by Jason Krew
Roger nodded. He hadn't even expected to make a friend at all, but here he was, on the first day no less. The thought came up that when he would look back on these times, this evening would be a pleasant memory.
'Well,' said Roger. 'Thanks. For all the tips and stuff. I'll see you around.'
'No problem,' said Gray. 'We'll duel one day. Your fists verse my bow, eh?' He gave him a wave. 'Happy hunting.'
'Yeah you too.'
'Alright, Monte.' The pikshene clung to his left shoulder. 'Let's log out.' Gray was still waving by the time he finally disappeared.
Roger stood there for a moment, took one last look at the area. Truth be told, he couldn't wait to come back.
'Okay,' he said. 'Okay. Uh, let's log out, Soph.' He looked down at his hands. It was odd to see his body disappear around him. Sopherus wiggled a tiny paw at him.
'See you next time!'
Chapter IV - Part 2
He awoke to an open pod door, and the gentle blue phosphorescence above. There was a low murmur in the room as the others woke up as well. Despite lying down for several hours, he didn't feel rested in the slightest. It certainly didn't feel like he'd been asleep. His mind was abuzz with the lingering anxiousness of his numerous encounters and reeling with a torrent of new and interesting imagery.
Gray. The floor of bones. The giant cave chief. Sopherus. His face flushed. He had been such a dick today.
'Thank you for visiting the world of Fantalia,' said Elys. His chair began to tilt forward. 'We hope you enjoyed your first adventure. For successful integration, you must give yourself time to adjust to the VRIU. Please allow twelve hours before your next adventure. The data recorded will be used to enhance your experience, so expect a more seamless process the next time. You may now remo-' Roger pulled the headset off.
His real body felt so different. Heavier even, like it required more effort to do anything. He amended that thought, thinking back to the stamina penalty in the cave. The main difference was, he supposed, that he healed right back up to full after every engagement. This body was ready to go to bed.
A hundred voices caught his ears as the room returned to life. People were walking around, stretching and pacing. There were some drawn faces, and Roger thought perhaps integration hadn't been so smooth for everyone. One man sat on the edge of his pod, his head cradled in his hands.
He headed into the bathroom, and listened to the creak and click of stalls opening and locking while he relieved himself. The whole biological process was rather novel after the last few hours. He was amazed by how solid his body felt, how many components there were to it.
He washed his face and stared into the tall mirror. A pair of sunken eyes stared back at him. Boy, was he tired. He hadn't slept last night at all, nor the night before that. FO's release had not helped his lifelong insomnia one bit.
He adjusted his beanie, headed back out and scooped up his schoolbag on his way to the door. There was still no one else. No smiling faces to escort them out of the building, or ask about the experience. Roger kept an eye out, hoping to avoid loud, smoking guy.
It was cool outside, and a gentle sea breeze danced on his sweaty skin. He breathed in the smells of the windy street. Still bustling, still lit up. It was Main street, after all. The crowd had gone now, but there were still a few fanboys and girls about. Most of the barricades had been removed, but there was a fair amount of litter on the street. He looked at his phone. 8:35.
'Roger.'
It couldn't be.
'Uh, Katelyn?'
She was alone this time, and he relaxed a little. Her purple hair was perfectly straight under her black headband.
'Roger! How was it?'
'Pretty good.' He was still trying to process the experience.
'Pretty good?' Katelyn' pouted. Roger wished he could be interesting. Could say the right words to get a good reaction, but he could only shrug. Katelyn watched him, then her eyes dropped to the floor. 'Do you want me to go away?'
Roger started to panic. How was it so easy for him to mess things up?
'No,' he said, honestly.
Katelyn's eyes rose slightly. 'Really?'
'Yeah.' He was jostled by another player leaving the building, and so he moved out of the way.
'Are you hungry?' Katelyn asked. He nodded.
'Let's go get sushi, then.' She turned on her heel and he followed, watching her pale legs as her tall shoes struck the pavement with a loud knock. She looked back at him, thumbs tucked into her back pockets. Had he been staring? He turned his head from side to side, made a show of surveying the area.
'Uh, where are your friends?'
'They had to go home.'
'Oh.' They walked some more. 'How come?'
'Uh cause it's a school night? Silly.'
Roger's cheeks warmed.
'Well then how come you're still here?'
Katelyn smiled. 'Because I wanted to hear all about the game.' They passed the Chinese embassy. There was a gallery of restaurants and food shops up ahead, along the way to the station. Roger came here from time to time after spending an evening at the game store. It took a second for him to realize she was still staring at him.
She's intense.
'Well, it started off kinda bad 'cause,' he looked up and off to the side, 'I kinda skipped the tutorial.'
He had expected mockery, but instead laughter burst from Katelyn's mouth. It was a sweet noise, and his spirits lifted. 'Oh my god, Roger, why would you do that?'
