As the voice poured out, Alexander moved his face toward the sound and saw a girl with long hair like a waterfall, and a white dress that outlined her figure perfectly at the right places. And seeing this Alexander was extremely awestruck as it was none other than Ana.
"Oh, yes... yes, it's me," Alexander stammered, attempting to avoid fixating on Ana's rosy lips and flushed cheeks.
"I had a feeling I recognized someone," Ana chimed in with a cheerful tone. And continued, "hey guys this is the boy who I told you about, he lives in the same building as me and is the politest kid I know"
'Oh, she thinks about me... she thinks about me,' Alexander's mind repeated, temporarily disconnecting from reality. "Is this real, or just my imagination?" he mumbled, considering it might all be a dream. "I should pinch myself; it's bound to wake me up any moment now."
"Alexander, Alexander..." Ana's voice snapped him back to reality.
"How have you been lately?" she inquired.
"I'm... I'm fine," Alexander stuttered in response.
"I rarely see you; it's challenging to keep track of you," Ana expressed.
"I thought you guys lived in the same building?" a girl from the side commented.
"Yeah, we live almost in different areas but we never fail to stay in touch." A boy that was beside that girl said holding her hand and looking into her eyes.
Alexander understood that this boy was that girl's boyfriend, and the comment that the boy just made was just to impress the girl by downplaying Ana.
"Well, I don't venture out much, and I'm not on Flash Face or any social media, so it's not easy to reach me," Alexander clarified.
The boy was about to respond when a voice from the side interrupted the conversation.
"The bus has arrived."
Approaching the station was a sizable purple commercial bus. Given the brief stops at this station, the crowd swiftly prepared to board, and Alexander was no exception.
As the bus came to a halt, a couple secured the front seats in haste. Alexander, quick on his feet, entered and snagged a seat near the middle, conveniently beside a window. These were extra seats, with no assurance of vacancy, left by early departures or unsold reservations.
A melodious voice interrupted his thoughts, "Can I sit beside you?" It was Ana. Alexander's heart raced as he replied, "Of course, feel free to take a seat."
As Ana settled next to him, her figure became even more apparent. Alexander struggled to avert his gaze, caught in a silent battle with his eyes.
After a while, the bus rumbled to life, and they settled into their seats. It was Ana who broke the ice.
"Hey, why aren't you active on FlashFace or any social media?" she inquired.
"Well, I think that they are a west of time." Though Alexander said this on the outside, in his mind a voice was saying, 'it is because you don't have friends and you don't like people.' This made him look like a fool as an awkward smile was hanging from his lips for his blunt lying.
That's great, really great, but what's with the awkward smile?" Ana inquired, puzzled.
"Oh, it's nothing... really, nothing at all," Alexander responded with a hint of unease.
As the bus forged ahead, time marched on, and Alexander and Ana continued their conversation. Surprisingly, Alexander didn't bother to pullout his headphones.
After what seemed like a fleeting moment to Alexander, the bus finally arrived at the nearest station to Ana and Alexander's residence. Stepping off the bus, both of them began strolling towards their building. Though not overtly apparent, Alexander could feel his heart racing at an unprecedented pace.
'I am walking with her side by side, just like lovers. HOW IS THIS REALITY.' Alexander screamed in his mind.
As they talked and walked, time and the road passed by, and Before long, they stood in front of their building. Upon entering, the opulent-looking android greeted them, a routine occurrence.
However, as Alexander occupied the ground floor, the time had come for them to part ways
'The one time I was hoping to be in a conversation, time just wanted to fly faster.'
"Well, then good bye for today." While Alexander was cursing time in his mind, the sweet voice of Ana rang out.
'Ask her, damn it ask her.'
'What will she think?'
'She will think nothing and if you miss this chance, you may never get it again.'
'But....'
'Damnit, just ask her on which floor she lives.' Alexander did not say anything as he stood there like a fool as this back and forth was going inside his head.
"Are you ok?" seeing this Ana asked.
"No, I am ok, I am ok. Where do you live?" Alexander blurred out this question with a foolish look.
Ana frowned her eyes as she answered, "this building of course."
"No...no...no, I mean, I am sorry, I meant to say which floor." Alexander quickly cleared it with an awkward expression.
"Ha...ha...ha..." Ana laughed out loud as she said, "oh, 50th floor." Then they laughed out again.
"Ok, bye then." Alexander then lowered his head in embarrassment as he bid goodbye.
As he said this Ana's lift made it to the ground floor and opened up. Ana then stepped into it, and said, "see you tomorrow then." And as she said this the door of the lift closed, after that as it was moving upwards the laughter of the girl was still being heard, as Alexander's face became as red as a tomato.
