dispatch twenty-one -: max dunbar

8/9/2019 dispatch twenty-one -: Max Dunbar

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dispatch extends a warm welcome toChristopher Laird, newest member of our crew.

Originally from the land of Bright Eyes, Lairdnow resides in the Old World, specificallyEngland. He is the programme director ofRadio Nowhere, the influential undergroundradio station, and his first offering is musicalguest Japanese Voyeurs, whose track ThatLove Sound is sure to turn you on to theirpithy style.
http://radionowhere.org/


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dispatch litareviewI S S N # 1 9 4 8 - 1 2 1 7

[email protected]

[email protected]@litareview.com

Crossing the Psy-Field2010 Max Dunbar

typefaces: Magellan, Accolade, Minion Pro, & Friz Quadrata

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dispatch is currently seeking a paid culture editor.applicants should be generally on top of current events,both mainstream and alternative, and should have at leastthree 210250word dispatches to submit for suggestion.

all applications will be responded to but only one will beapproved. [email protected]
mailto:[email protected]:[email protected]&subject=subscribehttp://frsh.in/6amailto:[email protected]://litareview.com/


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Christy Call
http://christycall.com/


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CROSSING THE PSY-FIELD

Mark Ireson had discovered his great gift about fifteen

months ago, on weekend license. He had bounced aroundManchester all day and night, shooting tequila in OxfordRoad bars and coke in its toilets. Trying to leave theNovotel the next day, his panic attack was so bad hethought hed die. Then he decided he wanted to.

He ordered up a bottle of wine and swallowedsleeping pills hed procured through a corrupt male nurse.Washing down four tablets with the first glass of wine, herealized it would be a shame to go into the black withoutseeing a woman for the last time. A quick call to an escortservice from the Yellow Pages and a soft, smiling redheadwas at his door within half an hour.

He did not make love to her and he didnt mentionhis impending suicide; girls always freaked out at suchthings. All his life, women had seemed slightly afraid ofhim and hed never known why.

They kissed and cuddled and talked. Even today he

called her up and took her out once a month or soforthe full agency fee. Annabel had had some reservationsabout this, but she relented once the relationship wasestablished as a platonic meeting of minds.

After Amber the Friendly Callgirl had gone, Ira lay

back, drank the rest of the wine, and popped the rest ofthe pills. He read from The Great Gatsby and waited for thedarkness to take him.

He woke up in a cave. Sunlight flooded in from the


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outside. Shit, he thought, Ive been wrong about religionmy whole life. But this wasnt a hell for unbelievers, or aplace where wayward souls waited for administration. Heslept and shivered in the cave a long time. The stone washard and gritty beneath his palms.

He was wakened by hoofbeats. A figure creepedinto the cave. It moved out of the natural arch and he sawa beautiful woman in a leather breastplate and a longskirt made from what looked like buffalo hide.

And that was how he met Jasmine, former Princessof the Imperial Faithlands, now a fleeing outlaw and rebelagainst her king. She had lived in gilded seclusion in theheart of the Powers empire before running from anarranged marriage to a man three times her age. It hadbeen a spontaneous act. Her bedchamber was tightly

guarded against the young ones she liked from the town,but the man had bribed a guard one night and tried toforce himself upon her. Shed cut his throat with athrowing dagger from the wall.

They were both on the run, outsiders in their

respective worlds. It seemed so good that Ira thought atfirst that this whole world was just a byproduct of hisschizophrenia.

But Jasmine told him this was wrong. Ira, you havea vortex inside your head. We know there is infinity ofuniverses, but you so far are the only one I have known

who can travel between worlds. She smiled, and said,There are many more adventures ahead of us.

It explained the visions and the sense he sometimes6


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had that the streets of Manchester-side were not the onlyreality. He could go through the portal at any time: onpublic transport, having a beer in the Cornerhouse,staring into space at work. He found that it was best to bediscreet about his teleportation. So they had spent a yeargoing for walks in the clearing, hunting for food, andreading to each other by firelight.

Until the Faiths armies had invaded.

He and Jasmine had almost reached theircampexcept it seemed more and more like a city, thatarc of temple rearing above it like an angry beast. Hecould make out people, construction, voices.

He suddenly felt very tired. What was the point?They would just be slaughtered anyway. All they had were

Jasmines guns.

This wasnt a feeling he often had in this world. Thiswas a Manchester-side feeling, a Housing Policy typefeeling. He turned to Jasmine. Im losing heart, my love.

I think were walking into a psy-field, Jasminesaid. The sorcerers put one around the traveling armies,to dispirit the enemy. We will feel downcast, distraught.When I left the Realm, they had nearly succeeded increating a field that could somehow read our souls andproject our greatest fears. The Faith says that your scienceis an abomination, but they are happy to use it when it

suits their ends.

The city before them began to fade, and in secondsthey were walking through a thick, silvery mist. Wisps and

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tendrils of it curled around their legs. It was like walkingthrough fast-drying cement or quicksand. A volatile windblew around them. Then something rose from the mist.Ira looked up, and up, at a great black presence and armswithout lines and a pair of monstrous, furious eyes,somewhere beyond the fog.

Jasmine! the apparition roared. The ground shook.Jasmine Gustanda al-Mikados, you have refused your submission.You have turned your face away from the power. You were once

allocated the highest of all heavens, and now you have castyourself down to the lowest heathens hell. Fear of the power is theroot of all wisdom!

Lightning struck near their feet. Was this thegodhead that ruled a billion lives? No. This was the Poweras Jasmine had always imagined it..

