Somehow, Emma has never felt more alone. How can she help Isabel? And why was that headset meant for her? He sent it for a reason. But why?
Well, ok then. If Mason isn’t going to help her, she’ll have to figure it out herself. Madison better have gas in her car. It’s time to fuck up social distancing.
* * *
30 MINUTES EARLIER
The boiling water scalds his neck.
Night smiles faintly to himself, but not because he’s boiling himself alive. That’s nothing new. He’s smiling because today, something big is going to happen. Something he’s waited for for a long time. Everything has led to this. She’s almost here.
What he describes this feeling as is nervousness. A pit in his stomach. Each breath feels like not enough. His heart swelling. His head rushing. Dizziness, bliss, confusion, excitement, expectation, hope, fear. Emma.
He has only felt this way a few times in his 17 years of life, and because there are so few, he vividly remembers them all.
6 years old. A young woman mistakes Night for her nephew at the end of the school day. She gives him a hug. This is the first time Night has been given a hug.
10 years old. Night builds a computer that also functions as a microwave, all by himself. He doesn’t have a real use for it, but it’s still awesome.
13 years old. Night sees a shooting star out his window. This is the only star he has ever seen. No one believes that it happened, but he knows that it did.
16 years old. One of Night’s classmates knocks on his door, and when he answers, she kisses him. Her name is Diamond and she says she loves him. He never talks to her again.
Night towels off after his morning shower and slips on a pair of grey sweatpants, he doesn’t bother to wear a shirt. Sugar is always calling him a nudist freak, but really he just likes the cold--always has. He sits down at his desk and turns on his computer.
Sugar emerges from the bathroom, singing a Lady Gaga song loud enough for all the dorms in the hallway to hear. And he can’t sing very well.
“What’re you doin, naked mole rat? Time to LEARN”
Sugar whips the back of Night’s head with his wet towel, but Night effectively ducks.
“Not going to class today. Got something else going on.”
Sugar looks skeptical. Night, historically, never has anything “going on.” Something’s up. Sugar eyes Night while he dresses in his green linen uniform.
Night stares intently at the screen. He checks the clock. 8:45 AM. Ok, let’s do this. He composes a message to Emma. The mail will have come by now.
MASON: hi! did you get it yet?
EMMA: Good morning! Get what..?
Night frowns to himself. It should be there by now. It must be. She just needs to check again.
MASON: a package!
She’ll be running to the front door now. Grabbing the package. Headed back upstairs.
Five minutes pass, and Night still hasn’t heard from her. Now he’s starting to become confused. He checks the USPS tracking website and confirms that the package was delivered 30 minutes ago. He waits.
Suddenly, the fear starts to get a little heavier. Why hasn’t she responded yet?
Is she avoiding him?
Is she afraid?
Or worst of all, does she not care?
As Night waits, the possibilities quickly multiply. Sugar readies himself to leave for class.
“Yo you sure you wanna stay home?”
Night is speechless. He hadn’t calculated any margin of error for this plan. Usually, when he set his mind to do something, he did it the exact way he intended to. His heart beats faster.
Sugar can see that something is off with him. This kid is a freak, but he’s also always got something to say. So the fact that he’s sitting there quietly, pale as a damn ghost, naked in the cold, is downright off-putting. What this kid needs is some space from that damn computer.
“Hey dude, let’s go. And not to class.”
Night stares at him. “Go where?” he asks, vacantly and robotically. Sugar shrugs.
“I was thinking maybe get outta this place? Ditch class, see the world.” Sugar smiles. Night is becoming interested.
“But how will we get out of the building?” He asks. Sugar looks smug. He heads to his messy closet, which has piles of random items pouring out of it onto the floor. From under the pile, he produces a big wad of black fabric.
“Uh, what?”
“Now just hold on a second.” Sugar shakes out the fabric, throw it on the floor, shuffles it around a bit, then proudly holds up the four separate pieces. Two linen suits--wrinkled, but black. As per school classification, Sugar wears green and Night wears blue...so how did he...? Night looks incredulous.
