the Committee of Special Questions, Chapter One: If You Commit Suicide, I'll Kill You

If you saw the last post, you'll know I've started participating in NaNoWriMo this year, my third time going. The first year I 'won' by hitting 50,000 words, though the story remains unfinished. The second year I dropped out due to time constraints in the first four or five days. This year I plan on not only hitting the 50,000 word goal, but also having an end to the story!

This is the first chapter, it contains everything in the last post (I might have edited part of it) and then some. It was written during November 1st and November 2nd.

Note: This was posted before, however I had to redo my NaNoWriMo entry after becoming stumped and haven written myself into a corner. As such I went back and edited a lot of the already written material, so chapter one may be different or it may be the same. There were only 4 views, so I'm not that worried heh.

“It was a darkness, of sorts, but not as you might think. When the word darkness is used, one can not be blamed for thinking of something black. Devoid of light. They might even believe it was quiet. I can tell you with all certainty, and unfortunately with absolutely no proof, this was not the case. It wasn't a void of nothingness, no light or sound.” Lauren Barr, the auditor, had started to say in a very bored voice, while chewing on a strand of red hair, long and unkempt, that was mostly tied back in a fashion not too unsimilar to a bun. Save for a few strains of course, such as the one being chewed on absentmindedly. The bored tone stayed constant, as the auditor went on, “It was a loud and bright place, filled with nothing but clashing lights and drum beats. The ununiverse was having a very bad disco.”

The listener raised an eyebrow, less from interest in this particular hypothesis of the time before time and space, but rather at confusion. The auditor continued the speech that had been given thrice this month already, each time to a new recruit, and each time with less and less enthusiasm. The details, by now, had gone from being well planned to a jumble of half thought and uncared for notes “So, yeah, big loud place filled with noise and lights and chaos. That's the important part. The chaos.

“Order didn't exist yet. No laws. Not for things like physics and crap like that, it was a rather fly by night little existence come to think of it. I guess. At least that's how I'd word it. Well, not how I would word it, since I already worded it that way, but that's just me realizing I said something that probably didn't make much sense. Can I start over? Would you mind?”

The listener adjusted his glasses, thin and silvery, the kind that is marketed as being unbreakable. Very unlike the ones worn by Lauren. Auditor Barr used to wear such glasses, but they always broke. Thicker frames were needed, harder plastics. Always black for Lauren, with the occasional spot of colour. The current pair were black with two pink stripes running vertically at back of the arms. The last job had small blue stars closer to the lenses, but they broke in the field. A dead man had broke them.

“I, uhh, I-” the listener had started to stumble, before being cut off by the auditor's tone, now bored and annoyed, “It's okay. I'll just cut to the chase.”

“I, I think that would be a good idea actually,” the listener said, “I was supposed to speak to

a Mr. Clenshaw at three.”

“Yeah,” auditor Barr said with a smirk, “I'm always late. Clenshie knows that. He won't mind . Well, he will mind, but it's nothing you have to worry about. So anyway, the important stuff, ready? Good. You familiar with Lovecraftian horror? No? Damn. Oh well, you'll figure it out, I'm sure.”

Auditor Barr took a deep breath while pulling a at a lose string on the aged yellow and orange cardigan worn over the suit. Lauren didn't wear what the listener had expected the auditor to, there was no logic as far as fashion sense goes. Under the yellow and orange patterned cardigan was a moldy green coloured button up shirt, the top button was missing. There was a white tie with a pink cartoon pig that looked like it was drawn and colored on the tie with markers. It was even upside down as if it had been drawn by the auditor's perspective looking down. On the auditor's left hand a grey glove, cheap and stretchable with black cuffs and white jolly rogers at the back of the hand, outlined in black. The right hand featured a similarly, but slightly lighter grey glove. There was no skull, instead a red heart outlined in purple. Red sneakers adorned the auditor's feet, but each foot was adorned in a different sock, as the listener had noticed when the auditor had met him outside the unadorned building, and led him into the lobby. One was black with white stripes, while the other had a multi colored argyle pattern. The listener was very perspective, and had noted all of these discrepancies in fashion, but was not perspective enough to notice that the shoes the auditor had worn were not the same make, and were slightly different. In fact they were made by separate companies. Nor did he realize that the laces of each the red shoes were different lengths.

