The Beautiful and Grand Carnival of Yock | The Absurd Files #004

 Case File #004 : 

Entity organizes a carnival to lure in humans. Amphitheater event results in [REDACTED]. 

Limited reports describe abnormal behavior among attendees prior to the event.

Advisory: Avoid the town of Abberton and adjacent population centers. 

Further documentation pending review. 

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Transcript

SPEAKER_01 0:01

Okay, subject alias yak. Also known as classification entity assimilative level four hazard rating high comprehension delta primary effect current location Aberton influence spreading rapidly we're concerned its primary effect may scale exponentially. This would have devastating implications. Welcome back folks. Today's case file takes us deeper into the town of Aberton. We've learned more about the entity affecting this town, so it's in your best interest we share it. Alright, let's begin. He only kicks ass with the proper paperwork, takes names, and files them alphabetically. He's Milton from the Department of Paradoxical Incidents, Sector G. I like to think the G stands for good at my job. Welcome to the Absurd Files, where bureaucracy meets the bizarre. It's time to get absurd. Sun pierces the clouds and illuminates the reds and oranges of the maples on the rolling hills of Aberton. Fog makes a gentle bed on top of the river and slowly flows along with the currents of the water. Tom and Jess sit in the rear of their van, with both doors ajar, overlooking the calm stream, a purple bag under each of their eyes. Oh Gooey wants us to run in security at the uh annual fest, Jess says in a tired vocal fry.

unknown 1:59

Shh.

