He tried and failed to remember where he could find a stat technician, so instead of staying within the comfort of not having to face his fellow humans, he had to ask Danna if she knew. So he left the safety of his office and walked to the front desk, glancing around at the peeling wallpaper and down at the wooden floors. The light overhead flickered a little. I should get that fixed.Danna, who’d been carefully minding the door, which unnervingly had six locks, looked up at him, expression lightening. “Hello Mr. Awthorning. How’s the hangover?” “Feels like I was one drink away from being carted off in the meat wagon.” Wait, meat wagon? Oh, an ambulance. He used that unconventional term seamlessly. Fascinating. Danna chuckled. “I’ll bet.” Scott cleared his throat. “Do you know where I can find a stat technician?” “Stat technician? Why?” she muttered, still put off by her boss’ rather disturbed behavior, but taking comfort in the fact that he seemed better now. She was even more put off by his forced smile. While it could fool a stranger, it couldn’t fool someone who not only knew him but also heard him screaming in horror not even twenty minutes ago. But he seemed better. She would try to focus on the fact that he seemed better. “Oh, I got a new skill.” Danna tilted her head, grinning in a slightly bitter but still well meaning way. “Really? What was it? The ability to give your assistant a damn heart attack?” He shook his head, snickering a little at her remark. It filled him with… something faceless, looking back at their past interactions, and knowing her mannerisms all too well. “No, it was ‘resilient mind’.” Danna groaned. “Of course it was. What, with your lack of sleep and tendency to wallow in horror? Surprised it took you this long.” And let’s not forget having his brain crammed with two different sets of memories. But there was no need for Danna to know that. But was he deceiving her by omitting the truth? …No, he was preventing himself from being checked into an insane asylum. Although Danna wouldn’t be the type to do that to him, she’d force him to see a therapist who will put him in an insane asylum. Danna would be pissed, though, if that happened, and would likely commit acts of violence to retrieve him. But nevermind that! Not important. After a beat, she asked him, “Are you really okay?” He nodded. “Yeah.” Not a chance in hell I’m okay. She pursed her lips, nodding. “…Okay. But you should really see a head doctor.” He shook his head. “I’m not going to an insane asylum.” Danna clutched her dark hair, appalled. “No, of course not! Hell, I’d commit acts of violence in that case, considering the kind of stuff they do there.” Well that clears that up. And this world has the concept of hell, too. He smiled. “I’m… happy to know you’re on my side.” Danna nodded. “Why wouldn’t I be? You gave me a job and decent pay, which was something literally every single employer wouldn’t do. And aside from that, you’re a decent guy who doesn’t deserve to be tortured.” “Happy to know you don’t want me to be tortured, either.” She chuckled, able to see some level of improvement in his overall mood since they’d started the conversation. Maybe it really was just a bad hangover. But she had her suspicions. “Well, the nearest system headquarters is not that far from here. I think it was actually added just last week, so it’s not surprising that you missed it. Just take the fifth left at Johnson, the first right on Edener, and keep going down Travis. It’ll be hard to miss. They don’t allow weapons, but bring your gun anyways. You’ll just have to turn it in at the front, though.” Scott nodded. “Yeah, never a good idea to go around unarmed, that’s for sure.” After a beat, he ended the conversation with “I’ll see you.” “You too, Awthorning.” Grabbing his jacket and hat, he was partially ready to re-enter the public eye.