He scratched the back of his head. 'Well, there was this little dragon thing there. He was really annoying and I just wanted to get going.'
Katelyn resumed her giggling. 'A little dragon thing?'
'Yeah,' said Roger, and he began to share his experience with Sopherus in the training room, all the way up to his first encounter in the woods outside Heathcliff. The more he talked, the easier it became, and Katelyn's giggling ushered out words that he often struggled so much to say. He was just about to mention his meeting with Gray, when Katelyn stopped in front of the sushi stall, hands on her hips and her eyebrows furrowed.
Chapter IV - Part 3
What do I want?' she said, pouting slightly as she pressed her finger into her lips. It was mesmerising, the way she moved from moment to moment. She didn't seem to care what other people thought at all. From her hair, to her clothes, and the complete lack of regard for anything but what she was going to order.
Roger mumbled his own order, and took his order without a word. They sat down on a pair of stools by the window, and Katelyn urged him to continue. He forged on with a mouthful of sushi, but it was only after he finished, his stomach full and his butt sore from the hard stool that he realized he was talking to a stranger about something he'd intended to keep a secret. A girl, too.
Instant regret swamped him. He couldn't trust this person. If anyone at school found out, he'd never live it down. They already thought he was a dork. He trailed off mid-speech, and it suddenly felt as if the gap between he and Katelyn stretched for thousands of miles.
'Are you alright?' she said, eyes searching his face.
'Yeah.' He felt sick. 'I gotta go now.' The stool creaked as he rose.
'Oh, ok.' She sounded surprised, but she stood up. 'Let's go then.'
They walked the rest of the way in silence. This was the hour of the salary man, and it did nothing for Roger's mood. This was what awaited him when he finished school. Crestfallen men in creased suits strode past, some with patches of sweat where their armpits were. Women too, in pencil skirts and day-old make up. Everyone was tired. Some were off to eat, some to drink, others were racing home to do it all again tomorrow.
That familiar feeling began to wash over him. The one that sprung up on him at certain times, ever since he was small. It dyed everything the same color, so that everywhere he looked he saw it. On the way here it had been just the opposite. That's sometimes how it went. Go up so high that you had to go down again. He felt it carry him away downstream and soon h
e was lost in the murky depths of his mind.
The train pulled right into the station as they arrived, and the ride was silent. Katelyn didn't bother asking him any more questions, and he was silently grateful. He bid her farewell with a cursory nod, and shambled off at his stop. He hoped she would forget all about him. For sure she thought he was a real loser now.
He walked home, as nothing but the shuffle of his trousers and the scuff of shoes on the sidewalk. The boxed in houses appeared closed off, hidden away by tall hedges, lonely lights peeking through drawn curtains.
Ding, dong. The shop bell jingled.
'Welcome home.' His mother smiled, her tired eyes lighting up briefly from her vigil behind the counter.
'Hey.'
'How did your studies go?'
'Good.' His eyes never left the floor.
'That's good.' Her slight arms wrapped him up in a hug as he tried to pass, and he returned it with one arm. 'Dinner's on the table.'
'Thanks.'
He slipped out the back and into the living room. There was tomato rice and tuna waiting for him, and he forced it down despite his earlier meal. His dad walked in during, looked at him with his ever furrowed forehead.
'Don't forget we need your help tomorrow. Please come home straight after school.'
Roger's stomach sank. He had forgotten. Bonfire day tomorrow. That meant he would be at the shop all night. No Fantalia. He nodded, mouth full of ash, and his dad strode from the room without a second glance.
Roger rinsed his plate off, stacked it with the rest and dragged himself upstairs. His room was cool, and his blinds gently fluttered in the cold draught. For a moment he gazed out at the lights that bathed the empty streets and his mind drifted away in the autumn breeze.
The window screeched as he drew it shut. He tossed his backpack in the corner, starfished onto his bed and fell asleep atop the covers, school uniform and all.
Chapter V - Part 1
His alarm was a gleaming green light in the darkness. 4:22. He trembled, and the cool air plucked at his exposed skin. His school clothes were drenched. He'd been spinning in the dark, falling, falling, falling, watching soft blue lights recede into the blackness.
The shadows at the corner of his room were morphing and forming ragged edges, slowly creeping at the corners of his vision. His hand fumbled for the lamp shade, and the room was soon aglow with a warm golden light.
He tried to slow his breathing, three in, three out, and sat up. His room was a mess. There were clothes strewn about, half opened game cases, books, pamphlets, boxes, his dirty sneakers. His handheld console sat on top of the washing basket, which itself was overflowing with a mix of dirty and clean garments.