SPEAKER_01 2:00

Fuck that. I'd rather choke on a rusty nail. Tom scoffs. Come on, you're not gonna back me up. Not this year. I've got plans. What could be more fun than watching a whole town of goobers strike out? How about anything but that? Besides, the crew can handle it just fine. We thought of everything this time. Yeah, alright. Well, speaking of, I guess it's time to round them all up. Alright, be seeing ya. Wish me luck. Tom begins walking to a sedan. Sure thing. Break a leg and try not to wilt against divine charisma. He adds sarcastically. Jess simply rolls her eyes. Hopping into the driver's side, Jess revs up the engine and drives towards the bell tower of a small church. Inside, a crowd is gathered in the first few pews. Jess saunters down the central aisle as heads half turned towards her. A crucified figure hangs on the far wall above the altar beneath a mosaic glass window. Jess lets her eyes linger on it for half a second. A religious mascot that once meant something in this town. Then looks away and takes the pulpit. Okay, listen up because I don't want to repeat this. We're expecting between 500 and 750 normal guests throughout the night. The fencing will cover the south and east perimeters, so we'll have posts at the north and west entrances. Those not stationed at either entrance will be assigned a role as a carney running a ride, game, or food stand. Your role is being passed out now. Men and women dressed in jumpsuits with the control and remediation patches on the left breast pocket are each handed a piece of paper. Call time is 4 p.m. sharp in the amphitheater, where you will be given your outfits. Clear? Heads in the crowd nod. Okay, keep your ears perked and eyes sharp for any signs of weirdness. Any sign things are going sideways. Otherwise, we keep it peachy for the guests and let it do its thing. Refer to the back of your assignment for radio channel designations. Alright, if there are no questions, I'll see you all at 4 p.m. sharp. She looks with intensity at several of those in the pews as she says this. Another second, and the crowd begins dispersing and filtering out the front doors. Okay, one last errand. Jess thinks to herself. She pulls away from the church in the van and drives along a row that hugs the river. Upstream to a gray utility building near the dam. A muffled voice inside answers the knock with intensity. To whom do I owe the pleasure of a visit on this fine autumn day? Without hesitation, Jess responds with much less enthusiasm. One who would join in the rapture of your grace and witness the changing of the leaves. Marvelous! Shuffling steps inside make for the door, and a short man with an orange tan and protruding square beard greets Jess. How fantastic! The Jess has arrived promptly. We're you expecting anyone else? Come, come! See the magnificent designs the Grand has put together. The bearded man motions with both arms to two long, portable clothing racks filled with black garment bags. He excitedly jogs over, grabs one of the bags, and lays it on a steel table at the far wall of the room. Finally, he zips it open. Inspired by the masquerades of old from the Renaissance. He reveals an outfit complete with a burnt orange mask with a diamond pattern embossed on its surface. A coxcomb flares out from the top with black lapids whose edges are sewn with orangish-gold thread. The shirt below is black with an orange V-shaped segment stretching to the waist. Puffed shoulders connect to the suit's identical diamond pattern theme along the arms. The legs billow above the knee before tapering, skin tight to the ankle. An ensemble, undoubtedly, out of the book of the Carnival of Venice. Only the most brilliant shade of orange for the Grand's likeness, and black for the immenseness of the universe the Grand traverses as it paints its rare wisdom, unique beauty, and wealth of experience. Right, right. I had the same thought, Jess dryly offers. Don't you think the mask might make it kind of difficult for us to do our job? Tonight is all about the courtship of the Grand and humanity. The Jess and controllers will wear the masks. Alright, we'll wear the masks. I'll get these loaded into the van. Anything else? Just know. Tonight will be the twilight of humanity's twinkling inspiration. A premonition of love and admiration sown so deep it can do not but germinate and blossom to the fullest canopy of infatuation and longing for the grand. It shall be a night of divine courtship, and the spiritual marriage of humanity to the grand is assured. Nothing can go wrong. The depth of vision applied to every potential pathway of this night ensures they have all been tread and known. It shall be a transcendent eve of spectacle and communion like no other. The bearded man's eyes twinkle with a beaming grin and a prideful hand clinched to his chest. Wow, duly noted. Sounds like you thought of everything. Jess replies as she moves to the racks and grabs a bundle of bags. Yes, everything. And how could it be otherwise? Mm-hmm. Mm-hmm. Well, see you tonight. Jess loads the last of the garment bags in her van and drives back towards the town. As the sun goes down over the colorful hills of Aberton, the lights of the newly erected