave in my car. On the way to the Palm Tree Hotel I asked her if Jay(I mean Craig) would be mad she ditched him at the mansion.
    "Of course not," she said. "I'm texting him right now. As long as he knows where I am, he won't think nothing of it."
    As soon as the hotel room door closed, Kimberly seemed to rip my cloths off like a child does with a chocolate bar: first my brown leather jacket, tossing it on the floor, then my shirt; undid my belt in a blink of an eye, zip and swoosh my pants were off, but not all the way off because my shoes were still on. By that time I was near enough to the bed, so Kimberly, with one hand, pushed me onto it, falling flat on my back and bouncing. She stood close to my knees, taking off her tight-fitting, gray tank-top, she had no braw on, and her baggy pants were at her shoeless feet(don't remember her taking them off).
    "Wow," I said, "you don't wear panties."
    "It's relieving," she said, leaning over me, taking hold of the waste band of my boxers. "Wanna know what it's like?" She then ripped off my boxers and tossed it in the small garbage bin.
    I'll say our first time together lasted mere seconds after the four minute mark.
    Up to that point in my life I had only been with flimsy skanks, all of which had had the intellect of a Kardashian minus ten, a couple of whom were in college. Kimberly was different. She was seven years older than me, and had a wit which expressed the highest intellect by what I could tell.
    "About a year ago I decided to take a prolonged break from college after I met Craig at a strip club," she told me. She laid naked on the bed, smoking a joint I had rolled for her.
    "Strip Club?" I asked. I was bent over, reaching in my jean pocket for a cigarette. Putting a cig in my mouth, I said, "You were a stripper, I see."
    "Yes. A gothic stripper working my way through college."
    "Never heard of that," I said, lighting my smoke.
    "What, a stripper who attends college?"
    "No, a 'goth' stripper."
    "Hey, don't smoke that in here." Kimberly sat up in the bed, and with the hand holding the joint, pointed at my cigarette.
    I said, "This is a smoking room."
    She then pointed at the sliding glass door to the patio, and said, "Stand half outside with the cancer-stick away from me."
    "Okay, darling," I said, then attempted to walk over to the patio, but I had forgotten my shoes were still on, and my pants at my ankles. I tripped and fell sideways on the floor, yelping, "Goddamn!"
    Kimberly said, laughing, "That's what you get for poisoning my lungs."
    I sat up on the floor, kicking off my shoes and jeans.
    "Still got it," I said, holding up the cig to show her it didn't go out, then puffed away, taking my time to open the sliding glass door. Kimberly giving me a playful, furrowed brow look until I stood in the threshold with the cigarette outside.
    "What were you studying to be in college?" I asked.
    "To get a P.H.D in Biochemistry."
    "You ever going back to finish?"
    She took a nice long drag from her joint, breathing in slowly, holding it in, and blowing out the smoke in my direction. Finally she said, "I'm in Paradise. Craig had taught me things that the University does not have the balls to teach. Why go back?"
    I said, "It's a better option than what I got. I could just be a waiter, clerk, factory worker; other than just a low-level drug distributer." I dubbed out my smoke in the ashtray on the patio and closed the door.
    "What type of things does Craig teach you?" I asked, sitting on the bed.
    Kimberly answered the question with a question.
    "Want to drop acid?"
    The last thing I remember after waking up in the hotel room alone was Kimberly asking me if I could feel anything, then a whole host of psychedelic imagery: rainbow colored cats; pink fires burning cities; and the holiest image of Kimberly as an angel amongst a purple-blue sky, standing on yellow clouds etc. etc. holy shit etc.
    When one of my eyes opened the next day, I was face down on the bed, and the first thing I saw was the clock on the bedside table which showed 4:07 PM. Next to the clock was a letter written on the hotel's note pad paper. Instead of reading it - which I couldn't because my brain still felt out of focus - I retrieved my phone from my jacket and confirmed to myself that it was truly the afternoon.
    "Kimberly," I said aloud, "the fuck you give me?"
    No answer. She wasn't there. I read the letter she had left. The first thing she wrote was that she loved me too, and that she was sorry that she had given me acid laced with 'scopolamine'
    "Isn't that what the 'S' stands for in LSD," I asked myself aloud.
    I read further, and she wrote, "And the 'S' in LSD does not stand for: Scopolamine." She then went on to say that last night was one of the best nights she had ever had with someone younger than Craig, and that she would always remember it. (Wish I could say the same.)
    Kimberly finished the letter by stating again she loved me, and included a quote apparently from me:
       "You make me forget all of the pain of existence. You wash away tears from the
        crying children of earth, maybe even the universe. It's your silky, smooth skin,
        your beautiful, sky-blue eyes of a summer day, your angelic body, and most of all
        your mind, so rare and so pure."