The bed creaked, and his feet touched the carpet. The long, arduous process of sorting through that hellish pile would have only compounded his anxiety before, but not he was just grateful for something to do. It now became his therapy, and he watched his hands separate, divide and fold each piece of clothing like it was his job.
Clean pile, washing pile. Shirts. Trousers. Socks. Underwear. They rose like little buildings from his bedroom floor, shirts leading the way, trousers slowly drawing level. He found a pair of sweatpants he hadn't worn in months.
The residual effects of his dreams began to subside. Clothes went neatly into their little hidey-holes. He tumbled boxes and paper and wrappers into the bin, placed books back on shelves, replaced his handheld to the bedside table. Game boxes went into the television cabinet, and he wiped the dust from the TV screen with an old shirt.
He straightened up his desk, lined his worksheets and exercise books up in neat rows, and put the stationery in some semblance of order. The carpet needed a vacuum, the window needed a good wipe and the furniture could use a polish, but he'd done something. He didn't feel so good, but his room was tidy.
The first shades of daylight were trickling in, and he opened the blinds and shut off the lamp. No point trying to nap, he would have to accept that today was going to be a long one. He slipped from his room and tiptoed down the stairs, breakfast in mind.
The milk splashed his cereal, and he stabbed at it until it lost all shape. An old habit. There was nothing but the soft clink of his spoon on the bowl, and the crunch of his own chewing in his ears. He found himself enjoying this simple silence before his parents rose.
He was washing his bowl when he heard them stir. Water gushing through the pipes, the blinds being pulled open. Six o'clock every morning he heard the same routine. Two pairs of footsteps creaking floorboards, the rumble of the kettle, and eventually the rattle of the shop shutters.
He took a lukewarm shower, careful not to steal all the hot water. Theirs was one of the few houses still running gas since his dad refused to spend on solar heating. 'They pay for the installation, and I'll never use a gas cylinder again.'
Backwards old man.
He threw on his cleanest uniform, and hefted his basket down to the laundry. He didn't know where his mother found the time, but he always had fresh clothes, ironed and folded. Carry the dirty clothes down, bring the clean ones up. As he bundled his clothes into the machine, he felt a faint sense of gratitude. Maybe it was time he did his own?
More importantly, when was the last time he'd been ready for school this early? He clomped down the stairs in his school shoes. His father was in the living room, seated at the table with his head in the newspaper.
'Don't forget about tonight,' he grunted, not even looking up from his paper. Roger said nothing, and let himself out the front door.
Chapter V - Part 2
He still carried the gloom of the night before, but the day brought with it the promise of warmth and sunlight. Most everyone was still inside. The old man on the corner was hosing his garden. His eyes met Roger's and his face formed a wrinkly smile. Roger felt a quick smile on his own lips before his eyes met the pavement.
The station was only a couple of blocks away, and he could hear the drone of buses in the distance. He arrived soon after, took the steps up to platform three and plonked down on a bench with his backpack between his heels.
He spent the better part of the ride to school catching himself as he nodded off. There was a pair of elderly folk in his carriage dressed in clothes from what seemed like another era. They smiled to each other as he passed in and out of consciousness.
Before long he was at school, all old grey brick and bright green lawns. It was drab and cold to his eyes, even in the cheerful sun. His stomach began to sink.
He spent the first two periods slumped over his desk, only to appear awake and alert whenever a worksheet passed his way or the teacher wandered over. He was the first one out the door when the bell rang, and he sat on the bench alone at recess.
His thoughts drifted to Katelyn for the first time that day, and he had to admit to himself how much he had enjoyed her company. It had been nice to be listened to, even if he was too stupid to realize that she was only listening because of his ties to Fantalia. Or maybe he had craved company so much that he was willing to pretend she was interested in him. People always wanted something, though.
The metal bench made a metallic rasp as someone plopped down on the bench next to him. He glanced at the newcomer.
'Hello,' they said. He said. A short, chubby kid that Roger had never met. The face looked familiar, he supposed. He must have passed him in a hallway sometime or something.
What does this dweeb want? He stifled a scowl.
'Hey.' The kid's smile was off-putting. What did he have to be so happy about? 'I'm Donald.'
'Okay.'
'You're Roger.'
Roger raised an eyebrow.
'Do you know my cousin, Katelyn?
Chapter V - Part 3
'How...' He felt sick. Her cousin went to his school?
'Don't worry,' said the boy, leaning in closer. 'I won't tell anyone.'
'What... what did she tell you?' He leaned back from Donald's face, the boy's eyes over-large in those circle lens glasses.
Donald smiled, the wires of his braces glinting in the sun. 'Nothing, really. She only wanted to see if you went to my school.'
Roger shook his head. There was no way. 'That's it?'
'Well...' Donald's voice trailed off. 'I promised to keep it a secret.'
Roger's stomach continued to sink.
