As Above, So Below Read online

  It was after five in the evening when Alex returned to his empty flat, another important day wasted. He flicked on the TV and stared sullenly at the screen. Ten minutes later there was a bang at the front door and Bridgett came through to the lounge.

  ‘Hello, love,’ said Alex.

  ‘What a day!’ Bridgett gave him a peck, ‘up to my eyes in it.’

  Up to her eyes in what? – Alex didn’t enquire.

  Bridgett removed her coat. ‘Al, I’ve just heard some rather encouraging news.’

  ‘Oh?’

  ‘It’s about Geoff – he’s come part way out of his coma; he’s not in a vegetative state any more – but he’s not woken up yet either. I think this is important, don’t you? Apparently the doctors have been communicating with him.’

  ‘I thought you said he hadn’t woken up yet.’

  ‘Yeah, I just heard the news from Cube, he might have got his facts mixed up.’ Bridgett removed her jeans.

  ‘Most likely,’ replied Alex, shaking his head, ‘you got a fag?’

  ‘I think we should visit Geoff – you haven’t been yet, have you? ... We should go, you know.’ Bridgett continued to disrobe. ‘He is your best friend.’ Then seeing Alex pull a face. ‘We should go tomorrow.’

  ‘No, not tomorrow, we’ll go Friday evening, okay?’

  Bridgett regarded Alex disapprovingly. ‘I’m going to take a shower, There’s a Head in there.’ She pointed to her bag.

  Alex searched her bag for some cigarettes and pulled out the copy of Head magazine, a new publication aimed at students; it reported on popular culture, social media trends, film and music etc. He flicked through it and stopped at a feature about a new entheogenic drug. It was the thing happening in New York’s rarefied club world.

  The sound of the shower broke through from the bathroom and Alex’s thoughts turned to Bridgett. He clearly had something to resolve with his long-term girlfriend, but, whatever it was, it could wait.

  Back to the Head.

  Diaketamine. The name of the new drug, a drug that had been knocking around the American research establishment for some years now. Although still a rarity in the UK, it was becoming increasingly popular in the US: as a recreational “tool”.

  The effects of diaketamine sounded distinctly odd: the user lost all understanding of language. According to a leading New York psychiatrist and narcotics expert: “The subject suffers a cataclysmic non-linear continuance break-down.” What the fuck was all that about? Luckily Head thought it was bollocks too. They explained it in English: “The user, without language to define his or her thoughts, is free of the twin tyrannies of future and past and is effectively alive and joyous in the permanent NOW!”

  Still a bit heavy on the bullshit, thought Alex, as he continued to read.

  LIFE (diaketamine’s street name) was snorted, and the effects were felt within one minute; the average trip lasted one hour. Apart from the language loss, there were no other effects beyond an increased tolerance to pain. There were no definitive ‘highs’ or ‘lows’, no physiological reactions and no hallucinations. Also, reported the article, LIFE was non-addictive, and the user remained in complete control of his actions.

  Alex put down the magazine and tried to imagine the drug’s effect. It was difficult. By its very nature, the essence of this experience lay beyond articulation.

  He picked up the magazine again: It seemed that people who took the drug only appreciated its full significance once the effects had worn off. Then they could find words to define their ‘trip’, and, in so doing, recognize the profundity of the experience. According to one woman: the effect was more dreamlike than a real dream. When you were “high on LIFE” everything seemed right. It didn’t matter that you couldn’t understand anyone. As far as you were concerned there was nothing to understand.

  Alex considered those last few sentences as his focus returned to the TV: A news reporter was attempting to explain the effects of recent house price movements on the wider economy.

  Bridgett finished her shower, re-entered the room and sat down next to Alex.

  ‘I don’t suppose you’ve got anything for tea, have you?’ he asked her.

  ‘You’ll be lucky!’ Bridgett replied, towel-drying her thick black hair.

  Alex held his stomach, and, on cue, it began to grumble.

  ‘Get something from the chippy,’ Bridgett suggested, ‘and get something for me.’

  I don’t think they do diet chips, thought Alex to himself.

  Bridgett studied Alex’s grumpy face. When he finally returned her gaze, she asked: ‘Did you go into college today?’

  ‘Yes,’ he replied.

  ‘You liar! Cube said you never showed up.’

  Alex felt his anger rising, and his guilt. ‘I went to the library in the afternoon. And I never saw Cube!!’

  Bridgett was unconvinced. ‘You’re playing with fire, Alex, you’ve only got–’

  ‘I’m on top of it, Bridgett!’

  ‘Okay! don’t bite my head off!’ protested Bridgett. She returned her attention to her hair as Alex returned his to the article on diaketamine: The drug, surprisingly, still remained uncontrolled, but that wouldn’t last much longer. The authorities on both sides of the Atlantic had grown concerned over its increasing popularity; there would soon be legisla–

  ‘What about those chips?’ demanded Bridgett.

  Alex sighed and dropped the magazine onto the floor. ‘I haven’t got any money.’

  Bridgett stopped playing with her hair and looked again at Alex. Declining the opportunity for a new argument, she simply pointed to her bag. ‘Get some out of there.’

  Alex did as he was told and reached into the bag. Collecting some cash and pocketing his phone, he departed from the flat and the increasingly claustrophobic atmosphere.

  Dusk; cloudless and cold. Alex sat up on his neighbour’s wall and contemplated the phone in his hand. As he began to dial Hammer’s number, he glanced over his shoulder: ‘I knew I was being watched! Hello, cat.’

  Gil, at the neighbour’s window, had his attention focused squarely on Alex.

  ‘Hammer, ... hey, it’s Alex, yeah, look man, we’ve got to parley. You know anything about diaketamine? ...Yeah, ...yeah, that’s right. Can you get any? ...uh-huh ... It’s uncontrolled, yeah, okay...’

  Hammer seemed to be familiar with the drug, but he’d never used it nor dealt in it, in fact, he didn’t know anyone who had. But, he was interested: there may be an unexploited market here, and it could be supplied legally. On hearing that the drug was uncontrolled Hammer had suggested an obvious course of action.

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