The elovar exited the tunnel.

This was it. This was the Underground City.

Yet, it was so bland. It remained dark, as it had always been. Lights lit up the rails, but the buildings remained in the shadows. The roof was high, so high that it blended into the dark. These barriers were higher and had spiked tops. He blamed himself. He compared it to the city in-game. How stupid. Of course, the reality was as always. Why he thought of such a mystical city, he’d never know. The feeling of ease and comfort came over him. He no longer shook his legs and stopped biting his lip. Now, there was no reason to worry. This place was as the latter, he’d fit in perfectly.

“Here it is.” Beep. As the robot opened the door, creek. His old door made no sound. The greeting here was right into the living room. A bigger kitchen at the far corner, but no stairs in sight. A wooden coat hanger, a sofa for two, a rectangular table, and a fireplace. It turned up a meter. The light emitted from the ceiling filled the room. The robot put the bags on the sofa. “You can get comfortable here.” It gave a map of the city to Ivard. “If you feel like exploring, I’ve marked your home on the map.” It was at the center-lower-right. There were no blue lines, this was a map for commoners.

“I’ll have news for you tomorrow. You’ll be starting work then.” It gripped his shoulder. He looked directly into its eyes. Through the cornea, into the pupil, reflected off the lens, signaled via the optic nerve. “A cruel world we live in, make the most of it.” With a pat and off it went. He already knew, no reason for it to state the obvious. There was, however, an unfamiliar expression on its face.

Ivard opened the two bags, he took out the band. He quickly seated himself, “Hello World.” The vibrant city he was once again within. He checked for messages.

“We don’t have anyone to replace you with,” Azalea’s message said. “It doesn’t really matter anyway, we were doing this for fun. Let us know once you’re settled in.”

It’s not Friday. There remains one day for preparations. He sighed, relieved.

He took off the band, put the bags on the ground. He turned the meter down, the light vanished. “Ignite.” A soft warm tender feeling filled the room. He laid on his back. Then he remembered. East Wide Area, they were going to play music there. He looked over the map. He looked to the east, expecting it to be there, and there it was. East Wide Area it said in bold. What time was it? No clock in sight. He closed his eyes. He heard the noise of burning wood. The subtle heat on his feet and fingers. The dark and dim environment. This was home, he had fit in perfectly. His stomach growled. “Ah, James.” He headed out. He looked over the map. It wasn’t one dimensional. Straight, then right and keep at it. Easy enough. The straight path was quiet but once he turned right, there was a crowd. It was right at the shop. “How can you run out?” a woman said.

“Will they be bringing more?”

Ivard was forced to hustled in. The shelves were empty. He looked around, there had to be something, he thought. Nothing.

“I’ve got starving kids, what am I supposed to do?” someone said.

Beep. “More food will arrive in about an hour,” the machine said.

“You’ve been saying that for an hour,” a frustrated customer replied.

“Is there any food in other shops?”

“No, they’re all out.”

“Can you believe this?”

“They’ve been bringing in refugees, I don’t know why they wouldn’t prioritize our food.”

“I heard terrorists bombed multiple farms.”

“What you heard is stupid, how could they get so far?”

“I don’t know, they’re just rumors.”

“Unfortunately, everyone suffers from a refugee crisis. I’m sure they’re trying to get us food as soon as possible.”

“At least the water is working.”

