“H-A-P-P-I.” The name was scratched onto the chalkboard.
The teacher, as if remembering something important, wrote a small phrase below:
“not H-A-P-P-Y.”
Something was up with Ms. Happi, and it wasn't just her name. She had this vibe – you know, the kind that's like ‘hey, I get paid pennies, but I still love my job!’
For one, she looked genuinely excited to teach teenagers.
She tied her chestnut-brown hair into a makeshift bun. Her hands, which portrayed boots on gloss nails, reached to touch dangling boot earrings. Her eyes sparkled as she revealed more boot accessories pinned on her shirt, her ripped jeans, and even her combat boots. And she made students afraid… afraid she’d say something like:
“I GOT A LESSON PLAN AND I’M NOT AFRAID TO USE IT!”
Yet, despite her wacky outfit, Ms. Happi was genuinely-
“Boot-iful,” a student called out, snickering to himself.
Ignoring the comment, Ms. Happi twirled around like it was her first year teaching. “It’s so nice to meet all of you. Welcome-ahHH!”
Or maybe the floor was slippery. That must have been why Ms.Happi face-planted right after. Y-ep!
A piece of chalk slipped out of her hand as she fell, and…
- “BOINK!”
…It bonked the student who had called out, giving his forehead a growing, red bump. Ms. Happi quickly got up, brushed her face and looked towards the wide-eyed students.
"Ahem, I’m sorry. Pass me back that chalk!" She cheerfully greeted them with a faint blush, “A-anyway, class, the first task of today is... attendance!”
“...kindly raise your hand and say 'here!' when called upon." She finished.
Then she swiped her desk.
Not to clean the dust off, no, but to activate the sensor on top. A light flashed and - Ztt! - materialized into a thin 'smart-panel'. Just a plain, boring holographic display - y'know the kind - found in every decent classroom.
(Because, how could a place even call itself a 'school' without some holographic smart-tech?)
Softly humming to herself, Ms. Happi didn’t notice a boy falling asleep in the corner of the room…
* * *
What’s next?
“The next name is…”
Ms. Happi nervously looked down. See, it wasn’t that she couldn’t read. But the fourth name was sprung onto her like a pop-quiz.
She couldn’t help but think someone was playing a trick on her. She stuttered out the name… and to her surprise, a student replied:
A slow answer, “yeah.”
The reply came from a boy, whose dark, wine-red eyes veered across the room with a tilt of his head. The soft movement shuffled his white hair and caused it to wave in the breeze.
"Here," He brushed the strands out of his eyes, but they fell back and stayed on his eyebrows. When he blinked, his eyelashes fluttered, which drew glances down to his flushed lips.
Hushed whispers.
Ms. Happi gave him a polite smile. What was his name?
"Yeah, my name’s… Zero Dreams,” He gently explained, wrenching everyone over with a glance, "Parents were drunk when they chose it."
His pale skin flickered in the sunlight, like it didn’t belong to any abstinent world.
“Drunk, as in they downed alcohol. But my head is a normal size.”
Ms. Happi bit her tongue. You really didn’t need to explain!
She looked back at her translucent attendance list, trying not to cry. Luckily, a rumbling growl ran through her room and a banner appeared on her holographic smart-panel—
Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.
[NEW] Classroom Notification: “GROWL!”
Weird. She didn’t think the classroom notifications were supposed to notify the class about... stomach growls, but maybe it was a new feature? The teacher lifted her gaze, scanning the room, only to spot a boy sleeping.
Sleeping… in her class? With a gasp of disbelief, she made his way over to his desk. There, the boy awoke, muttering a sleepy “...here.”
Ms. Happi asked him, concerned, “Are you feeling alright?”
“Fine,” The boy answered—
[NEW] Classroom Notification: “GROWL!” x2
The classroom buzzed with a sea of notifications from everyone’s phones. Why? Because his stomach had growled again, this time twice! And a private notification flashed in the corner of the boy’s view.…
| ‘Achievement Unlocked: Iron Stomach! [+1 Resistance to Hunger Pangs]’ |
“I might be a bit hungry,” The boy sheepishly smiled after his stomach growled (again), “I haven’t had… breakfast.” But as soon as he finished talking, another notification sounded:
- ‘Ding!’
[‘Face-Saving Fortitude + 1’]
[“No!” X]
It was a bit annoying how these notifications started to flood his contact view.
The teacher’s voice drew the boy to glance up again.
“Oh, that’s not good,” Ms. Happi said. Her ears had only caught the “I-haven’t-had-breakfast.”
She stuck her hand out, and out of thin air, pulled out some cookies. Then, she flung one at the hungry boy, unaware that she had put too much force into the throw.
Like a puppy eagerly waiting for a biscuit, the boy jumped backward, flipped over a desk, a student, and caught the cookie with his mouth.
In one big gobble, the cookie disappeared.
‘Hmm…’ As a teacher, Ms. Happi was dedicated to fostering young talent. So she stepped back and proceeded to throw more cookies.
‘Whoosh!’ ‘Fling!’ ‘Pew!’
Amazingly, not a single one touched the floor.
‘That’s interesting,’ Ms. Happi recalled the list of names off the top of her head and was about to speak when the boy introduced himself.
