I have already lost touch with a couple of people I used to be.
-Joan Didion
Manhattan, January 3, 5:14 A.M.
This is a love story.
The beer bottle smashed against the far side of the room, its sticky remnants dripping down the drywall. A large glass shard wobbled on the beat-up oak side table, lit by the neon Chinese takeout sign right outside the window, an omen of light swayed on the ceiling synchronized with the sharp glass. The whole room adopted a bloodred aura as if we were in a darkroom developing film, eagerly anticipating the picture that had yet to take shape. “You think you’re better than me?” He asked not necessarily looking for an answer.
“I just asked where you’ve been all night. It’s past 5 A.M. You wouldn’t answer my calls.”
He two took big steps forward. His barrel chest at my head. Looking up at him, Earl’s face was in shadow, his eyes beady glints of light. I tensed, not moving but ready to jump backwards.
“It’s always something with you. Are you my fiancé or my warden. Do I have to check in with you every time I gotta piss.”
“That’s not fair, Earl.”
“I was out with some coworkers. I told you about that big deal I’ve been working on. The client signed the paperwork today. We were out celebrating. Once this all gets in motion, I’ll be set for life.”
I noted the I not we will be set for life. “You’re drunk. You fucking threw a beer bottle across the room. We can talk about it tomorrow.”
“No. Let’s do this now,” he insisted while getting another bottle from the fridge. “Yeah. I’m not stuck up like you. I like to let loose every once in a while.”
They say not to put all your eggs in one basket but with love, isn’t that what you’re supposed to do? All the bruises are gone but I feel the phantoms of their existence, time heals all wounds and what was once real becomes detached memory. Myths of pain we cease experiencing and remember as if witnessed like a movie on a projection screen to dull the impact of the cautionary tale we should have learned a long time ago. As if it was someone else’s lesson to learn, not our own.
I took a step forward, gently putting my hand on his right shoulder, “you don’t need that,” I said as he popped open the beer cap.
“Get off me,” he threw his shoulder back, his hand whipping into my side. I lost my balance; my left temple smashed into the side of the white marble countertop as I thudded to the ground. The marble veins were gold; it was my idea. Modeled after the Japanese art of kintsugi. The repair of broken things with gold so the cracks, the flaws, shone in their brilliance becoming a strength not a weakness. Dazed, sitting on the floor, I stared up wide-eyed at Earl. He stared back just as stunned. “I’m so sorry let me help you up.”
“Get off me,” I swatted his hand away feeling the blood dripping on my temple that began pounding with its own heartbeat.
“What the hell, I’m just trying to help!”
“You literally caused it.” I got to my feet still trying to get my bearings.
“It was an accident. I’m not a monster. Geez.”
As the world stopped spinning I noticed Earl, standing straight up, was teetering a little. He must have been drunker than I thought. One hand on the counter for balance, he threw his head back and took a long pull of his beer. His navy suit was disheveled. Who knows where his tie disappeared to.
I needed space. More accurately, distance.
I slowly walked backwards as I saw consciousness fade in and out of his eyes. “You need to eat something,” I said. “I’m going to get you something to eat.”
I slipped my sneakers on before he could process my words. He stumbled forward a few steps. Not walking as much as falling and catching himself at the last second over and over. “What? Where are you going? Don’t go.” His voice got sterner. A command more than a plea.
I threw on my black Moncler coat, pajamas underneath, undid the chain on the door, turned the doorknob and slipped out with the soft slam of the door behind me. Rushing to the stairs, I heard the door open behind me. I began to run. “WAIT,” he yelled. I broke into a run.
Skipping steps, descending as quickly as possible down the three flights, I heard only the piston thudding of the chase. Crashing step after crashing step.
Bursting out through the front door, for no reason at all I chose to go left. As I got to the corner of the building, Earl burst through the front entrance. No shoes. Still in his suit. Turning the corner all senses were consumed with a guttural whoosh, the sound of someone getting the wind knocked out of them. The world exploded into dust and debris, I tried feeling for the side of the building, but nothing was there. Relentlessly pushing forward I tripped on a step that must have been the subway entrance. I rushed downwards and the world went mad.
My vision was blurred like I was looking through the scrolling text at the beginning of a Star Wars movie. It made no sense but I’d gotten really good at rolling with the punches in life and kept descending.
Surviving humans, take note.
Per syndicate rules, subsection 543 of the Precious Elemental Reserves Code, having failed to file a proper appeal for mineral and elemental rights within 50 solars of first contact, your planet has been successfully seized and is currently being mined of all requested elemental deposits by the assigned planetary regent.
