The Cosmos in a Cup

The sign hanging over the door creaked in the wind, swinging back and forth, back and forth. Its weathered wood had cracked, gaps like jagged teeth edging it. The words, once silver, were barely legible: a faint “ren” bordered by spaces where more letters should have been. What it said was anyone’s guess. 

I pushed the door open; its resounding “crreeak!” bounced off the walls, echoing down the winding way. It would wake the neighbors, if there were any; but all the buildings, barely standing, were empty, save this one. I pushed the door wider, its hinges protesting, and edged my way inside. 

The room appeared to be empty. 

The floor boards were rough and uneven, with gaps between the ancient boards. Three tables sagged tiredly, surrounded by mismatched chairs, one with a broken leg. Three stools were drawn up close to a bar, its wooden surface worn smooth by hundreds of years of the touch of hands and tankards, pewter plates and mugs. A thick coating of grey dust covered everything, and cobwebs festooned the corners and the ceiling-beams.

“Help ya?”

The hoarse voice came from the bar, and I was startled to see there the bent figure of a man. Where did he come from? I swear, no one was there a second ago.

I cautiously approached the bar, my heart pounding, my throat dry.

“I - uh -” My voice came out a croak. I cleared my throat and tried again. “I - uh - Serena sent me.”

His wrinkled old face cracked into a smile - a singularly unpleasant smile, like he knew something that I didn’t, something dangerous to me, but entertaining to him.

“Ah, she did, did she?” he croaked. “And did Serena tell ya anything else? Or - er - do anything else?” His face took on a knowing expression; an expectant, waiting look. Like he knew the joke was on me, the board was set against me, and I didn’t even know the rules.

“Ye’re playin’ a dangerous game, boy,” he told me darkly. “Ye should know better’n to do the bidding of one such as Serena.”

He reached under the bar and pulled out a glass, which he began polishing with a filthy rag. He eyed me silently. My move.

“Yes. Well. So you say. Serena says differently.” My voice was still barely above a whisper, a half-heard croak. What was wrong with me? This was my journey, my quest. A lofty quest! A quest for the greatest knowledge known to man! Forbidden knowledge, a tiny voice in the back of my head protested. Forbidden for a reason?

“I’ll be the judge of that,” I muttered to myself.

“Eh? What’s that?” the man at the bar asked.

Did I say that out loud? “Nothing,” I said hastily. “Talking to myself…”

He chuckled. “Aye, they always do that. Talk to themselves. Perfectly normal. Considering….”

“They? Who?” I asked.

“Who?” he repeated. “Why, the ones like you! The ones who come in here, wanderin’ in off the streets, lookin’ for - well, what are ya lookin’ for?”

His gaze was piercing now, and he seemed to have grown in stature. I felt drawn to him, drawn to the bar, in the way one sometimes feels drawn to a cliff, drawn to a deadly fall. 

“I’m looking for the answers,” I said firmly, my voice steady now.

“Ooh, the answers, now!” he cackled. “The answers to what, laddie? What are the questions that ye seek the answers to?”

That gave me pause. The answers to what, indeed? What were the questions? But Serena said that the answers were here! The answers to all!

“Serena said the answers are here!” I shouted, pounding my fist on the bar. “She sent me!”

The man stared at me for a few moments more. His eyes bored into me, seeking - what? Finally he nodded, one sharp movement.

“Alright, friend,” he said placatingly. “Didn’t mean no harm. Long as Serena sent ye, I’m sure ye know what yer gettin’ into.” One more piercing look, then he turned away. He reached into a cupboard behind the bar and produced a silvery goblet. He shuffled down to the far end of the counter and turned the tap on an ancient-looking keg. Golden-brown liquid frothed into the cup. He shuffled back to me. With one more shake of his head, he placed the goblet on the bar. “There ye go.”

I nodded, and lifted the cup, bringing it closer. A delicious, malty aroma wafted up from the golden-brown surface. I gazed intently into it. There, within the brown swirling liquid, I could see it: swirls of white and cream, perfect circles of foam crowned by bubbles so clear, they looked like windows to heaven. 

The Cosmos, in a cup. I lifted it to toast the old man. He reached a hand toward me as if to stop me; then let his hand fall to his side. 

I drank. 

I waited: for the knowledge, for the secrets of the universe, for the answers to all the questions. My mind reached out, stretching beyond its limits, expanding down paths of knowledge, exploring the cosmos, the universe, the great beyond. All the answers! I was almost there, almost there, almost to the realm of enlightenment. 

Just beyond my reach.

Just beyond my reach....

And I fell, scrabbling above me, straining to touch…anything. Everything.

Nothing. 

As if from far away, I heard Serena’s voice, mystical, chanting, rising and falling. Laughing cruelly.

“Death,” she whispered. “The answer is death.”

I collapsed, feeling the rough floor beneath my cheek, pain raging through my body.

And I heard the old man’s voice. “Pity,” he said sadly. “He seemed like a nice lad.”