JUNO
SEPTEMBER 1986
LEVEL ONE
I blink twice.
“I asked,” the yellow creature continues, “who you were.” There is a hesitation in its movements—the voice is very static, but undeniably male. He appears to be very shaken as he observes the smoldering tree behind me, almost like I would set him ablaze if it came any closer. And maybe I would. There is a radiant heat emitting from my pores, and the coldness that I had felt only a few moments ago is now dissipating.
I turn away and blast down another tree, causing the pixelated bits of wood and leaves to fly out in the air; they are almost floating above. Why doesn’t the fire spread? I wonder, watching in great irritation as the flames flare, before completely disappearing. I hate this forest; I want it to disappear. Gritting my teeth, I try again, but the stupid number that is hovering over my head greatly decreases until my body goes completely limp. Where I was once levitating off the ground; I now nearly pummel directly into it, into the grass.
The yellow creature is now standing in front of me. He’s gotten more courage now that he sees that I’ve exhausted my resources. “You can only use your abilities for a short period of time. It’s important to save your stamina. I do not understand why you would use it all out here. That is not where they usually are. We are on enemy territory, I am afraid.”
They? Who is they? “Please,” I mumble. “Leave me alone. I’m having a really bad day.”
”But you must move,” he persists. “If you don’t, you definitely will be ambushed. I know for sure that you are a newcomer, and they do not take well to strangers. With you, they shall show no mercy. I know it for a fact.”
I turn my head. “What, if you die here, do you regenerate or something?” I try to stand up, but my new body is unresponsive—it’s like I’m paralyzed. “I can’t. What’s…what’s going to happen to my child? Please help me. I need to get out of here. Do you understand me? I need to leave this place. I need to go home. Can you please send for help?”
The yellow creature places a strange tentacle or limb—I don’t know what it is exactly—on my pink flesh. There is a strange burst of energy. I can’t explain the sensation, but I am immediately rejuvenated, even though there is grass stuck to the side of my cheek. I can almost taste it. I am lifted off the ground, and all the pressure that has been in my body is gone. Above the yellow creature’s strange, bulbous deformed head, the number dwindles from 75% to 43%, now leaving it into a dark red shade.
”Um…”
“Would you be as so kind as to tell me your name, comrade? Or how is it have you have encountered very same land as I?”
”Look,” I breathlessly say. “Thank you. But I am not interested in playing, alright? I just—”
“Player 0001455, it is a pleasure to see a familiar face in a foreign land. I understand that you brought my attention of a mission that you are determined to complete before you can return home and bring honor to your master. I am Player 099234, your loyal guide and mentor.”
My throat burns. “No, no, no. You don’t understand. My name is Juno. You’d need to know of a way to get out of here, correct?”
099234 focuses behind me—his eyes are unblinking, unmoving. “I am Player -Oliver- 099234, your loyal guide and mentor.” His voice gradually becomes more distorted. He blinks a couple of times, before slightly tilting his head to the side. His eyes grow wide. I am here forever. I can’t leave, I am here forever.
forever
help
fprintf
A lopsided smile slowly stretches across his face, reaching both sides, I can see all of the teeth, all
the teeth
fprintf
fprintf (disp A)
A problem has been detected and has been shut down to prevent damage to your video computer system.
The problem seems to be caused by the following file: 666.SYS
If this is the first time you've seen this Stop error screen, restart your system.
If this screen appears again, follow these steps. If problems continue, disable or remove any newly installed hardware or software.
[Reinstalling]
[Install complete]
* * * * *
“Who are you?”
My head starts to throb so much I get dizzy. A yellow creature is looking down at me.
I am still on the ground.
“I am Player 099234, your loyal guide and mentor,” the yellow creature says in a cheerful voice. “But we must not tarry, my dear comrade. Lest our enemies arrive.”
“Enemies?” I ask. “What enemies?”
“You can only use your abilities for a short period of time.”
I am drenched in sweat and am shaking from head to toe, but I don’t have the opportunity to ask more questions, because he has already taken off into the dense purple trees. The sky above us, which has once only been a bright blue before, is now a dark red. There’s a hissing sound, and thousands of beady, black eyes are staring at me from the belly of this earth. When they start to approach me, I begin to propel myself forward as much as possible, getting slapped in the face by countless branches. I am securing my middle the best I can with these strange limbs of mine the best I can, ignoring the deep scratches forming upon my skin as one creature jumps on me.
Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.
In front of me, there are flashes of yellow.
“I thought you were my guide,” I yell, shaking off the wretched being. Blood is dripping from my arm, and I can make out loose, green thread dangling from my pulsing flesh. I grimace in pain, but I refuse to let go of my stomach. They are going to have to gnaw down to the bone, and my blood is already leaving behind a trail for them to follow.
“No need to worry, 00014455. These minions can be overcome with your majestic gift of pyrokinesis, which you have mastered so well. I fully trust that you are capable of it. All you had to do was wait, 00014455. You wasted your energy, you worthless
disp(result)
“No need to worry, 00014455. These minions can be overcome by your majestic gift of pyrokinesis, which you have mastered so well. The first level is always the easiest.”
When I check my stamina box, my heart skips a beat. 20%. 099234‘s is at a mere 5%, and they are barely struggling to move. I try to focus, but only a few of the dark shadows are lit ablaze. 099234 is being ripped to shards, and their howls are filling the air, chunks of yellow flesh being thrown in the air as the creatures gnaw and eat. Their bloodshot eyes fall upon me. I am desperately attempting to increase the spread of the fire, but it is no use. They smile at my expression, my feeble attempts to get these horrid creatures off them, and the smell of burning flesh fills the air. 099234 is on fire, and it is all my fault.