This was why the listener was here, listening to the auditor. He was good, very keen eyed, enough to notice more than something merely being different and/or off, but also to identify why they were off. He had already thought to himself that the outfit wasn't chosen at random. It wasn't a cause of Lauren simply having a horrible fashion sense. The outfit was chosen specifically.

Back when he was dating a cop readying to be a detective, Jonathan Teivel had helped his partner study for the upcoming detective's exam. Jonathan's partner had hoped to make detective in an effort to garner some experience and eventually join the FBI's behavioral science department. He had come up with an interesting concept that Jonathan had not thought about before.

“You know how Ted Bundy and all those other crazies, go on and on without getting caught or noticed?” he had asked Jonathan one night while studying. Jonathan had assumed it was because they looked normal. “Nope.” he had told Jonathon, “Well yeah, it's because they looked normal, but it's also cause they were hard to identify. So you know what you do if you don't look normal, like your face is easy to distinguish or something, or if you act all weird and stuff?” he had asked afterwards. At the time Jonathan Teivel had no idea what ot answer with. His partner smiled, “Wear something that draws attention away from your face. They'll remember your clothes more than your face! That's what I would do. I mean, if I was going around picking up strangers to kill and rape and stuff.” He didn't agree with it at the time, but somehow Jonathan thought his ex was right, as he stared at the white tie with the little pig doodle on it.

Jonathon had stopped listening, reminiscing on his old flame, not realizing that Lauren's bored words continued to ramble into each other, until there was a long pause broken with a simple question that somehow managed ot penetrate Jonathan's daydream. “Do you like the tie? You keep looking at it.” the auditor asked with a bit of amusement.

“No, not really.” Jonathan said with honesty, “Why'd you draw on it?”

“Hmm?” Lauren asked, almost like the idea of drawing on the tie was natural, “It's a white tie. It was blank.”

“Yeah,” Jonathan said, almost glad to be talking as opposed to listening, “But why draw on it? I mean, why not just get a tie with a pig on it.?”

“Huh? Why would I want a tie with a pig on it?” Lauren asked, almost sounding annoyed at the thought.

“You drew a pig on it,” Jonathan said with a bit of a smile, “So why not have just bought a tie with a pig on it instead.”

Auditor Lauren Barr leaned back in the chair opposite Jonathan, “Well, tomorrow it won't have a pig on it. Maybe I'll add something else, like a duck. Then it'll be a tie with a pig and a duck on it. Then maybe Wednesday I'll draw a skeleton dancing a jig. Maybe add a few of those hatch mark things, on the pig like, and maybe a fire underneath it on Thursday. Then it'll be a pig roasting over a fire, like the duck and dancing skeleton is cooking it or something. Would that be better?”

Jonathan sat back in his own chair and took a deep breath. “Okay. Sure, I guess so.”

Lauren smiled, “Good, so any other questions?”

Jonathan smiled, “Actually yeah, isn't Lauren a girl's name?”

Auditor Lauren Barr smiled and scratched at his cleanly shaven and dimpled chin, “I wouldn't talk about names with a name like yours.”

Jonathan gave a chuckle, “Umm,” he started to say, “Jonathan's a fairly normal name actually. It's a guys name even.”

