Morning Lecture
I knew her like the back of my hand—perhaps even better. Our morning routine was nearly choreographed: she showered while I shaved in our small bathroom. I swear I could read her mind with all the rambling she did in there. Sometimes I’d say something, sometimes I’d just smile and nod, but she wanted me there, listening, until she was finished and gave over the restroom. And let me tell you, with that bathroom heat, it was like a sauna inside!
Ah, her quirks. Oh yes, she wanted me right there, in the heat of hell, hated even a crack in the door in case a gust of cold air snuck in. Said it gave her chills. You know what I call it? Quirks. What was she talking about in there? What wasn’t she talking about, really? Planning her day, pondering what to eat, even mumbling crazy ideas for her stories, all in this perfectly chaotic symphony that, I guess, she understood.
Singing? I would have liked that, but no, she talked and talked, in a monologue of mental notes, oh yes, I have to do this before that, ah, I almost forgot what I left unfinished yesterday. And don’t you dare touch her towels, all neatly arranged in their designated spot and the bathrobe ready to slip into upon exiting. Of course, more quirks, an inch further and she couldn’t reach it from the shower, as if extending her hand a bit more bothered her.
As she left, I entered. Any affectionate words? Nah, her mental notes continued, occasionally extending towards me; remember to do this or that. A “yes, dear” or a nod would suffice, assuming her attention casually drifted towards me at some point. She’d take a good twenty minutes, insisting that washing her hair was a process, but I’d argue that shampooing and rinsing couldn’t possibly take that long. But hey, that’s just another one of her quirks. That time in the shower was her way of mentally prepping for the day ahead, even if it meant sacrificing a chunk of my time.
Meanwhile, as I bathed, she’d methodically dry herself off with her perfectly organized towels, all while listening to some online tech news or AI updates. And let me tell you, those themes always heated her up; whether it was about job security or the future of humanity, she’d express her dissatisfaction loud and clear, even above the sound of flowing water. Despite all of the criticisms, she’d be the first to join the bandwagon and replace me with the first intelligent android robot to be released.
When I stepped out of the shower, she was nowhere to be found. If I had asked her to wait for me while I showered, she would’ve probably rolled her eyes. Yes, folks, when I finally emerged, she had already devoured breakfast and was eagerly waiting for me to finish so she could brush her teeth. “Sorry for taking five minutes, darling,” I said sheepishly. But that day, when I emerged, there she was, waiting for me with a mischievous grin. It was my birthday, yes, that must have been it, she remembered. “No milk left, hun. Did you drink it all yesterday?” she quipped sarcastically. “Yes, guilty as charged. I chugged it all down, all the way, just like you drain my patience every morning.” But I love it. She treats me so candidly, showing all her quirky stuff and vulnerabilities. And that, my friends, that’s love. Or so I hope.