I to bat away the flames.
* * * * * * * *
I am on fire.
I am screaming.
There is a fire between my legs.
The back of the pillow is glued to my sweat soaked hair. As a matter of fact, there are multiple stacked behind me. My chest is rapidly rising up and down, and I realize that I am lying on my back on top of my mattress. I grip the sheets, trying to see clearly, but I am in a dark room. It is not the attic, nor the bedroom I was in. I sit up, gasping heavily, realizing that all of the windows are completely blacked out, so I don’t know if it daylight or night outside. In the dim light, I can faintly make out the stairs.
For the first time, I am in the basement of the house.
A rattling sound echoes in my ear—the handle of a plastic bucket nearby. I look down, and, after flinging aside the sheets, realize that my left ankle is wrapped in bandages. It’s puffy and swollen. Panic fills through me, and before I can try to pry it off with both of my hands, an agonizing, searing pain courses through me. I cry out, clutching my stomach, and looked down at the dark spot on the blankets. I pull up my nightgown and release a heavy gasp. My water is broken.
The creaking sound of the basement door makes me jump. The rest of the house is completely dark, with only the shadowy figure standing at the very top, holding a flashlight. In their other hand is a large bucket, plenty of clean towels and swaddling cloth. As they descend down the steps, each tread squeaking under their bare feet, I try to move away, but grunt in pain. The pain is so intense that I whimper, clutching my blood soaked nightgown. I yank down my underwear until it is twisted about my knees. In an attempt to scramble off the mattress, I wince in pain with my every move. Another contraction takes hold of me.
They stop a few feet from me, lowering the items on the ground. I hear them dipping the cloth in the water and attempt to dab my face with it. but I weakly swing at them. They don’t do anything else. Silent tears are rolling down my face as I begin to sit up. I can already tell that the baby is crowning, a good six inches apart. Breathing heavily, I glare at the figure. It watches me back, as it always does.
After a few agonizing moments, I realize that not as much progress has been made. My fingers dig into the mattress. I am struggling.
Please, let me help you.
My eyes are burning. This is happening much too soon. I wasn’t supposed to be due for another six months, and I blame that horrendous video game. I don’t want to return. I am shaking. I am shaking to the core. There is snot traveling down my face. The figure is inching closer. Didn’t I warn it to stay away? I swing a fist at them again, hoping to pop them right in the nose, if they had one.
Please. I won’t hurt you.
I shut out every word. The pain is so incredibly bad that I don’t know if I nodded or mumbled yes.There is some heavy, slow breathing near me, and the scent of cigarettes. A bundle of thick cloths are placed beneath me, two gentle, large hands, and whispered words encouraging me to push. I’m hollering at the top of my lungs; it’s the last thing I want to do, but I try to. It’s after several long, agonizing minutes does the sound of faint, shrill crying fill the air.
In the dim light, I can see that I have a son.
I heavily exhale. He is shade lighter than me, but has a full head of curly hair, being held in the dark hands of a stranger, wailing, kicking and swinging his little arms and legs back and forth. For a moment, I forget where I am, and a smile briefly appears on my face. The shadowy figure is carefully wiping off all the gunk and blood the infant is covered in. I reach out for him with both arms.
To my surprise, the figure gives him to me.
My boy is still carrying on, but the moment I unbutton my nightgown and offer my breast to him, he immediately begins to nurse. I am so very exhausted, but my eyes never leave the pitch black figure, who is still seated at the far end of the blood stained mattress in the dark. As I swaddle my son with clean cloths, brought down, shivers are still running down my spine. The figure is still staring at me. I narrow my eyes. And somehow, their gaze lingers on the newborn, who is peacefully beginning to doze off. His tiny fingers are curled up under the rim of the blanket.
I place a kiss on top of my son’s damp head, slightly shielding him from the looming figure. I’m struck with the odd sensation that it wishes to hold him, which is what I would never dare. But my eyes are droopy, and no matter how hard I try to stay awake, I find myself slipping back into a horrendous slumber. I feel the figure’s hands cleaning away the blood and sweat from me. They wrap me in clean sheets, exchange them for the bloodied ones, and raise a cup of cold water to my cracked lips. There’s a delicate touching—like their fingers are trying to memorize where my eyes and nose and lips are.
When they’re calloused tenderly caress my face, I make sure to spit directly into their darkened face. This causes them to slightly flinch for a moment. I glare at them, breathing heavily, expecting a slap in return. They did not, to my surprise, and just observed me, before wiping their jaw. We are enemies. I don’t want them to ever forget it. And although they may have saved my son’s life, they have trapped both of us here, and that is something that I shall never forgive them for.
To my despair, the figure holds their wretched, slimy arms out. Please. It’s okay.
I shake my head.
I’ll keep him safe.
“No,” I whimper. “No.”
I won’t let anything happen to him.
“No!” My chest is throbbing.
I try to yell go away, stay away from my baby, that’s my child, my only child, how dare you, you can’t send me back, he NEEDS ME
In the midst of my anger, I kick over the flashlight, causing the rim to shatter. I want them to leave, while I find a way to get my child and I out of here. But I can feel the figure inching closer. The thought of them holding my baby makes me physically ill.
The last thing I feel is my son gently being taken from my arms. He is wrapped in additional blankets and is being carried upstairs, before I slump into the mattress.
[Rebooting]