The Masked Gang
“Ma’am, you’re in danger."
Previously: Crowley has lost faith. Astra leaves him behind.
Hi all! Today, before your next installment below, I want to test out a new feature: Psychofauna subscriber chat 🧞♂️🧙♂️🧚🐉🎅
This is a conversation space for us where we do things like can hang out, talk “psychofauna studies,” compare bestiaries, and talk story directions – I could use your input on some major decisions that I need to make ASAP!
How to get started
Get the Substack app by clicking this link or the button below. You can also access chat on the web.
Open the app and tap the Chat icon. It looks like two bubbles in the bottom bar, and you’ll see a row for my chat inside.
That’s it! Jump into my thread to say hi.
On with the next chapter, which kicks off some climactic events…
○ Opening Era: Spring, 2026, Brooklyn
The mask gang was flooding the plaza, giggling, snickering, cackling.
Two of its members darted past Astra. They wore sun and moon masks. Packets tumbled out from their grasps as they dodged a pursuing security guard. One rolled to Astra’s feet. It was white flour. She felt into the mask-wearers, and as she did, something wild came spiraling at her through mindspace.
It was met by something else: something translucent and vast, ordered, straight-lined, and strategic. Astra turned to see the two suited men sprinting toward them. But her combat reflexes hadn’t activated; the two were not hostile.
The devil-masked woman from earlier stopped in mid-flight to eye Astra again. She grabbed her unicorn-masked companion by the horn to direct their attention. “It is her. I told you! Can’t you feel her? She’s the one the Algo is looking for.”
The unicorn-mask stared. “But she doesn’t look like a clipper.” The unicorn pulled at the devil. “Come on, we’re gonna be late for St Lenny’s party.”
“Check the Mythos. Check. Look!”
The Mythos…Astra knew the term. It was one her half-brother would use. He believed the Mythos was something akin to a spirit world. However, she understood it as a “plane” where imaginal representations of shared mental content dwelled.
“The Algorithm is reaching out for her!” the devil continued. “Don’t you see it?”
The Algorithm…presumably that was some sort of psychofaun…yes, it connected to the straight-lined, translucent presence she’d sensed from the suited men. This presence was growing larger in her awareness as the two men caught up to the crowd.
More of the masks stopped and were seemingly drawn over to the pair of suits, like sharks smelling blood. “Ayy, look at these megaclippers!” “What are they, feds?”
The suits stepped ahead of Astra. One murmured something into his earpiece. The other looked back at Astra through his sunglasses. “Ma’am, you’d best leave here right away.”
The masks jabbered: “Yeah, get out of her, ma’am.” “It’s dangerous here, ma’am!” “You might get infected by clipper vibes.” “You’ll be wearing a dorky headset before you know it.”
Astra noted the spider-like sensor-array that wove through the well-groomed hair of the two suits. They were neurotech headsets of Alexei’s design, but new versions of them – sleeker.
Meanwhile the SUV she’d been tracking earlier pulled up to the closest curb. Out popped a 30-something woman with a ponytail. Her loose cardigan flowed over a turtleneck and flats. As she grew closer, Astra spied another headset threaded elegantly through her hair.
“Who the hell is this lady?” “Big clipper energy.” “Desk diva.” “Freedom-hater for sure.”
The woman approached with a sprightly step. “Have you found one?” she asked the suits.
“Not yet, Miss Davis.”
“It’s Jen. Please. Just Jen.” The woman eyed Astra. Astra felt “Jen” enter her system, efficiently assessing her…for what? This Jen was intelligent, perceptive, but not a independent agent: the distinct texture Alexei’s thought patterns were living inside her. Astra felt these patterns structuring Jen’s mind. They sat alongside the presence that the masks called the Algorithm.
“Hi, everyone!” Jen said engaging the gang politely, “I’m afraid one of our headsets has tagged a neurological hazard amongst you. Please stay calm while we sort this out.” She said while scanning the members of the gang with her eyes and mind.
“Shit, she’s Human Resources." “What’s that?” “They’re IPO.” “IPO?” “International Progress Organization, dummy.” “I heard they’ve been kidnapping people.”“Ooo can we fight them?”
Astra took note of these terms – Clippers, Human Resources, IPO – and as she did, she felt the translucent presence inside Jen’s side stir. The Algorithm. Now the Algorithm itself was probing Astra…verifying her.
The wild presence amongst the masked gang was doing something similar, in its own way. Astra felt it dive into the sea of her subconscious, digging through archetypes and dreams.
As the two entites met inside Astra’s mind, they began to spar. Patterns of tension rippled across her musculature. Curious. Astra reached through the two entities with her attention, studying their phenomenological “bodies.” She found a grip on each and pulled them apart. The tension in her muscles resided. Astra made mental copies of both psychofauna. Later, she could study them with…Crowley. Or perhaps without him.
She oscillated between the two sides, determining which to provisionally ally with. She needed to decide fast. A conflict was swelling between the masks and the “clippers.” It would soon erupt.
Her inner projection of Crowley turned to her, as he would of if he’d been standing alongside her: You’re playing with fire, love.
It’s worth the risk, she thought to the projection.
You miss him already. Another inner voice, muffled. It was the girl still inside her, the one Crowley had been mistaking her for. You need him, said the voice. He’s like our safety blanket. Or our statue of Kali, our protector god.
No, I’m like your statue of Kali. Why was she even responding to the girl? There were too many cooks in her mental kitchen. She shut them down. She refocused.
The two sides: the wild presence of the masks and the translucent one of the “clippers”…or Algorithm…or whatever. Either side could give her valuable information. So she advertised herself to both of them. She let them see what she wanted them to see:
The wild one saw that she was beyond social convention. Even better, she was beyond nearly all mental constraint. Astra could show the wild one how to free itself from any box or system, especially the ones that the Algorithm might use to shackle it.
Meanwhile, the Algorithm saw that Astra was a master of ordering principles. She could render anything legible and controllable. She could transform the world into tools to be wielded. Astra could show the Algorithm how to control the wild one – comprehend it, capture it, domesticate it, command it.
Sensing a threat, the more wild one broke into two. A few of the masks drifted to the edges of their group. “Sorry, we outties.” “We don’t fuck with HR.” “HR?” “Theses clippers are Human Resources – are you even listening?” “They’re gonna call in the drones, you freakin’ idiots.” “See you at Lenny’s party!” “Nah, them freedom fighters are headed straight for quarantine.” “Good luck, Heathens!” They peeled off with their bags of flour, hopping on bikes or running toward the subway.
Heathens – Astra noted the name. So the wild presence was called the Heathens. You could start to tame an egregore by invoking the name it gave itself.
One of the suited men glanced back at Jen, who watched the masks escape. Jen shook her head. Astra caught her meaning, No, none of them.
“Cowards!” an elk-headed man yelled at the fleeing Heathens. The others babbled: “I dunno, what about the drones?” “Also we’re running late for Lenny’s party.” “Don’t worry about the drones, I brought jammers for the party!’ “Ew dude, you wielding tech?” “Yeah, what are you, a clipper?” “Guys, I brought drone-jammers too, I’m not about to get blasted by some riot drone.” “Aright then let’s fight some clippers!” “Let’s fucking go!”
More of the masks circled around, enclosing Astra alongside these members of Human Resources. Astra hadn’t anticipated a combat scenario. But she was ready for it.
“Permission to engage?” asked one of the suited men.
“Go ahead,” said Jen, somewhat sadly.
Their three headsets began to glow.
Next release: Astra gets struck in the middle of warring egregores.