“How did you get those?”
“While ago. Just been savin ‘em for a rainy day, you know.” Sugar pulls open the curtains of their room. The sky is grey, clouded by smoke and steam emitted from whizzing vehicles and shape-shifting buildings. He smirks.
“And it looks like it just might rain.”
Night smiles to himself. It’s been a long time since someone went out of their way to be his friend. So maybe a little space from this would be a good thing. Maybe he can forget Emma for today, and see what else is out there. It’s a pandemic, she’s probably not going anywhere.
“Alright, let’s go.”
* * *
*ring ring ring*
Emma sits on Isabel’s bed, calling Madison over facetime. Madison picks up on the last possible ring.
“Hey Em, what’s up?” she asks, still groggy from sleep.
“Do you think you can sneak out?”
“Uhhh...whaat?”
“With your car? There’s something I have to do.” Emma adds, directly.
Madison sits up in bed, confused. She realizes that Emma isn’t joking, that she looks scared. Something happened. Something is wrong.
“I can be there in one hour.”
Call ended. Emma shakes her head. If you want something done right, you have to do it yourself.
ppl were stuck, so i learned a new coding language and wrote out a script for them… no, i didnt go to school for this, im just a geek 😅🙈 A+++sian like my parents taught me! #LetMeShowYouHowItsDone 💪😇
Sombra portrait 👾 Will be available as poster sale soon when I open my Etsy shop 😊 #drawing #art #digitalart #poster #artprint #artposter #fanart #sombra #overwatch #blizzard #hacker #hackergirl #gamergirl #pinkhair #cintiq13hd #cintiq #wacom #mangastudio #clipstudiopaint #portrait #instaartist #instaart #artistsofinstagram #badasswomen #woman #girl #moofen #moofenart
With her lying there like a drugged out rag doll, it’s hard to tell. Heartbeat, breathing, she’s definitely alive...but then, why can’t she hear Emma? Something’s telling Emma not to touch the headset--no matter what’s going on with Isabel’s body, her mind is in there somewhere. And according to every movie ever, you don’t fuck with the brain.
Emma scrambles to check out the packaging--no return address. But obviously, she knows who had to have sent this. And he knows about Universe, so he better have answers.
Emma makes a mad dash to her bedroom. Her dad calls from downstairs.
“Did you get the package?”
“YEAH IT WAS A T-SHIRT”
A t-shirt? What? Her bullshitting skills are slipping. It doesn’t matter, her dad doesn’t actually care anyway, it’s just part of his new “I’m invested” routine. Emma slams her bedroom door behind her, then runs over to her computer.
EMMA: Mason are you there??
EMMA: Hello?
EMMA: I think my sister is in trouble
EMMA: She stole the headset, she started playing the game, she’s not responding to me, I’m massively freaking out if you can’t tell
EMMA: I’m sorry to ask this but did you...do something?
Who knows what this ghost person is capable of. Whatever connection she and he may or may not have...she doesn’t actually know him at all.
She waits.
Oddly, there’s nothing. Hadn’t he just told her about the package fifteen minutes ago? Where could he have gone? Emma slumps down in her chair.
Why is it that men always disappear when they are needed most?
* * *
24 HOURS EARLIER
A teenage boy is taking a shower in a minimalistic stall. He bows his head toward the showerhead, the powerful stream sends his wavy black hair in all directions. The boy makes the water hotter. And hotter. The skin on his neck is turning a deep shade of red, but it’s unclear if he can even feel it.
“Night, hurry the hell up. I gotta shower too.”
The complaining breaks the peace of the showering boy. He turns off the faucet, wraps himself in a pristine white bath towel, and makes way for his roommate to take over.
“Why d’you shower so much, man? Shit’s creepy.”
“That’s why I do it, Sugar, to creep you out. Keeps you on your toes.”
Sugar laughs to himself and turns on the shower. The boy called Night stares at himself in the square, chrome mirror. The bathroom looks like it belongs in a very luxurious prison.