Rabbit Hole
Okay, let’s think of nice, relaxing things. Writing, yeah, I like that, although writers don’t have much of a future anymore, not like before anyway. With AI, nobody looks for writers, painters, or programmers. This AI is going to replace us. Soon we’ll have an android at home, like in the game Detroit: Become Human. I loved playing it, but now that it’s closer than ever, if they were to kill us Terminator-style, I’d understand, but to replace us and leave us without jobs, without value, without goals, without anything… there’s nothing worse than having nothing to look forward to, nothing that excites you. It’s like being in a depression. Oh no, here I go down the rabbit hole again, let’s focus. Okay, my phone still has no coverage or internet signal. AI controls everything, but if you lose your internet connection or your digital device, you lose your life. You have nothing—no social networks, no friends, nothing to read, no terrible news to complain about. You’re cut off from the world, unable to talk to anyone, without access to your photos, documents, things you’ve written, basically your memories, because we don’t have memory anymore. They fill our minds with useless information and advertising that we don’t need at all while we forget how great we had it at our favorite singer’s concert last week. I don’t even have that memory because I was recording with my phone, a phone that now, without battery, is as if none of that ever existed. The Great Blackout, oh my God, they say we’re going to lose our lives. I don’t even have physical books anymore, only online games and magazines, we’re going to lose everything. Oh no, focus again, no, I can’t, yes you can, focus quickly, someone will soon notice you’re trapped in the elevator and they’ll get you out. Don’t think about the bad stuff, focus on the good. Let’s see what I have in my bag, I don’t even have food or water, great, I’ll probably survive for about 5 minutes. Why do I never bring anything? Oh yeah, because my bag gets heavy and my back, which is already a mess, gets worse. Just what I needed. I’m starting to get thirsty, my throat is dry, I’m coughing, I’m having an allergy attack. How can pollen get into this space of less than one square meter? I don’t think it’s that, you’re paranoid, go back to thinking about good things, like what you were going to do today. I had a date, well, considering what time it is, I think I don’t have it anymore. Is it me or is it getting hotter here? Oh no, it’s not heat, is it lack of air? No, calm down, you’re a hypochondriac. Well, what floor was I on? It’s only the fifth floor, there’s not that much height below in case the elevator ends up falling because of my own weight. I don’t weigh that much, even if I cheated on my diet, the cake I ate last weekend couldn’t have made me gain that much weight, could it? How can something that weighs less than a kilo make me gain two kilos? Can someone explain that to me? Anyway, don’t look down, just don’t think about that. Wait, is that a spider over there? In that corner? Oh no, a beetle? Please don’t tell me it is, alright, just, step on it, come on. Oh no, imagine if it was a bee and it stung me in this space where I can’t run away. Maybe it’s just a speck of dust, don’t move, oh God, it moved, it moved! “Is there someone in there?” Yes, yes, there’s someone in here, me and the beetle, I mean just me, please! “The elevator got stuck between two floors, we’re going to open the doors and get you out, okay?” Okay, I can do it, it’s over, everything will be fine. Oh my God, I’m drenched in sweat, how am I going to go to work like this? I look like a wet hen, and let’s see, oh no, I smell terrible. What the hell are deodorants for anyway? They only smell good when you just got out of the shower, right? Perfect, why would I want to smell good when I already smell like soap, huh? “Give me your hand, miss.” I’m trying but I can’t reach it, I can’t reach. “Please, I can’t open the door anymore, give me your hand, don’t unbalance the platform, miss.” Unbalance? I don’t weigh that much, no, you don’t either, please, I already have enough with my cat’s judgmental look every time I have dessert at home. I can’t reach, I can’t move, I can’t, oh no, don’t tell me I’m going to faint right now. A little more, just a little more, everything is spinning around me, but a little more, “miss, please, give me your hand…” almost, I’m almost there. Does it smell like smoke? I don’t smoke, I used to smoke but not anymore, I overcame it like a champion, it didn’t cost me much, I just gained 30 kilos in the process and a whole wardrobe of new clothes. “An elevator component has burned, we have to get out of here quickly, miss, hurry up” don’t you see I’m already doing it? Can’t you open the doors more? I can’t fit through here, open it more, I don’t fit, ugh, what a cough, it smells burned. Where is the man? Wasn’t there a man here stretching his hand? Has he disappeared? Or is it the smoke that doesn’t let me see anything? Hello? Is anyone here? There’s something here, it must be the man’s hand, it’s metallic, it can’t be, well, grab it anyway, oh, it’s come loose, what was this? The elevator handle? Ouch, my back, great, at least my fat ass stopped the fall, hello cockroach, now I can see it well from the ground, yes, it was a cockroach, great, it’s climbing up my leg, I can’t move or see anything, it smells too burned, well, this is as far as we’ve come. I can’t breathe. Goodbye. The alarm clock. “Wake up sleepyhead! It’s my birthday!” “Son, I know it’s funny to you, but how many times have I told you not to put your hands in your aunt’s face?” Ugh, I’m finally breathing again, what happened, God, I’m drenched in sweat, what time is it? So late, ugh, today is my nephew’s birthday, I have to go pick up the cake, although I’m not going to eat it, I’m on a diet, but skipping it for one day won’t hurt, and the piece of cake I eat can’t weigh that much, right? 250 grams? As a maximum I should only gain a few grams, shouldn’t I? That would be the logic, I think.
