Speak Black Mirror

The mirror showed a reflection that wasn’t my own.

“Speak Black Mirror. Inch Nearer”.

“…is this a simple playful riddle? Or is it an invitation to gaze beyond the mirror?”

She thought aloud.

The riddle was written in blood on a mirrored dome, some 666 inches above.

As luck permeated, it was 6:66 in the morning, on a dark and muggy night somewhere in Edinburgh. Yet another Magnificent echo of a city, buried in absolute stoned plasma and mud, immaculate. Yet another scene of horror. Was it 1886 or 6066 A.R (After Reset)? The thought didn’t resonate anymore. Nor did it matter. None remembered the ‘when’, or the ‘how’. All left were remnants of a muddied social control, or seekers of vengeance through fires and flood.

This night was a darker dim than usual, and more so than any other before. Imagine the cursed-red stained blood from the glorious petrified Cathedral’s crime scene floor was the reason for the tone. It was electric. It spoke to any who viewed it, regardless of thought. The blood covered nearly half the main sanctuary. It had a certain eminence flowing up to the altar, to the large dome above. To be alive, even after removal. “Have you ever seen anything like this before, Inspector Venustas?” began the forensic officer. “I guess you haven’t been with us on the previous crime scenes?” she said with a nous of being aced to the whole situation. “This marks the sixth different crime scene, in all six different countries, by using the same M.O. on the victims and the buildings. “And you’ve followed it this far? What drives this kind of reckless hate? If you don’t mind me asking, Inspector”, the forensic officer said, blushingly. “Maybe sheer curiosity of where hate can go? Or maybe something else entirely?” She continued, “Each of these crime scenes have a certain quality to them, all of which are portraying uniqueness to the buildings we’ve seen so far”. While speaking, she began to lose her breath as she was examining one of the numerous decapitated bodies, lying near the altar floor. “He is so reckless,” she stalled slightly, “but very methodically chaotic, if you can follow that thinking.”

What was so reckless about that scene was that all the heads were removed, but yet the bodies were left strewn about, overlooked. “Why would he need the heads?” she thought aloud. “How do you know it is a ‘he’?” the forensic officer said, with a quite puzzled look. “I, for one, don’t think a woman could be so reckless and brutal…no offense,” she said proudly.

While the forensic officer was thinking of something to respond to that remark, Inspector Venustas seemed to have dashed off, in search of more answers to this puzzling crime scene. She was standing quietly, near the decapitated bodies, gazing at her reflection in the pool of blood nearest to the front door. “There is something odd here,” she thought to herself. The Inspector would have thought this a form of clairvoyance had it not been for the slight buzz on her right pant leg. It was her tele buzzing:

“Yeah,” she said almost as if rudely interrupted by the call.

“Yeah...this is Specialized Crimes Director Noble, and I was wondering what Intel you have?” he said.

She responded, “Right, hello sir,” and she continued, “As of right now, we seem to be stumped on the same situation as the previous 3… It seems that the heads are…I know sir…thank you sir…Goodbye sir,” she said rather quickly.

“What would a SCD want that we could have just told him in the morning?” she thought. “Maybe the HEADS are taking extra precautions on this one?” said the forensic officer laughingly. “Maybe” she said, “or maybe…? Another Inspector calling to her from down what seemed to be the basement of the Cathedral suddenly stopped her. “Venustas!!” said he.

“We’ve found the victims' heads, but there is more,” he continued. The Forensics’ officer looked at Inspector Venustas with amazement. “I’ll be there in a second,” she said, “Maybe I should call Director Noble back?

Inspector Venustas had continued down a winding stair case, into the Cathedral basement pathway, to meet the other Inspector, and to see what the situation was, but she inevitably knew what it was:

“Come take a look at this, Venustas” he said whisperingly.

“Here are the heads, alright,” she said, “what do you think the significance is, Inspector Apollan?” she added.

“I have not the slightest idea,” he remarked.

“…Sorry guys, I’m going back up to check more stuff out...” the Forensic officer said hurriedly.

The officer did not want any of the other inspectors to notice his greenery. “Maybe I should have thought about that before working in the damned forensics department,” he thought to himself. Inspector Venustas saw through the typical strong male persona, and she lightly said to him, “It’s been nice working with you…John,” she said while slowly glancing up at his nervous eyes. But the situation was still at hand, and neither of the inspectors had any clue to this horror scene.

“Why do you think the heads are all placed so proportionately from the ground to the dome?” Venustas said.

“Wow, I didn’t see that,” Apollan said, “Yeah, you’re right” he continued. “It seems we have a ritual going on with these heads,” she murmured. “How so?” he replied. “Well, look how the heads are set on these carved stakes to resemble the old Roman Fascia – it was fabled as a bundle of wood clanged together as a symbol for power, and an ax to show the cutting ability of that power…but where is the ax part to the bundle of wood?”, she said curiously. “He most likely assembled the formation from the broken wood lying about this destroyed treasure of a place.” She said, “And also notice how all of the blood is aligned with the other’s blood, in which to symbolize a mixing of a total victorious battle over Man. Mocking our creator” she said. “Where did you get that one?” Apollan added.

“Just go with me Apollan!” she said harshly, “I think he is trying to capture the true art form of death and resurrection, and I would assume to show his take of what a great world reset really is. Vengeance of what is and what is to come. A pavement of new worlds across our current muddied world. Or at least what it feels like to him…the heads are placed in the form of a pentagram, and of five Roman Fascia pieces. There is total removal of the blood from the victim’s brains, but not the bodies. Likewise, the heads are all pointed upwards similar to how we saw the blood reaching towards the Cathedral dome” She was winded, but had more. “The blood was drained on the soft dirt below as to pile in clumps, and give an off brownish-red color to it, portraying the relationship of man and earth, and the visceral nature of climbing up to the gods.”

All of the other scenes have this elemental quality to death. Inspector Venustas inherently knew this. But, she really didn't understand why.

Again, she noticed her shortness of breath. But it wasn’t her nerves this time.

At that moment, all around her began losing breath and consciousness.

She panicked!!

As did they all!

“Start looking for ways out”. Inspector Venustas shouted frantically.

“He’s still here!”

“…set us up”.

…”we are the ritual…”

“We…spoke…black mirror…”

And as she was looking up at the mirrored dome and gasping for air, she noticed the scene had changed. There were no heads, nor casted blood as they investigated before. There was no crime scene. The ritual hasn’t taken place yet.

Simply, utterly, Virgiled in.

Given the time to explore – to have the wisdom behind their own deaths. Not as victims, but as sufferers.

* * * * *

The End…again…for now