“What do I do?”
“The same thing, but imagine it in reverse this time.”
It took me another twenty minutes of scooping up all of the Light together and imagining it taking form. It felt trickier – it was easier to mess up a room than to clean it up, but because I believed I could do it, I think I was able to achieve it non-the-less.
“Light can become anything,” she grabbed the fork from me. She disintegrated it into Light, then made it reappear in the shape of small envelope. As if there was no gravity, she nudged it forward and the envelope slid across the air towards me.
I opened it to find a piece of paper that said ‘Good Job!’ on it.
I gave her a proud smile.
“This room is yours, stay here all night and I will have no problems finding you tomorrow.”
“You’re going?”
“You have to keep taking stuff you find and practice. Only take small objects or you might have problems.” She put her jacket on.
“Okay…” I stood up as well.
She kneeled down by the beige couch, and made a circle with her finger on the leather fabric. It was as if her finger was five hundred degrees hot and it burned a dark mark on the couch.
“What is that for?” I asked.
She stood up and placed her palm out as if there was an invisible wall next to her. A swirling void opened, just barely taller than her. It had bits of golden static around the edges, and a very uninviting tense air brewing inside. Little bits of photons and pixels made their way out almost immediately.
“Until tomorrow,” she took a final glance at the mark on the couch, and then stepped inside.
“What if I want to get back home?” my words didn’t reach her, and the portal closed. Those bits of photons floating around faded in a minute. I sighed and looked around me. I seriously ended up in a hotel room to stay the night, so she could find me tomorrow easier?
I looked at the burnt mark on the couch – it close to being hot, but there was nothing special about it apart from that.
I walked up to the window, looking down at the tiny street all the way at the bottom. The thought of jumping off from here gave me shivers.
I turned on the TV. For the sake of it, I pressed seven, seven, eight, five. Nothing happened.
“Well,” I said out-loud. “Here goes.” I grabbed the fork again, and plopped down on the couch.
Chapter 6
“Wake up,” I heard a distorted sound in the distance. My vision was bright and hazy. “Time to die,” it rang from ear to ear. A shining light shone in my face, then faded into a blurry image of Cyl being killed by what I imagined the clicker monster to look like.
“Help…!” her frail monotone voice cried out. I tried calling out to her, but nothing came out.
“Wake up,” I got hit by a pillow. Now I yelled! I yelled like waking up from a nightmare, which was exactly what happened.
“Oh my god,” I was breathing hard. I was in the hotel room, still. It was Violet that hit me with a pillow to wake up. I yawned a little and got out of bed. “Good morning?”
“How was your practice?” she wasted no time. She picked up the fork that was on my bed. I practiced till I fell asleep – it felt like playing chess with yourself. It got boring real quick.
“Fine,” I replied nonchalantly. “I disintegrated it, and reintegrated it, all good here. Small steps, right?”
“The machine isn’t holding up forever,” she pressed.
“What machine?” I had a blank sleepy face. “Oh, the machine, sorry. Yeah. We’ll fix it, don’t worry. I need coffee.”
I stood up from the bed, and walked towards the door while rubbing my eye. Violet stopped me with her arm and handed me a cup of coffee.
“Is that a…?”
“You said you wanted coffee,” she looked me dead in the eye.
“But that coffee isn’t real,” I took the white cup from her and smelled it.
“No coffee is real here,” she rolled her eyes.
“Oh! Wait, you’re right. I forgot where I was for a second.” I was too groggy, my self-awareness wasn’t at a hundred percent yet. “So what are we doing now?”
“We need a change of location, I will take us far away, but still in this world,” she began her explanation.
“Wait,” I interrupted her, looking down at my cup intensely.
“What?” she asked me.
I kept staring down as if realizing something monumental.
“You mean to say I can just create coffee at any time I want?!” my face lit up with excitement.
“Focus!” she hit the back of my head. I stabilized my cup from spilling.
“You know, you should loosen up a little,” I lifted the corner of my mouth light-heartedly.
“You should be more serious about this,” she replied.
“I’ll be serious about it, but isn’t productivity best at your best mood?”
“Productivity is best when the deadline is near and you have no choice but to work.”
“Oh trust me, I’ve been there. I have a lot of deadlines. But anytime I work under pressure I always produce crap.”
“Producing crap is better than producing nothing,” she kept up the argument.
“See now you’re just arguing for the sake of being right.”
“You started this conversation!” she lost her cool a little.
“That’s something I used to say when I was ten years old. Mom! He started it!”
“You are unbearable,” she folded her arms.
“How do you think I feel?”
“I should have poisoned your coffee.”
“Great, that would send me home, which is exactly where I would rather be.”
“Are you two done talking?” said Wilmort. I almost dropped my coffee. He appeared from behind a corner, as sneaky as a snake.
“Wilmort,” I said his name. “Fancy as always.”
“In my world I consider this quite normal actually,” he looked down at his clothes. “How is progress, Violet?” he stood beside her, both of them looking down at me with their judgmental looks.
“He learnt how to break down a fork,” she said in a way to mock my progress.
“Ah! Splendid, then you are progressing well,” he had a sly evil smile.