Love Paradise
I wake in vain
I dream of love as time runs through my hand
Baby, won't you understand
That your wish is my command
I've got this feelin' that won't subside
I look at you and I fantasize
As I look into your eyes I see the sunrise
The light behind your face helps me realize
Oh, think twice, it's just another day for you
You and me in paradise
Every move you make
Every step you take
Nothing but a heartache
Hits you when it's too late
You know that I want to be with you all the time
You know that I won't stop until I make you mine
You know we're two hearts believing in just one mind
Together forever till the end of time
Retirement
“Mortimer! You can’t just keep chomping down on ice cream like nothing’s happening?” “Sure I can, I’ve only got a few months left till retirement, why should I care?” “Because I doubt they’ll even grant it to you if you don’t nab those thugs.” The sound of a toilet flushing. His partner Pepe emerged from the police station bathroom and strolled over to Mortimer’s desk, where he had his feet up while indulging in a sweet vanilla ice cream in a glass cup. He clicked the TV remote, with an exaggerated grimace. “End of shift, catch you later,” he said, leaving nonchalantly. The TV blared news Mortimer wished he could ignore. “We confirm that five different branches of the same bank have been hit simultaneously. The masked bandits have made off with the loot, thanks to hostages that have left our police forces stumped. The heist has been pinned on the criminal gang known as The Quintuplets, who always strike in five different yet coordinated spots, leaving law enforcement authorities perplexed. Citizens are asking, why can’t our police guardians quell the chaos and...” Mortimer grunted and switched off the TV, annoyed by the report.
Mortimer thought it would be better to turn on the radio instead of the television, as he didn’t want to be left alone with his thoughts that were echoing the weight of duty too loudly in his head. The old radio in his drawer remained there, undisturbed by the events unfolding in the evening darkness. “And now, we present to you the new hit from the Korean band composed of five brothers. Which one is your favorite? Let’s hear what their fans have to say about this band of quintuplets.” “No, not more quintuplets! Leave me alone!” Mortimer exclaimed, turning off the radio.
“Sir, we have identified additional individuals for interrogation. There are five actual quintuplets with a history of supermarket theft,” said Ronald, one of the officers.
“Are you serious, Ronald? Just because they’re called ‘the quintuplets’ doesn’t mean they’re actual siblings, they’re just a group of five. We shouldn’t be looking for real brothers, that won’t give us the answer,” Mortimer dismissed the idea.
“Tomorrow, we’ll be more refreshed. Let’s finish today’s shift and let the night shift take over,” Mortimer insisted.
“But...” Ronald tried to argue.
“There are no valid ‘buts’ in this situation,” Mortimer said firmly, asserting the authority he had granted himself, and he headed toward the subway to return home.
To avoid spending time with his inner self, Mortimer decided to pull out his mobile phone and start playing a monster and dungeon-themed RPG game. Despite his advanced age, he was an avid fan of video games and easily passed the first levels of the daily missions. “Here comes the boss,” he thought.
That day’s boss was the Lernaean Hydra, a creature with five heads, and its special move was splitting into five quintuplets of itself. “Oh, come on! It has to be a joke. They’re haunting me everywhere I go,” Mortimer complained, abruptly turning off the screen and losing the game immediately.
Suddenly, everything became blurry around Mortimer, and he woke up in his bed, disoriented and drenched in cold sweat. “Oh, it was just a dream, a nightmare, really. I don’t understand why quintuplets kept chasing me,” he muttered to himself.
“Grandpa, Grandpa! Wake up! You promised to play with us today!”
“Yeah, Grandpa! I want to go iguana fishing!”
“No! He said we would brush my dolls’ hair together and shave their heads with his razor!”