“We getting food before class?” Sugar calls from the shower.
“Sure, whatever.” Night exits the bathroom into an expansive bedroom with two king-sized beds. The curtains are shut, so the only source of light is a single bulb radiating from the ceiling. Night grabs a pair of deep blue linen pants and a matching button-up shirt from one of the closets and gets dressed.
This room is pretty clearly divided, one side being far more chaotic than the other. There are desks on either side: one desk is covered in clothes, dirty towels, food wrappers, and an empty fish tank. Oddly, it had never contained a fish. The other desk has only a desktop computer and tiny, struggling plant growing out of a mason jar. This is the desk Night sits down at. He powers on his computer.
“Yo, you ready?” Sugar calls from inside the bathroom.
Night groans, then shuts his computer off before it can boot up. “Yeah.”
Night and Sugar head down a wide staircase that empties into an enormous hall, swimming with other young people wearing the same linen suits that they are. Not all are blue, some are red, a few are green (including Sugar’s), and only a couple of them are black.
The hall is lined with various food vendors, there’s a range of cuisine--nearly any option imaginable. The counters are fast, so despite the crowd, there are no lines. Everyone pays by tapping their phones.
“Kinda feeling like a sushi situation today, what d’you think?” Sugar asks, very obviously checking out two girls grabbing soy sauce from the counter.
“Why are you looking at those girls?”
“Uh, why would I NOT be looking at them? The hell is wrong with you?”
Night says earnestly, “Oh, I get it now that you want to--”
“--ALRIGHT great.” Sugar shakes his head. “Dude, listen. I’m glad we’re roomin’ together. In fact I even like you a lil bit. Not in that way. You know what I mean. Anyway. I think you’re cool. But I also think you’re a damn freak.”
Night tries not to laugh. “Is that all?”
“Yeah it is. Now let’s get some fuckin maki.”
* * *
Night is trying to stay awake in class, but he’s finding it impossible to care about this kid’s presentation on the code he wrote over the weekend. This class simply could not be more boring. Why can’t he be studying something useful? Another language? Or music? These computer skills are just not practical. No one needs them.
But boredom is not the only reason Night can’t stay awake in class. It’s also because he doesn’t put forth much effort to sleep at night. Once the sun goes down, Night begins to read. Typically not books, but articles on the internet. Hours pass, he scours the web for information, and his pale eyes melt into the screen.
“Night, wake up.”
Night opens his eyes and takes a startled breath. He’s alone in the classroom with his teacher. An older woman, dressed in a smart but relaxed white linen suit. She looks disappointed, and slightly concerned.
“What happened?”
“You fell asleep. And then class ended. And you still didn’t move. So here we are.”
“I’m sorry. I was just so disinterested in what was going on. I couldn’t bring myself to pay attention, it was boredom that made me pass out.” Night says this very earnestly, unaware that it’s fairly insulting.
Teacher smiles and nods. She knows Night lives on another planet, and she expects things like this. He’s very bright, but also extremely strange. He seems to have a good heart, but it’s also hard to judge hearts since they’re invisible and not actually related to emotion. She keeps an eye on him.
“I’m a bit worried about you, Night. I want you to graduate the year with enough knowledge to start building.”
“Eh, well, you shouldn’t worry about me, Teacher. What we learned this week...I taught myself when I was ten.”
Teacher laughs. He kinda laughs too.
She asks, “Will you do something for me?”
“I don’t know.”
She takes a deep breath, thinking.
“I want you to take your presentation very seriously. I want you to “wow” me. Show your classmates how brilliant you are. I know that you can.”
Night stares, thoughtfully. All his life, his actions have been motivated by an internal compass that he cannot understand or explain. He has always done what he wants, has always says what’s on his mind. Often he’s wrong, and sometimes controversial, but the people around him know him well enough to know that he doesn’t mean it. Most people, anyway.
While people have allowed the tall, starry-eyed ghost boy to wander and act impulsively wherever he goes (because it’s easier not to question it), he still struggles with being abnormal. He wonders if the reason he can’t sleep at night is because nighttime is the only time that he can detach himself from the people around him. When he can be alone, and feel normal, and imagine different ways of living.