The streets were… not very good. The first thing that came to mind was “dilapidated”, a word he definitely didn’t know before his untimely death. Second was depressing, a word he also definitely didn’t know. Scott the frat boy had a very limited vocabulary which stemmed from his distractible nature and lack of interest in anything remotely intellectual. He shook his head, getting oh so tired of constant rumination. Building sizes varied, as did shape. They were at most five stories high, although he could see some taller buildings in the distance. Each building had signs, the signs having big, noticeable letters, and some were even lit up. Puddles could be seen everywhere he looked, and the sky was fully covered by light gray clouds. He lived in a particularly rainy part of Liberaarminell. … Okay, what the fuck. Why can’t he go one second without remembering just how different his new reality is. Liberaarminell was his country, that much was obvious, and it felt normal to think of himself as an Arminellan, but as someone who was expected to pledge allegiance to America everyday for years, it was strange to say the least. Libera… like liberty. Must mean this country is just as freedom obsessed as America. They in fact were. Oddly comforting, having that similarity to home. He stopped, frowning as he felt his thoughts shift towards existentialism again. Was any of this even real…? Well, he established that it probably is real. If nothing is real, might as well pretend it is anyways just in case. It was clearly older than what about half of him was used to, looking like it was dating back to about the 1920s or 1930s. Another anecdote about his past self or… one of them… was that he used to believe that, because all of the photos of that time were black and white, there was no color back then. It was then that he realized something. He realized something that felt so odd and uncomfortable to think about… So far, he preferred this way of thinking to his old one. His brain felt more capable, and thinking didn’t feel like trying to find a book with the lights off. Sure, he was ridiculously high strung and didn’t have access to anime, but he liked thinking. Better than shooting yourself in the face just because you thought you could survive. He groaned. “What even is this…” he muttered. He was supposed to turn at the fifth left, and he’d just passed the fourth. And hey, there was the fifth. He sure as hell was sore though, and his headache was better but still deeply bothersome. As Danna had said, he found himself on Edener, and he took the first right. Okay, just gotta follow Travis. Following the direction, he continued on until he saw a building, five stories high and a lot newer looking than the other ones. Not to say it was modern, though. It was an ever so slightly different structure to its neighbors and it had shinier windows. No doubt the one he was looking for, even if he didn’t see the giant sign that said, in all caps, “YARROWER SYSTEM HEADQUARTERS”. Yarrower was the city, he recalled. Making his way to the door, walking around potholes and puddles, he stepped inside and tried to give the person working security an inconspicuous, good natured smile. “Hello there. I was told you have a no weapons policy?” The man, younger than Scott but older than Danna, nodded. “Yes. Any weapons must be turned into me.” Scott couldn’t remember any violence happening in any local system headquarters, but assumed that was something that had previously come up to inspire such a policy. Although, judging by Danna’s suggestion to bring his gun and the three locks on his door, and his own memory, maybe other buildings had similar policies for safety measures. It was a pretty dangerous area, after all. He didn’t remember any of the local businesses except the bank that had you turn in your weapons, though. There weren’t many laws about weaponry in his old Earth town, which was probably why he’d managed to get his sweaty, drunk hands on a gun the night of his death. Was this planet called Earth…? He didn’t know much about astronomy in this world or the last one. He’d called it the world, and was aware of other planets’ existence. In other words, he’d think before he referred to this planet as Earth. But, no matter the state of gun laws on Earth and this world, and what this place was even called, he turned his gun, giving the young man a nod. “Here you go.” The man nodded in return. “Thank you sir. Do I need to sign in?” “No, I’ll just call the office and you will momentarily be assigned a worker to consult about any system or card related questions.” “Okay.” Scott walked a few steps to a chair in what he believed was the waiting room before stopping. “Hey, do you know what caused this policy to be put into place? Prudent in a place like this, but I’m just curious.” The man clicked his tongue, thinking. “I’m not exactly sure… Originally, with more dangerous areas like Yarrower, you’d just have to inform staff, that being me, of any weapons you might hold. Bit of a formality, seeing as I’ve actually got metal sense, which was encouraged for the job throughout headquarters all over the place, but if someone didn’t disclose their weapon it showed they were untrustworthy, and they’d be ranked.” Scott guessed that metal sense meant exactly what it sounded like, like a kind of human metal detector. Did the policy change on a whim, or did it have something to do with an act of violence in an HQ? Or was it simply to do with Yarrower itself? Or something else entirely? It wasn’t something that was important to know, but he couldn’t help but wonder. He sat down, waiting to be alerted that it was his time. Well, at least he was the only customer in the waiting room, so it wouldn’t take long. Felt good to sit down, though, even though the chairs were rather hard. The man at the desk finished his call and cleared his throat. “Alright. Just follow the sign overhead. Your number is five.” He pointed at a sign that had arrows pointing to ‘restrooms’, ‘archives’, ‘break room’, and his destination, ‘office’. Stretching, he followed the latter arrow down the hall.

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