“He won’t be doing any of that because first he has to help me with my math homework. I don’t understand how this works! It says here, ‘How many candies are left if I’m given six and I’ve already eaten two?’ I don’t have any left because Mom only lets me eat two a day!”
“Grandpa, why are you looking at us like that? Come on, cheer up! You’re almost retired, and then we can always be together forever! Won’t that be great?”
And Mortimer understood why.
A letter to my mother
A few days remain until Mother's Day, and as I sit down to write this letter, I can't help but wonder: what significance does that day truly hold? None at all, if throughout the year one doesn't cherish their mother—this day won't change that. It's akin to cramming for an exam the day before, it might yield results, and with luck, you could even deceive the teacher, but you can never deceive yourself. As I pen this letter, I can't help but feel ridiculous, because why can't we humans express ourselves freely as we desire? Due to our own limitations, embarrassments, traumas, and inner conflicts, we resort to using cards and physical gifts as a crutch, instead of seizing the moment to openly share our feelings on any given day. But since we're already here, I'll embrace the sentiment of this card.
In my day-to-day life, I don't often express these types of things—attribute it to any excuse you'd like: being busy, lacking time, or simply not being in the right mood, but deep down, none of these reasons suffice. The truth is, we find it difficult to express love, yet find unwavering strength in voicing our opinions when angry or upset, in fear of being trampled upon. But expressing love terrifies us. We are afraid of not being loved, afraid of not having a mother who cares for us, and when we have one, we’re afraid of losing her.
Because let's admit it, we all love our mothers—not solely for the immense sacrifices they've made in raising us amidst adversity. That's not what matters, as every mother faces her unique challenges and deserves our love, regardless of her journey. So, I won't tell you, Mom, that I love you because you've given everything for me, because yes, of course you have, but that's not the reason. It's not for what we've been through together or the things you've done—it's for who you are, because you're my mother. And I didn't have to attend any school to learn how to love you.
Lifelong lessons hold no sway when it comes to loving and caring for you, Mom. A mother's love for her child remains steadfast, even if they've gone astray or fallen into the darkest of paths. Because everything learned and all the morality one believes they possess would vanish in an instant, without a second thought, if their mother is in danger. It doesn't matter what must be done or how many heads must be trampled, no matter how terrible we know it might be, and certainly, if it were for ourselves, we wouldn't do it—but for our mother, who gave us life, yes, without a doubt.
And again, no, I'm not grateful for being alive, I don't owe you my life because I didn't ask to be here, you chose to bring me into this world. This letter isn't about gratitude, it's about justice, it's about truth. At this point in the letter, I feel power and bravery, but it soon turns to tears and emotion—damn it, I didn't want to cry. Anyway, let's leave it here, because watching a child cry isn't the best gift a mother could receive, though I know that when you read this, you'll cry too.
The example you've set for me has taught me that I didn't need it at all. I didn't need a role model to follow to become as great a mother as you, I only needed your love, and that is more than enough.
If there's something I don't understand or don't agree with, I'll tell you. If there are things you do that I believe aren't correct or aren't good for you, I'll tell you without hesitation, only to try and help you. So, isn't this the most unconditional love of all, not needing to cite anything specific to justify that I'll always be by your side?
Four Pages
“Phew, there’s so much dust here,” James complained as he coughed, opening the sealed boxes that had been stored for quite some time. “These books are from when I was a kid. What do you want me to do with them, Mom?” “Take the ones you want for your kids, and we’ll donate the rest. They’re just taking up space here, and I was thinking of renovating this storage room, even if your father disagrees. You understand, Brian?” “But Mom, I don’t even have kids. I’m just moving in with my girlfriend,” he grumbled, knowing that the battle with his mother was lost, so he decided not to waste any more time and started going through the books. Suddenly, a marble glimmered in one of the boxes, catching his attention to the box full of comics. His restrained laughter echoed, filling the gloomy space as he left the first box of books open, his attention now focused on the comic-filled bundle.
