Chapter 3

“How is it there?” Krypto asked as we entered a room that looked like a dorm.

“Where? My world?” I asked as I looked around the chamber. The drapes, the bed, the carpet all looked quite shabby. Like the person who made them, didn’t quite know what they were doing. I’m sure it still feels like home after a long day of work.

“Yeah. It must be very nice. I mean, you are a successful artist, author and people enjoy your work and give you tons of love, right?” He started fixing his bed while talking.

“That is true, but sometimes you get hate too and it’s not fun.”

He stopped in his tracks. “Hate? For what?”

“Not sure. Maybe they didn’t like my work.” I shrugged.

“I never wrote that you got hate.” He stared into my eyes. I stared back at him, before opening my mouth to reply,

“Well, that’s what usually happens. Creators get hate all the time, even though you didn’t write that they do. Although, it would be nice to not get hate for my work,” I shrugged.

“No, your world is something I created. Shouldn’t it go exactly as I want it to?”

The bed seemed to be inviting me to rest my heavy head on. “May I?” I asked, pointing at the bed.

“Go ahead,” he said after he got a pillow. “It’s an…It’s a bit shabby so be careful on it.”

I nodded and laid on the bed. An awkward silence surrounded the room. He sat down on the bed, then took interest in my expressions. “You look tired, but I guess coming to a different world does that.”

“Well, that too but I think it’s because I’m a bit sore.”

“From?”

“My leg. My ankle feels weird and hurts but not?” My eyebrows furrowed, trying to explain.

“Are you injured?” he asked. He then looked at my ankle, just to see it swollen. “It needs attention.”

“Yeah, but it seems your world doesn’t have any hospitals.” He got up and walked to his fridge.

“That’s because we are expected to take care of ourselves,” he sighed and grabbed a tray of ice from the freezer. As I heard that, I thought about it. No wonder no one even tried to help. They’re all narcissistic. The ice seemed to be a bit watery, runny and not solid.

“I don’t think your freezer works well. The ice is melting while in it.”

His face scrunched into a frown, “Oh well, I’m sorry that I’m bad at electric work.”

You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.

It took me a while to understand what he meant while he took my ankle in his hand and used the ice filled hand to soothe the injury. “Wait, are you saying you made that?” I asked, my eyes widening.

“Yeah, so what?”

“Well, I couldn’t have made even the…first molecule by myself,” I said, trying to make him any less offended.

Seemingly making him relax a bit, he chuckled. “Good that you didn’t say you couldn’t have made the first atom yourself.”

“Yeah, because you can’t do that without making a huge explosion.”

That seemed to make him completely relax and lower his guard around me. He put the ice tray on the table next to the bed and took my ankle in his hands and started pressing in different areas. As he pressed on the most swollen, red bulge, I winced.

“Yup, right there.”

Taking a single cube from the tray, he applied it softly on the swollen part.

“So, what other medical stuff are you good at?” I questioned, to make conversation.

“Well…first aid, CPR, stitches, the basics to keep someone alive I guess,” he shrugged, laughing nervously as he treated my ankle. “You’re…you seem different than how I wrote you. You’re not unhappy that you’re here. Like. I mean--” he struggled to find the words to explain what he meant.

“Are you asking if I miss my world?” I asked, trying to finish his train of thought.

“Well…yes. I am.” he replied as the ice finished melting in his hands, dissipating to soothe my discomfort. He got up to grab a box from under the bed.

“No, not now at least. I’m worried I won’t be able to see my dad again but,” I stopped, analysing what I was feeling. “I don’t feel sad. I always knew I had to leave him one day and another, he’d have to leave me…just never thought like this and this soon. It’s better than one of us dying, I guess. So, I’m not sad.”

“Wow. Hearing that from the character for whom I worked so hard to make the perfect world…hurts,” he smiled nervously, obviously masking what he truly felt.

“Perfect? In what world is my world perfect?”

“This one. Do you know how much I would want your family, your success, your personality, your education system, your society”

“You said education system? I hate my school.” I raised my voice.

“I know you do.” He looked away, as if guilty.

I sighed and sat up straight to look at him. “Tell me, why do you like my world?”

“You all care. You help each other. In school, you study a variety of subjects, yes. Although, when you graduate, you can choose one thing to do for the rest of your life. You don’t have to be good at anything else. Just that and you’re set for life. You’re dying? Just go to a hospital. Someone who knows everything about your issue will help you. No need for fiddling around with yourself until you die.”

I scoffed but then I remembered, "The grass on the other side is always greener, eh?"

He nodded, "I guess so." He "bandaged" my foot.

"Is that what you call treating?"

"Sorry I'm not a doctor," he laughed as he sat back up on the bed, beside me. The bed creaked. "Neither am I a bed maker."

I smiled, quite amused. "What will...happen to me now?" I asked with absolute uncertainty.

He sighed, "You are to go to the workshop as a normal teenager. The workshop is similar to a school of your world."

"Then what's different?"

"You don't learn to go to a job or whatever. It is simply a place where you know the basics to survive and you use everything to support yourself."

"Doesn't seem so difficult."

"It's not that simple. Imagine you are given raw material and asked to make everything you need from your furniture to your phone and clothes."

My eyes widened, "Phone? You made your own phone? Using what?" I leaned forward to hear more about his skills.

He pulled back some distance between us and explained, "If I were to take my phone as an example, I received the storage, micro processing components and stuff and I just made it."

"Alright, that's quite simple."

"It took me 12 tries to make it functional."

"Right..."