What if he doesn’t want to build next year?
Maybe there’s a way for him to prove that he can contribute something else.
* * *
It’s evening, the school day is over.
Back at their room, Sugar tosses his backpack on top of the pile of junk on his desk. He flings himself onto his bed and immediately starts playing an obnoxiously loud game on his phone. Night is on his computer, writing. Sugar calls out, without moving.
“Man, what are you doing? Homework? It’s Friday dude.”
“I’m actually writing you a letter about how much I love you.”
Night’s signature deadpan is so dead that it’s undetectable to the naked eye. Sugar chortles and throws a pillow at Night’s head. He ducks.
“Dear Sugar, I am deeply enchanted by what a crusty slob you are. Piles of garbage are hot. Call me.”
“Yo you don’t even understand that I legit get that shit all the time. Those girls today were thinking it.”
“Oh I don’t doubt it.” Night smirks, Sugar laughs.
“You’re fuckin weird man.”
Sugar flips over, texting. Night continues to scroll and type, endlessly. He checks the time again and again. Based on the pandemic...on everything that’s going on...he has calculated that it will happen tonight. He sends an email. He taps his fingers.
“Well I’ma go out. Diamond’s havin’ a party or somethin. You in?”
Night doesn’t look away from the screen. “Nah, you go on ahead. Have fun.”
Sugar playfully caresses Night’s hair. “You want me to tell Diamond you said hello? I’m sure she...”
Night suddenly looks serious. “Please don’t.” Sugar laughs.
“Chill dude. Peace.” He leaves.
And with perfect timing.
*ping*
He receives a message. He takes a deep breath.
So many late nights of reading, studying, preparing. This message is what he’s been waiting for.
ADMIN_E: How am I supposed to find you if I don’t know who you are?
Night smiles to himself. Sometimes he can’t read people at all. Sometimes he can read them with incredible clarity. Right now, he can already tell that this girl won’t stop until she finds him.
He chats with her, back and forth. ADMIN_E and GUEST55.
*buzz*
Night looks down at his phone, which doesn’t vibrate often...
“Julian”
Except when she gets “certain” texts. Shit. Not good timing.
GUEST55: don’t answer that. He can wait
Emma ignores Julian. Good. Jesus, what does she see in that nightmare of a human?
Oh no, wait, it seems like she’s getting scared. Night doesn’t want to scare her. That’s not part of the plan.
ADMIN_E: ok now you’re starting to scare me. What the hell is going on? Are you watching me?
GUEST55: no, no...Emma, I promise i’ll explain everything. Just not yet
Night truly doesn’t care what any single person thinks of him. He lives in his own world, where the judgments of others don’t exist. So why is it that suddenly, when it comes to a girl he’s never actually met, he’s starting to care? Is that what this is? Well, he just knows that he doesn’t want her to be afraid of him.
But he doesn’t want to get ahead of himself either... She has the map now. The rest will come.
GUEST55: I’ll see you soon Emma.
ADMIN_E: See you, um, well see you
Strangely, he wants her to know his name. Some piece of her. It’s not that he’s afraid of exposing himself…it’s that he won’t just have to explain his own name, but the names of so many others, and so much more...she’ll have to wait.
He hesitates, looking around the dark room. His eyes land on the glass jar on his desk. Hm. The little plant does look so unnatural in this world.
GUEST55: my name is Mason. I want you to know that.
Mason. Well, it will have to work for now.
Night signs out. He walks over to the window, completing his nightly ritual of dragging the tall curtains open.
And then the extraordinary moonlight floods the room like a searchlight beam.
Outside his window, there is a city that looks nothing like any city we’ve ever seen in the natural world. Roads are raised, buildings are holographic, animated advertisements encircle all infrastructure. The moon is enormous, but there is not a single star.
Night stares up at the dark sky, after which he was named. Maybe soon she’d be staring at the same one.