In the first box, a collection of four thick books lay inside. “Has anyone seen my pages?” asked the book titled Autumn, shaking a bit. “I think I’ve lost some.” Its attention turned to the Spring book that should have been beside it, but instead there was an empty space. “Hey!” it exclaimed, seeing the Spring book at the bottom of the carton, activating a music box and dancing to a famous classical tune. Balancing skillfully, its sheets moved to the rhythm, and pages filled with pink petals and spring flowers flipped rapidly like a movie.
On the other side of the box, the Winter book remained still, receiving a breeze from the Summer book fanning it with its pages adorned with sunny vacation landscapes, attempting to lower its fever. “I think I have yellow fever,” Winter said. “Look at my pages, they’re yellowish.” Summer replied dismissively, “Nonsense, that’s just because you’re old. Mosquitoes are more attracted to me. You just have a common, run-of-the-mill cold.”
“Are you cold, Winter?” asked Autumn. “No, my hard leather cover keeps me warm. But what I need right now is to get this fever down, thank you for your concern,” Winter replied. “Actually, I was wondering if you used my lost pages to keep warm since winter nights can be chilly...” Autumn clarified. “My plastic cover wouldn’t help much, but you can have it if you want,” Summer offered without stopping the fanning. “Would this bookmark create more wind for you? I found it in my last pages,” Spring said, bringing over a fuchsia piece of cloth with a keychain-like finish.
“You see, I’m missing pages, not many, but it’s strange and I don’t know, maybe a wicked being like a witch or a vampire took them,” Autumn said, playfully pretending to shiver in fear. “That’s the influence of Halloween for you. You shouldn’t read yourself, that’s the first rule of the book’s decalogue,” Summer rebutted. “I don't read myself, but I like to look at the pictures. Observing flowers is beautiful, they celebrate it a lot in Japan,” Spring said, spinning around so the others could leaf through its decorated pages.
“If you know that, it’s because you’ve read yourself, caught red-handed!” Summer exclaimed. “I bet your content is boring, just surfboards and beaches,” Spring teased, making faces. “Of course not, there are also bonfires, fireworks, and in some countries even Christmas celebrations,” Summer retorted with a smile, but soon realized its mistake. “Oops.” “Christmas? Oh, don't take away my best part!” Winter stuttered. “Don't say that! What people like the most are gifts and that happens at birthdays too. There are a lot of those in the summer,” Summer rebuffed. “There are also a lot of birthdays in the spring,” Spring chimed in.
“Wow, it looks like I tore out pages from another book to use as bookmarks for the comics. Where is the bookmark I stole from my mom? Oh, I think I left it in the Spring book, I never finished it,” Brian mumbled to himself. “And what book were these pages from? Let's see, Mid-Autumn Festival, Day of the Dead, Thanksgiving… these must be from the book about Autumn! Although this page… ‘After autumn comes winter, don't miss the next book about winter…’ This promotional page would fit better here,” he said, placing it inside the Winter book. “Ouch, it’s hot! Ah, now it’s cooling down,” he remarked, observing the other books in the boxes.
“Brian are you finished?” his mother asked, entering the room. “Yes, Mom. All of those can be thrown away,” Brian said, pointing to one of the boxes. “Are you sure? They were from when you were little, how sweet,” his mom reminisced. “Yeah, I’m sure. I just skimmed through the comics. Won’t be reading them again. I’ll just keep the ones about the four seasons.”
“You’re going to keep those, even though they’re so old? I thought you’d take the comics or the shiny ones that are better preserved,” his mother said, surprised. “That’s unconditional love right there,” she laughed as Brian played with the pop-up elements of the four books. When placed together, they formed a complete silhouette of the Earth divided into four parts, each representing a different season.
Minimal World
"That'll be $7.98," the woman, her gray hair peeking from under the bandana around her large, angular face, said as she bagged the watermelon and handed it to Luciana.
"I'll pay with my phone," Luciana replied.
