Ricardo had always considered himself the epitome of normal. He studied, worked, went out with friends, like every other undergraduate student; that he didn’t depend on the VR machine for any of those was a plus. Thus, he couldn’t help scowling when his group project members decided to finish their last in person meeting early.
Shortly after being outvoted, he picked up the wireless projector and left the study room. He navigated the corridors with ease even with the added bulk on him, the library building almost empty at this time of the year.
A week before Christmas Day, the discordance between the snowmen decorating the walls and the radiant summer sun in the sky was at its apex.
Ricardo got halfway out of campus when he was pulled from behind. “Hey, are you done for today?”
He didn’t have to turn around to know whose voice it was; only Sandro would take those kind of liberties with him. Just a glance–tanned skin, shoulder-length brown hair–for confirmation.
“I guess I am. Apparently there’s an unmissable tournament tonight.”
“With so many different games, you can bet there’s always something going on.” Sandro got in line, matching Ricardo’s quick but short steps.
“Whatever. Tomorrow they’ll be watching replays and chit-chatting in prichat while I try to stir the ship.” Contrary to his words, he smiled. Even under less than ideal conditions, he could guarantee earning high marks.
After a couple of blocks, Sandro drank the last sip of water from his sports bottle, shaking it uselessly. Such a pointless gesture, it only reminded Ricardo of his skin sticky with sweat. Of course, if his group had stayed in the study room for another hour as planned, he wouldn't need to be walking under the heat.
“Every year the summer gets hotter, and to think we are supposed to have a mild climate.” Ricardo could already picture the headline in his mind: 2027, Warmest Year on Record for Second Time in a Row. He looked ahead, the trees on the street too small to provide any relief.
“I heard in Argentina it’s even worse.” Sandro looked at him and grinned.
“Probably. Makes me want to reconsider that whole thing.” Ricardo smiled, drying his forehead with a paper napkin.
He joked, but it would be their first family vacations after a long time. His sister Minerva was the one pushing for it, so there’s no way Ricardo would miss it, even if he didn’t have any particular interest in the location.
“Anyway, it seems I unexpectedly got some free time. Wanna go for a couple of drinks?”
“Sorry, I have a prior engagement.” Sandro looked away.
“Clara?”
“Yeah, we’ll be in VC.”
“Is that better than the beach house?”
“Of course, the beach doesn’t have me.”
They kept walking in silence, the noisy streets of Lima filling the void. Saturday evening, lots of people returning home, lots of people going out. Maybe more the former than the later, considering virtual reality’s surge in popularity.
“I know you don’t play VR games, but…”
“If you know don’t say it.” Ricardo looked up, reading the numbered signposts.
“Clara wouldn’t mind you joining us every now and then. Just saying.”
“I don’t think it’ll happen, but thank you anyway.”
----------------------------------------
Next day’s VR meeting went as well as Ricardo imagined: he had to push his group members to advance the project. On the flip side, their lack of interest meant he got to make all the decisions, which suited him. He took the lion’s share of the remaining work and split the rest among them. Hopefully they would do an acceptable job by the due time, so he wouldn’t need to stay awake all night fixing their mistakes.
Ricardo hummed to a popular song while computing in his head, the aroma of the spices and the wet sensation from his hand reminding him of his objective for the next couple of hours. He had previously lined up several bowls filled with diced vegetables of different colors, their respective wrappings peeping out of the trashcan.
Sundays were the day of the week he cooked lunch, partially for his mom to rest, but mostly because he really enjoyed it. Being busy, he planned a quick lunch of microwave-steamed salad and air-fried chicken.
“I’m going to the gym.”
Ricardo was startled by the loud voice. He took out his earphones, with the hand that wasn't rubbing the raw poultry, turning around. His sister Minerva–clad in all-black sportswear–was staring at him.
“I said I'm going to the gym,” repeated the teenager, taking a look over the kitchen countertop. “I'll be back for lunch.”
“Is Amelia eating with us?”
“Probably, if I ask.” Minerva paced a bit in the space between the kitchen and the dining room, her ponytail swaying in the air. “Can I?”
“Yeah, feel free to.”
Sundays were also when the whole family would eat together, and that counted Amelia more often than not. Her best friend since her school transfer four years ago, she followed Minerva at any activities she planned. Which included this sudden weight loss plan and, of course, the trip.
----------------------------------------
This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.
As programmed, lunch for five was served at around 2 pm. Dad had to eat fast and leave early; he had VR meetings to attend. It wasn't easy to take a month off for vacations–working on a Sunday was understandable. Ricardo himself had a lot to solve for his project. Luckily, appliances did most of the cooking, thus he had time to go over the calculations.
“Wanna join us?”
Ricardo looked up, Amelia smiling expectantly next to him. She dressed in a green summer dress, smelling of chamomile and citrus. Her hair, nails and makeup were all expertly produced, so far that you wouldn't imagine she had just come from the gym.
“Ricardo, are you there?” Amelia crocked her head in his direction.
“Sorry, I missed it.” Ricardo begrudgingly abandoned his current line of thought, refocusing on the people still siting at the table.
“We want to take the ferry to Uruguay on the second day,” Amelia said, still smiling.
“Sounds good, is everyone going?”
“Your dad's visiting the soccer stadium instead,” mom answered. “You could join him if you want. Or maybe you have other plans?”
