The Detezen Division

It would be a stretch to say that Varg Nilsson's descent happened overnight. The realization of this descent, however, did. In fact, the realization was reached just seconds after the last time anyone saw Varg.

To have a complete understanding, one must go back to January.

The January of twenty eighteen, Varg dropped out of medical school to pursue an unknown venture. This was extremely unlike him. A new path had presented itself to him, Varg had insisted, a wonderful new path. It required him to move back to his home in Illinois; far from the busy streets of New York, and too far from the reach of his best friend, Eugene. He called frequently, but Eugene was still in his computer science degree program - he could not afford to lose hours on the phone. He also could not afford their apartment without Varg's help. All in all, Eugene was bitter.

In February, Varg called with the promise of his return. He would be back soon, he said, but he did not plan to continue pursuing a career as a physician. Another new opportunity had presented itself to him. It was a shock to hear those words come from the receiver. Eugene knew Varg since grade school, and he had dreamed of becoming a doctor. Should he ask what, exactly, this opportunity was, Varg would find an excuse to hang up.

In May, there was still no sign of Varg's return. Each time Eugene called, it was met with less enthusiasm than before. Instead of beginning a conversation, Varg would prod Eugene for information about his schoolwork. He had never liked hearing Eugene talk about programming much, but now he had a fixation with it, an obsession that reared its head more often as the summer began to arrive. Eugene could not understand it. He entertained his questions regardless, hoping his compliance would persuade Varg to come back to New York. Or, at the very least, to offer Eugene some kind of explanation.

By August, it was clear that his kindness would do no such thing. Eugene pleaded each time he had Varg on the phone, pleaded with him to pack his bags and quit screwing around. Every beg was denied in a calm tone.

"I can't come back, not yet," Varg would say.

"What are you now, a hippy?" Eugene would ask. The desperation in his own voice, no matter how many times he had heard it, would always make him scrunch up his face.

But Varg would not comment on it. He would ominously say, "Something like that, Gene," and hang up.

At last, in October, Varg agreed to visit for Eugene's twenty-sixth birthday. The yes he delivered on the phone was devoid of excitement. Despite Varg's behavior the rest of the year, despite his odd new obsession with Eugene's work, that was what set off the first alarm bells. Even when he turned thirty-two and no longer felt his birthday was important, Varg had taken the time to bake a cake while Eugene was in class. He can still remember its poor decoration, Gene written on the top in Varg's elementary penmanship. He had presented the cake to him with pride and a wide smile and a quip about how old he was getting.

But Varg only said "Yes. I'll be there," and showed up at Eugene's doorstep a day before his party with just as minimal energy. Really, it was their doorstep, but it no longer felt like it.

Varg looked bedraggled. His red hair, which had been cut close his head, was now streaked with gray at the roots and reached his shoulders. His clean shaven face was stippled with stubble. Perhaps most concerning were his new eye bags, almost as dark as his brown eyes themselves.

Within the three hours of his visit, Varg had attempted four times to convince him that technology would not last long enough for Eugene to do anything with his degree. He could not take it any longer. After so much strangeness, so much delusion, Eugene broke once and for all.

"What the Hell, man?" He asked, as they stood and talked in the kitchenette.

Varg seemed almost offended. "What do you mean?"

"I mean you quit school and run back to Illinois for no reason," Eugene said. His chest began to feel tight with anger, his mind filling with memories of the past year. "And now you refuse to explain yourself, and you come into my apartment and tell me my passion is worthless."

He seemed to shrink in on himself. It was as if his confidence from ten minutes ago had vanished. He thought about his answer, before shrugging, all too relaxed. "I'm not sure what to say, Gene."

"That's not good enough," said Eugene. "You know I don't ask for them often, but you owe me an explanation right now."

Varg nods. "I know. I've got one, Gene, but I don't know if you'll like it."

Eugene's eyes narrowed. "Say it."

"I've found some new friends."

"What? Drug dealers?"

Varg laughed. He laughed his old laugh, the hearty, cheerful laugh he used to toss around without a care. It makes Eugene's blood run hot. "No, no. Just friends."

"Friends who convinced you to throw away three years of your life?"

"Don't act so condescending, Gene," Varg said. "I'm not sure they'd like you, with your tech biz, but they're great people. If you leave with me after this week, I think you'll see that."

Eugene struggles with whether he wants to tell Varg to tell or not. They've gone through everything together and never once had Eugene told him to leave. He had never even considered the idea that he ever would.

"No," he finally said. "You know I can't do that."

"You didn't listen to me when I told you that I couldn't leave," Varg said. His tone grew more cross with every word. "Why should I listen to you now?"

Eugene furrowed his brows. "Varg, quit it."

"My new friends, they listen to me, Gene. You never have," he accused.

"Who are these new friends?" Eugene asked, his voice raising. "Have you gone insane, or something? Is this a joke to you?"

"You've heard of the Detezen Division, haven't you?"

His anger drowns in fear.

"Varg, no."

"I don't know why you're upset, Gene," said Varg, frowning.

Eugene is struck with memories; Varg turning up to his sixteenth birthday party, although no one else had; Varg on the day Eugene decided to go to university, offering his apartment's extra bedroom; Varg taking him out for drinks after his first nasty breakup; Eugene returning the favor last December. After a lifetime together, Eugene is ready to close the door on Varg. He's no longer his best friend - he hasn't been his best friend since January.

"I think you should go," he said, not without difficulty.

Varg's frown tightened into a fine line. His bags, which still lay packed by the door, were in his hands and out the door within minutes.

The door's slam was too loud. Eugene stared long and hard at the dark wood. He cannot believe himself, but he believes Varg even less.

How could he have gotten himself into a doomsday cult?