The woman nodded, gesturing to the payment terminal on the counter. Luciana tapped her phone against it, and the transaction went through seamlessly.
"Thanks," Luciana said, taking the bag of fruit. "Have a great day."
"You too, honey," the woman called after her. As Luciana turned away, she gave her a once-over, it wasn't the first time she had seen her.
As Luciana walked out of the small market, she felt the heat of the sun beating down on her. It was a scorching summer day in Wisconsin, and the first thing Luciana did upon arriving home was to place the bag containing the watermelon on the table. The wicker tablecloth absorbed the impact of the heavy watermelon as Luciana sat down on the wooden piano bench and began to play. The fabric of her white dress with blue floral print rested on the walnut stool, doing little to alleviate the heat.
As the notes flowed, the painting displayed on the kitchen table was the sole listener, and Luciana its sole observer. Entitled "Minimal World," it depicted a greatly simplified landscape with clean lines and soft colors, featuring simple geometric shapes and ample negative space. The idea was to convey the beauty and serenity of a world reduced to its essentials. Not much is really needed to find happiness.
Luciana contemplated her thoughts to the rhythm of the melody. Her paintings, once ignored by the general public, were now appreciated by a large majority, allowing her to make a living from her art and exhibit it in galleries, museums, and even in official or private advertising campaigns. Did she really deserve this? Her art was minimalist and simple but encompassed a great sense of love for the world and society, infused with what she considered to be positive and important messages that invited reflection.
Still, for a long time, no one had paid attention to them, perhaps for some reason. She wondered if her success was fair. While many other artists, probably much more skilled than her, were living on the streets begging or creating very accurate portraits of the obliging people who stopped in front of them in the subway. Most people didn't have the time or inclination to truly appreciate the work of these artists. They hurried past, fixated on their own lives, rarely sparing a glance at the the artists that worked tirelessly, hoping that someone would acknowledge their talent and offer support.
Luciana's fingers glided effortlessly across the piano keys, and the music filled the room. The minimalistic painting seemed to absorb the melody, as if it were part of the artwork itself. Outside, the sun continued to beat down, just as Luciana beat the piano keys.
While Luciana played the piano in her sunlit living room, the library behind her suddenly opened without her even turning around. Her expression remained impassive and pensive. A blinding light, unlike anything compared to the sunlight filling the room, emanated from the space between the two now-separated bookshelves, and a six-meter-tall being entered the room, crouching to fit. "There's the watermelon, take it before it spoils in this heat," Luciana said dispassionately.
The otherworldly being floated towards the table, picking up the watermelon that seemed like a grape in its enormous hand, and checked its freshness by bringing it close to its wide mouth, which served as a nose and eyes—a sort of universal analyzer. "It's fresh," the being said. Luciana’s artistic career depended on that fruit, and no, she wasn't drawing watermelons.
Luciana stopped playing, having fulfilled her purpose: to summon the being, whose names were not spoken but played as melodies. They had taught her the melody during their first encounter.
"Yes, it's from the usual store, they have the freshest watermelons, just the kind you like," Luciana said, her eyes still fixed on her painting. "The fresher they are, the more citrulline," the being said, attempting a smile, which for its species meant opening its mouth to the sides—a somewhat intimidating appearance that Luciana had learned to ignore.
"Is something wrong?" the being asked, noticing her distraction. "It's just that, I don't know, do I really deserve this fame? I mean before meeting you, before meeting your race, no one noticed my paintings," she admitted. "Of course you do, that's why we fixed that little problem. Your paintings deserve admiration, they just needed the push that we give them. By the way, have you painted any new ones? So I can add the final touch?" the being said. "That final touch, it's like you hypnotize people..." Luciana hesitated. "Well, we just make them notice what they should notice, how amazing your creations are, that's all. And in exchange, we only ask for you to provide us with watermelons. I thought you were okay with it."