    And I asked again, "The fuck you give me?"
    At the bottom of the letter was written P.S. and an arrow pointed to the right. I turned it over and found instructions on how to get in contact with her. There was not a number, but directions to a used bookstore located in the downtown shopping plaza. "Buy the book 'Eye of Horror' by Edwin Philipe. Read page 86," said the last step.
    I took a shower, then went back to sleep. I woke up early the next morning not feeling too bad physically from that special acid, but perturbed Kimberly would give me something akin to a Roofie. I checked out of the Hotel and ate breakfast at a Diner. I made it to the bookstore about an hour after it had opened, and came to the aisle where Eye of Horror should have been located, in the science fiction section. Coincidently I read the novel when I was fourteen years old. It didn't leave an impression on me; I forgot what it was about. There was only one other person in the aisle as I browsed for the book, a blond kid reading a book he must've been considering to purchase.
    "Damn," I whispered to myself, finding there was no copy available.
    I was about to leave the aisle to look through another section when I glanced the kid was reading the book.
    "Shit," I thought, "I just can't go up to him and take it." So I waited, hoping he wouldn't buy it. In the meantime I retrieved a copy of Philip K. Dick's A Scanner Darkly, and after reading the synopsis on the back-cover I decided to buy it. I opened it to the first page to start reading when I noticed the kid staring at me, the book now closed. He then walked up to me.
    "I'll inform them of your patience," the kid said, holding up the book for me to take.
    Accepting the book, I said, "Kid, I don't know what you mean."
    "And of your discretion." The kid winked and walked to another aisle, where the chemistry textbooks were located.
    Dumbfounded, I purchased the novels and left the store. In my car I opened Eye of Horror to page 86, finding a piece of paper with a phone number, and an instruction stating to call it from a payphone at the nearest gas station.
    "Talk about fucking cautious," I said aloud.
    I drove to the gas station, filled my tank, then used the payphone.
    It rang only once before being answered.
    "Atlas construction, how may I be of service?" Kimberly said.
    "Hey there," I replied, "it's me. What's next?"
    "Did you buy gas?"
    "Yes," I said
    "With cash?" she asked.
    "Yeah."
    "Good," she said. "Meet me where you live."
    "Okay. I live on-"
    She hung up. I figured she found out where I lived from my Driver's license.
    Arriving at the door to my shitty apartment I realized the key was missing from my key-ring. In frustration I turned the door-knob, expecting it to be locked, but low and behold it wasn't. I pushed the door open and entered to find Kimberly sitting on my couch, watching television, her legs stretched out on the coffee table. She was wearing short-shorts and a black tank-top.
    Holding up my apartment key, she said, "I hope you're not too mad."
    "You here alone?" I asked.
    "Yes."
    "Then I'm happy," I said. "But about the amnesia and that scopline-"
    "Scopolamine," she corrected.
    "Yeah, that. I'm a bit peeved about that, but my asshole doesn't feel weird so I conclude you were gentle."
    Kimberly took her feet off the coffee table, jumped up from the couch, ran to me, and leaped up, wrapping her legs around my waist, her arms tight around my neck, kissing me, her tongue licking my mouth as if cleaning it out.
    She stopped the sensual kissing to say into my ear, "That night was pure joy."
    "Yes, yes," I said softly into her ear, "but I wish I could remember it."
    "Yeah, sorry about that," she said, dropping from around my waist. "It's part of our interrogation ritual."
    "Interrogation?" I asked.
    "But of course," Kimberly informed, "we need to know who to trust in our line of business. I needed to probe your mind as deep as I could, but don't worry, all your secrets are safe with me, my love."
    "Okay, fine," I said.
    "What's in the bag?" she asked, gesturing at the plastic bag with the books I was holding still.
    "The book 'Eye of Horror' you told me to get, and one I found interesting," I told her. "It's called 'A Scanner Darkly.'"
    "Leave 'em," Kimberly said, taking the bag from me and tossing it on the couch. "I said I'd bring you to Paradise, remember?"
    "Yes, before I stopped remembering things."
    "Good. Here's your apartment key back. Let me drive you to the Paradise I promised."
    We left my apartment and walked a few blocks from my apartment building to Kimberly's black Honda civic parked in the street. The windows were tinted black. She looked around before telling me I had to sit in the backseat. After settling in and putting on my seat-belt, Kimberly held up a black cloth in front of me.
    She said, in a serious and calm tone, "Put this on, and don't take it off until I tell you to. No questions, and no slipping it up to get a glimpse. Okay?"
    I nodded, then tied the blindfold over my eyes without hesitation.
    "Move your head forward," Kimberly commanded, "so I can be sure you can't see a thing."
    I leaned forward - a little too much for my right cheek bumped into the passenger seat.
    "Good," she said. "You performed admirably. You really know how to please a woman."
    "My pleasure," I said.
    While she drove she asked me if I had a straight blackout after taking the scopolamine laced LSD, or experienced something else. I told her of the type of visions I saw, and how it all was more like a pleasing, tranquil dream, and times where I felt totally numb. This was met with a few minutes of silence inside the car. To adhere to her commands before I put on my blindfold, I did not ask what she was thinking.
    She broke the silence by asking, "What do you expect to see when I tell you to take off the blindfold?"
    "I have the feeling," I began to say, "I'll see the inside of a cult's compound, or an underground facility as big as a mansion."
    "You're very bright for a High School kid."
    I chuckled, and said, "Or maybe a metal shack in the middle of the woods with cutting tools."
    Kimberly giggle, and uttered, "Dick."
    "I'm just kidding, Kimberly."
    Minutes later the car seemed to be driving on a dirt road which was a little bumpy, and I bounced around a bit, thinking the metal shack was not a joke. It was when the car nearly came to a complete stop that Kimberly turned on music loud enough I couldn't hear anything else. About thirty seconds into some techno type song, it was turned off, then the engine went out.
    "You can take off the blindfold," Kimberly said.
    When I think about what I am going to tell next, it makes me recall a quote from a poem by Ella Wheeler Wilcox: Wait as one who understands when spirit rises and commands, the Gods are ready to obey. I could never comprehend what Wilcox was saying when I first read those words, but after taking off that blindfold, and the subsequent events, I now understand what she was saying.