carnival structures emanate a strengthening glow. A Ferris wheel faithfully and slowly churns, overlooking the serene river and the extents of the festival grounds lined by chain-link fence at the edges of the surrounding Evergreen Forest. Neighboring the Ferris wheel stretches a huge, angled set of slides and a carousel. The whole expanse covers roughly four football fields, and at the center, an orange and white circus-like tent envelops an amphitheater. Opposite the Ferris wheel, across the amphitheater tent, is a roller coaster which offers the thrill of a single, steep and high drop, with one loop-de-loop section. Adjacent to the roller coaster, picnic-style benches sit beneath a huge stretch of canopies lined with food kiosks. Fritella, fried McSeafood, cotton candy, carozza, and stuffed vegetables are offered at their respective kiosk. The steam of these freshly prepared Mediterranean-inspired dishes wafts into the crisp evening air. Near the northern entrance, to the left, walking in, is a two-story haunted fun house. Fit with a hall of mirrors, a barrel of fun, and themed scare corridors. Between the north and west entrances lies a tunnel of love, where swan boats are swallowed by and emerge from the same dark tunnel. Dotted in between the main attractions are game tents, Ring Toss, Target Shooting with Water Guns, Down the Clown, the Rope Ladder Climb, and The High Striker, all of which are decorated with hanging stuffed animals and an assortment of colorful knick-knack prizes. Adorning tall decorative posts at the two entrances, and atop each lamppost within the carnival grounds, is an oddly shaped burnt-orange figurine. Words across the woven wooden arches connecting the entrance columns, as well as signs hanging from each lamppost, read, The Carnival of the Beautiful and Grand. The clock bells announce it is finally 5 p.m. Guests waiting patiently at the north and west entrances start making their first passes through the grounds. Orange masked individuals on stilts walk the main drag and toss flowers at the entering guests. They then wave at the newcomers and recite the phrase, Welcome to the Carnival of the Beautiful and Grand! We're so glad you're here. The main event will start in the amphitheater at 8 p.m. The carnival lives and breathes. Children beam and playfully screech as they zip down the slides. Others dart between kiosks and game tents, dodging through the legs of the stilt walkers in gleeful games of tag. One of the stilt walkers pauses, tilts his masked head toward a passing family, and holds the stair a moment too long before tossing another flower. Families gather and bite into gooey, crispy carrotza on the benches. Blushing teens take their chance to sneak away to the tunnel of love. Above, on a wooden platform, two carnival goers lower over-the-shoulder restraints in the front car of the roller coaster. First time in Aberton, a pretty lady with an intense orange skin tint and a neat afro asks her new coaster buddy, a balding man in his 30s wearing a leather jacket with a thick handlebar mustache. Oh yeah, town's beautiful though. Glad I caught wind of the carnival and stopped in. How about you? The roller coaster attendant puts a corded microphone to his mouth. Okay, friends. Push up on the restraint for me. The two shoved the shoulder bar upwards, locked in firmly. Excellent! Get ready for the thrill of a lifetime. Me, I've been a resident here for a while now, and it is just such an amazing place. Like no other, I'd add. The roller coaster clicks forward and begins its ascent. No kidding. High praises, huh? Why is that? Well, to start, the community is filled with just so many loving, caring ones. Since living here, I've never even felt lonely. Her eyes wrinkle into the warmest smile she can muster. Never! The ascending roller coaster reaches the crest and rounds the track to the drop. Not once. I mean, isn't that something you'd want dearly? Boundless companionship. Calmly and steadily, she holds eye contact. Uh I mean, I guess that sounds nice. The man chuckles a bit awkwardly, but still engaged. You know, this lady is really pleased you feel that way. She reaches over and rubs his forearm with a smile. The man responds with a closed-mouthed grin of mixed discomfort, a touch of confusion, and some elation. She notes the welling redness in his cheeks. Suddenly, the roller coaster drops, and they both scream. Overlooking the carnival grounds, the powerhouse of the dam sits serenely, peacefully, turbines humming in tune. Nearby the roller coaster, beneath the steaming canopies of the food kiosks. Fritella looks just like a donut hole to me. A young man wearing an NY hat comments to the mascarney behind the Fritella kiosk. It's uh historical delight brought to you from the Renaissance. The host repeats for his twentieth time today. What's this orange goop on it? The young man winces. Oh, that's uh special yeast from the baking process. That's a nice zing to it. You'll dig it. He winks through the eye holes of his mask. The young man shrugs his shoulders, then stuffs the whole thing in his mouth and walks back to his friends. The masked man eyes him as he walks off, then nods to the next customer in line. Fritella, a