Lauren nodded. “Jonathan,” he started, his tone no longer bored but now fully showing signs of bemusement, “Comes from the Hebrew name Yehonatan. It means God, or Yahweh, has given. You're last name is Yiddish. Did you know that? No? Well, it means devil. Your name means God gave a devil. You're religious aren't you?” Auditor Barr didn't pause, and was no longer looking at Jonathan, “A gay Catholic who carries a Yiddish surname, which means devil. I almost suspect your parents had a good sense of humor, at least if they had any foresight to see how you'd turn out. I mean, it is kind of humorous your parents, who as I'm sure to be correct about when I say don't exactly approve of your lifestyle would name you like that. Imagine them, Jonathan, or can I just call you Jon? Imagine them Jon, deciding to choose a name for their gay sinful unborn child, deciding that god had given them a devil. A sin. Abomination. Get it? It's funny.”

Jonathan narrowed his eyes and stood up abruptly, his dark brow furrowed and bent as his hands lay flatly and firmly on the only piece of furniture, a white painted desk, in the large and empty lobby. Lauren Barr never looked up, again picking at another lose string on the cardigan clearly designed for a woman to wear, as Jonathan spoke.

“Oh yeah? Well Lauren's still a girls name.”

The auditor smiled and gave a noiseless laugh. Standing up he extended a pale hand out towards Jonathan.

“Welcome,” he said, “To the Committee of Special Questions, Jonathan Devil. The last job you'll ever have, and the only one you'll probably never get the chance to fill out on your taxes. At least, that's what the pool says."

"The pool?" Jonathan asked, not liking the implications.

"Yep. We've got a pool going. Do it for every new guy. Heh, funny, I've got you in for eight months. Dunno why, just felt charitable I guess. Normally I go no later than a month. Clenshie's got you biting it at the three week mark.”

Jonathan balked, “You're betting on if I'll die?!”

“Oh, definitely. Closest without going over's gonna find himself, or herself, with, get this, thirty dollars. That's what you're death is worth around here, so you better make it worth more to keep your ass around.”

“You've,” Jonathan stammered still not believing what he just heard, “You, no wait, no. You're joking right? You don't, don't like, really have a death pool on me? Do you?”

The auditor smiled again, his head tilting to the side to look away before looking back with a sly look in his eyes, “Of course we do. We've even got another pool going on how you die. Course, that one don't pay out as much. Well, if I win it will, everyone else is hedging the odds, almost everyone put money on suicide.”

Jonathan blinked, his shoulders sank as his hand was still being held by Lauren.

“Oh,” auditor Barr said with a forced sympathetic voice, “Don't worry. If it makes you feel better, I've got an optimistic feeling about you. I'm going with shock. Yep. I think you're lucky. I think you'll just drop dead on the job from shock, no living with the madness and guilt and all that.” there was a slight pause as the auditor laughed at the thought, and worse for Jonathan, the man seemed to be finding genuine humor in it. Still grasping Jonathan's hand in his, the auditor gave a sigh to end his chuckle “Look, don't look so upset. They still betting on if I'll be a straight suicide, or if I'll try to take some people with me first.”

“Don't worry,” the auditor said, with his bored tone, “Clenshie ain't gonna get all mad at you, he'll just have to deal with it. I'm always late. So, anyway, as I was saying, you familiar with Lovecraftian horror?”

The listener looked at the strange tie, a white tie with a pig drawn on it, a clown and a dancing skeleton stood by them. The pig was upside down to her view, but the standerbys were not. She looked up and shook her head, “Is that like that writer?”

Lauren nodded, and took a deep breath showing his boredom, “Yep.” The auditor moved forward leaning on the desk, “Was kind of correct. I mean, there's no Azawrath, not like that. At least, well I guess there could be, but the things we've seen, chances are he just had a general idea and sort've just threw names at things for ease. I mean, for all we know, yeah there's an idiot god in the center of the universe with trumpets or whatever blaring, but really? I don't believe that.”

Kasey Sams gave a confused look, “What's an Azawrath?”

Lauren shook his head, “Ahh, this guy wrote a bunch of stories about how uncaring the universe is, and Azawrath was just one of the many deities he had made up, doesn't matter. That's not the important part. The important part is what happens in the stories.”

