“THE WORLD IS YOUR OYSTER.”

That was the saying, wasn’t it?

Nick smiled slightly. That was such a long time ago, it seemed. Back when she still had a real family, and a fixed schedule, and school…

At that moment, she had felt the saying to be funny and stupid. Who would want a slimy oyster? And why was the world compared to it?

Nick gazed into the night sky, perched on the edge of the roof. She liked to imagine she could actually see the stars through all the light pollution.

She understood now. The world and oysters were practically the same thing.

Most children can’t open oysters. They aren’t strong enough. That’s why there’s so much about their “potential” and “future.” It’s a good thing they can’t, because if they could, suicide would have become two times more common. It’s the anticipation of the contents that keep parents and children motivated and hardworking.

Adults already opened their oysters long ago, though none of them can remember exactly when. Rarely do they get pearls and fame and success. Most just get sparkly slime and must make do. Some find fake ones and are completely devestated when they got to the jeweller’s. The worst kind swallow their pearl along with their oyster, and have nothing left.

Nick pondered over her situation. She was still well under eighteen—still a child under official standards. Her oyster was still hiding in her pocket, unopened. But perhaps it was malfunctioned. A little dented. Or perhaps she was the malfunction, and was a little too old for her body.

What was she to do about it?

The answer came to her easily. She had been doing it her entire life.

To run. Run away. That’s what she had been doing. Running away from home. Running away from problem. Now she should be running away from the Trunks. It was only her nature.

She glanced back at the sky again, taking a deep breath and inhaling the crisp night air.

She thought she could see a star…

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SOMEWHERE VERY HIGH UP…

Exflibberaguil woke up, being pushed into a room by robots.

“Box?” he exclaimed, lifted his head off a robot, before realzing all of them looked the same.

He lay back down and let the robots push him away, quietly accepting his fate. He didn’t have much of a choice, away. All four of his limbs were strapped securely to a different robot, and Exflibberaguil wasn’t in the mode for fighting deadly robots. The sleeping gas they gave him this time seemed unusually potent and Exflibberaguil continued to interact with various hallucinations to pass the time.

Several times the robots bumped into an obstacle, delievering an unpleasant jolt to Exflibberaguil and temporarily distorting his hallucinations. The robots then would proceed to squable in NodeTalk, some arguments Exflibberaguil knew were only as long as a nanosecond, before one of them would say something final and settle the disagreement. Exflibberaguil was temporarily distracted by these occurances. He didn’t know how different robots would interact with each other.

The hallucinations slowly began to blur and fade. Exflibberaguil felt the robots slow down and pass through a few more doors. It comforted him to see some familiar doors, reminding him that he was still in his own ship and had full control…

The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

Into another room he went, where he was uncermoniously dumped on the ground. Exflibberaguil flexed his fingers, relishing the little freedom he had, before three more robots, each with a single crane-like arm protruding from it’s conical torso, wheeled in from the corners and began fixing handcuffs on him. Exflibberaguil noted that the room was triangular, though this was not uncommon in his ship.

He was picked up again and dropped on a cold metal plate. A mosiac of colors were above him. He felt like he was in…what was that called again?

“Kalidescope!” he said loudly.

There was a strange beeping noise, and the colors began to turn lighter and lighter, eventually forming a blob of white, before Exflibberaguil was forced to close his eyes.

He could see all, and he could see none.

    The ship glowed like a star.

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A RABBIT?

Exflibberaguil instinctively reached to kill it, but he could not move.

So this is another dream, he thought.

The dream was strangely familiar, like something he dreamed long, long ago and was revisiting now centuries later. A relieving warmth flowed over his body and he shook with delight. Warm yellow rays of light beamed through an unseen window, tinting everything in an inviting yellow hue. Exflibberaguil knew something about this place. It certainly wasn’t Earth, but perhaps somewhere he travelled?

Enough thinking. Enjoy, he told himself. The thinking was bringing a wave of anxiety. He didn’t want to face his responsibilities and difficulties now. This dream will not be ruined by reality!

But then again, why is there a rabbit here?

For a moment, he wondered if it was one of those moving sculptures, displaying their proud kills. But the rabbit seemed to be washing dishes and a wearing a hideous flower apron. If anyone had a sculpture like that, Exflibberaguil would have been sure to remember it. Therefore, this must be a dream and Exflibberaguil’s imagination was truly extraordinary. It gave him great satisfaction to have confirmation of this fact.

He approached the rabbit now, though he had no idea why because he did not wish to. But Exflibberaguil was no longer frightened and angry at this rabbit. In fact, he had a strange attachment to it, something indescribable.

Perhaps it isn’t a rabbit?

But the ears and nose were unmistakable. Exflibberaguil’s instincts told him so much. Why, then, was he going towards it so fearlessly?

“Baba!” a voice not quite his own said enthusiastically.

The rabbit turned, her eyelids dropping into a sad smile. “Good morning, my dear,” she replied. “I made berry pastries. They’re in the oven.”

Exflibberaguil felt himself nod, and began moving toward a big brown oven in the corner of the room, carefully moving around the dinner table and picking up oven mitts along the way. He smiled, inhaling the delicious scent of sweet sugary pie, and carefully lifted the tray out on the table. He set the pie down, and licked his lips, eagerly pulling off his mitts.

“Baba, can I eat now?” Exflibberaguil asked. He realized with a start that it was indeed himself that was speaking, but much younger.

“Ah, your parents would not approve of dessert before lunch…” the rabbit said dubiously.

“My parents don’t approve of anything,” Exflibberaguil replied childishly. “Though I can’t imagine why. They don’t care about me anyway.”

“Don’t say that, child,” the rabbit sighed wearily. She returned to her dishes, but Exflibberaguil continued.

“But Baba, you know it’s true. They’re going to visit one of the moons tomorrow without me again.”

“Be understanding, will you dear? It’s a big wedding—”

“It’s my friend’s second cousin’s wedding. Can I please have some pie?”

The rabbit sighed and shook her head. “I suppose, if you insist. Just be care—”

She didn’t get to finish her sentence. Young Exflibberaguil reached for the pie, but forgetting his lack of mitts, he instantly recoiled and began screaming. Several red blisters began to swell.

“Oh!” the rabbit exclaimed. “Oh! Oh! Come here! Cold water, there now! Please don’t scream child! It’s my fault; it’s my fault!” She began to sob pathetically, her gray body shuddering.

“BABA!” young Exflibberaguil cried, tears squeezing out of his eyes, running down his cheeks.

Exflibberaguil felt the pain and the blisters, yet he was strangely detached as well. His body moved forward to the sink, and he felt a wave of relief upon contact with the water.

“There now, dear! Oh!” The rabbit seemed just as, if not more, frightened than Exflibberaguil. Her quick black eyes glanced at the stairs, full of fear.

Tears continued to streak down Exflibberaguil’s face, converging at the bottom of his chin and dripping down in fat drops.

Then someone began stomping down the stairs.