Existentially challenged, p.1
Existentially Challenged, page 1
PRAISE FOR YAHTZEE CROSHAW:
“Hilariously insightful.” —Slashdot
“Yahtzee consistently makes me laugh, and even though I dig computer and electronic games, he has cross-genre appeal to anyone who enjoys a sharp wit, unique sense of humor and plenty of originality—not purely gaming fans.” —The Future Buzz
“Mogworld is a triumph of storytelling and humor that just so happens to be perfectly keyed in to the wild world of video games. I cannot stress enough, however, that it can also be enjoyed by those who have never logged in or picked up a controller in their life.” —Joystick Division
Existentially Challenged © 2023 Yahtzee Croshaw
No portion of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted, in any form or by any means, without the express written permission of the copyright holders. Names, characters, places, and incidents featured in this publication either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons (living or dead), events, institutions, or locales, without satiric intent, is coincidental. Dark Horse Books® and the Dark Horse logo are registered trademarks of Dark Horse Comics LLC. All rights reserved.
Cover art by Ethan Kimberling.
Cover design by Ethan Kimberling and May Hijikuro.
Published by Dark Horse Books
A division of Dark Horse Comics LLC
10956 SE Main Street, Milwaukie, OR 97222
DarkHorse.com
First edition: March 2023
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Names: Croshaw, Yahtzee, author.
Title: Existentially challenged / Yahtzee Croshaw.
Description: First edition. | Milwaukie, OR : Dark Horse Books, 2023. |
Series: The DEDA Files ; Book two | Summary: “With magic declassified in
the UK, the fake psychics and fraudulent healers are running amok, and
it’s up to the Department of Extradimensional Affairs’ newly appointed
Skepticism Officers to crack down. But when they set their sights on
Modern Miracle, a highly suspicious and fast-growing faith healing cult
with remarkably good social media presence, even their skepticism is put
to the test. Is Modern Miracle on the level? Is Miracle Meg’s healing
magic real? Why do dead bodies keep showing up on their doorstep? And
just what is Miracle Dad’s preferred flavor of crisp? In Existentially
Challenged, the sequel to Differently Morphous, the men and women of the
Department of Extradimensional Affairs continue their struggle to
uncover the motives of the Ancients under the ever-present threat of
death, insanity, and sensitivity training”-- Provided by publisher.
Identifiers: LCCN 2022032374 (print) | LCCN 2022032375 (ebook) | ISBN
9781506733593 (trade paperback) | ISBN 9781506733609 (ebook)
Subjects: LCGFT: Fantasy fiction. | Humorous fiction.
Classification: LCC PR9619.4.C735 E95 2023 (print) | LCC PR9619.4.C735
(ebook) | DDC 823/.92--dc23/eng/20220909
LC record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2022032374
LC ebook record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2022032375
10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1
Printed in the United States of America
Mike Richardson President and Publisher • Neil Hankerson Executive Vice President • Tom Weddle Chief Financial Officer • Dale LaFountain Chief Information Officer • Tim Wiesch Vice President of Licensing • Vanessa Todd-Holmes Vice President of Production and Scheduling • Mark Bernardi Vice President of Book Trade and Digital Sales • Randy Lahrman Vice President of Product Development and Sales • Ken Lizzi General Counsel • Dave Marshall Editor in Chief • Davey Estrada Editorial Director • Chris Warner Senior Books Editor • Cara O’Neil Senior Director of Marketing • Cary Grazzini Director of Specialty Projects • Lia Ribacchi Art Director • Michael Gombos Senior Director of Licensed Publications • Kari Yadro Director of Custom Programs • Kari Torson Director of International Licensing • Christina Niece Director of Scheduling
d_r0
(Names redacted)
K—— G——:
Attention, Acton Road Neighborhood Watch! Does anyone recognize the old man in the denim jacket standing outside Mrs. Klebold’s house? He’s leaning on her hedge and staring into her front windows. He’s been there for the last hour.
J—— S——:
No, I don’t recognize him. Didn’t Mrs. Klebold just get home from her bladder surgery? I can’t imagine she appreciates people nosing in on her private business.
E—— B——:
I’ve been watching him for two hours now. It’s disgusting that nobody’s done anything about him yet. So much for community.
J—— S——:
I know. Did you know somebody stole the post out of my letterbox two weeks ago? This whole country’s been going downhill ever since all that magic stuff came out.
D—— N——:
J——, please don’t turn this into yet another rant about the new corner shop owner. I keep saying, if you took the time to get to know Mr. Shgshthx, you’ll find he’s actually very polite for a slime monster.
J—— S——:
All I know is, a year ago there weren’t any slime monsters, nobody was getting their minds wiped by evil wizards, and my post wasn’t getting stolen from my letterbox.