    I took the veil from my eyes, and as they adjusted to clarity, Kimberly opened the car door. The first thing I noticed outside the Honda was a calm, warming amber colored light. She leaned into the car after moving the driver seat forward for me to get out. 

    With her beautiful smile, she said, "Welcome to the Paradise I promised."

    Getting out of the car, I could see it did indeed have an atmosphere of Paradise, with the light making everything in the room appear as if made of gold. A few yards behind the car was a garage door, the kind that rolls up. I turned and saw at the other end of the room a platform with four steps at it's center leading up to something astonishing on display. There were two columns to the ceiling, and between them was a statue of a naked man holding a globe with one hand. 

    I looked at Kimberly, and said, "Atlas construction, I see."

    She said, "He's made of solid gold."

    "Where'd you two get it, the Vatican?" I turned back to the statue, amazed by it's detail. 

    "No, Craig made it himself, but he doesn't consider it his masterpiece."

    "What does he consider his 'masterpiece' then?" I asked, still gazing at the golden statue.

    Kimberly placed her hand on my shoulder, saying, "Something chemical, or what he likes to call, 'metaphysical'. Come with me."

    She led me through an oval doorway into a cylindrical hallway, which had on its surface all around us an image that seemed to move as we took each step.

    "Did he do this painting too?" I asked, moving at a slow pace.

    "No," she said, "I did this."

    The painting covered the entire surface of the cylindrical corridor, minus the indented lights overhead. It was an infusing rainbow colored, psychedelic painting of a multi-headed dragon flying through a horizon of colors that seemed not to comprehend either daylight, nor night light. 

    "It seems to move as I move," I admitted.

