The next few weeks were complete and utter bliss, at least in the apartment that Marie Joyce called home. Every day, Marie would go to work answering phone calls, practicing the piano on breaks, and Jones would be smoking cigarettes and reading and writing. The useless and novel trinkets that adorned Marie’s apartment were now in a tidy order. The same could be said for the dishes that were piling up in Marie’s sink when Jones first arrived.

The pair would often go down to that same diner and order the same thing for their lunch every day. Some days, they would see Mr. Ellison or some new, random friend that Jones would adopt within the course of a brief conversation. One day, on the way back to their bus stop, Jones asked to stop at the only functional Smithsonian Institution in Greater Columbia; the Aerospace Center of Pan-America. They found their way in for a small fee and stepped into the entrance where a large model vessel was suspended in the air in front of them, utilizing projections to enhance the experience. The projections would show little people walking through the vessel, seen only through the large windows on the vessel’s side. Like a zero-gravity can of soup, it floated gently across the lobby. Practically nobody was in the area, as most were unaware that this particular tourist trap was even open. Upon closer inspection, there was a projected sign that informed those within the lobby that this was a model of the U.S.S. Hermes, set to land on Mars within the next month or so.

“What do you think they’re going to Mars for?” Marie asked.

“They’re gonna create a whole new society.” Jones said. “With the pilots running everything and the passengers mining for rare materials to send back to Earth.” They returned to Marie’s apartment. It was a Saturday, which meant that most of the day would be spent with Marie practicing, only stopping occasionally to play card games with Jones.

Jones didn’t mind being alone on Marie’s futon as she practiced. At least, they didn’t seem to mind from Marie’s account of the events. They had brought an electronic reader, packed with all the books a young person could dream of, as well as a deck of playing cards. These two items alone seemed to entertain Jones for the duration of their stay.

Marie had just finished playing a Bach Sonata when she got up to play another game with Jones. This cycle had been going on all day and the sun was just beginning to set, sending that absurd pink sludge across the skyline of Greater Columbia.

“What’re we playing?” Marie asked.

“You cool with Blind?” Jones asked in return. Marie shrugged and Jones began dealing out the cards. “Y’know,” They began, “I think you’re getting better at that little plastic thing, much better, in fact.”

“Thanks.” Marie said.

“I was wondering, would you ever consider doing a recital, like we used to?” Marie froze at this, remembering back to every recital that she had played within the system. Most were done in clothes that she would never be able to afford, with a grand piano of the same variety. Most were done to hundreds of people, all cheering and applauding at the end of each piece.

“I’m not sure if I’m ready for that.” Marie said, twiddling her thumbs.

“What does ready have to do with it?” Jones asked. “If I would’ve waited until I was ready, I’d be in Lonestar right now, packaging up little boxes for (the much more successful company).” Jones sighed, smoke billowing out of their gullet as they stood up. “If I would’ve waited until I was ready, I might not have gotten my license at all, and that poor old woman would still be alive. The point being, you can’t just wait until the right moment to do something, you just have to do it, consequences be damned. Isn’t this what you’ve always wanted to do?”

“I don’t know.” Marie said. “I’ve always wanted to see another country, but this– I’ve already done this. Does it make that much of a difference if it’s in the meatspace or in the system? I’ve already waited for this, and I waited and I waited and I waited and it was good when I finally got the guts to do it, but then everything was pulled out from underneath me. Jones, I have to thank you for cooking dinner most nights and for giving me all this sheet music, but honestly, I’m so tired after these past few months. I don’t know if I’ll ever be ready to do this again.” One thing that Marie failed to mention in this little speech was the fact that she had almost a nervous tick playing the piano as of late, almost as if her body was expecting the flash of grey noise to overtake her and never ever ever let go.

Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

Tears were starting to form around the brims of Marie’s eyes, but she wiped them off and stood her ground. Jones stood up and bit at their nails, walking over to the edge of the room, observing the fourth truckload of the day being unloaded. The building shook.

“I’m sorry.” Jones finally broke the silence. “I didn’t mean to push you.”

“It’s okay.” Marie said, “That’s been enough about me. How about I hear about what you’ve been doing in the corner while I’ve been playing?” She was desperately trying to change the subject. By her account, Jones didn’t have anywhere else to go. Jones grabbed their backpack and pulled out the electronic reader and their spiral notebook.

“I’ve been reading a favorite of mine, Soul Music by Terry Pratchett.” Jones said, waving their electronic reader around frantically. “And I’ve been working on something, a story or a book I haven’t really decided yet.”

“You’ve been writing a book in that?” Marie said, pointing to the spiral notebook.

“What else would I have been doing? There’s no way that one can keep their attention on a single thing for that long unless they’re writing a book.”

“What’s the book about?”

“It’s about a bunch of superheroes trying to save a doomed world.”

“Sounds bleak.”

“Anything but. You see, this world is about to end. Some inevitable, yet highly preventable natural disaster is coming to wipe out the Earth on a cosmic scale, so all of these superheroes get together and they find one guy; a guy with the power to control time. They hook up this guy who can control time to a big machine and attempt to send the entire planet back in time. That’s when the villain comes in and convinces them that the guy who can control time is in immense, fatal pain and that the world would be better off dead. So they let the cosmic radiation hit the planet and everyone dies.”

“How is that not bleak?” Marie asked.

“Because of the moral: don’t live in the past, even if it means dying in the present.” There was another silence in between the pair after the moral to Jones’ story was stated. After this, they simply went about their business. Jones wrote their book and Marie kept practicing on the piano, trying her best to get the flinching down a tad.

The next day, they went to the same diner and ordered the same food for lunch. Jones offered up some passages out of their book, which was titled “The Unbeatable Foe”, when Mr. Ellison overheard them and asked to sit at the booth. Mr. Ellison explained that he once fancied himself a literary critic and absolutely adored the raw energy that Jones put into their prose. It was during this exchange that Mr. Ellison got a really good, personal look at Marie for the first time. He noticed all of the little details that make Marie Joyce Marie Joyce and finally something clicked in his old, balding head.

“You’re the girl with the piano, aren’t you?” Mr. Ellison asked.

“I beg your pardon?” Marie asked in turn.

“That’s why you asked about the piano I sold a while ago. I think I’ve seen some of your recitals. You’re absolutely incredible. When are you going to play again?”

“I’ve been practicing here and there, but that’s it. I’m just keeping it for myself for right now.” Marie tucked her hands deep into the pockets of her sweatshirt, the same fabric that swaddled Regina the calico now swaddled Marie’s hands.

“That’s a shame.” Mr. Ellison took a sip from his coffee. “I know a guy, runs a small theater house not far from here.” Jones perked up at this, sipping at their own coffee.

“What’s the name of the place?” They asked, much to Marie’s chagrin.

“I think it’s called Valhalla, if I’m remembering correctly.”

Jones got up and shook hands with Mr. Ellison, thanking him emphatically before putting some money on the counter and leaving.