“See!” I motioned at Wilmort while looking at Violet. “He says it’s progress!”
“Why, no doubt it is! Learning to do that much is no small feat,” Wilmort walked around. “When I trained Violet it took her weeks!”
“Hey!” Violet took a defensive stance.
“It took her weeks to learn what I learnt in a few hours?” I mockingly said out-loud.
“The crevice is thickening,” said Wilmort.
“Oh,” Violet’s posture changed. Wilmort motioned his hand, opening the exact same portal as before. Violet went in without a word. It was just Wilmort and I in an expensive hotel room. I could not imagine a more awkward situation.
“I sort of feel bad for mocking her,” I said out loud.
“Do not fret, my good friend, Raymond,” Wilmort sat upon the bed next to me. “Girls are interesting creatures – they are flowers that need water and sunlight. Deprive them of that, and their face will turn away from you.”
“Uh…” I wasn’t sure how to reply to that.
“And men are interesting creatures too – they are animals that kill the weaker and run from the stronger.”
“Uh…” What the hell was this guy talking about?
“But she is no flower, and we are no animals. I can promise you one thing,” his voice was so buttery deep up close.
“What?” I put away my cup.
“By the time this is over, your reward will be magnificent! You will be free to enter any world of your choosing without consequence, and your success in your real world will bloom like wildfire.”
“How can you guarantee that?” I looked down.
“Because no man that goes through this journey will be the same
among the simpler minds of your world. And any time you get bored, just visit the friends you made here.”
I was reminded of Proto and Cyl again. God! Why am I so hung up on them? I think the tragedy that happened left some sort of mark on me, that’s why.
“We’re going now,” said Wilmort. He walked over to the window and burnt a hole through the glass.
“Where?” I stood up reluctantly. The comfort of the room was just fine for me, I definitely didn’t need to go wherever he was about to take me.
“Somewhere further away,” he smirked. “We have company,” he stared out in the nearby building, just as tall as this one was. There he was… the skin mannequin super hero, staring at both of us. I gently placed down my cup.
“Oh oh,” I said. “Is this bad?”
“Quite,” said Wilmort.
I felt a pull, and against my will my body lunged forward and flew straight through the large hole. I wailed my arms and yelled out, free falling from god knows what floor.
A moment later, I felt Wilmort’s hand grab the back of my shirt and lift me up. He was flying like some sort of hero in a fancy costume while holding an innocent panicking man. We flew through the city, past the large skyscrapers. My arms and legs were dangling, and the only thing keeping me from falling was the grip of some mysterious man. I couldn’t stop looking down, despite it being a bad idea.
“Wilmort!!” I called up to him.
“You are fine, my dear Raymond!” he called back to me. “Enjoy being a bird for a while.”
A loud crash was heard to our right side. Windows were breaking in a building’s top floor. Then out came the antihero mannequin man, aiming straight for us!
Wilmort dodged down, letting the humanoid skin man fly right over us and just barely miss his mark.
That same man that massacred the robbers yesterday at the bank, was now flying at us with the intent to kill, and I only had Wilmort to protect me.
“I think this world doesn’t like other humans flying without wings,” said Wilmort.
“Why is he chasing us?!” I yelled at Wilmort.
I cursed out loud! The man was jumping from building to building, throwing crystals at us. Wilmort was doing all the work dodging them left and right, up and down. There were moments where he had to let go of me and catch me again.
That mannequin man was freaking fast. We were flying for god’s sake! That guy was just jumping from building to building no matter where we turned, and he wasn’t careful about how he cracked rooftops and burst glass with his indestructible body.
We began descending rapidly. This was oddly a good idea, for now the mannequin man couldn’t jump on top of the buildings after us.
At the end of the streets was a park, and beyond the park was nothing but water.
I was put down softly, but even then my legs gave in and I fell on my knees. I was shaking involuntarily. I thought skydiving was scary.
“We’re all fine,” said Wilmort.
“No we’re not,” I replied. “No we’re not fine! That thing is crazy strong.”
And that ‘thing’ just landed from the highest building around right on the grass of the park, leaving marks all over the terrain from the impact. People ran the opposite direction, leaving the place to only us three.
His dark eyes and terrifyingly confident posture showed every intent to fight. He walked towards us in a slow pace.
Wilmort was standing peacefully. “Greetings, hero!” he said. “We come in peace,” he placed his arm across his stomach and bowed down like in the olden days.
“He’s still coming,” I said, just barely getting up on my feet.
“Do you think we could talk our way out of this?” said Wilmort.
“No?! I think not! Please tell me you can fight!” I said loudly.
“Fighting is so unnecessary,” he shook his head left and right.
“I think given the situation it is very necessary!”
The mannequin man got closer, and finally reached Wilmort. He was a whole foot taller, staring down at him like a lion with hungry eyes. Wilmort looked up, squinting his eyes from the sun.
The man’s arm morphed into a crystal spike, long enough to impale a human straight through. He jabbed that arm through Wilmort’s core. I watched the tip of the crystal poke out from the other side.
“Wilmort?!” I asked in panic.
Wilmort placed his palm flat on the mannequin man’s chest. “Such a fine specimen you are,” he said in an intense voice.
