The trial administrator in an angel’s body nodded slowly in response to his request. She raised a hand and clicked her fingers right in front of his eyes.
Involuntarily, he blinked, and, even before his eyes reopened, he knew he was elsewhere. The temperature was slightly higher, there was a buzz of background conversation and the strong smell of coffee. He was not a fan of the drink, but even he had to admit the aroma smelt delicious.
The ceiling lights were also brighter than the room he had come from. It was not blinding as such - it was more a sign of how dim his bedroom had actually been.
Rather than being perched on the bed, he had been moved to a cushioned bench which, when he stretched, he found to have a great back support.
He blinked again and glanced around curiously. This was nothing like what he had expected. The angel was across from him, separated from him by a high-quality plastic fake wooden table. They each had a coffee cup in front of them, steaming as though a waitress had just put it down. He was sitting upon a comfortable bench, and she upon a stool - which, given her wings, was probably the most relaxing way for her to sit.
The place he found himself in was a full-on earth café with a modern open-floor plan. There were multiple tables, and, while none close to them were occupied, the ones further away were full. It was difficult to focus on his fellow patrons. They were human, some dressed in suits, others in smart casual, but he had a sense that they were closer to a replay of a video in three dimensions than real. They were there for background ambience and couldn’t be interacted with.
If he was willing not to question reality too much, it felt like he was back on Earth. The angel had a smug expression on her face.
He tapped the table, and the sound it produced matched its looks. It was plastic, and this was a made-up space. She could have included the finest of wooden furniture, if she wished. He sniffed and shook his head incredulously:
“What’s this?”
“A café. You wanted a place to talk. I believe this is the traditional setting.”
Tom stared at her. This place was not from his memories.
“What? You’re not the first kid I’ve had this conversation with. You reincarnators like it here, and, to be honest, the ritual itself is a good one too.” She chuckled. “Much better than meeting in a dank cave and chatting over ritual sacrifice.”
His eyes widened in response. “Is that…”
“True?” she laughed harder. “Probably, but not something I’ve done. But this,” the angel waved her hand. “This routine is nice.”
“You find it… wait… It doesn’t matter,” he waved the thought away. “I used to be an apprentice builder. I’ve never done a sit-down coffee before.”
“Ah… well, if that’s the case, let me explain how this works. The white vessel in front of you is a cup and the black liquid is called coffee. You sip it while we chat. Why are you glaring at me?”
He snorted in amusement despite everything:
“You know why?”
“Because you prefer tea?”
He groaned, and she just grinned:
“Relax and enjoy yourself. Personally, I find this to be pleasant. It’s a neutral environment, and, if there’s an awkward pause in the conversation, you can sip the coffee to break it.”
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She said nothing, and time stretched uncomfortably and then pointedly she lifted the cup for a delicate sip of her own coffee:
“So, what did you want to talk about?”
He took a deep breath, and then realised he had been procrastinating:
“I wanted to apologise.”
Her carefree, relaxed manner changed, and for a moment, she looked more serious than usual:
“Apologise? Nope, you’ve nothing to apologise for.”
“No, I do.” He interrupted. “When I was fighting the progression of lizard-dogs, I had time to think.”
“It’s not a lizard-dog. It has almost nothing anatomically consistent with either of those species. It’s called a cotada.”
“When I was fighting the cotada,” he corrected. “I had time to think properly, and I concluded that I reacted poorly. I can blame the stress of the reincarnation, or you springing the knowledge of the title on me, or the fear of the assassins hunting me, but these would be just excuses. So, sorry. I’ve been rude.”
She laughed:
“Don’t be silly. I was testing you with that introduction. It was deliberately done to unsettle you, and you reacted better than some.”
“I have my own standards, and I should have done a lot better. Especially after you gave that oath. Being rude after that was unforgivable.”
“There’s no need for this,” she waved his protestations aside. “There’s no reason to apologise or be concerned. I’ve dealt with reincarnators before, and the future of your entire species is on the line. You’re allowed to act out that stress.”
“No. It was wrong. I should have done better. Can we do a restart?”
She took a pointed sip of coffee with her eyes on him the entire time as she assessed the pros and cons of the offer:
“That sounds like a wonderful idea. Let’s restart.”
“First, do you have a preferred name?”
She stuck out her tongue at him:
“Are you sure you want to ask that?”
“If I didn’t want to know I wouldn’t have asked”
“It’s your funeral. Don’t say I didn’t warn you. My name is.”
There was the impression of joy at conversation, excitement at helping people get skills and age beyond what he could imagine, along with weird floors that had strange patterns on them that looked like runes.
He stared at her blankly, his mind hurting from an overload of information. She smirked in response.
“I don’t think I can pronounce that.”
She laughed and took thirty seconds to calm down:
“No, I can’t imagine you managing it. You can call me April instead.”
“Nice to meet you, April. So, I guess this isn’t the first trial you’ve administrated.”
She shook her head:
“It’s not. This is my fifth, but I like it more than my previous assignments.”
“Why?”
“Because you guys get lonely and need to talk. In my previous ones, the challengers rarely chatted, and when they did, it was always about business. It was absolutely exhausting. I also prefer the structure of this setup. The others were rigid tests, and if they were successful, I awarded those who passed them a skill. Sometimes a tailored one, which could be fun, but usually generic. Here, I am helping you to learn something new, or to master an ability you already have. I am teaching knowledge as opposed to inserting it, and that, for me, is much more satisfying.
Tom remembered her true name and tried to reflect on it:
“Is that why your name was...” He focused and projected what he could recall.
Ancient presence who enjoys conversation and happiness at teaching new stuff on a floor covered in runes.
Across from him the angel’s face transformed, and then she broke down howling. She slapped the table hard enough to spill the coffee:
“That was a horrible attempt. It’s like me calling you T D Bullshit. I can’t believe you mangled it that bad. Don’t ever try that again.”
Redness filled his cheek:
“Sorry. I thought I should at least try.”
“I appreciate it. But yeah, that attempt was terrible. I thought you were the pinnacle of your species…”
“That’s not where my skills lie.”
That response set off another round of table slapping. “You said…
Ancient presence who enjoys conversation and happiness at teaching new stuff on a floor covered in runes.
“When I’m, actually…”
Joy at conversation, excitement at helping people get skills and age beyond what he could imagine, along with weird floors with strange patterns on them that looked like runes.
Side by side, the differences were an ocean. It wasn’t just the bit that he had said wrong - it was a lack of depth in the presentation. It was a stick-figure sketch of a proud four-year-old versus a full-length feature film kind of difference.
He could see why she would find it funny. After a moment he joined her, laughing at his own ridiculous attempt:
“Sorry, April, I’ll use your humanised name.”
She wiped the tears from her eyes:
“Thank you. I needed the laugh. Now, asking my name and apologising can’t be all that you want to talk to me about.”
Tom knew there were things bothering him:
“The training I’m undergoing. Can you explain?”