Vincent Gallo - Tasya

“Also no. I'm too busy and stressed out by what resides on my side of the veil.” Hugh replied.

Do you fear that voodoo, witchcraft, or sorcery is inhibiting your life? The third question read.

Hugh rolled his eyes and didn't answer.

Each question was more ridiculous than the last. They mentioned ghouls, ghosts, vampires, trolls and even elves. Even though High was starting to think that these questions must be a joke, he couldn't bring himself to close out the site. There appeared to be a teether anchoring him to the site and hauling him down the page through the sea of questions all the way to the final one – the one which seemed tailored just for Hugh.

Does the media, news, or television push you towards hallucinations of the peculiar, fantastical, and strange? The final question asked.

Hugh didn't even bother to answer. He swiped down to the bottom of the page, tapped the phone number, and pressed the phone to his ear.

Someone picked up after the first ring. A burly voice, which Hugh thought more fitting for a lumberjack than an office worker, answered the phone.

“What do you want?” The gruff voice demanded.

“Hello. I've visited your website and I would like to make an appointment.” Hugh said.

“Look fella, no need to play games.” The lumberjack said. “We don't have time for that. I don't, Office M doesn't, and neither do you. So, let me ask you once more, what do you want?”

“Maybe you didn't hear me,” Hugh replied, quite sure that he had just answered that very question, “I said that I would like to make app –”

“Or maybe you didn't hear me?” The lumberjack interjected with a quick cut, making Hugh feel like a branch chopped in two. “I'm in no mood to waste time. Tell me plain and simple – what do you want?”

“What I really want is to talk to someone about my hallucinations related to the news.” Hugh said, not believing that the second person to know about his hallucinations was to be a lumberjack over the phone. “Your website said—”

The lumberjack sliced right through Hugh's words once again.

“Say no more Sir. I understand completely and I'm here to help. Let us schedule an appointment with Masha.”

“Pardon me, but who is Masha? Won't I be coming in to speak with you?” Hugh asked.

“Buddy, you're not the brightest, are you?” The lumberjack asked and emitted a laugh that was a combination of growl, grunt, and giggle. “I'm the receptionist.”

“How was I supposed to know that you are…” Hugh trailed off, not wanting to argue the question of how he could have possibly known the lumberjack's position at Office M. “Who is Masha then?”

“Masha is the mystic, the guru, the magi, or whatever other word that may like to use.”

“I see…Magis. Gurus. Mystics. Interesting.”

“No, no, no! That's all wrong!” The lumberjack screeched like a cat whose tail had been pulled. “You are using the plural! There is only one mystic here, and that is Masha!”

“Alright. I'm sorry. There is only one magi, and that is Masha.” Hugh tried to sound apologetic. “When can I come in for an appointment with her?”

“Hold on for a minute and I'll check her schedule, she's very busy.” The receptionist let out a few more grunts and growls and then put Hugh on hold.

Hugh expected to hear some fanciful annoying music that those on hold are typically treated to. Instead, he heard the receptionist clunk the phone down on the table and pound away on the cardboard with what sounded like mallet sized fingers.

“So, I checked the schedule,” the lumberjack said after a minute more of pulverizing the keyboard, “tell me which time is good for you.”

“Well, you've just checked Masha's schedule.” Hugh said. “Maybe you can tell me which times she has free?”

“Did you not hear what I have just said?” The lumberjack asked. “Tell me when you are free.”

Hugh was becoming flustered. The lumberjack had made it clear that he was busy, but he seemed quite proficient at wasting time. Hugh took a deep breath and bottled up his brewing irritation.

“I can do tomorrow at two in the afternoon.” Hugh said.

“No. She's not available then.” The lumberjack responded curtly.

“I see… How about at a quarter past twelve?” Hugh asked.

“No. Also not free.” The lumberjack's response curter than his last.

“Look, you asked me when I am free.” Hugh said, no longer restraining his ire with a growl that rivaled the lumberjack's own. “If your Masha is so busy, and doesn't have a free appointment, why did you ask me about my preference? I feel like you asked me about my preference just so you could reject it. Please tell me when she is free, that will make everyone's life easier.”

“No need to be aggressive. Let me see…” The lumberjack said in a relaxed tone and smacked his lips together in thought. “Masha is free tomorrow at… twelve thirty and two thirty. Do either of these times work for you?”

Hugh was dumbstruck at the receptionist's response.

“Are you serious?” Hugh asked. “You could have just told me that before, when I told you that I'm free at around twelve and —"

“Sir, please calm down.” The receptionist said, proving to be not only a master of wasting time but also a master of cutting people off. “Just answer the question. Do either of these times work for you?”

“Let's make this easy.” Hugh said and let out a sigh of relief that he was inching closer to making an appointment. “I can come in at twelve thirty tomorrow. Is that good?” Hugh was expecting the receptionist to tell him that this time had already been booked within the last fifteen seconds.