I watched his body start uncontrollably shaking. Wilmort stepped back a bit as the violent hero fell to his knees and grabbed onto his own head. Something looked like it was hurting him from the inside. I looked closer and saw the area that had no mouth start stretching apart. The skin ripped open and without any lips or teeth or anything as the loudest screeching roar emitted from him. I instantly covered my ears. A moment later, the mannequin man popped. There was no better way to describe it.
“What did you do?” I walked up to Wilmort.
“I popped him,” he laughed.
“Freaking hell,” I shook my head left and right. Police and helicopters arrived. They parked right outside the car, guns and loudspeakers on us.
“Don’t pop them too, please,” I held my own head anxiously.
“That won’t be necessary,” he motioned his hand. Like a giant magic trick, two large red curtains appeared and closed down in between us and the police. And I mean, giant red curtains! They blocked even the helicopters in the sky.
“Woah,” I stared up at his creation.
“What is your preferred method of flying, Raymond?” said Wilmort while looking at me with kind eyes.
“Flying?”
“Jet, dragon? Or perhaps you would like me to grab the back of your shirt again? That was fun wasn’t it?”
“I’ll take the jet, smartass.”
Wilmort chuckled. Before I knew it, from the ground, a jet was bloomed. It looked like it got crafted by the Light and constructed itself within seconds.
“Do you know how to pilot this thing?” we walked towards it.
“Do we need to? We just will it to fly.”
“I still have much to learn,” I shook my head left and right. We sat in the backseats of the jet, as fancy as you can imagine. With a little roar of the soft engine, we took off. All the police saw was us flying off on something that wasn’t there before. Maybe in this movie it wouldn’t have been as surprising as it would have been in the real world.
Wilmort sighed deeply, but as if he was pleased with the results. He opened a shelf from the side. All I saw was a little glow before he pulled out a chilled champagne bottle with two champagne glasses.
“Can I finally know where we’re going?”
“Somewhere, where if you push your powers to the limit, people won’t distract you. I was considering the bottom of the ocean but I’m afraid you’d drown.”
“You think?” I gave him an exaggerated facial expression.
“I will not be the one training you though,” he took a sip.
“Who then?”
“Violet, who else? We’re just biding time before she returns to us.”
“Damn.”
“Apart from our main conquest, we are running several little experiments that may help Dr. Regal finalize his thesis. Knowledge is power, and there is never enough of it.”
“Who is Dr. Regal?” I asked.
“Oh you will meet him soon,” he took a sip, then changed the subject, “So tell me, Raymond, have you ever heard of lucid dreaming?”
“Yes,” I replied bluntly.
“Have you ever tried it?”
“When I was young. I got it to work a few times, but then it just stopped.”
“Oh, it stopped because you stopped trying. The key to lucid dreaming is knowing that you can, and the other key is practicing it until it becomes as easy as breathing.”
“Are you implying that it’s the same here?” I decided to have a sip of champ
agne too, why not?
“That is exactly what I am implying. It will take time, do not worry, and do not rush. Get this right, and all will be settled and done. Tell me, while we have a moment – what is it that you desire most in your life?”
I didn’t want to tell him the answer. The answer was simple – I was all about escapism. I think the real world is boring. This was secretly the thing I wanted most in my life… To live how I wanted to live, to experience different stories in ways that books or movies could not ever achieve. If I wasn’t terrified to the bone this would have technically been the best experience of my life. It’s just so daunting right now, I can’t wait for the hard part to be over.
“To be a somebody,” I lied to him. “To…” I gave it a thought. “To have people want to meet me, and acknowledge my work as a master piece. Isn’t that what all writers want?”
“Then what you desire, I could achieve in just a few days if I was in your world,” he said calmly.
“You could?” I looked up at him with slightly raised eyebrows.
“It is just so simple, isn’t it? The systems are all there, you need merely to reach out to them. Create that masterpiece, show it to the world, and have it spread like wildfire. Your work will speak for itself, and you will not need to do anything extra for it, except of course, meet people, as you just said.”
“You make it sound easy,” I looked out the window, the clouds passing us by.
“You merely make it sound complicated,” he replied. “You will come to realize this at the end of your journey with us, that you are a masterful creator, and the world is your canvas. It is your blank piece of paper upon which you can write your own story, and have it work out exactly the way you want it to.”
I changed the topic back onto him. “Is that what you’re doing now then? Orchestrating some mastermind plan?”
“There is a problem that needs fixing, and I am orchestrating its fixation. Unless I do so, even I will perish. It is a difficult task we ask of you, worthy only of the grandest of rewards.”
This conversation made me feel oddly hopeful. I was almost inspired by Wilmort’s way of looking at things. He sees things in a way that is much less complicated than it needs to be. It just reminded me of all those small times that something little didn’t go my way and I began getting stressed over it. The next day it wasn’t even a problem worth remembering, and I regretting stressing over it to begin with. If I had this guy come out of the corner and tell me ‘my dear Raymond, you are doing just fine, it’ll all be good tomorrow’, I feel like my life would have been a bit easier.
The Portal Page 8