historical delight brought to you from the Renaissance. Elsewhere, along the corridors of the fun house, a voice carries through hidden speakers. Tag, you're it! A kid wearing a grand and beautiful carnival tee and a masquerade mask taps the top of her little brother's head, then swiftly retreats behind the edge of a sine wave warped mirror. No fare! In the Hall of Mirrors is cheating! He protests to his sister, who only responds in devilish giggles. He stands there for a moment, gets caught off guard by multitudes of his own reflection, and shudders. Ready or not? Here I come. But as he says this, and cautiously tiptoes behind the first mirror, hidden speakers crackle on above. Welcome, curious human travelers. I'm envious of you. Hearing the trials and tribulations of the coming of the Grand. The boy half looks up at the speakers and briefly behind himself, but continues his anxious search. With slight static, the voice above continues. A race of beings locked in their frail perspective, desiring, above all else, to see and be seen. Now, frustrated and a little afraid, the boy calls out to get his sister's attention. This one alone could fulfill that desire, as the grand holds natural abilities like no other. Today, lucky traveler, fulfillment is finally within reach. Got you! The boy calls out as he rushes past the final mirror and grabs the back of his stationary sister. But unperturbed, she stares ahead. Before you lie two branching paths. Take the right and remain a sliver of perspective, unchanged. Take the left and become woven with the grand's transcendent tapestry. Joining his sister's side, they both look up to one of the speakers and then ahead. A subtle, warm light pierces the frame of the left door, and the barrel of fun can be heard churning behind the right. For a second, neither moves. Tag! You're it! The boy calls out, shoving his sister and tumbling through the right door. His sister smiles and gives chase. High above the fun house, a Ferris wheel carriage hosts three passengers. We would not be the couple we are today without this town, I swear. The handsy woman with lightly orange skin rakes her partner's hair and then puts her arm around her. She smiles and winks at the young woman dressed in punk garb sitting across the carriage, arms spread along the guardrail. This one couldn't agree more. Her partner exclaims with one finger held high, and then they both smile and laugh with each other. Hmm. Well, you two seem really happy. What's your secret? What's this town all about then? The punk woman inquires. Secret? No secrets! That's the beauty of it. The connection and openness between community members is incredible. She shakes her head with a look of nostalgic remembrance. The punk lady leans in. Okay, be real though. Is this like some kind of swingers thing you're talking about? Cause I swear I've been propositioned like three times tonight. She loud whispers her question and laughs at the last few words. Swingers? The handsy woman leans back and her eyes twitch with a puzzled glance. Yeah, like, the punk lady goes on. Is the community in this town part of some big swingers organization? You know, getting down and dirty with the neighbor's husband, neighbor's wife. Her eyes are wide with one eyebrow raised and a cheeky, suspicious grin. Down and dirty? No, no. Aberton has impeccable cleanliness and beauty standards. I don't. The punk woman interrupts with her palms up to the handsy couple. Hey, I'm not judging if you do. It's not really my thing and all, but the way people have been talking, I'm just curious at this point. Aberton is not so beyond the pale, and the community would never debase itself in that way, if that's what you mean. And you'd be so lucky to be a part of it. The handsy woman is a little indignant now. At the subtly pointed tone, the punk woman is surprised and leans back in her seat, arms crossed now. Alright, damn. I wasn't trying to offend. Everyone's eagerness here just made it seem kinda culty, I guess. At the dam, rumbling unsettles dust on the powerhouse's exterior wall, then calms back to stillness. Down below the cresting carriage of the Ferris wheel, a voice calls out from the rope ladder climb. Keep going, Jimmy! A boy in a light blue fleece is on his fifth attempt to climb the precarious rope ladder. He inchworms along, keeping his limbs as symmetrical as possible. Almost there! The boy leans on the last couple of rungs for a second, then lunges and barely manages to slam the red button at the top. Hands in the air signaling victory, the boy bounds down the inflatable platform. Congratulations, young man! Here's your prize! The Carney hands a stuffed plushy version of the carnival's somewhat shapeless burnt orange mascot. Oh, thanks. The boy's excitement immediately fades when handed his prize. Everything alright? The Carney asks. I just wanted the big bear. The pointed finger listlessly identifies the bear in question. Oh, well, why get a boring bear when you can have this new fun character? Instead of responding, the boy reluctantly takes his prize and runs back over to his parents. They walk off into the festival grounds. From his position, the carney watches the kid as he carelessly tosses