K—— G——:
You won’t believe this, but I just went and looked at the old man again and he’s actually leaning over Mrs. Klebold’s fence and smelling her front lawn. Has anybody called the police?
E—— B——:
No I have not because we shouldn’t have to. The whole point of neighborhood watch is to let everyone in the community live in peace without having to worry about things like police and mad people sniffing our grass.
K—— G——:
Well, if he’s still there in another hour I’m going to give him a piece of my mind.
K—— G——:
Small update: turns out he was dead. Police en route.
J—— S——:
Once again I bring up my letterbox, and once again this group chat finds a way to change the bloody subject.
OFFICIAL MINISTRY OF JUSTICE TRANSCRIPT
speaker 1: Hello, coroner’s office?
speaker 2: Is this the pathologist who submitted the report on the Acton Road body?
1: This is she.
2: This is Detective Brady of West Mercia Police. I was wondering if I could confirm a couple of the points on your report.
1: Oh yes.
2: So just to confirm: you noted that the body was identified as one William Harold Shaw, of Worcester?
1: I did.
2: And you also reported that Mr. Shaw’s cause of death was old age.
1: I did.
2: Did you know that Mr. Shaw’s birth certificate shows that he was twenty-six years old at the time of his death?
1: I did.
2: Right.
1: Was there anything else?
2: Uh. Frankly, I was expecting a little more than “I did” from you at this point.
1: Well, he was definitely twenty-six, and he definitely died of cardiovascular issues related to advanced age.
2: So . . . did he have some kind of condition . . .
1: No. Mr. Shaw had no history of progeria or any other kind of wasting illness that might appear to accelerate his physical aging. But he did die of old age.
2: Right. That didn’t strike you as odd?
1: It might have done a year ago, Detective, but I’ve had to stop thinking about that sort of thing. A few weeks ago I had to write up someone who died of respiratory failure after their right lung spontaneously transformed into a bat.
2: [sighs] I was afraid you’d say something like this.
1: Was there anything else?
2: No. I suppose I’d better call the purple ponces.
01
“Purple,” said Elizabeth Lawrence.
She put no expression into the word, and yet, in her characteristic manner, with which her colleagues had become extremely familiar, she somehow conveyed entire paragraphs of meaning. It had come across as both a question and an expression of disapproval, and was more than a few steps on the way to becoming an insult.
Dr. Nita Pavani repeated the “ta da” gesture she had made toward her recently unveiled whiteboard. “Yes, the designer is going with purple,” she said, with unshaken confidence. “The feeling was that we needed a specific color for the public to associate with the new magical emergency service. Just as the police are associated with blue, and the ambulance service with green . . .”
“No, they aren’t,” said Victor Casin. This caused heads to turn, as it was his very first contribution to the meeting, which he had thus far spent buried in the upturned folds of the unseasonably warm black trench coat he stubbornly insisted on wearing. “I’ve never seen a green ambulance. They use red. Like the Red Cross.”
“Erm, red is for fire engines, surely,” said Alison Arkin, who was sitting to his left.
“Yeah, to be fair, I think she was right the first
Victor pouted as he considered these points, then extended a long index finger toward the whiteboard. “All right. Can we agree that that looks completely stupid?”
“This is the uniform design that tested most positively with the focus group,” said Nita, dismissing the ongoing commentary by flicking her ponytail in a manner that Alison found quite inspiring. “It rated highest in creating a sense of reassurance and professionalism in a hypothetical extradimensional-emergency situation.”
“Purple,” repeated Elizabeth in precisely the same tone as before, nevertheless adding another four or five chapters to the established subtext.
Nita quickly puffed out her cheeks for a moment before replying, as if attempting to physically reinflate her mood. “Yes. The focus group scored purple the highest in its associations with extradimensional physics and, ah, neomysticism.”
The slight hesitation made Alison wonder if mysticism was a new addition to the growing list of words Nita and her cultural sensitivity network disapproved of, and if neo had been the agreed-upon bandage for that particular wound.
“If I could shift topic from the color to the style . . .” said Richard Danvers, who was at the head of the meeting table.
“Ah yes,” said Nita, turning back to the whiteboard with a spin that made her ponytail bounce like a circus seal being promised a fish. “The cut of the jacket and shirt have been influenced by popular cultural associations with magic and magic users, blended with the style of conventional police uniforms.”
“Right,” said Danvers. “I’m seeing that. It does explain the sleeves. But I have concerns about the hat.”
“Oh yes, me too,” said Adam, relieved to have a senior voice to which he could add ditto marks. “I think we might possibly want to shelve the hat for now.”
“With some force,” added Victor.
“That’s fine,” said Nita quickly, this being the one area of ground she had already decided to concede with very little fight. “Although the designer asked me to stress that this design is exactly the same height as a traditional policeman’s helmet.”
“It’s not so much the height,” said Danvers, “as the . . .”
“. . . point,” said he and Adam together.