“Steven,” The boy answered with a carefree smile. He quickly told Ms. Happi that the school had gotten his name wrong (oops!), so if she could fix that, it would be great. Ms. Happi agreed, correcting the name: S-T-E-V-E-N.
And with that out of the way, she decided to read the next name, except - ‘BZT!’
Her phone buzzed.
Oh.
Silly her!
She had forgotten to put her phone on silent. Ms. Happi glanced down, thinking it was a delivery, or perhaps an update on school activities, but the message that flashed across her screen was something else entirely—
"Get rid of him.”
“...”
“Double the normal price.”
With practiced ease, she dismissed the notifications. This year, she was going to be the best homeroom teach-
“...er,” A student interrupted. “How come only Steven gets cookies?”
The class turned expectantly to Ms. Happi.
Looking over, she tried to recall the student’s name. What-was-his-name… Lucius?
"Can’t we also have cookies?” Lucius asked, his sunny, messy hair falling forward like a pouting pup's fur. There, he put on his pleading honeysuckle eyes… and a toothy grin. “Right…?”
He began flicking his friend nearby and slowly, the rest of the class joined in, pleading for “fairness”. Amidst the noise, a low purr could be heard, followed by a flustered student with… were those kitten ears?
Ms. Happi grinned. With a sigh, she brought out a bunch of cookies. One by one, the cookies left their crumbs as the students got up. Oh, wasn't it sweet how a cookie could crumble?
Crumble…
Well, so many things crumbled away and broke. Promises, dreams… cakes.
Her gaze steadily grew distant. Together, a strange word. At least here… was all the food that they promised to enjoy…
‘…Like a delicious blueberry crumble!’ She nodded, as she submitted the attendance. Mmm, she could imagine it now. Distracted, she absent-mindedly clicked an unknown link—
???
[Waiting for server... ]
What was the site she clicked on, again?
[Processing Request…]
…Oh, just a normal webpage.
[Waiting for biu3b3rry_crumbl3s_r_del15h.com…]
The webpage sprang to life in the background, messages popping up in quick succession like loaves being popped out in a factory, but Ms.Happi didn’t seem to notice anything out of place.
['Redirecting to secret_portal.edu/t1m3/']
'Now loading unknown_pathways.net/obfuscuated/{unreadable_symbols}'
'Securing connection to place_outside_place.org/_____/']
If she had looked back, she would have noticed that it wasn’t just a webpage… but a web-place.
| “Hm…” |
[https://place_outside_place.org/.../]
Typing…[]
I don’t think you’re supposed to be here…[]
…[]
I guess it's fine…[]
Shortly after, the web-place booted up a video:
| “Ah… Now that, that is divine.”
The words came from a compass-looking figure with hands and gears, bolts and parts, metallic hands and legs. Steampunk-looking one second… Modern and holographic the next…
…The figure looked like it was building itself together over and over again, like a perpetual rube Goldberg machine—like a never-ending line of falling dominos, but never satisfied.
“Mmm…”
For a lonely figure in a faraway place outside time, it sure did enjoy its pastries. It took a quiet sip from a cup, before placing it down.
“I wish I could go down to Earth.” The compass figure said again, "I just can't get enough of this delicious blueberry crumble."
Beside it, a girl spoke.
“Yes, yes, I know.” It grumbled, looking at the girl, whose features were shown clearly and vividly, and needed no description, “Stop mothering me. I am too old for this. [clunk-] Remember, I’m older than you by an eternity, so I’m more mature.”
The girl spoke again.
“Well, the other g_ds wanted to kill you, but I told them to give you a job here. I saw your potential so do not presume to backtalk, missy.”
The girl rolled her eyes. She handed him a report.
“Let’s see… so you know the boy died in a rift… dungeon, backstabbed [thunk-] by his best friends, ouch… you’re trying to find him, but you don’t know where he is?”
She nodded.
“[Tick-], do I look like some kind of ‘Find My IC*ntact’?” The figure fingered through the report, causing the sheets to flutter away in huge droves. “Ah-ha! Looks like s_meone powerful [clank-] is messing with time… again. Normally, that boy would have died and reincarnated or sent up or down. And you were asked to bring him in?”
She nodded.
“I think I know what’s happening here. You can’t go back to apprehend him before he gets backstabbed because that’s his… ah, destiny, but you also can’t follow the trail of his time anywhere. It is as if a c_rd has been severed. And the rift that they went in denies you any influ_nce over the flow of time inside.”
She nodded.
“Well, I think it’s obvious. Wouldn’t the boy be seeking revenge now? I mean, come on! Replaying this same, tired tale! He’ll return to his younger days where he first meets those shifty [-clickin] backstabbing bastards, most likely in a different guise, pretending to be someone else, so that he can stab those little ‘[-ack]-holes’ and if you play ‘spot the differences’ with each timeline, you’ll be able to figure out who the imposter is.” The compass cackled.
“You’ve done this, right? Can’t. You. Look. Further. Ahead-” The compass stopped.
She whispered something and handed another file over.
The compass read it…
“…oh.” The compass frowned the only way a compass could. It whirled and fell apart. |