    "Really?" Kimberly asked. "You sure that drug I gave you is not still in effect?"

    "What do you call this magnificent piece?" I asked, ignoring her question. 

    "I call it: Hydra Undecided. Based on one of my trips. I experienced what you are looking at right now. I didn't know whether or not I was dreaming, or awake."

    "Very cool," I said, staring into the last face of the Hydra at the end of the hallway. I then looked over at her, and said, "You turned something monstrous into an admirable entity."

    "Thank you," she said, smiling gleefully. "A better critique than Craig's. He said it sent shivers down his spine, but he still put a slick, plastic covering over it, in case someone accidentally rubbed up against it."

    "This could be in that French museum," I told her. 

    "Follow me. Craig's in the leisure room. Before we give you a tour, he'd like a word with you."

    Kimberly led me through dimly-lit rooms and passage ways. What I noticed at first were pillars from floor to ceiling; what seemed to be renaissance paintings on the walls; and Persian carpets on black and white tiled floors. All I could think about was what kind of surreal world was I about to enter. We arrived at closed double-doors made of dark wood. Kimberly gave me a hug, along with a warming kiss, then whispering in my ear, "I love you, and I know you do too." She then released from the embrace, and knocked on the doors with both fists. 

    "Are you decent?" she asked loud. "We have a guest. He doesn't want your dick, or bare ass to be the first thing he sees on his first visit."

    "I got a robe on," Craig said from the other side of the doors. Then in a monotone voice, "You may enter of your own free will."

    Kimberly took hold of the door knobs and pulled the double-doors open to a room lit by candle light, and a burning fireplace. We passed the threshold into a spacious ballroom-type of sanctuary with two sets of couches facing opposite one another, three lounge chairs facing the fireplace at one end, and in the center a circular rug, which seemed to be red, with an inflatable globe at it's center. Craig stood before the globe, in an open black robe, exposing a loose pair of white boxer shorts. He held gold chalices in each hand. 

    "Welcome to my humble abode of the harmonious Atlas," Craig greeted, holding up the chalices.

    "May his prison be a palace," Kimberly said, walking up to Craig, kissing him, and taking a chalice. "Did you already imbibe?" she asked him. 

    "Of course, love," he said. He held up the other chalice. "This one's for our guest, our new acquaintance. And hopefully our new partner. Come, come, our new friend, this sacrament is for you."

    I retrieved his offering and felt the chalice was made of a real metal, and encrusted with red and blue diamonds. 

    "Is this real?" I asked, tapping the cup with my finger. 

    "What do you mean?" Craig asked, perplexed. 

    "I mean, is this real gold and diamonds?" 

    Craig chuckled, and said, "Yes, they are. But what it's holding inside is priceless."

    "And that is?" I asked, then figured the drink was like what he made the other night at the rave. "Or it doesn't have a name, you just know how to make it."

    "No, no," he answered, "it's called 'Black Rainbow,' and I definitely know how to make it. Now have a taste, or a swig, if you're not a hesitant kind of person."

    I took a gulp, then said, "Whine." I took Craig's latter consideration and drank the rest of the chalice's contents. 

    Kimberly drank hers in three swallows, handed the empty chalice to Craig, then started to dance. Craig took my empty chalice, then looked into my eyes. 