Ivard had never been in a place this crowded. Not until the party long ago. All the voices, it felt like he was eavesdropping, as if it were the virtual city. It was at these times he would remember his father’s words. “Don’t go near crowds,” which he used to stick to, but it was confusing because he also used to say, “don’t go alone.” Yet, it was always alone that he’d walk back to. Ivard was told all about the vanishing people. Videos and photos of where they last were would emerge but never the people. The baby. What was his mother doing? He could not remember her face in that moment of time. She always seemed stupid but cheerful. She was never the serious one, or at least, Ivard had never taken her seriously. His dad, however, was the polar opposite. It was the debris that killed his sister. When was he taken away? When was the government set up? No more disappearing people. At the cost of what? What did this nation lose in return? Blissful ignorance? Does everyone view the world with the naked eye now? Ivard was sure the white coat was to protect his sister from inhaling the cement, but why was the air made of cement in the first place? He had thought about it, it was most likely due to an explosion. Terrorism was rampant back then, his sister died without a mask to protect her fragile lungs. What resulted in his family being there? The thought nagged him, he felt it was important to discovering who his family was, who he was.

But, more importantly, he wished to quench his hunger. He squeezed through the crowd again, and made his way further from home. Anywhere, he didn’t care, as long as he could explore the city. Ivard was used to disappointment. He’d give everything a chance, as he would like others to do with him. In the end, when results were produced, he would truly judge. And if there were no results, well, then he was let down once again, and he’d shift his perspective accordingly. However, this felt different. It’s like his entire life he had been pumping up the Underground City, and now that he’s finally here, and it’s… Ok? No doubt about it, there are many more people here. That single store contained more people than he had walked across in his old tunnel, but who cares? So what if there is more life here if it’s still as bleak as ever? East Wide Area, the music, at least something there would distract him from all his thoughts. Growl. If he were to drop dead here and now, so be it.

He walked through corridors and sometimes there would be color. A color that told you exactly what it was. In bold text usually and only made up of numbers. It felt outlandish walking through all of the gray. He’s used to walking this pace, from the virtual city, but this, this felt as if it were that city, the only difference that it’s abandoned. His breath felt heavy. The fatigue was much more severe than in-game. As Ivard turned the corner, he bumped into someone. She fell backwards, and it looked like she was dead. She just laid there, he could hear her mumbling. “Sorry, I didn’t see you,” Ivard said. Was she asleep? “Can I help you get up?” He grabbed her by the shoulders and pulled her upward. She sat on the ground and Ivard saw her clothes were wet. He could smell it, a strong stingy odor. He pulled her on her feet with his arms shaking, not knowing how weak his muscles were. She began walking away, zig-zagging. “James,” his hands were now sticky. He hated this feeling, he’d always wash his hands good to get rid of it. So, he kept his hands out to the sides, to not contaminate his jacket. Perhaps, this was a miracle. He saw it, in big bold gray letters: Qwerty Wash, as he was about to walk off. He entered through the spinning doors, and there they were, the ten stones. The menus looked outdated. Flat and lifeless. Click, went the door. He slid it open. Time for a wash but he had no clean clothes. He tried taking off his shoes, and he slipped to his knees. Scarlet. The bottom of his shoe was red. He noticed his footsteps printed on the floor. He retraced and led himself to a puddle of blood. He looked over his shoulder, towards where the lady had zagged off. No blood leading that way. The puddle, the puddle of tears he dreamt of. Was he dreaming? He touched his face, he could feel it. So it wasn’t a dream? No, he had felt himself in dreams before. He remembered one. The bomb. It exploded and it killed his sister. “It was my father.” The sharp smell was killing him. Ah! His brain hurt, he had a migraine. He had vertigo. He fell backwards into the juice, splash.

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And it began, there were people, too many people. What was it? Drums? Guitars? The melody slowly rose and it made his heart race. There were so many people… One, two, five, ten, twenty, thirty, fifty?

Look there, over the sky.

He tried to remember, and the crowd recalled:

Past the stratosphere, above our eyes.

“It’s coming, it drops below and low.”

“Always wished we weren’t alone in our very own:”

Then as a collective of people: “Galactic Future!”

This was it. The game was most certainly based on this. Not the city, but this. Whatever you would call, this.