He struggled to keep his head up. He saw withoutsurprise that the apparition now held a silver needle inone gigantic fist. Jasmine fell to her knees, quaking beforeit.

She doesnt believe in you anymore!A green bolt zigzagged out of his fist and rose up

into the searchlights of its eyes. They hit the deck aninstant before the explosion; faces down, hands locked,like cold war kids in a drill.

Jasmine stood first. You saved my life, IraSilvertongue. Some part of me believes. Some part thatwas battered and conditioned into submission. If I hadbeen alone

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Were not through the field yet, he announced.Look.

The fog had gone, but they were now making theirway towards a sandstone wall that almost touched thehorizon. Some kind of robotic critter with flashing redeyes bounced around their ankles.

You couldnt make it up! the critter laughed. Itshigh voice possessed the empty glee of a zombie

schoolchild. There was a paedo once, they gave him ajob as a teacher, and when he took a child, they didnthang him! Why? Because of his human rights! Hee-hee-hee!

What the hell, Ira said. His head was in bits.

Jasmine seemed unfazed. Its a jester-bot, she said.There were many at the Palace. I think we are almostthrough. That wall must be the last of it.

The robot cantered near their feet. Ira could feelthe rasp of metal on his bare legs, as if it was trying tobite him. You know what theyve gone and done now?the robot screeched. Civil partnerships! Forhomosexuals! Well be letting them vote next! Itspolitically correct madness!

There was something by the wall: a news bin, likethe one in the Town Hall reception. There was a paper

left.

Dont read it, Jasmine warned.

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You couldnt make it up! The robots voice washigher now, almost unhinged. Steam rose from its grille.Immigrants jump the queue at council housing! Mr.Ahmed sets up a property business and invites all four ofhis wives over to the dole queue! Ho-ho-ho!

A gunshot, and a sound like a computer shuttingdown. Jasmine had tired of the jester-bot.

The newspaper had been open at the op-ed page.

Ira read:

What is the point of Mark Ireson?

By Our Own Correspondent

Its the question on everyones lips: what is the point

of Mark Ireson?

Ira to his friends (if he had any!!!) this man is sucha silly little cocksucker that it must be asked why he isallowed to live on this planet. A pathetic, useless failure,Ireson has had all the advantages in life and blown themall. Hes a traitor son, a uni dropout, and a failure withwomen. His nave, head-in-the-clouds mentality meant that

for the past five years hes been staying in luxurypsychiatric spas on YOUR MONEY. Doesnt it just makeyou sick? Ireson cant even do a public sector non-jobwithout breaking down in front of the photocopier. Iraknows he could have been anything, and that hell die alone

and unloved. To cope with his pitiful, empty life, Iresonpretends that he can travel to fantasy worlds and haveadventures with warrior princesses. I mean, grow up,Ireson! Today, we call on Faith Clarion readers to petition

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for Iras execution. Kill the infidel! This joke, this loser, thisugly, pathetic cunt (cont p.94)

Jasmine read over his shoulder. You know its atrick, she said.

Ira turned the blank pages. He tossed thenewspaper.

We need to find a way to get over this wall, he

said.Therell be woodland near by. We might climb it.

Come on.

No. Were still in the psy-field. We must go throughit directly.

There were markings in the wall.

To get out of the psy-field, simply solve this FUNwordsearch about gallant world-traveller Mark Ireson.Below is a list of words relating to Iras adventures. Thewords can be horizontal, vertical, diagonal or backwards.

When you have found all the words, the remaining letterswill spell out Iras message to you.

HOUSING SCHIZOPHRENIA LOVE

COUNCIL INTEGRITY AGORAPHOBIA

TRISTAIN COURAGE LITERATURE

ANNABEL ASPERGERS OLANZAPINE

Youre right. This is it, Ira Silvertongue. I think thisis the key.

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Below the writing, a small box with the word cuntwritten repeatedly throughout. Another blue bolt shotfrom Jasmines palm. The wordsearch was obliterated andleft a smoking hole in the wall.

Salutations, Ira. Were through.

The wall began to dissolve. Arms linked, theystepped through its graying outline.

The psy-fields are very effective, Jasmine said.Commanders of armies have gone screaming mad tryingto cross them. I dont think they expected us to get thisfar.

Its not the last surprise well give them, warriorprincess.

They could see the city and the temple again. Irafelt trepidation, and it was more about what was behindthem than what came ahead. Just before Jasmine hadshattered the wordsearch, its letters had changed. For asplit second, like a subliminal message encoded in a TVadvertisement, they read another small box, this one withthe word virgin written repeatedly.

He squeezed his lovers arm and shivered a little asthey reached the outskirts of the Community of Faith.


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M a x D u n b a r w a s

b o r n i n L o n d o n i n 1 9 8 1 .

H e r e c e n t l y f i n i s h e d a f u l l -

l e n g t h n o v e l a n d h i s s h o r t

f i c t i o n h a s a p p e a r e d i n

v a r i o u s p r i n t a n d w e b

j o u r n a l s i n c l u d i n g OpenWide, Straight from the Fridge,a n d Lamport Court. H e a l s o w r i t e s c r i t i c i s m f o r 3:AM a n d Butterflies and Wheels. H e i s M a n c h e s t e r s r e g i o n a l e d i t o r

o f Succour Magazine,a j o u r n a l o f n e w f i c t i o n

a n d p o e t r y .

MAX DUNBAR

@WORDPRESS
mailto:[email protected]://maxdunbar.wordpress.com/


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My best stories come out of nowhere,

with no concern for form at all.-Barry Hannah

seealso:

Trickwith

aKnife
http://trickwithaknife.com/

dispatch twenty-one -: max dunbar

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