    "It kicks in so quick, you're already on your journey," he said as his yellow reptilian eyes looked into my mind through his windshield spectacles. He put the chalices on the mantle-place above the fireplace where I saw another pair of hands place identical chalices on the mantle place from the other side. Wait, shit, that's a mirror. Fuck, fuck, shit, I'm tripping a mountain.
    Craig comes close to me, his arm around my shoulders, speaking softly into my ear. Kimberly dances circles around the colorful globe to music that wasn't playing just seconds earlier.
    "The story of Atlas sucks for Atlas," Craig begins to say. "Water warned him not to partake the father's interest, but he didn't take the perspiring advise of brother Water. Now brother Light won the Supreme Court case, and punishes poor boy Atlas with the imprisonment of holding the Earth on his shoulders. Atlas knelt in misery for millions of years until humanity, through it's imagination, and willing itself out of the grip from brother Light with a complete lack of worship, has taken Atlas, the faithful son, out of misery, and he now sees his punishment as responsibility."
    "Whoa," says I in response to Craig's recitation.
    "Yes!" Craig cheers.
    Kimberly does a somersault that is endless.
    Craig continues, "Now do what Atlas does in euphoria. Find joy in whatever circumstance you are responsible for."
    I giggle, walking to the globe. Kimberly stops aerobics, or whatever, the music stops, and I start talking.
    "The Great Dictator," I say.
    "What?" Craig asked in a bemused voice.
    "Charlie Chaplin in 'The Great Dictator,'" I said, picking up the inflated globe, toss it above me, catch it with both hands, doing it over and over again as I spoke. "Charlie Chaplin plays this caricature of Adolf Hitler." I began to dribble the big globe like a soccer ball. I continued, "He plays with a globe just like this one, but smaller, like all the world is his, you know."
    I interrupt myself by laughing out loud. The globe bounces on the rug as I gather myself to continue. With both hands, I pick up the globe, and start dribbling it again.
    "God, Chaplin was funny. The whacky Hitler gets carried away, and-" I kicked the globe hard, puncturing a whole in it, and the air rushed out, causing the globe to nearly shoot to the ceiling. I continued, "Pop goes the globe, and he starts to whimper like a child. WAAA! WAAA!"
    The globe swayed to the rug, and I started dancing to the music only I could hear.
    "I'm Jewish," Craig said.
    I glanced in his direction as I danced, his face blank - more on the unhappy side.
    "So was Chaplin," I said.
    I realized Kimberly no longer was dancing, but standing still with both her hands over her mouth.
    "What's wrong, love?" I asked. "Dance, babe. Never heard this music before. I want to do ballet. You ever danced ballet before? Is this ballet music?"
    Raising both my arms, I attempted to spin on one toe, with one leg pointing out. I fell of course.
    "Whoa, shit," I muttered. "Good, great stuff this, uh, Rainbow is."
    Craig began laughing so hard he had to hold himself up by pressing his hands on his knees.
    "Maybe I should've gave him the generic LSD," Craig said, after regaining his composure.
    "There's no music playing," Kimberly said. "Craig's right, 'Black Rainbow' is too much for your first DMT."
    "You're seriously not playing music?" I asked, standing up, still grooving to the music coming from inside my head.
    "I was," Craig admitted, "but after you held the globe like Atlas, and meditated, I turned it off. Well, you were suppose to meditate."
    My attention went directly to Kimberly. I spun my way around the flat globe, arriving beside her, caressing her back, and taking hold of her hand.
    "It is my opinion that meditation is a waste of time," I said in a British accent, "and only fornication must occupy your time and mine." My hand moved down Kimberly's back, into her pants, and rubbed her butt-cheek. She looked over at Craig, but I took no notice of her, nor his expression, and began kissing her neck.
    "No ritual for this young one," Craig said. "Go to Eve's room, love birds."
    "Come on, eager beaver," Kimberly said, taking hold of my hand that was groping her butt-cheek, and guiding me out of the room.
    We made our way through a hallway I did not see in detail due to my wholehearted focus on Kimberly's bum as she walked. At one point she turned her head, giving me a smile that brought a thousand answered prayer's, her golden flowing hair quenching all sorrows.
    I ruined the moment by saying, "Don't call me 'Eager Beaver.' From this moment, call me: Beaver Eater."
    Kimberly giggled as we arrived at a door.
    "I shave," she stated.
    "Smooth landing," I said.
    Kimberly opened the door. The room was dark - pitch black. She leaned in, flipped a switch, and three lamps turned on. She jerked at my arm to follow her in.
    "You nervous?" she asked.
    "No," I said, "I'm just trippin' on 'Black Widow'-"
