Of course not all the work in an investigation can be done by chatting. Sooner or later there is a mountain of information to be sifted through. Usually I do that myself, after all I am exactly the sort of weirdo that finds this stuff fascinating, but there was just too much of it to use that approach.

That was why Agent Alex, the chief Archivist, had sent to to the DRG. I wasn’t looking forward to it. I’ve been a geek of one sort all of my life. I’m comfortable around techy people even when I have no idea what they’re talking about but the DRG is a horse of another colour.

DRG stands for Discordian Research Group. Notice the lack of censorship in that sentence. The stuff they do is so weird that I can tell you all about because there is zero chance of anyone taking it seriously or any other agency or government trying to replicate it.

The DRG are all, obviously, Discordians. That means they worship Eris Discordia the Goddess of Chaos except that they don’t really worship anything, they tend to believe all gods are fictional entities and they think both order and chaos are illusions created by the human nervous system. They practice both magic and science and they tend to mix the two in ways that make both magicians and scientists extremely nervous.

Like I say I’m a Geek and I’m comfortable around other Geeks but the DRG are the tiny minority that give the rest a bad name. They are clearly planning on being our Geek overlords come the technological singularity.

As an outsider I was met at the door to the DRG Lab by their Office Manager and Explainer-in-Chief, Max Mocha*. Max’s job is to keep the DRG from damaging the fundamental nature of Causality, blowing up the building and experimenting on each other. He also has to keep the paper work in order, escort new visitors and translate DRG speak into English.

“You know I wasn’t expecting them to be that interested in this project.” Said Max as he opened the door with his ID, “But they’re really excited. I’m actually a little bit worried.”

“Great. And I was worried about getting them involved. Now I feel so much better.” I said.

If you want to picture the DRG lab imagine Q from the James Bond films setting up his workshop in a Gothic church previously used by Victor Frankenstein and Alastair Crowley.

“Ah, Ms Darke, I’m so glad you brought us this little problem.” The man bounding towards me was tall and skinny with a mad thatch of curly light-brown hair and a streamlined face swept back from an over-sized aquiline nose. He wore a stained lab coat over a black t-shirt and jeans. The name tag on the pocket read C.Elsewhere. They all have names like that in the DRG.

“I see what you mean.” I said to Max.

“So, Mr Elsewhere…” I said.

“Please call me Chris.” Said Elsewhere.

“Chris, what do you have for me.”

“Ooh all kinds of good stuff.” He said. I looked at Max in time to see him suppress a shudder.

*Not his real name obviously. He’s an interesting guy. He got promoted to being the DRG’s keeper after saving a bunch of people when a Department building got blown up. Long Story. Anyway he has a unique problem with coffee. Max Mocha is just one of his nicknames. He’s also known as the Mug Magpie, the Latte Ninja, and the Wandering Joe. I swear that some people round here do nothing but make up nicknames.


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