Obviously, the interaction did not go as planned.

But firstly, let me tell you about sprites. They are weird.

In my strange two-ish dimensional world, sprites, being representations for people, stood out against the strange colorful, but crisp, cardboard-esque world; looking at the 2D “globe” from my cosmic perspective, sprites were almost three-dimensional. Almost. Surrounded with a sparkly sheen, it was real easy to see someone’s sprite, especially since on the interior of this bright twinkling was their body, a body which displayed not quite three-dimensional properties, but neither fully two-dimensional. The sprites inside these shiny light cocoons, rather, were like the two-point-five dimensional creations I saw while in first person mode. In sum, processing all of this was a trip— and I know that I sound like a broken record playing in saying so, but man, a trip it was.

Mate. Can you stop overly explaining everything to yourself? Felix said. I feel like I am listening to an audiobook. Putting me to sleep. And then he yawned.

“Sorry, Felix, I can’t, it’s how I am dealing with the insane bullshit happening to me!” I shot back.

Whatever. At least find a new term for three-dimensional and two-dimensional. It is so tedious having to sit you you pontificating on numbers and dimensions. It’s like sitting in on a college math lecture.

I thought about it for a moment. He was right, of course. I should fine a new term for the dimensions. A mouthful it was even when I was just thinking it to myself. But that was a backburner issue. Right now, the real issue was finding my way home. And talking to people.

Which brought me back full circle to the sprites since these sprites strange dimensional proportions threw me off and made me think, for whatever reason, that they themselves knew about the hidden world that I had become privy about.

“Cool sprite, man. How long have you been in the organization?” I stupidly said.

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But something happened as the man responded that I was NOT prepared for. And it threw me off— a dialogue box popped up.

Let. Me. Repeat.

A. Dialogue. Box. Popped. Up. In front of the sprite, it was just below his body, closer to the brown-ish circle that was the ‘earth.’ It was just like a box from a classic video game; crisp, light blue shaded the interior of the box while to the left was a flat character portrait of the person I was chatting with; just above their portrait was a series of three question marks, which I assumed would be the name once I discovered it.

“The fuck you talking about, mate?!” was what the man said, his reply via the dialogue box so surprising that I took off running . . . which was an odd reaction to have at that moment since astral me couldn’t run, I could only move to the left or the right. So with my delayed response, for a few seconds, I just stood there. By the time I did remember the so-called “controls” to this new perspective, it had been an awkward amount of time, making the situation extra weird to the man since, from his point of view, a man approached him— me— asked him a nonsensical question, and then bolted after saying nothing for a minute. If I were in his situation, I would think the man insane . . . or on a substance.

“WHAT THE FUCK?! Felix? What was that?!” I gasped after I had run away.

What was what? Felix replied unhelpfully.

“The video game box? Couldn’t you see it?”

Legit. No idea what you’re talking about, bud.

I sighed like a cartoon character and tried again, “When I spoke to man and he replied back, his words came up inside of a box. Like in a video game. You know?”

I know about video games. I know what you are talking about now, but no, I did not see anything. What you’re saying is that when the man responded to you, a chat box like from 8-bit and 16-bit JRPGs emerged? His words were literally in the box? Like, you could read his words as he spoke? And they were in the box?”

“Yes and more yes. That is what I just told you!”

No, you didn’t tell me anything, you were mumbling.

“REGARDLESS— help?”

Felix started to purr and gently flap his unusual butterfly wings and then said, I can’t help ya, mate. Sounds like an aesthetic issue associated with the pact? My guess. When I talk to people, I don’t see any text boxes. But I also don’t see these so-called ‘sprites’ you are talking about. I just see people. No outer-space perspective for me. Not yet, anyway.

“An aesthetic issue? Is that what you are calling me new found ability to SEE fucking text boxes?”

Yes.

“From the pact?”

Uh huh.

“Well, fuck me, then.”