    "'Black Rainbow,'" she corrected.
    "Whatever. And I really want to kiss you, take our cloths off, and pleasure you as best I can." I took hold of both her hands, wrapped her arms around my waste, kissing her adamantly.
    While kissing, we made our way to the bed, having a repeat of the previous night. Later, after almost an hour and a half of love making, we cuddled under the silk bedsheets. A heavenly moment. The complete opposite of what was to come - from what I was told after recovering in the hospital.
    "You shouldn't have done that," Kimberly said, as I stroked her arm, feeling her smooth skin.
    "Done what?" I asked, then kissing her shoulder.
    "Craig takes the transcendence to Atlas very seriously." She laid her hand atop of mine that was in mid-stroke. She said, "I think he found it disrespectful when you popped that globe."
    "It's hard to take seriously any kind of ritual when inebriated on a hallucinogen," I said. "Hell, I can't even handle sitting in a church sober."
    I gently turned her onto her back, then kissed her lips. She looked up into my eyes, smiling. Her smile then faded.
    "Still," she said, placing a hand on my cheek, "you may not be here much longer after tonight."
    Now I do not know whether it was the 'Black Rainbow,' or if I was simply crestfallen, but at that instant I felt heartbreak. I could not see myself without Kimberly.
    "My heart will turn to ash if I could never see you again," I said. "Would you ever leave this underground palace and live with me?"
    Kimberly sat up in the bed, pushing away the silk sheets.
    She asked, "How do you know we're underground?" She then backed away from me a little bit.
    "Just instinct, I guess. There aren't any windows."
    "Don't talk like that," she said, getting out of the bed, "you're tripping."
    "No, Kimberly, I'm being genuine. I know we haven't known each other long, but I'm in love with you, and you've said the same to me."
    "I can't leave," she said, getting teary eyed. "Craig won't allow it."
    "Won't allow it?" I got off of the bed. "What kind of hippy is so goddamn tyrannical?"
    She shushed me, then said, "Don't talk like that, he can hear you."
    "Well, that's because the door's open," I said, walking over to close it. "He's on the other side of the complex anyway."
    I took hold of the door knob, about to close it, when I began to hear a humming sound. Slowly it began to build, as if more individual humming sounds joined together, forming a crowd.
    "What's that noise?" I asked Kimberly. "You hear that, or is it just me?"
    "Just 'Black Rainbow,'" she said, sniffling.
    "Okay, good," I said, relieved. I turned around and saw Kimberly with her head down.
    "You okay, Kimberly?"
    She raised her head, looking past me into the dark hallway.
    "Don't hurt him!" she screamed, then ran to a closed door, opening it, and slamming it behind her so swiftly that I couldn't say anything to stop her.
    And before I could see what she yelled at, I got hit in the head, and all went black.
    There were no dreams between that moment and when I regained consciousness. I just remember total blackness slowly fading into gray, and then a blurry image with objects moving throughout. One object stopped before me, and when clarity finally came to my senses, Craig was looking down, straight into my eyes.
    Craig was different: he had changed his attire from a spiritual hippy to a business yuppie; gray jacket, gray seemed pants, black, shiny shoes, a red tie, and white shirt. He also had a pair of black leather gloves on, and holding a syringe containing clear liquid inside.
    "You here with us, Narc?" he asked.
    In my hazy recovery, I looked down and saw I was still naked, and my shins were tied to the chair's legs I was sitting on. My hands were tied behind my back as well.
    "Where am I?" I struggled to ask, barely forming the words.
    "I see that 'Back Rainbow' did good for you," Craig said. "Got something else coming to you soon when Franco gets here. Oh, and to answer your question, you're at a hotel. A safe place in the wilderness of Chaos."
    "Where's Kimberly?" My next query.
    Craig looked up behind me.
    He said, "She's close, but won't talk for the time being. Not that there's a gag in her mouth, but because I politely asked her to stay quiet." He looked back down at me with a maniacal smile. "See, I'm no tyrant."
    There was a knock on the door.
    "Who is it?" Craig asked in a cheerful, womanly voice.
    "Ready for my interview," a voice from the other side answered, heavily effeminate.
    "You may enter," Craig said.
    A man entered the room wearing a black leather jacket, and had a black backpack on. He took it off  and placed it on the hotel dining table, opening it, then taking out plastic ziplock bags with an array of prescription medication bottles full of pills, all of which had no labels.
    "Thank you for bringing my candy, Franco," Craig said.
    "No problem," Franco said. He then pointed at me, "So that is the pigeon you caught."