“I haven't planned anything; I'm just too busy right now.” Ricardo directed his sight at Minerva across the table; she was fiddling around with her chicken.
“What else is there to do in Buenos Aires?” Ricardo seized the moment Minerva raised her head to ask her directly. She had been the promoter of the trip, almost beaming with emotion at the time. Since then, her mood had noticeably dampened.
“We have the city tour in the first day, crossing over to Uruguay the day after would be good,” Minerva answered, spearing a piece of broccoli as she finished.
“You should join us,” Amelia said. “You don't even like soccer.”
----------------------------------------
Leaving the dishes to the girls, Ricardo didn't waste any time before getting to his room and imputing the calculations–he had been working on them all day–in his laptop. The parameters still needed optimization but they were good enough to get a rough sketch working.
It was nothing short of wonderful how a few lines of text and numbers turned into a coherent 3-dimensional structure before his eyes. I could even fire up the VR machine and get in... it might lose part of its appeal thou.
Ricardo had always liked to do designs in his head, being them vehicles, buildings or even people. A new world that he could discover piece by piece as he got deeper into it. That being said, he surprisingly didn't find much allure in playing games. Their worlds were mostly as thin as an egg's shell, taking him out of the immersion with just a little prodding.
Shortly before 10 pm, the time they had agreed on for sending their advances, he raided the kitchen for food and beverages. No matter what, he knew he was up for a long night.
----------------------------------------
*knock knock knock*
Ricardo twisted in his bed, knowing he would need to get up soon, not wanting to let go just yet.
*knock knock knock*
After listening to the repeated tapping on the door, he finally got up. “Yes?”
“Mom's calling. Lunch's ready,” replied Minerva outside his door. “Amelia's here.”
He had sent his revision of his group's advances just before sunrise, so it was no surprise that he had slept all the way through the morning. Not that their work was bad, it was just that he couldn't let go of the chance of improving on it.
Ricardo quickly changed out of his pajamas and checked his hair on the mirror. A bit messy, he needed to get a haircut soon. Regardless, a quick pass of the comb would suffice for today–it wasn't like short black hair could even get that messy in the first place. Besides, his mom would start yelling if he didn't get down soon.
“Had a long night?” Amelia asked, while putting a plate of pasta in front of him. Her chestnut-colored hair made waves as she turned around.
“Yeah, my group project's due for tomorrow.”
“Yikes, good luck.” Amelia sat down in front of her own plate: sauce-covered steamed cauliflower.
With dad being out at the office, Amelia took what was his usual seat beside Minerva. Despite both being 4th Year secondary students, Amelia felt much older. And it wasn't just about physical appearance, even the way she conducted herself resembled mom at times.
Predictably, the topic quickly drifted towards their upcoming vacations. Despite the lack of sleep–or maybe because of it–Ricardo paid more attention than the day before, letting the chatter distract him for a bit.
“What I don't get is, we are spending just three nights in Buenos Aires and then a whole month in Córdoba?” asked mom.
“Well, Córdoba is more in a central location...” answered Amelia, looking sideways towards Minerva. The later had been distracted all lunch long, conversation being driven by the other two.
“Renting a flat in Córdoba is probably cheaper too,” Ricardo said. “I haven't checked it out, but it should be easy to make day-long excursions using Córdoba as our home base.”
“By the way,” Ricardo said. “Are all our reservations confirmed? We are departing in a week.”
“Your dad has been taking care of that with Minerva,” said mom.
“Sorry that I haven't been involved. After I finish with my project, I'll help with that too.”
“And the Christmas dinner?” mom asked, expectantly.
“Yeah, I know. I'll take care of that too.” Ricardo smiled. Just wait for me a little bit, I'll reward your trust.
“Do you want to come for Christmas Eve this year?” Mom asked Amelia, trying her warmest. Since the one year she learned that Amelia had spent Christmas alone, mom always made sure to invite her to every holiday celebration.
“Dad says he'll make it this year,” Amelia answered, showing a half-smile. “I'll receive New Year with you–even join your family vacations–I should at least spend Christmas with him.”
“That's good,” mom remarked. “If anything changes, you are always welcomed here.”
----------------------------------------
Monday turned into Tuesday with Ricardo frantically mashing buttons in his laptop. Last 24 hours, no time to waste. Sleep's for the weak.
He continued integrating every member's input through the night, doing the adjustments himself whenever possible, but leaving them the option of sending a final update later.
Ricardo uploaded the finished v1.0 to their shared drive around noon. It was the last chance they had to check it and point out anything needing corrections. They never do.
If he was to be honest with himself, the project was already in a more than submittable state. Heck, his group members had sent him their final contributions hours ago. It worked, but... It just wasn't it. And he was so close to making it happen. It should be possible, somehow.
His most recent full rewrite had been particularly frustrating. He had been so sure he was in the right track–the results went backwards instead–taking most of his remaining energy with it. After that, he had a couple of false starts–making changes he normally would deem useless–that his sleep-deprived mind thought a genius idea for a second.
At some point Ricardo was forced to separate from his laptop for a second to turn on the lights. In his current condition standing up was more demanding than ever, a rumble reminding him of his skipped lunch.
I won't make it.
A quarter before 10 pm, Ricardo pressed the send button. Technically, he still had a little more than two hours left, but he was drained. There was no way he could make any meaningful progress and he was more liable to introduce errors instead.
One way or another, it's finished.