the plushie into a trash can. It lands crookedly in the bin, and a few nearby conversations briefly stall. For a moment, the carney stares. Then, his posture relaxes, and he waves over another passing guest. Hey there, friend! Got a fantastic prize waiting for you. Big bear if you make it up halfway. Small cracks now form in concrete as the powerhouse of the dam shudders. Screeching metal stabs the night. It's now ten minutes to eight. The short, square bearded man hustles from the northern entrance towards the orange and white tent in the center of the festival grounds. A jingle chimes over the loudspeakers throughout, and a female voice emerges enthusiastically. That's ten minutes till showtime. Gather your peers and join in for the spectacle. As the bearded man passes the tunnel of love, he spots a balding man with a handlebar mustache on hands and knees, puking violently near the ride's exit ramp. The woman with the neat afro rubs his back. That is rough. A passerby, slurping his soda nonchalantly, comments. With a speed walking pace, the bearded man passes the north game tents and past a row of porta potties. A young man exits from the last one on the row, hair disheveled, pallid face. Dude, where's your hat? Uh you good? One of his waiting friends initially walks towards him, but recoils when he sees the pale, sunken expression. The young man does not respond, does not even flinch at his friend's inquiry. He simply trudges forward, pushes through the small gathering of his companions, and does not stop. The bearded man quickens his pace and makes a sharp left after the food kiosks. He glances at the shapeless figurine resting atop the tent and smiles. Breaking the connection between two portable barrier segments, he slips into a side entrance to the central tent, obscured from the view of the main path. A festively dressed troop remains stationary around the amphitheater stage. Several await atop the overhead catwalk with hands on the fly system ropes. Four stand on raised platforms with trapezas in hand, while others line the stage perimeter between angled trampolines. Beneath the stage in the pit, an orchestra with no conductor sits poised. A decorative tapestry conceals the stage and its performers, leaving only a podium exposed to the audience. First, the bearded man dons a heavily embellished cape. Next, a tricno hat with orange gold embroidery at the edges. And finally, takes the stage behind the podium. And three, two, one. Showtime. Attendants by the three tent entrances draw ropes downward, and the flaps at each entrance fold upwards to allow the guests inside. Simultaneously, the orchestra starts up with a jaunty tune. With a vivacious smile, the bearded man swings his arms up wide and then brings the microphone to his lips. Welcome, honored guests! Please follow the attendants to your assigned seats. The show will begin when the last one is seated. Attendants efficiently guide the guests down the rows of chairs and organize them into place. Several hundred guests are seated in just under 10 minutes. As soon as the last butt finds its seat, the bearded man bends down and a timpani roll begins. He throws out his arms to the side and then lifts back up at the same pace as the rising tapestry behind him. As the timpani crescendos to a crowning cymbal crash, the man, with a beaming smile, swings his arm forward into a fist. For a split second, all goes silent. Launching his clinched fist up into the air, a volcanic shot of confetti bursts into a high column from it, and the orchestra begins a new, more dramatic tune. The troop on stage bounds forward and perfectly synchronized, back-to-back flips across the stage. They weave past one another precisely as they cross the centerline, land on the angled trampolines, launch high into the air, caught at the crest of their jump by trapeze artists dangling by their legs. The crowd erupts with applause and cheers. Welcome once again to the greatest show this earth has to offer. You're in for a treat tonight as we dazzle you with daring stunts, revel in sumptuous symphony, and regale you with the tales of the resplendent grand. The acrobatic feats continue on behind the speaker with razor's edge coordination. Yes. Far high above the earthly realm existed a being so grand and powerful, it could melt away the sorrows of loneliness, widen the limited vision of one to a multiplicity of horizons, and transcend the bounds of space-time beyond that of the simple and the single-minded. Aberton locals with orange-tinted skin in the stands offer ooze and uhs in unison at his words. Many of them join hands and offer hands to others around them. Some awkwardly acquiesce, while others return strange looks, with their heads shaking in polite refusal. The Grand descended from stars and instantly knew the deepest and most profound plight of man. A wistful and aching desire for connection. Well, the Grand understood and knew just the right path for humanity. This one is here today to enlighten these lovely guests to this very path. In the background of the stage, a new set piece has descended from above. Two clouds parting with the burnt orange shapeless figure at the center, surrounded by woodland critters, and