“Let’s move on,” said Elizabeth, again with no expression but with such commanding power that Nita was already returning to her seat at the meeting table before her conscious brain had fully registered the words.
As senior administrator, Elizabeth was, by all practical metrics, the person in charge of the Department of Extradimensional Affairs, but no one acknowledged that out loud. As an official government department, DEDA was technically headed by an appointed cabinet minister, whose name very few of the staff had committed to memory. The man had showed up at the office precisely once, and only to pick up his new business cards.
“Richard?” she prompted.
Richard Danvers was the most senior member of the Department’s operations division, in every sense of the word. He was well past the point that his gray hairs had taken over the parliament of his head, but it was still only a minority government. “Okay,” he said, consulting the paperwork before him. “If there are no further questions about the new uniform policy . . .”
Victor’s hand shot up.
“. . . bearing in mind,” stressed Richard, “that special agents and senior field agents based out of the Department building in London are considered equivalent to detectives in the police force and are permitted to operate in plainclothes . . .”
The hand descended again, returning to its dark burrow in the folds of Victor’s coat. Richard hadn’t even paused.
“. . . I can finish going over the official restructuring. I’d like to thank you all for your ‘patience’ while Ms. Lawrence, Ms. Pavani, and I have been finalizing the details on this.” He passed a glare around the room. “In brief, Operations is being split into subdivisions, with each one to be represented by one of our existing special agents. From now on, Adam will be permanently attached to the Identification and Investigations Office, and Victor to Control and Pacification.”
“We’re being split up?” asked Adam, starting with sudden concern.
“Only as an official partnership,” said Richard, with fatherly reassurance. “I’m sure your work will continue to very frequently overlap.”
“Yeah, calm down, Adam,” said Victor contemptuously. “I’m not your security teddy.”
Richard consulted his agenda, then made a show of eyeballing the room again. “I notice that our other special agent has not graced us with his presence.”
“Erm, yes,” said Alison as several sets of eyes turned to her. “I think Doctor Diablerie wants me to represent him at these meetings.”
“You think?” asked Elizabeth, one eyebrow twitching the slightest amount.
“I think that’s what he was saying. His exact words were that he would have me act the Huginn and Muninn to his Allfather Odin as he sits astride his throne of intrigue, probing the uncanny realms of the innermost.” Privately, Alison suspected that making it possible for him to barely show up for work was the main reason Doctor Diablerie had finally accepted her as an assistant, or at the very least, stopped actively trying to get her killed during assignments.
“Well, he’s certainly putting your memory to work,” said Danvers, bored. “In any case, please inform your mentor that he and, by extension, you are being assigned to the Office of Skepticism.” He paused in anticipation of the obvious response.
“Skepticism?” repeated Alison.
“The remit of the Office of Skepticism will mainly be to debunk claims of magical ability,” said Elizabeth.
“But magic does exist,” said Victor flatly. “Last I checked.”
“Yes, which is what has made skepticism all the more important,” said Nita, growing suddenly heated. “All those fake palm readers and crystal merchants didn’t go away just because real magic came out of the closet.”
“Quite,” said Danvers, attempting to head a rant off at the pass. “Emboldened them, if anything.”
“It’s disgusting,” continued Nita. “It’s literally magical blackface, and we’re finally doing something serious about it.”
“Yes, well.” Danvers eyed the clock. “A lot of that will depend on how this afternoon’s vote turns out.”
“Oh, is that today?” asked Alison. “I thought things seemed quiet.” Being in a government department, in the same building as several other government departments, Alison was used to seeing a steady trickle of politicians, their aides, and their aides’ aides, but none of them had been around that day. There was an eerie, anticipatory stillness hanging over Whitehall, through which all the civil servants were moving like grazing wildebeests waiting for the first sign of a lioness.
“They delayed it long enough,” said Nita spitefully. “Maybe the government can finally stop talking about supporting extradimensional rights and actually put some policy behind it.”
“If it passes,” said Elizabeth, the emphasis on the first word as heavy as a stone slab.
“At any rate,” said Danvers, sharply moving some papers around to punctuate the change of topic. “All of our current in-house operatives will be divided among the three teams. We’ve already gone through the staff and tentatively assigned everyone to the subdivision best suited to their personal skill sets.” He took up a stack of identical pages and dealt one to each person at the table with rapid sweeps of his arm. “I think you’ll all agree that we made fair assessments; if there are any specific individuals you’d like to request for your division, then please submit them by tomorrow. If no one has questions, we can—”
“Why does Adam’s list have so many more names than my list?” interrupted Victor.
Danvers wrestled his tongue back under control and sighed through his teeth. He followed Victor’s gesturing hand and pretended to notice for the first time that the Investigations list was three times longer than the Pacifications list. “It’s nothing to take personally, Victor. The amount of manpower—”