Every interior of your world has been crushed and all raw materials- organic and inanimate- are in the process of being minded for requested elements.
Per the Mined Material Reclamation Act along with subsection 35 of the Indigenous Planetary Species Protection Act….
What the fuck. I hadn’t done acid since college. The words kept scrolling and the robotic voice kept droning on. I pushed forward trying to look past the hallucinogenic text, more scared of Earl than mental collapse.
I reached a platform. A large empty space with a row of giant Tuscan columns lining either side of me. Straight ahead was a giant wooden door with a fish demon on it like a very angry koi. As the only option I pushed ahead to the door which opened disturbingly easy. A flock of pigeons who must have been spooked by the dust cloud up on the streets shot through the empty room behind me, feathers flying, as they spun around each other, they dove through the door before it slammed shut and raced ahead until they were out of sight.
…successful completion of the Level 18 of the World Dungeon, regency of the planet will revert to the successor.
A Syndicate neutral observer AI -myself- has been created and dispatched to this planet to supervise the creation of the world dungeon and to ensure all the rules and regulations are properly followed.
Please pay careful attention to the following information…
This manic text episode was never-ending. I continued to ignore it, looking beyond. It was like driving in the rain with broken windshield wipers. Semi-confident in your navigational abilities.
The door slammed shut behind me. As the echo of the boom faded, there was pure silence. Ahead of me was an infinite hallway lined with the same roman columns. I couldn’t see any other distinguishing feature.
If you choose not to enter the World Dungeon you…
Panting. Breathing heavy not because I was out of shape but out of pure fear and pumping adrenaline I ambled forward. In the silence, my breathing was crashing thunder. A hundred yards in, between two columns to my right there was a wooden door that belonged in a castle.
Crawlers who choose to enter the World Dungeon must find a staircase and descend to the next level…
There was a sign above the door that said Da Tutorial Guild in blinking lights.
I crept to the door and as I put my hand on it. The words in front of my face finally ended.
Thank you for being a part of the Syndicate. Have a great day.
I slowly opened the door. There was a fireplace roaring to the left. In the back right corner was a depressed little man serving mugs of ale to the rest of the patrons. The patrons were anthropomorphic weasels in roman legionnaire armor. They were lazily strewn about the room, in idle activities, playing darts, shooting pool, two were playing a heated game of Connect 4 in the back. It was the five at the poker table that spotted me first as I stared, paralyzed by what my brain was telling me was in front of me. A weasel with a monocle tossed his cards down on the table, eager eyes lighting up. “Has it started. It must have begun. To your stations men!”
They all leapt to their feet yelling, “huzzah!” as they giddily grabbed weapons. I ran. Then the words came back as I ran down the blank hallway. I didn’t understand what was going on but I understood the bloodlust in the weasel’s eyes.
Crawler #1. “Carol.”
Level 1.
Race: Marathons.
Class: Not yet assigned.
Congratulations! You’ve earned your first achievement: Earliest adopter.
You entered the dungeon before I was done with the ice breaker. You must be real management material. Or have a death wish. Is there a difference in today’s world?
Reward: You’ve received a Legendary Wrong Place Right Time Loot Box!
New achievement! What’s Wrong with You?
Seriously, are you a disciple of Dr Kevorkian? You must really be yearning for the cool embrace of death. You’re in luck! We’d be happy to assist you.
Reward: Silver Why Did You Hear The Word ‘Dungeon’ And Rush To Be First In Line, Hopefully Your Therapist Makes It To The Dungeon As Well Because She’s Got A Lot Of Work To Do Here Loot Box.
New achievement! I just want to feed the birds!
You must be a huge Brenda Fischer fan to bring all those pigeons along.
Reward: Legendary Pet Box
New Achievement! Buddy system!
You entered the dungeon with a buddy. Teamwork makes the dreamwork. Is this the beginning to a hallmark movie? I’m sure you’ll selflessly work together to keep each other alive! He’s right behind you.
Reward: Silver Soulmates Loot Box.
I ran until my lungs ached. Thank God I put on my running sneakers. I can’t imagine doing this barefoot. I came to a four-way intersection. The alleys to the right and left were narrower than the main hallway but to the left I could see another door.
As I approached, I saw a weathered stone plaque next to the door like the cornerstones on skyscrapers with the date it was constructed. Etched into the stone was Tutorial Guild. I cautiously opened the door; the smell of lavender smacked me in the face.
A mothman wearing a Nirvana t-shirt, jeans, and sandals sat at an L-shaped sectional couch. “I made some tea,” he said while pouring me a cup and gesturing for me to take a seat.