humans completely naked save for maple leaves. Murmurs snake through the crowd. The bearded man continues. In the words of the Grand, why limit the mind to the bounds of a single meek perspective? Why limit, saith the Grand, when you can join in the bliss and glory of a connected consciousness? Many crowd members' voices pop up with Why limit? And Say it. Sidelong glances from puzzled surveyors gauge the audience around them. Why harbor woes and grief in the dark of an isolated mind? Why indeed, saith the Grand, when you can sail of fleet of ships to merge on the high seas as one burgeoning vessel? Why wallow in fear of reveling in your shining truth? The need to see and be seen? Yes, why wallow, saith the Grand? When now all you must do to achieve this truth is but offer yourself to the Grand. What the hell is this? A seated guest whispers to his neighbor. Murmuring voices grow as several stand up from their seats and shuffle their way to the exits. People! People! The story is just getting good! Please remain seated for our other guests. The attendants block the exits and motion for the guests to return to their seats. Frustrated hands gesture to the portals out, but ultimately are turned away. Yes! There is one who would offer you passage to join this bliss, to ascend to such a vessel, and to fulfill your most coveted desire. The reverent crowd members chime in again. Yes! Say the name! The bearded man smiles back to them. The orchestral music intensifies. First, a forte piano flourish, then a slow burn crescendo of volume and thematic intensity. Trapeze artists tangle their lines high up in the center above the speaker and fan out their limbs in exquisite symmetry. Acrobats below gather around the podium and pose in a Renaissance painting type of reenactment. Indeed, the one I speak of is not truly one, but many and one all at once. And here, amongst you tonight, in body and spirit, a graceful being of communion and a cure to your isolation. Prime your ears, ladies and gentlemen. For I speak only of the beautiful, the grand. Faces stream with tears while hats and masks fly into the air. The reverent moan and whimper their approval. Other faces sour with confusion, matching their reluctant claps. Thank you, dear guests! Thank you. The bearded man shouts with a tear in his eye, and the entire stage crew bows at once. It is true! York is the guardian angel, the wizened spirit, and the center of bliss and togetherness here in our great town of Aberton. To share our thanks and join in the communion of York, we offer you a locally crafted delicacy. Attendants file out from behind the stage set, carrying baskets filled with bread and what appears to be cheese. They pass through each row and leave every guest with a basket. As guests look down upon their gift, the cheese seems to pulse once, then stills. Faces lean in to inspect the baskets. Sniffs turn to grimaces. Now, together, let's receive the wisdom of York in communion. All may consume the bread and cheese at once. The bread and cheese are moldy! Someone shouts out as murmurs in the crowd build to a clamor. As the shout confirms their suspicions, people begin leaving their baskets in the stands and heading yet again towards the exits. The bearded man taps the microphone in an attempt to regain order and attention. No, no! The bread is perfectly fine! That's how it's meant to be prepared! If you just try it, I know you'll love it. Please, it's rude not to. The reverent crowd members pick up the abandoned baskets and run to block the exits. One orange-skinned woman starts to plead. Sir, just try a taste! Don't you want to know York's grand design? Really? No thanks, I'm- I'm gonna go. He tries to dodge around her. She sidesteps in front of him, yet again with a grin too wide for her slender face. Please! We only want what's best for you! Blocked yet again, he shoves the basket to the side, and the moldy cheese plops unceremoniously to the ground. I don't want your disgusting colty bread shit! He walks forward, bumping the orange woman's shoulder with his own, and reaches for the tent flap exit. A sudden, striking silence and stillness befalls the crowd. The square bearded man and the other reverent in the amphitheater stare single-mindedly at the fallen, pulsating, moldy cheese now covered in dirt and dust, carelessly abandoned. People brush past and leave the tent without a second thought. Behind them, hundreds of baskets remain, the supposed delicacy left untouched. Each will not be rejected. Hundreds of voices cry out in spite, deafening. Stunned by the sudden eruption of vehement words, wide-eyed carnival goers stop and study the nearby orange faces. An air of palpable fear hovers in the silence. All at once, hundreds of hands lunge out and violently latch onto guests in sheer fury. Madness infects the crowd as innocents struggle free, and yawk reverence sprint after and pounce. Desperate clawing and shoving at the exits rifts the tent base from the earth. A cacophony of screams and wretching bursts out. Outside the tent, bedlam. A game of sickening tag is being played by all. At the northern entrance, Jess holds her radio up to her face. Static fizzes out, and a voice penetrates through.