Kasey shuffled in her seat, and gave yet another uneasy glance around the room. The lobby was large, even larger looking given there was no reception desk, waiting chairs or people. A simple desk, white, and two chairs in which she and the auditor occupied. That was all. She found it uneasy, and wondered why it was that she even bothered to come after receiving the letter. Outside of making it seem as if she wasn't alone in what she thought she had seen, that there were people who might give answers, there was no reason to show up for the appointment. It was apparently a job interview, but her interviewer referred to himself as an auditor, and had not asked her any questions. No curiosity about her past working conditions, and when she stated she wasn't interested in a new occupation he seemed to shrug it off. Yet she stayed. Listening to a man in a strangely drawn on tie and multicoloured sweater discussing monsters from something past deep space. From a story or stories, she wasn't sure, written some time ago, from what she could guess.

“In the stories,” auditor Barr had been saying as the interviewee glanced about, “Just the very presence of these things was enough to fuck with you. Like straight up fuck your shit up. Like seriously, don't look at me like that, that's how it was, just seeing them caused you to lose your grip on reality.”

“How?” Ms. Sams inquired, trying to understand what the auditor had been talking about, “That doesn't make any sense.”

“Sure it does.” the auditor said shifting his weight in his chair. He was already tired. He had given this speech just three days ago, and he doubted this would work out any better. Already he was wondering when the next interview will happen. “There's nothing wrong there, it makes perfect sense. It's like instinct. The thing is so abominationable, so wrong and so detrimental to your very existence, just being around it pulls up a defense mechanism. Only like, instead of, like, playing dead and lowering your metabolism, or willingly severing your tail in hopes of getting away, your mind just goes into shut down. That's how strong these things are, the only way to survive is to go insane.”

He seemed to be discussing something simple and trivial. His tone was dismissive, almost as if this was an everyday occurrence that wasn't much of a deal. But Kasey Sams knew better. Granted she had no clue what he was talking about, but she understood that what she had seen, what she had gone through, it was real. “Okay, fine.” she said, “I'll buy that. So, when do I start?”

The auditor stood up and extended a hand, “Welcome to the Committee of Special Questions, Kasey Sams. The last and shortest job you'll ever have.”

Kasey's hand had started to move forward, to shake the gloved hand of the auditor, but stopped. She glanced awkwardly up with a nervous smile, “What?”

“I said,” the auditor calmly stated, boredom seeping again, “Welcome to the Special Committee of Questions, I mean Committee of Special Questions. The last and shortest job you'll ever have.”

Kasey shook her head, as she had done multiple times through out the so-called interview, “The last? Shortest? what does that mean?!”

“Oh, excuse me,” Lauren Barr said and gave a quick clear of his throat, “I don't mean it as an insult. It's just, well, you're going to be dead soon. At least that's what the statistics say.”

Bernard Millers cocked his head, “Statistics?”

The auditor nodded, “Three months. That's the average life span of people like you.”

“People like me?!” the large ex-marine said, a sound of proud anger in his voice.

“Yeah,” the auditor said scratching at his chin, the clear sound of his finger scrapping the stubble could be heard in the practically empty lobby, “You guys never last long. I've had like six interviews in just as many months. August was a bad time. The woman you're replacing actually lasted awhile too, broke the three month streak. I was optimistic about her though, you too. You know, we actually have a pool on you newbies, how long you'll live.”

“So, then” Charles Dispen started to say amidst a laugh and a cocky grin as he leaned back in his chair, the sound of his leather jacket creaking as he did so, “What's your bet then, Mr. Optomist?”

“Oh, I've got you down for 9 months. Hoping you'll do triple the expected. Last guy only lasted three days.”

Charles raised a pierced eyebrow, “Three days?”

