The line moved quickly. It was part of the design that no line should move slower than 4 people per marker on the ground. Bartmer had been standing in the line for no fewer than 15 seconds when he got his aura device.

“That’ll be seven drackers, sir.”

Bartmer forked the money over and left the building. He’d been looking forward to this day for maybe one or two months, possibly three months but no longer than six. The law of averages had no bearing on this situation.

His phone rang. It was his girlfriend. “Hey,” he said into the phone piece part. “Just got out. I’ll be home in about 15 minutes or maybe 20 minutes, no longer than 30 minutes but perhaps a fraction thereof…. uh-huh…. uh-huh… yeah take it out of there. See you soon… ok… yeah…. ok…. ok yeah……. yeah I talked to her…. I dunno…. yeah… I dunno……. well should I call her back? ….. ok….. ok maybe….. no, Jomblam can’t make it….. ok sure….. if you want to…. no maybe. Can you put another one out? …. yeah should be pretty easy…. ok…. yeah ok….. yep bye.”

He got into his car and drove home. It was not an eventful drive. He promptly forgot it. He was thinking about the aura device.

It was about the size of a baseball and twice as heavy. Painted in a black substance called Vanta Black, it literally sucked the light out of the room. He’d been warned.

“What’s that thing?” his girlfriend asked from the hallway. She was dressed in a few dresses and maybe a sock.

“Oh it’s the aura device. Lemme show you how it works.” Bartmer showed the pulsing black sphere, sucking light away. He set it on the ground.

“What’s it do?”

“This.”

After a few seconds, the aura device began rolling around. A bubble appeared on the surface and expanded to twice the size of a baseball but half as heavy. It rolled around and began rattling. A crazy sound emerged from across the street, not related to the aura device. It was just a coincidence. The floor rippled in a disorienting way, as though a large flag was laid horizontal and blowing in the wind.

Bartmer and his girlfriend stood transfixed. Before long, a steamy white smoke appeared from the center of the maelstrom and began whirling around like a tornado. Particles and sediment got swept up in the situation and formed the appearance of a man, vaguely genie-shaped but entirely transparent.

“HEAR YE O THY SUBJECTS,” shrieked the mist. “Sorry about that. It’s louder where I’m from.” He dialed his volume down. “hear ye o thy subjects, what is your order?”

Bartmer was stunned speechless but his girlfriend was not. She was just stunned. “What can you do?”

The mistman lifted a spectral hand into the air and began ticking points off his fingers. “I cannot tell you that.” He lowered his hand.

Bartmer’s girlfriend (her name was Garbmer) looked at Bartmer. “What are we supposed to do with this?”

Bartmer shrugged and went into the kitchen for a pack of beer. Maybe the aura device liked beer. “Beer?” inquired Bartmer.

“Beer is the juice of the land,” intoned the wraith, who was flashing in and out of existence like primordial ooze. “Beer makes the land juicy. The juice of the land is that which brings society and societo alike together into one magnificent culture.”

Garbmer lost the thread of the conversation and faded away into the bedroom. She had important tasks to complete there. The bed was not yet built. It required attention!!!

Bartmer, being Bartmer, hung around and cracked a can of the juice of the land. “Here if you want it.” He plopped down at the dining room table and started staring at the vacant off-white wall, sighing contentedly and pondering how he could make more money at his job.

The aura device creaked and clanked. The smoky apparition hung there in the air, no real topic on its mind. This was just a typical night as far as he was concerned, but something about Bartmer was interesting.

“So you do this often?” asked Bartmer without taking his eyes off the wall. There was something about this that needed one of two things: more attention or less attention.

The specter spoke, but had lost the ability to form words. Instead, a shrill train howl emerged from somewhere in the whirling blizzard that was eating up the living room.

Garbmer came running back out, hair in disarray and with a harried look on her face. Building a bed from a freshly felled tree must have been harder than it looked. The online videos she watched did not make it seem nearly so complicated. “What’s all this racket?” shouted Garbmer above the haunting whistle.

Bartmer had vanished and so had the aura device by this point. There was no trace of any of it. This is the end of the story.