    "Yes. A pigeon masquerading as a dove, and talons of a vulture to steal my love," Craig said.
    He then leaned over and stuck me with the syringe, injecting the clear liquid into my arm.
    "What is that shit?" I asked.
    "It's a new cocktail I've recently devised for this occasion. And you're the lucky guinea pig, my lucky Narc." Craig finished, tossed the syringe across the room, then walked over to the table, opening one of the ziplock bags.
    "Why you keep calling me a 'Narc'?" I asked, feeling drowsy.
    "Because that's what you are," Craig said. "A Narcotics officer."
    "I'm not," I mumbled. "Paranoid fool."
    Craig opened one of the medicine bottles, dropping one pill into his palm. He walked up to me, took hold of my chin, opened my mouth, and shoved the pill in, then closed it, slamming my teeth shut.
    "Swallow it, bitch!" he yelled.
    I did as he commanded. He let go of my chin, taking one step back.
    "And to be sure," he said.
    He then lifted his right foot and kicked me in the face. The chair fell back, and I hit the carpet hard.
    "Ready for the journey, boy?" Craig said. He walked over to the phone, grabbed hold of it, disconnected the phone cord from it and the wall. He then kneeled beside me, wrapped the phone cord around my scrotum, then stood up over me, gripping the end of the cord with both gloved hands.
    At that moment I did not feel any fear; I just seemed to be entertained.
    "Tell me what you know," Craig demanded, his face contorted in animalistic rage. "Other than how great my wife fucks!"
    Then, with all his strength, he pulled the phone cord as hard as he could. I heard a pop. And that was the last thing I remember before walking along the highway naked.
    A week after being saved from dehydration on that lonesome highway by the patrolman and paramedics, I laid on the hospital bed as the Doctor informed me of my injuries.
    "How are my balls?" I asked, interrupting the Doctor as he was going down the list.
    "Some broken cartilage," the Doctor said. "When the swelling goes down, everything will be operational down there."
    "Oh, thank God." I exhaled in relief.
    A few hours after the Doctor left, a lady in business attire walked in the room. She was a beautiful professional-looking cougar.
    "Hello," she greeted, "I'm Detective Tumbler."
    She sat in a chair, opened a folder she was holding, and writing something in it with a pen.
    "So tell me what happened."
    After telling the Detective what happened from the time at the rave in the mansion to me becoming self-aware on the side of the highway, I became a little exhausted.
    "Damn," I said, closing my eyes, "that took a lot out of me."
    "Sorry about that," the Detective said, as she was finishing writing down in her folder. "Okay, now it's my turn."
    As I relaxed and listened, the Detective explained to me what occurred while I was in a minor coma for two days. She said that while I was out, a nurse heard me whispering the word, "Atlas" and the letter "D." Which led their investigation to an ex-missile silo formerly known as: Atlas D. After being decommissioned 15 years ago, it was sold to an assumed vintage vehicle collector by the name of Craig Dunmore. The silo was raided by a SWAT team, finding no vintage vehicles, but extravagantly elegant rooms, and an immense chemistry lab.
    "Mr. Dunmore was found in a hot tub with Ms. Cinen," the Detective informed me. "Both were arrested. Mr. Dunmore is charged with manufacturing and distribution of controlled substances, and with your testimony, kidnapping as well. He may serve life in prison."
    "And Kimberly?" I queried.
    "She is being charged with accessory to your kidnapping. I'm sure she'll plea bargain, may serve some time, or probation for a few years," the Detective stood up. "Do you have any problem testifying?"
    "Look, I want Craig in jail," I said, "He almost severed my balls for fuck sake, shaved my head and beat me-"
    "Actually," the Detective interrupted, "Kimberly shaved your head."
    "What?" I uttered, bemused.
    "According to Mr. Wilson - Franco, a cooperating eyewitness - Kimberly left the room, went to Walmart, bought hair clippers, came back to the hotel room, and shaved your head."
    I was too shocked to say another word.
    The Detective continued, "That was her opportunity to call the police. She didn't."
    "Wait," I said, finding relief in a thought, "how do you know Franco isn't lying?"
    "We have the Walmart security footage of Kimberly purchasing the hair clippers at the time you were at the Palm Tree Hotel. And footage of both her and Franco escorting you to a white van the night before you were found by the Highway Patrolman."
    It felt like my heart sank, and turn to shit. I started breathing heavily. The heart monitor I was connected to started beeping faster.
    "Are you all right?" the beautiful Detective asked.

    I said, my eyes wide and raging, "I want to press full charges on that fucking BITCH!"