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It's just after 9 pm when Jake enters his most frequent local haunt with his laptop under his arm. It's a small hole in the wall kept alive by a number of lifelong regulars, most of which are of Irish descent. The accent is undeniable in many of its patrons with even some Gallic occasionally mixed into the conversations. The walls of the long narrow bar room are lined with the family crests of the local Irish population, one that was disappearing at an ever-increasing rate unfortunately. At the far end of the room is a small stage where local musicians played Irish folk music on the weekends. It's a cozy environment for Jake and he often considered his one-quarter Irish heritage for the fact that he's a regular there, even though the beer choice is slightly at odds with his one-half Bohemian bloodline. More likely is the fact that Mick's is within easy walking distance from Jake's apartment.
His remaining ancestors were of German descent mostly, along with some English and Scotts to complement his Irish ancestors. The love of beer is the most commonly shared characteristic of Jake's mix of ethnicity, one that was magnified by the mixture in Jake's genetics. It's an understatement that Jake loved beer and because of the home brewing that was undertaken for generations by his relatives, he was introduced to this nectar of the gods at a young age during the many family gatherings he attended. He grew up with beer that compared with brews found only in Europe. To Jake, domestic beers, even the imports, are so watered down that he would spit them out if accidentally consumed. This would have kept his beer drinking mostly for holidays and family events if the craft brewing industry hadn't taken off the way it did. Now Jake had easy access to beer he could enjoy and became known locally as a "beer snob" when he would give his reviews of the locally brewed beverages to the audience at Mick's.
A quick glance around the room tells Jake that there are just a few others present, a slow night as can be expected on a weekday evening at any corner dive. Mick is behind the bar watching a small television, the only one in the room. He greets Jake as he walks into the pub, "Jake! The usual?" Jake replies, "Oh, it was just a little rough this morning Mick, no IPA tonight. Perhaps a Scottish stout ale." Mick picks up a beer glass and says. "A Guinness it is." Jake sees Mick with the beer glass and exclaims, "Mick! What the hell, you know I've been out of work for weeks now!" Mick gives Jake a nod, puts the beer glass down, and pulls out a pitcher. As Mick fills the pitcher Jake relates his latest job offer and explains that he will be relocating to Michigan for a while even if that job doesn't pan out. Mick looks at the floor, gives an audible sigh, and says, "Good news to be sure, here, this one is on the house."
Jake feels a slight rush of shock as he tries to comprehend what Mick just said, that it was on the house! Mick never even allowed Jake to run a tab, and now a pitcher of one of his more expensive beers is on the house? It takes Jake a moment for it to sink in when Mick asks, "Will you still be here Saturday night? We're having a . . . a celebration, a private one, for the regulars." Jake's slight shock is now becoming a creeping dread as his confusion builds and he thinks, "A celebration? A private one? And a pitcher on the house?" Jake can only think to ask, "What the hell is happening Mick? You win the lottery?" Mick replies, "I guess you'd call it a gamble," and confesses that he's selling out. The neighborhood had changed, the Irish folk were leaving or dying off. It was time to get out while he could and this Saturday will be the farewell party, invite only. Jake's spirit sinks as he hears Mick explaining the situation, all he can say to Mick is, "It sounds like one hell of a wake. I'll be here, you can count on it." Jake takes a good look around the bar as he makes his way to the back where he can use his laptop and drink with some privacy. He has a strange sense that this particular walk to the back of the bar happened in some dream he had recently. He nearly drops his beer glass as he shifts his laptop under his arm in the exact way he remembered in his dream. He shakes it off once he sits at the back corner table and gets online.
Jake vocalizes his thoughts and says, "Let's try it again Goggle, and see what we're stepping into." He browses half a dozen pages of results and can't find it. Even placing quotes around the words "Shadow News Service" comes back with similar results. "Well then," he says to himself, "let's try something else." Using an alternative search engine he finds a simple website for the Shadow News Service and utters, "Ah, no friend of Goggle I see," as he begins to read the contents. His attention is first drawn to the company's motto, "Investigative reporting shining a light into the shadows" and then the details that describe the main subject matter as being "unsolved and unexplained cases" that "defy reasonable explanation". There is no content to preview without a subscription, so Jake is left to speculate if this is another paranormal/conspiracy/UFO-type publication. His thoughts begin to drift back to some of his uncle's stories and he wonders if he will end up in the same situation where he becomes a freak in some sideshow of fringe journalism. Jake's mind continues to wander, "Maybe they cover important cold cases or other material of mainstream interest?" He was going to find out next week at the job interview once he's moved into the cabin. He'll use his standard resume and portfolio and if he doesn't get the job (or decides to not take it) he'll keep looking for work in Michigan, at least until summer begins and he has to find something, likely anything if this personal curse keeps him from journalism.