Alexander hung his head in disappointment and made his way towards his apartment. "You fool, you had one shot, just one, and you blew it! Seriously, who asks that kind of question? And instead of saying something cool, you said this! Now she's going to remember you as a creep. You'll be lucky if she ever talks to you again," Alexander muttered to himself, scolding his own actions.
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Approaching his apartment, he knocked on the door, even though it lacked a doorbell. Alexander's father, cost-conscious in a challenging economy, deemed it unnecessary. "Coming," a youthful voice responded, and the door swung open to reveal Alexander's brother wearing an apron and covered in dust.
"Where's Mom?" Alexander asked, puzzled as it's usually his mother who opens the door.
"Dad came home early and decided to clean the whole house. We're almost done; just the store room left. Mother and I are helping him, and he wants you to join," his brother explained, pointing towards the shoes by the door.
"Ah, okay. I'll change first," Alexander sighed.
"No need. Mom said to wear these; she's going to wash them anyway," his brother insisted.
"Fine. I'll come after dropping my bag in my room."
"Okay. So, how was university today?"
"Why do you care?"
"You seemed unusually happy. Just curious."
"It was good, alright? The best," Alexander admitted, his face reddening.
"School, university, same difference. What happened?"
"Curiosity doesn't suit someone like you. Go do your work," Alexander teased.
"I'll go for now, but I'll ask you later. Don't think you've outsmarted me," his brother retorted, heading towards the upper room next to Alexander's.
Observing this, Alexander smiled and went to the table, grabbing a glass of water. After a grateful sip, he climbed the stairs to his room, placed his bag on the bed, and took out his phone and headphones to charge. Plugging in the headphones first, he then rested his transparent glass phone on the circular charging platform, which glowed green, indicating it was charging.
As he plugged in his phone to charge, memories of conversations with Michel and Ana flooded Alexander's mind. A vivid scene emerged, depicting him and Ana on a stage adorned with red drapes, sharing a kiss in front of a large crowd. The recollection left his face flushed.
A stern voice interrupted his thoughts, "How much time does it take to place your bag?" from the room next door.
"Wait a minute, I am coming," Alexander replied irritably, snapping out of his daydream. He glanced around the house, then left his room to enter the adjacent one.
waliking in, he observed his father engrossed in sorting through an antique watch, surrounded by numerous boxes. The watch was old, some handed down thing maby. much like the various other items scattered across the room.
"Well, look who decided to grace us with a visit," Alexander's father remarked, a hint of sarcasm in his tone.
"Give him a break; he just got home," his mother intervened, handing Alexander a mask with a gentle scolding directed at his father.
Without a word, Alexander donned the mask, a crucial accessory due to his dust allergy. Taking a few deep breaths, he surveyed the room filled with cardboard boxes, each containing remnants of old and mostly usless things.
his mohter was taking car of some old clith, while his brother was looking through his old books, he was keeping the ones that he needs, and throwing the ones he did not need.
So, what am I supposed to do?" Alexander queried his father, a hint of annoyance in his tone.
"Well, that's the million-dollar question, isn't it?" His father glanced around the room and then, with a touch of cheerfulness, suggested, "As the eldest son, how about you take care of the oldest things?" He pointed at the numerous boxes surrounding them.
"Okay." Alexander agreed, taken aback by his father's sudden cheerfulness, and settled beside him on the floor.
"Don't be so tense; it's not like all these boxes are filled with ancestral items," his father teased, giving Alexander's shoulders a playful slap. Sensing his father's good mood, Alexander relaxed a bit.
"Well, that's all well and fine, but why are these things so neglected? Shouldn't we show some level of gratitude to our ancestors?" Alexander frowned.
"The gratitude has been paid long ago. We've taken care of these things for generations. It was your great-grandfather who decided that looking after these things is a waste of money and effort," his father explained in a solemn tone.
"Well, that's not right," Alexander rebuked.
"Didn't I already tell you the story? So, why are you saying this?" his father questioned.
"Yeah, I know, but they are still our ancestors." Alexander emphasized.
"What story? I am not informed of any such story!" As Alexander and his father were talking, a teenage voice rang out with shock and curiosity from the side.
"What, did I not tell you?" Alexander's father looked at his brother and asked with a dumbfounded look.
"No," Aven replied in a resentment-filled voice.
"Well, then let me tell you, this is the story of our ancestors and you should know it." Alexander's father then stopped cleaning and turned to face his brother.
As Alexander and his mother were cleaning, two men were sitting face to face, one young, one old, one eager, and another experienced, one holding a broom hander to his chin, and another cleaned his face with the towel that he was just cleaning with, "well we were not always like this,"
"So, where we king at any time?" Alexander's brother asked enthusiastically.
