Cheesehead’s Final Nights: “The Genesis of Chad”

Notes by Michael

Well: at least it was fast, my disembodied friends. Sometimes, I guess it is just best not to rise from the crypt.

Let me back up just a bit from my ignoble end. It was quite the exciting week in the Undercity, so let me set the scene.

I’m not entirely sure what “day” it was . . . I kind of lost track of what days or years were some time ago. There is no day, or season, or much of a sense of time down here. Not that I’m complaining. I hadn’t smelt the fresh air in, I dunno, years? But it is just as well. Up top, most people wouldn’t want to be downwind of me anyway.

So, I was minding my own business working on the new movie theater. I’m an Architect, see: we build this place out and create the world of wonder that keeps us all sane down here. In life, I was an engineer and I brought my talents to my new unlife in the deep. My sire, Pierre, had me working on this new spot and I was really excited to be carving out something that was gonna bring so much joy to the whole commune. We had televisions and shit for years now. Dr. Andrews and the-traitor-who-shall-not-be-named had electrified pretty much the whole place years ago. But this was different. It was going to be a marvel of the community: a shining silver screen surrounded by bucket seats in a hewn chamber that could hold up to 20! Imagine what that would be like, us all sitting around, joking, laughing, watching “Oklahoma!” or some shit. As I was securing a load-bearing beam, I smiled at the thought of hanging out with Celena and Margolis, watching that new “Star Wars” the young bloods were talking about. What a gas!

My reverie was cut short by Periwinkle. The squat gnome-of-a-Nos tapped me on my hunched shoulder just as I settled the beam in place.

“Meetin. It’s a big one,” Periwinkle managed to grumble through her over-toothed mouth.

“I’m almost done here,” I told her. “Isn’t it just amazing!”

I marveled at my work and motioned to the massive ocre cloth-draped screen ahead of us.

“M, sure?” Periwinkle seemed unconvinced. “But get your ass to the Chamber of Horrors. Darius ‘emself is demanding everyone attend.”

Well, shit, I thought. The Chamberlain almost never left the Court of Darkness unless something big was up.

“Is this about Johan?” I asked, haltingly.

Johan had disappeared a few nights ago. He wasn’t one for straying, really, so I was a little concerned, but Cornelius and Federica had gone down into the depths to look for him, so I didn’t figure there was much to worry about.

“Sompn’ like that,” Periwinkle managed. “None returned. And the Smoothskins are stirrin’. Sky’s falling.”

The bloody area where my heart once was sunk in my concave chest. I didn’t have much truck with the Smoothskin Lands topside. I hadn’t even been up there since my horrible week in the Cloak Room decades(?) ago. No need. No real desire. Who would I even see? What would I even do? Sure, I would traverse the upper sewers for parts and wiring, help with carving out new chambers and such, but that’s as far as I got or wanted to go. But if the sky was falling above, that couldn’t be good for us below.

I nodded soberly and affixed my tools to the work rack I had set up. My masterwork would have to wait.

———

I glided the skiff I was using to an embankment and crawled through a tunnel to the Chamber of Horrors.

“Cheesehead!” Celena greeted me.

My beady eyes soaked in the greatest congregation I had ever seen of the Undercity.

“Wow, they weren’t joking when Periwinkle told me everyone had to attend!” I marveled to Celena.

“You need to get out more,” she teased me. “I told you to come to my gallery show last week. You missed Droop’s big reveal.”

“You seen one, you’ve seen ‘em all,” I joked.

She smirked at me, but we were used to these playful insults.

A brethren I had never met bumped at my back as the crowd jostled around me. It was true. I didn’t get out much: especially if there were family bumping around who I didn’t even know these days.

“But you are always working!” Celena prodded. “I’m sure everyone appreciates it, but you could take some time to enjoy the fruits of your labor, you know!”

“Who built your new gallery, eh?” I asked, my crusty eyebrow raised above my pock-marks.

“Fair enough,” Celena replied. “But you could stand to have a little more adventure in your life is all, Cheesehead."

I started to protest, but thought better of it. I looked around for my other friend, Margolis. He was kind of a big-wig, being the Shepherd of the Deep and all. But he never acted all hoity toity to me. I saw some of his grandchilder about, like that poor sod, Henry. But no Margolis just yet.

Henry was an Operative, so would go up top on the regular. He likely knew about the falling sky. He had a bit of a reputation of being pretty mouthy, so I might get it out of him if I pried, but there were so many about and Henry was jostling himself up front.

“Crackers!” Margolis said as he appeared behind me.

I nearly jumped but stifled my pitiful yelp.

Margolis and Celena chortled. We had this longstanding game, see.

“Fuck, you got me,” I laughed.

After we regained our composure I asked, “so, y’all know what all of this is about?”

“I’m afraid so,” Margolis somberly said.

“Well, don’t keep us in suspense!” Celena probed.

“We’ll all find out soon enough,” Margolis said resolutely, his mood dropped.

We stared at our friend, blankly. He remained unmoved.

This had to be something about his traitor childe, I thought. Margolis only got really sullen like this when that subject would come up. The traitor-who-shall-not-be-named was anathema to the commune, stripped of his standing and even his existence by his actions. Word had travelled that he had sold our dearest secrets to some nasty Smoothskin group and a warren of religious fanatics way up north. All because of some jealous lovers’ spat or the like with his own childe. Yeah, I know, gross. Anyway, that was not to be mentioned around my friend and likely why Margolis was being so tight-lipped.