“Yep.” the auditor said with a bit of a grin, something funny about that grin made Charles' smirk deepen. The auditor looked around the empty room, as one would if they did not want to be over heard. Was strange to do so, considering there was no one around but him and Charles, outside of a white desk and two chairs. When auditor Barr was pleased he wasn't going to be overheard he looked back at Charles, “Three days. Was army. Marines I think. Just goes to show.”

“So,” the woman asked in slightly scared tone, “Let me get this straight. You want to give me a job where I'm going to, what? Track down cosmic evils that defy the laws of physics, and the whole time I'm going to go insane until I commit suicide? Probably in under three months?”

The Auditor nodded politely, “Yep.”

The woman contemplated for a moment. “Is that how most of you people die then?” As she spoke she moved a curly black bang of hair away from her eyes.

The auditor nodded, “Yep. Sometimes it's a hanging, sometimes it's a shot to the temple. This one guy, Charlie, he actually got pretty creative.” there was a slight chuckle as the Lauren's smirk returned, “Actually, get this, he actually clawed at his skin, his thigh actually, just scratching and scratching away. Tore right in. Started pulling at things, sinew or whatever. I don't know anatomy. Muscles I guess. Blood everywhere.” again there was a bemused chuckle before Lauren continued, his tone no longer showing signs of boredom, “There's an argument though, if it was suicide or not, but the way I see it was. He apparently stopped after he got to the vein, what's it called? It's a major one.”

The curly haired woman looked uneasy as she tried to answer him, “Femoral?”

“Hmm?” the auditor said looking up from the desk, “Maybe? I don't know. Not good with anatomy. Sure, femoral. So, any questions?”

The woman shook her curly haired head before suddenly stopping, “Actually yes, yes I do.”

“Shoot.”

She leaned forward, “Why did you draw a vacuum cleaner on your tie?”

Auditor Barr looked confused and looked down at his heavily doodled white tie, “Oh, that's not a vacuum cleaner. That's a hotdog with a worm coming out of it.”

“No, not that.” the woman said, and leaned forward more, getting off the chair slightly as she reached across the desk and tapped a higher spot on the tie, “There.” She sat back down and continued speaking as the auditor tried to see the spot high on the tie, near the top, unable to see it. “You drew lots of random things, but right there it's just a vacuum. Everything else makes sense.”

Lauren Barr now looked confused, “Sense? How the fuck does this tie make sense?”

“Well,” the woman said, “You have a pig at the bottom right? It's being barbecued by a clown, and death is watching.”

Lauren interrupted, “Death?”

“Yeah, the skeleton that looks like it's dancing. Isn't that death? Cause it's like, you have bacon over there with the bearded priest, and the hot dog with the worm, and all the other stuff. I think that's a pork chop right? Above the guy in the full body cast, right? It's like, a big message about consumerism. But then there's just a vacuum, and – Oh!” the woman said with a smile, sounding impressed with herself “I get it. The vacuum is like, the symbol of, yeah that's it, isn't it? It's like, it's all consumerism and bleeding out nature and all that jazz, but it's the vacuum.”

She leaned back in the chair scratching at the back of her head, small rings of hair jiggling around as she did so, “It's the vacuum. That's what happens. It just gets all sucked up. It's going to devour the consumer, like the consumer cleared out everything else. The hunter becomes the hunted, and when it's all gone, it's all clean, right?”

Lauren cleared his throat. It was just doodles. He didn't even remember drawing the vacuum. The pork chop was a tire on an axle. The priest with a beard was just a poodle trying to use bubbles from the bath to dress up as Santa Clause. He stood up and adjusted his cardigan before stepping around the desk. The woman rose expectantly as he looked her over one time and then suddenly threw his hands around her and pulled her into a tight hug.

“Welcome,” he said with a genuine smile, “Dr. Mais, to the Committee of Special Questions.” he then pushed her away at arms length with a stern look as he squeezed her shoulders, “I swear to god, if you commit suicide I'm going to kill you.”