The Shocking Truth About Supernatural Government Work

20260924

Prompt from DailyPrompt.com

James previously appeared here.

James examined his clipboard, then the entirely unremarkable section of seemingly empty space in front of him. Yes. This should be the place. The directions were exact. Besides… you got a feel for these things, after a while.
Funny what you got used to. Though, given how keen the council had been about offering him a proper contract after he finished community service, that probably wasn’t true of everyone.
‘They still aren’t paying me ENOUGH.’
Fine. He’d notified the owners of the property, and had been let into the back yard of the Crowned Dog, the young woman’s “Here, let me move the bins for you” confirming that this was entirely expected.
You’d think that any interplaner rift significant enough to require regular inspection would call for more robust gating than a knee-high wooden barrier and a line of wheelie bins. But apparently not.
Then again… it looking like a perfectly normal set of wheelie bins kept tidy by a perfectly normal bin enclosure was probably better security than a hundred locked gates.
Besides, keeping it safe wasn’t his problem.
He cleared his throat. “So, to your knowledge, nobody has entered the rift since the last inspection?”
“Don’t think anyone except staff have entered the yard since last inspection.” The lass said dismissively. “Well, and the window cleaner. But he knows to stay away from this corner.”
James nodded and noted this down. Presumably someone at the council had been briefed about the window cleaner having been briefed, but he’d learned long before getting caught up in ‘government work’ that you should never let assumptions leave you open to a bollocking.
“Alright. I should be back shortly.”
“Righto.”
James took a moment to steel himself before stepping through. There was always this… it was like stepping into a frigid soap bubble. Something cold and clammy, which put up just a hint of resistance and clung to you until you were fully across.
Maybe a bubble is exactly what it was. A thin membrane of causality stretched across a gap.
Thankfully, once you’d entered whatever plane it was holding back, the sensation evaporated. Leaving James standing in a subtly different walled back yard. The pub itself looked the same, or at least nothing jumped out at him, but the council sigil on the bins was entirely unfamiliar. There was a smoking booth by the gate, and the bike leaning against it was a different make and colour (though just as battered as his). And the person in a staff uniform was white, and older, and looked vaguely masculine. And entirely unsurprised about someone having stepped out of thin air.
And standing with them… was James.
“Oh. Good.” The other James said, making a note on his clipboard. “Time check?”
James pulled out the mechanical watch he’d been given, which he’d carefully synced to his phone clock before turning it (‘and all other satellite enabled devices’, which in his case was ‘none’) off in preparation of entering the rift. “15:47”
“Forty… seven. Any anomalies to report?”
“None. Any intrusions to report?”
“None.”
They both heaved soft sighs of relief and ticked boxes which let them skip over most of their forms.
“Right.” James tucked his clipboard under his arm and nodded to them both. “Keep up the good work.”
For a moment the other James looked like he was going to ask something. Then he glanced at the idly watching staff member and thought better of it. “Right. Don’t let us keep you. Good luck out there.”
“And to you.” James took a breath, steeling himself, and stepped back through.
Ugh. To think, when he was a child he enjoyed running through bubbles…
The staff member looked unchanged, as did the yard, which was a good sign. Final test… yes, when he turned his phone back on it connected to the network without issue. James ticked the final box on his form with another sigh of relief. Job done. Thank goodness.
“Alright. Thank you for your cooperation. Er, if you want a hand putting the bins back-”
“Oh, no!” She flapped a hand. “Sure you’ve got lots to get on with.”
“Well, yes. Always.” James cast a resigned glance at his clipboard. “But-”
“It’s fine. I’m getting paid for this, you know.”
Well, yes, so was he. And if anything she was probably getting paid less. But it seemed silly to argue, especially since she’d already got the first bin back into place.
So James simply said “Have a lovely evening.” and picked up his (or at least, the James of an imperceptibly different universe’s) bike.
Helmet on (didn’t do for government employees to set a bad example), phone in its holder, backpack on, where to next?
‘Investigate whether the smells and noises reported at the Swanley-Barnsgate crossing are simply drain problems’. Wonderful. Why had nobody made a movie about his life yet? If only all those conspiracy types had any idea what being embroiled in these mysteries was actually like!
Perhaps people had told them, and they refused to believe it. He sometimes couldn’t.
James sighed and set off for the next round of governmental investigation of the supernatural.

Prompt was “Your character steps through a tear in their universe and into another. Describe how they instantly know this has happened, whether it be sensation, imagery, or atmosphere.”