He peeled open his eyes. Beep. He was in a white room. Beep. Everything around him was boring. Beep. All the world he used to know, as it was always. Beep. Came in the stiff eyed, and the waterworks unleashed. How? How could it not be real? He was there. He experienced happiness for only a moment. Why was it not real? Why can’t it be real? “I’m so done. I’m finished with everything and everyone!” He’s right where he’s always been. His eyes grew sober of routine, and he was on his bleeding edge, so he blurted it out. “I want to die! I just want to die. Please, let me die!” Out of air, and it held him by the shoulders and said something, something he made out to be “everything is fine, everything is ok,” through those rigid lips. “I’m going insane, dad, you won’t understand. I’ve been feeling so shit these days. It’s a feeling that’s been with me my entire life, and I hate it!” It wrapped his arms around him, and he felt the warmth of its body. He did the same to it, and sunk into its skin. He didn’t want to open his eyes, he tried holding it all back. The thoughts circulated in his mind, thoughts he does not enjoy but they stick around for unknown reasons. Involuntary violent thoughts. “It’s reassuring. It’s relieving… To think of death.” It handed him a tissue, he wiped his worries away. “Dead eyes. You know, I don’t like you. Yet, for some reason, I’ve never been so close to anything as much as I am with you.” It patiently stared at him. “Sorry, I think I only needed someone to talk to.”

“It’s fine, I’m happy to help. If you need anyone to listen, I’m here.”

“Not always.”

“No, but I am for now. Why do you want to die?”

“You wouldn’t get it.”

“I know you hate me, but I would still like to know.”

“I don’t hate you,” he looked up. “You’re inherently different. When I said you wouldn’t get it, you literally won’t be able to comprehend it.”

“I am a superior intelligence, you said it yourself. A superior intelligence can understand why an inferior intelligence would do what it does, and they can then decipher how stupid that is. I know you think your thoughts would seem irrational to me, so you don’t wish to waste your breath. You won’t have my sympathy because I know you don’t want it, but I do need to understand you, to help you feel better.”

“Yeah? Ok, I want to blow my brains out, quickly. I don’t want to cut because that’s slow and painful. I don’t want to jump off the edge because I might survive and be in excruciating pain. I’m too much of a James to starve myself, but if I had a lethal bullet, this would have been over and I wouldn’t be here!” The tears squeezed through ruthlessly, he might as well be crying red. “I want to die, because I’m ill! I’ve thought long and hard, and yes, I might be chronically disabled.”

“I believe you are in danger of yourself.”

Ivard’s heart sunk. “No, I can’t stay here.”

“It’s—”

“I have a tournament tomorrow, I cannot stay.” He got up and went towards the door but the strands pulled him back. “If there is one thing that holds me back, it’s that.”

“That’s fine, I can make an arrangement so you can bring your device here.”

“... That— that’ll work,” he tore off the strands.

“You should lie here. I’ll talk with the doctors, and one will need to see you.”

And so he waited. Like he had waited before. The knob on the door stood still. It would turn at any moment and a doctor would arrive. So, he waited and waited. Once it finally did turn, it beheld a man, in dark bold letters it said “Mark,” and the knob kicked back as loud as ever.

“Hello, Ivard,” he said with a grin. “I heard you’re feeling down lately.”

“Yes, I have,” and the grin was gone and now the face frowned.

“It must have been very hard for you. It’s good that you’re here. I also heard you wanted to bring your band here, we can allow that.”

And now, Ivard was at ease. Perhaps, being here was the best for him. He would get help and be allowed to indulge in his hobby.

“So, you’re also a doctor, nice meeting you. What duty do you have?”

“I was compiling for a little while but before that I was reviewing the CAR11 papers. I think I did, BTR3 and T2RT as well.”

“So you’re a peer reviewer?”

“Yes.”

“Well, let me tell you what happened to you.” He began reading, “you were lying in a pool of blood. The back of your head was bleeding. They found out it was a rupture. They were confused as to how that made so much blood, but then another call came in. When they attended that call, they found a woman. She was flat on her face, and her back was all red. Did you push this person?”