SPEAKER_00 32:05

Assimilation riot! Repeat! Assimilation riot!

SPEAKER_01 32:08

Oh fuck! She wrestles her tranquilizer pistol from underneath her costume and presses the button on her radio. Look, sharp controllers! Attraction carnies, shut down and sweep rise! Squads A and B, form tent perimeter! North and West entrance, hold steady for ground balls! All other squads! Pop rocks and Coke! Repeat! Poprocks and Coke! Over! Jess sprints into the fray. Around all corners of the park, the Yaq assimilated rush after human park goers. Masked controllers whip up tranquilizer pistols from behind food kiosks and game tent counters, letting whizzing shots fly on human targets. Hey! Voice yells out above from the stalled Ferris wheel. Purple spiked hair from the punk woman wavers as she leans her body over the guardrail, one hand outstretched, waving. Help! Two sets of hands claw at her shoulder and rip at her shirt. She spins around to kick them off. The assailants are knocked back, but the kick line skewed, frantic, and the force jolts her over the top of the rail. Flailing, she falls all 115 feet to the grass below. Jess looks up for a second, then races on. The radio buzzes.

SPEAKER_00 33:16

Got three yellowing cheddarheads in Funhouse. Repeat, three cheddarheads in Funhouse, over.

SPEAKER_01 33:22

Yuck! Jess groans out. As she sprints onwards, guests start to scramble up the eastern chain link fence. Jess fires a dart in the back of one, while another is dragged down by two attackers. The boy in the blue fleece comes into view on Jess's right, dodging around a portable lamppost as several orange adults give chase. One of the larger runners clumsily strikes the lamppost full bore. It comes down hard. The runner nearest the boy reaches for his collar, but abruptly collapses as the burnt orange figurine atop the lamppost caves in his skull. Unwavering, Jess rounds to the right and finally comes into vision of the amphitheater tent. Ground zero for the riot in the most densely populated area of the carnival. Carnies and their orange coxcomb adorned masks form a perimeter around the tent and take aim at fleeing guests, dropping them one by one. Tensioned cables have been severed from the earth on the northern side, and the tent sags in a droopy, deflated puddle, leaving the rest awkwardly erect. The exterior of the tent is littered with people. Countless double over, gagging and vomiting. Some lash out at inanimate objects and anyone close enough to catch their rage. Others mindlessly march in a single direction. Faces void of expression. Still, the game of tag between frightened guests and the orange frenzied ones weave in and out of the chaotic scenes. Help! Please help! They won't stop! A terrified man runs straight at Jess. She drops her gun to her side and clinches it under her armpit. Taking two quick steps forward, she postures sturdily with her left leg and lets fly a powerful high kick to the incoming man's jaw. He drops like dead weight. Eyes rolling around from the dizzying shock, he tries to regain composure in his partially conscious state. Jess plants a mud-encrusted boot firmly on his chest and looks up and around. She smiles with recognition at an incoming orange man. Ah, Mr. Paulson! Glad to see you're up and about again. Mr. Paulson glances at Jess, then mounts the down man, pinning his shoulders to the ground after Jess removes her leg. Jess looks away and curls up her nose in disgust as the wet wretching begins. She returns focus to the unfolding mayhem, but the screams have stopped. No one's running. No one's even moving. Just the sounds of heavy breathing and the wind's subtle caress at the grass fields. The controllers survey their surroundings, pivoting with guns raised. One by one they relax and lower the pistols to their sides. The raging people have ended their sprees. The vomiting ones have regained composure, and the marching ones have stopped in their tracks. Mr. Paulson helps the supine man to his feet. Around the amphitheater just watches as fallen people slowly rise and turn towards one another. Faces begin warping from shock and confusion to mutual recognition. Smirks and smiles grow along hundreds of lips. Breathing synchronizes. At once, hesitant laughter ripples through the crowd, breaking the silence. Slow to start, it rises in volume and consistency in all directions of the surrounding park. Laughter builds into a mixture of both joyous and desperately hysterical. The square bearded man at the front of the sagging tent recenters his torn cape, placing his tricorno hat back on his head. He stretches his arms out wide and joins in with a jovial and deep belly laugh. Around him, the crowd closes in and latches onto every side of him with a hug. People gather around him, bodies pressing in too close, tightening into a huddled mass in front of the big tent. Laughter intensifies, shrill around the edges. Jess stares blankly at the growing huddle as hordes of people march past her to join in. The sea of bodies spreads further and further. The laughter grows louder and louder. More erratic. Less human. Overlooking the carnival grounds, the powerhouse of the dam sits serenely, peacefully. Turbines humming in tune. Truly unfortunate circumstances for those attending the carnival in Aberton. Absurdity confirmed. With great care, the Shepherd Company is actively investigating the entity known as Yark. As of right now, we strongly advise avoiding Aberton and ideally any other towns in close proximity. Please share this information with your loved ones for their safety. We here at the Department of Paradoxical Incidents appreciate your attention to this matter. Stay tuned for future case files. Thank you.