“Excellent. I'll let Masha know that you are coming. Please find our address on the website. Can you also provide me with your name and phone number, just in case any changes happen between now and tomorrow?”

Hugh gave his full name and number.

“Thank you Hugh.” The lumberjack said. “See you tomorrow.”

“Hold on one second,” It had occurred that Hugh that he hadn't gotten the receptionist's name. “I'm sorry, but what's your name?”

The grunts and growls reverberated through the phone. “The name's Timmy.”

“Well, nice to meet you Timmy.” Hugh tried to sound cordial to make up for his earlier testiness. “I look forward to meeting—”

“Yeah, yeah. See you tomorrow.”

That was it. Timmy hung up the phone and left Hugh alone on the other end of the line.

Hugh tossed his phone to the side and rubbed his hands over his temples and eyes. He pulled himself from the sofa and moved to the balcony, the fresh air would help clear the tension behind his eyes that had built during the conversation with Timmy. Hugh hoped that the lumberjack was a bit more straightforward in person, if not, then Hugh wasn't sure he would have the tolerance to make it past Office M’s reception desk.

Hugh rested his elbows on the balcony's railing and inspected the courtyard below. People were hurrying back from work with shopping bags of food, couples were rushing out for an evening meal, pet owners walked their dogs, and other were just out for a stroll. The playground had been vacated, and its surrounding fence had been locked.

All of this was normal for life within the fortress, but Hugh saw an odd sight that caused him to pause and ponder.

The black-haired girl was still at work in the flowerbed.

She was still digging and cleaning, digging and cleaning, digging and cleaning.

Millions went up and millions went down. Some of them ventured at a slow pace and others in a rush. They walked, bumped, pushed, and, on the rare occasion, even excused themselves. Many ran to catch closing doors but then were forced to wait. Seats were occupied and seats were given up. Everyone traveled together in the metro.

Hugh exited the metro station and opened the map on his phone. A red line highlighted the route to Office M. He tried not to get his hopes up about Masha. Perhaps his visit would be a waste of time and she would only offer him a palm reading and cryptically whisper to him, amidst eye burning incense, that he would one day become rich, famous, and even the president.

Hugh shook these doubts from his mind, like how one would shake dust from an old carpet over a balcony. He needed to be optimistic and focus on getting to Masha's office.

Hugh followed the map and was led to the business region of the city. As Hugh walked along the path laid out by the map, shadows crept in around him and the sky disappeared. Tall towers of fifty floors high surrounded him on all sides. Hugh found their height to be impressive and their design equally so. One was a double helix of what looked like some titan's DNA. Another looked like the lighter a titan would use to ignite a gigantic cigar. A third tower gave the impression that a titan's tiny toddler had unevenly stacked building blocks one atop another, and that this uneven structure was on the verge of toppling over.

The address of Office M brought Hugh to the heart of this artificial tower forest, dedicated to the life of some titan clan, and to the most awe-inspiring one in the city. It wasn't the tallest of buildings, but its spherical shape and orange glow reproduced the glory of the sun on an autumn day.

Hugh had to double check the address to make sure that he was at the right place. He could not imagine a mystic having the financial means to rent space in such a building, let alone in this neighborhood. Honestly, he expected to Masha's office to be located down a dingy alley or in a desolate apartment. But, after double checking the app and website, Office M was indeed inside the replica of the sun. Hugh even gave Office M a ring on his mobile. In all his huff and gruff Timmy confirmed Office M to be in the tower standing before Hugh.

As soon as Hugh stepped through the doors, security guards swarmed him. They patted him down, waved metal detecting rods around him from head to toe, and then shoved him through yet another metal detector. Satisfied that Hugh posed no threat, they then funneled him to an information desk where he had to show his identification and state his business in the tower.

If Hugh hadn't known that this was an information desk then he would have mistaken the two girls sitting there to be executives. Their blazers looked to cost more than his entire wardrobe combined, their neat and tidy hairstyle could have come from a fashion magazine, and their faces wore a layer of polite elitism that Hugh had seen plastered on self-assured top managers.

Hugh had anticipated that they would laugh at him for visiting a mystic in a tower clearly designer for largescale international businesses. To Hugh's amazement neither of them cracked a smile nor exhibited a speculative look when he stated that he had an appointment at Office M. They unemotionally slid a visitor's pass across the desk, pointed to the elevator, and instructed him to go to the 27th floor.

Hugh came a row of elevators, located the one that would go up to the 27th floor and found it utterly out of place in this contemporary tower.

It would have been more at home in a low budget apartment complex from fifty years prior.

The walls were covered in splintered imitation oak wood, the mirrors were full of scratches and cast not a hint of a reflection. The buttons were a tobacco stained yellow and the numbers themselves had faded through overuse. When Hugh had come into the elevator, the floor creaked and sagged under his weight.

Hugh pushed the button with the faded outline of the number twenty-seven.