The room fell silent as a procession of red-robed Moravignians filed into the Chamber. The hags had always creeped me out. They mostly stuck to their own in the Court of Darkness, only shambling out during big occasions like this. And every time I would see them, I would shudder. They wore crusty bands of cloth over their gouged-out eye sockets and their matted silver hair clung to their dripping hoods. But it wasn’t the look of them that always made me uneasy. Hell, just look at me! I had a mirror to do that! Nah, it was the way they could look into me with their Sightless Eyes . . . look into what remained of my soul. Any single word spoken by them was drenched in meaning and threat. I still wasn’t over my sorting to the Architects back when I was presented to the One Below. Back then, the Moravignians had huddled over me and told me that I was destined to be the “first crushed by the wall.” I didn’t like the sound of that one bit. Shitty being an Architect then, eh? I chisled carefully, but always knew one night one of my walls would crumble on me . . . it was only a matter of time.

Darius, Chamberlain of the Undercity and Voice of the One Below towered above the hunched Moravignians at the tail-end of the procession. He held his hands out to the silent chamber.

“Brethren,” the elder intoned. “A time of strife is at hand.”

Few murmurs penetrated the silence, but all were transfixed by the message.

“As you may well know,” Darius paused for effect. “We face an unprecedented time of danger. The Creatura de profundis has begun to stir once more.”

A Nosferatu standing not too far from me, Carraway, audibly gasped. I thought it strange, as we don't even have lungs anymore, but I gave her some leeway. The old Cleopatra had really been through the ringer with the Creature: it had killed all of her friends the last time it went stalking. I still wasn't entirely sure what the Creature was . . . everyone had their own story and none of them were the same. All I did know was that it was deadly and that it took a great number of our strongest fighters to seal it in The Depths.

“We require a task force of those strongest to battle the Beast and put it down once and for all,” Darius entreated.

The assembled stared at one another in aghast silence.

Rolando, one of the heftier Beastmasters, stood at the ready. “I will join you!”

His broodmate Analise stepped forward to Rolando’s side. “You can count me in!”

Margolis, Celena and I all looked at one another in fear and anticipation. I was on the brink of volunteering, though woefully scant was my battle experience.

“I can do it,” said Cabbagepatch through her over-fat lips. We all nodded in appreciation.

A total of five brave Lykid rose to join the Task Force and the throng erupted in appreciative applause. I managed to pull through the crowd to pat Cabbagepatch on the shoulder in adulation. I didn’t know her well, but her service was most admirable.

“Sadly,” Darius continued, quieting the crowd. “Our community’s dangers come not only from below. There was one once among us who shall not be named.”

I could feel eyes darting to both Margolis and Henry. Some stared at the traitor’s sire, Margolis: faintly blaming him for producing the bad seed. Some stared at the traitor’s erstwhile childe, Henry, for his part in the lovers’ spat leading to the renegade’s departure. Most treated Henry with pity, but others thought he must have contributed to the creation of such a betrayer to the commune. Still, Henry was well liked (even beloved), as was Margolis. It was only in these times where it was brought up that things became awkward.

“We have reason to believe that he has betrayed our commune by giving intelligence to a rogue faction of northern Smoothskins,” Darius continued. “Our areas of entrance and egress are compromised and thus we must seal the Undercity.”

That sounded great to me. Keep out the undesirable topside from infecting our Eden, I say.

“We need volunteers to seal manhole covers and lay further traps, as we have reason to believe that the Domain of Smoothskins above us will be under attack anon,” Darius invited.

I cast a glance at Celena. Here was my chance to show her that I wasn’t without any adventuring spirit. I could do that. Seal some entrances for the good of the commune. Lay some traps. I might not be able to battle a Creature of the Depths, but I could do this! I proudly raised my hand.

“Ah, Cheesehead,” Darius counted me among the number, "A perfect choice. Umber, Teddy, Lawrence and . . . Rachel. Excellent. The five of you meet with Chief Architect Pierre L’Enfent. He shall guide you."

“The rest of you,” Darius concluded. “Be on your guard. Report suspicious activity immediately. Use the new communications if you can figure the damned things out. Ask Dr. Andrews if you cannot . . . it is beyond me, the hellish devices. Oh, and Henry Pine, report to Cylus and Mary. They have a mission for you.”

Darius stomped his staff onto the stone ground and turned with the Moravignians back down the hall to get on their barge back to the Court of Darkness.

“I can’t believe you did that!” Celena said as she kissed me on the cheek. If I were something resembling a human, I would have blushed. But as it is, I smiled and rubbed the slime of her kiss into my pockmarks for good luck.

“Well, maybe it’s time I have an adventure!” I laughed.

Margolis patted me on my hunched back.

In that moment, I was so happy. Even with the danger we faced, our commune was strong and together. It can’t be that difficult to shore up our defenses. I just had to meet up with my sire to give us our marching orders and I would be off to the upper sewers! It wasn’t quite like being an Operative, but it was as close as I would ever want to be. Who knows of what times await, I thought.

Silly me, right?