//* “I had desired it with an ardour that far exceeded moderation;
but now that I had finished, the beauty of the dream vanished,
and breathless horror and disgust filled my heart.”
— Mary Shelly (Frankenstein) *//
“Don’t be a litterbug.”
“Your mother isn’t here. Clean up after yourself.”
— HALLWAY Graffiti
//Codex Tag
function, inscribeAnnotation011(content=
/* Simple reminders of shared spaces, etched with equal parts care and contempt. */
codex.updateEntry(“Litter Quitter | Don’t be trashy! Use the bin!”);
}
“This was where you were supposed to pick your companion.” The look on Archie’s face was disappointed. There was a metallic chair in the center of a barren white room. It looked like something ripped straight from a science fiction movie, a minimalist nightmare of shiny white walls that seemed to illuminate themselves. Deep black lines where the panels met. But mostly a clinical coldness. The room felt hollow, like all emotion had been scrubbed free with a too-strong pine cleaner, so that all that was left was an aroma of sterility.
“It was supposed to be a meta-commentary on the impersonality of meeting people through social media. Look, I even added the ability to swipe.” A screen on Remi’s left blinked on. A picture of Wallace appeared on the screen. Remi couldn’t help but think that even his profile picture was smug. He was sitting on a bearskin rug in front of a roaring fire, reading what appeared to be an anthology of poetry. Who was he trying to kid? That photo was more over-staged than this year’s school production of Our Town, which included a bunch of teenagers dressed up as stalks of wheat doing an interpretive dance about the prairies. Without thinking, Remi lifted his hand and swiped left. The picture disappeared.
Archie beamed. “See, I knew people would get it. I had considered giving an instructional video, but then thought better of it. Most people don’t know how to talk face to face anymore. It’s like online matchmaking now comes hard-coded in your DNA.” As he rambled, the picture was replaced by Joanie, the director of the previously maligned play. She was nice and had a good sense of humour, even if her vision of modern theatre was slightly grainy. Remi swiped left again. This was followed by a series of lefts. Swipe. Swipe. Swipe. Ex-girlfriend, old roommate, shadowy figure with a question mark—all instant no’s. His hand paused, freezing as the image of Dorian settled on the screen.
His brother looked older, but he knew he did as well. A little grey clawed its way up his temples. He was smiling, in what looked like a really expensive suit. No doubt; their father would not stand for cheap garments at Page, Page, and Finch. The company’s name was stupid, and he had told Dodo so when they picked it. The feeling was off, like they were flipping to the end of a book. Not to mention, the Atticus thing was too unbelievable for reality. Dorian had laughed and insisted that most things, when you looked at them, ended up being that way.
SNAP! The sound broke Remi’s train of thought and caused the picture to blink off the screen.
“That’s who I was hoping you would pick. I thought there were some strong indications that we might get a Cain and Abel kind of thing, but unfortunately, you will now have to pick later. I’m not even sure if he will be available by the time you get around to doing this.”
“What! Why?” Remi swiped right on his brother. Together, they had a chance. They needed to talk anyway—he’d been a stubborn ass about everything for too long. Nothing. Remi swiped again. It still did nothing. At least he could keep him safe. The third attempt caused the screen to glitch, replaced with a system error.
This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.
[SYSTEM MESSAGE]
Unable to select paired secondary thread!
Archie pointed directly at Remi’s chest. “You need to stop doing that. It will not work, and really it’s all your fault.” It took Remi a second to realize that Archie wasn’t talking about the fight with Dorian. “Your request for what amounts essentially to a training module forced an interruption to the natural flow of the planned narrative structure. Temporarily. You’re essentially in a sandbox space.” Archie looked like he was digging around in a marking stack on Remi’s desk. “Oh yes, here is the notification." He flipped a sheet of looseleaf into the air, and it zoomed to the space right in front of Remi’s eyes. The sheet dissolved midair, reforming as a system notification across Remi’s HUD.
[SYSTEM MESSAGE]
Thread Split: Initiated
Sandbox Node: ACTIVE
Thread Lock: remi.page
Archie looked like he was about to start another lecture, but realized where he was and stopped himself.
“I have created this space next to the main line, still attached, but just off to the side. I reconfigured the portals to loop you out and then hopefully back in, but at the end of this, you’ll end up right back here. You will walk right through that door,” he pointed to where they had entered the room. “Sit in this chair and make your partner choice.”
The emphasis on the word hopefully was concerning, but Remi already knew that whatever was beyond that exit portal would definitely try to eat him. Likely in the most gruesome and narratively satisfying way.
“But before that, get going, young man.” The barely contained glee on Archie’s face was unnerving. “Here is your schedule. You’d better get going, or you’re going to be late for class. We wouldn’t want that because this school has a three-strike policy. You wouldn’t want to get a detention, now would you?” Archie produced a piece of paper—from where Remi was uncertain. It materialized, folded in half. Archie passed it over, and Remi was pleased with the texture of the stationery. It was pleasantly high-quality, a durable sheet of parchment. Not like the flimsy garbage they used in the photocopiers. The moment of tactile pleasure quickly morphed into horror as he read what was on it, however.
“Now scoot, young man,” said Archie. “You’re already late for Math. We took more time with the Q and A . It’s because I’m so good at building relationships. Which reminds me, you and I can keep in touch like before but now in the chat window.” A little box popped up at the bottom of left of Remi’s vision; semi-transparent, so it didn’t block his view. It was exactly like the type found in a video games. The next words came not from Archie’s voice but in the newly formed widow.
[AI]: See it’s like we have walkie-talkies. Or we can talkie as you walkie. You get the idea.
[Remi]: Unfortunately.
He made a double-handed shooing gesture towards the door. Getting no response to his message, Remi simply shrugged and walked out of the room.
[System Message]
Time: 8:57
KRRRRRIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIING! You’re late!
Reward: Late Slip 1 of 3
You’d better get moving. Math teachers like to keep you in class to write tests, but get really indignant when you’re late for theirs.