Facing that question Alexander's father shut up and was thinking hard, after some time, with a dumbfounded look said, "actually no, we were pretty much like this,"
Upon hearing this, Aven's excitement visibly waned, his face reflecting disappointment.
Unaware of his son's reaction, Alexander's father continued, "But that's not the crucial point. What matters is that after World War 4, when the Chinese were compelled to unveil their soldiers trained through a secret cultivation method, the entire world became aware of cultivation. Through various means, the United States and other leading nations managed to decipher the workings of this phenomenon. As you've studied in school, societal norms shifted, embracing cultivation, and after that when the extraterrestrials made contact, and then World War 5 unfolded."
"Aven inquired, 'How does that relate to anything? We're well aware of that.'
His father replied, 'I'm getting to that. Although the records are not pristine, I do know that during that period, our forebears inhabited a relatively insignificant nation.'
'When was this?' Aven interjected, confusion etched across his face before his father could elaborate.
'Ah, after the conclusion of World War 4, when the Chinese were compelled to unveil their trump card, revealing the cultivation system to the world. Our ancestors played a pivotal role by introducing cultivation to our, then homeland. They were highly educated and foresaw the transformative impact of the cultivation system on the future societal structure.'"
Aven's curiosity got the better of him as he interjected, "So, which country was that?"
Annoyanced, Alexander's response, "Well, like most others, it might have been obliterated in World War 5, and there's no record of it anywhere."
"Alright, let's continue," Aven urged, maintaining his interest.
"At that time, our family thrived even more, but the prosperity was short-lived. Others began importing various cultivation methods, and our family returned to a more ordinary status," Alexander recounted.
"So, was that it? Was that our brief peak?"
With a smile, his father responded, "Yes, it was a glorious era for our ancestors, but it wasn't short-lived, and far from being our peak. That title belongs to someone else. Unfortunately, due to the incomplete family history book and its decay over the years, I don't know the name of that person. However, it's clear they hailed from the era of World War 5. This individual was a shining star on the battlefield, rumored to have single-handedly halted World War 5, obliterated three alien fleets, and more. Of course, I never believed such tales; if they were true, why isn't there any mention of him in the history books? The key point is, he was exceptionally powerful. After all, if there is smoke, there is fire. So rumors do not come from absolute baselessness, or some lunatic in the family made this all up in high."
"Here is the crustal part of the story though; the crucial point is that at the time of his death, he was surrounded not only by his numerous wives but also by his son. Furthermore, a crowd of people, I mean, an absolute throng, gathered at his deathbed to bid him a final farewell."
"So?" Aven asked, curious.
"Don't be impatient, the thing is that at that time he handed something to his family, on his death bed as he said that this was the key to his success and it will also ensure that his family remains unharmed and prosperous. And he also had a meeting with his son in private afterward, the content of the meeting got lost through the generations but in the end, he said..."
"A man never cries but a... does."
"Who does? And if he is that powerful, how did he die?" Aven asked again.
His father then paused, and looked up with the back of his hand on his chin, as if he was trying hard to remember something, and after this situation continued for sometimes his father replied in an honest tone, "I really, do not remember, and as for how he died, it could be many things: he could die from facing another powerful cultivator, he could die from poison but why state all of this, he could even die from natural causes as well, the point is he died."
"No matter how powerful you are you have to die," Alexander murmured from the side.
Looking at Alexander his father continued, "yes, death is imminent, as I was saying, after his death, the next generation was lazy..." his father again looked at Alexander and then shifted his focus on Aven and continued, "and from then onward our condition went downhill, even to this day we could not get back up again."
A heavy silence fell upon Alexander and his brother, Aven, as the weight of their father's words sank in. their father was parctilaay saying that with him gone they will not be able to do much either.
Aven jumped in, trying to shift their father's focus, "Hey, what about that thing you gave the family to protect our power line?"
"Dunno, could be some magic potion, a key, or maybe even a hidden treasure. Honestly, no one has a clue. Even your grandpa admitted his great-great-granddad had no idea," their father pondered aloud, the uncertainty echoing in his voice.
"Wait, you never told me that either," Alexander chimed in, the realization hitting him.
Aven shot Alexander a glare, silently urging him to get back on track. Alexander, catching on, quickly dropped his head and resumed sifting through the boxes. Luckily, their dad remained blissfully unaware of the question, lost in his own thoughts. Their mom, watching the whole exchange, couldn't help but crack a smile at their sneaky tactics.
"Ah, don't worry about it; all of this is fairy tale anyway," Alexander's father laughed heartily.
"What is this?" Alexander asked aloud as he held a weathered and tattered old piece of paper, covered in blackish-red splotches.