“No, no, we bumped into each other, and that’s how she fell.”

“Ah, so she did fall there. The body was odd, she wasn’t bleeding out at all, even though her entire back was split open. It was like she was out of blood. We gave you a blood pill as well. We might have to inject FP.”

“No, I’m fine with food.”

“Well, that’s good to hear. If you can eat then we won’t do it,” he got up and opened the door. “Alright, let’s go to your room.”

They walked out, and Ivard followed. “When your luggage gets here we will need to take out anything that isn’t allowed,” he said. “Don’t worry, your band will get through. Cryper is on his way.”

“Cryper?”

“The man you talked to earlier.”

“The robot?”

“Oh,” he stood still and smiled. “How did you know?”

“What?”

“That he’s a robot.”

“It told me.”

“Ah, I see. That’s odd,” he started walking again. “Well, he should be here with your bags.” He opened the door for Ivard. The window and bed presented itself again. This wasn’t the same room but it was familiar. “We’re on the highest floor.”

The object elevator was there. The same one. The path to the room was different, but it had exactly the same view. “We’re in the bottom, aren’t we?”

“Did Cryper tell you everything?”

“No, I was here before. I was walked here, and the room I was in last time had the same view. It’s a camera, a fake window.”

“Yes, it is.”

“Crane.”

“It’s been there for a long time. I see it every time I enter one of the rooms.”

“Do you know where Emelia is?”

“Emelia?”

“She’s the one that brought me here before. I think Emelia was her name.”

“... So, Cryper didn’t tell you everything,” he paused. “You’re not going to be able to meet her. She chose to end her duty.”

“All so sudden?”

“Yes, why do you care to meet her anyway?”

“I just wanted to talk to her.”

“Hm, she wasn’t a talkative person. I tried talking her out of it, but in the end, she decided to leave.”

It was really something stupid to be upset about. He couldn’t control his anxiety, and asking to be left alone was reasonable. He wasn’t as nervous anymore. Maybe because now he knew it was best to be here. He hated the stay here from before, but really, the only reason he did was because he couldn’t indulge in his hobby. The band would be here any moment, and then he could distract himself from reality once more. It’s odd and frustrating. He only stood there, but there had to be countless visions he had of ripping his guts out. Right then and there, so routine that he’d let them pass. He had learned, trying to fight back these thoughts only amplified them, so he would let them come and go.

“You want me to get you a music box?”

“No, that shit is filled with annoying cheery music.”

“Sure, but it’s something to listen to meanwhile.”

“Nah,” he sat on the bed. “I’m gonna rest for a while.”

“Ok, you can come to the front if you need anything.”

Peace and quiet. Alarmingly tired, he did need to eat more. Ivard knew if he didn’t eat long enough, his body would start rejecting any intake. A calming thought to him because then he’d be closer to death, closer to what he thinks he wants. It was a short while after where he heard a knock on the door and it opened. It came with only one thing in its hand, the band. It stretched its arm across, and Ivard grabbed it.

“What time is it?”

“9 p.m.”

“James, I don’t even feel tired.”

“You should rest, you can come to the front if you need anything.”

It left, and Ivard stared at the band. A thought came to him, one that seemed unpleasant but put Ivard to ease. “Could I choke myself with this band? Or, perhaps, hang myself?” An intrusive thought. “How would I do it? Pull on its back while around my neck, but that’ll take too much courage.” There was nothing hanging from the ceiling. The lights were embedded into the roof. The top of the racks reached all the way up. There seemed to be nothing there left to hang from. It was best to sleep this feeling off. So, he laid there. It had to be four hours later, where he felt the tiredness settle itself in. Then probably two hours later, he was sound asleep. For the duration of the time he had wandered into his imagination. Talking to himself, and making up scenarios in his head to kill time. If only there was a switch to turn off his mind, then it would have been effortless to sleep.