"I understand that Earth was your creation, just another ship of yours, and you signed an agreement with the Space Federation to give it up for experimental purposes, giving rise to the human race. That same agreement prevents you from intervening directly and disrupting the natural flow of our society or forcing anyone, which is why you chose this small action. And the fact that I’m the chosen one because, well, you didn't say it like that, but basically because I'm weak, a nobody. And I had a frustrated dream that made me easy to manipulate. Besides, who would believe me if I told them? An artist who imagines things wouldn't be anything strange. But couldn't you really get citrulline from somewhere else?" Luciana said, starting to sweat from the very act of speaking.
"It would be difficult to obtain watermelons in any other way. If we contacted someone with access to a watermelon field, it would be too obvious, and we don't want to cause any shortages or draw attention to ourselves—we don't want to be investigated. Besides, watermelons have the highest citrulline content on Earth. Citrulline is our source of energy, a powerful vasodilator necessary to make our machinery work, which essentially functions like your human body. That's where you came from, after all. Our reserves are running low, and our source was Earth until we signed the agreement. Of course, when we signed it, we didn't expect to encounter supply problems, but it's too late to go back now," the being said, and Luciana couldn't see any expression on his face, although the tone of its voice conveyed a deep sense of sadness.
The being approached her and placed its enormous, two-fingered hand on her shoulder. "The fact that you're concerned shows the goodness of your soul, and that's enough to deserve your paintings being appreciated. So don't worry about it, we're not harming anyone. You're a successful painter who purchases watermelons, and we get to keep our ship running. It's a win-win situation." The being's reassuring words and gentle touch brought some comfort to Luciana, but a lingering doubt remained in the back of her mind. Was this really a fair arrangement, or was she being taken advantage of in exchange for a taste of success?
The being disappeared the way he came, and this time Luciana didn't bother to bid farewell. Instead, without even checking that the library had closed properly, she headed to the bathroom. She thought that a refreshing shower might help clear not only her body but also her mind.
Luciana checked her mobile phone and saw a message from Matthew, her boyfriend. The last message they had exchanged was a sketch that Luciana had sent him for his opinion, and he now replied that it was impressive and that she should continue with the painting. In Luciana's eyes, that sketch was terrible. She thought to herself, "Not you too!" This was all she needed to decide to end the pact she had with the aliens.
She quickly sat down at the piano, playing the melody to summon the being, but no one appeared. Perhaps it hadn't yet returned to the ship. Unable to wait any longer, Luciana focused on the library, noticing that it wasn't sealed shut as she usually made sure to do after the visits. She pushed forcefully to open it, revealing a blinding light in the shape of a tunnel. She followed it, reaching a door, and on the other side, she could see what looked like spaceship pilot controls. She also heard voices, which scared her, so she hid in the doorway. Luciana saw another being similar to the one she had always dealt with enter from one side and hand a polka-dot backpack to another being. "Seriously? Another watermelon?" the other being said as they threw the backpack down a tunnel labeled "Waste for Shredding."
Summer Sojourn
As the shower handle turned, water began filling the space, running through the grooves of the aged emerald green tiles on the floor. "Damn, it's freezing!" Evan complained, feeling the cold water on his sweaty body.
“Don't complain. You need to wash off that pigsty smell, man,” replied Madden, who was showering right next to him in the communal showers of the capsule hotel in Japan where their group of friends was staying during their summer vacation.
Madden grabbed the plastic bottle of soap he had left on the wall shelf behind them, along with the towels, and pressed the dispenser to squirt soap onto his hands. His once curly, blonde hair now hung down his back, straightened by the water. Meanwhile, Evan's short black hair swirled around his forehead as he closed his eyes, trying not to focus on the cold water caressing his features.
"So, what's the plan for tonight?" Evan asked, shivering under the icy stream.
"I heard there's a karaoke bar nearby," Madden replied, lathering up his hair. "Could be fun."
Evan cracked an eye open, smirking at his friend. "Oh, yeah? Can't wait to hear you butcher some J-pop songs."
Suddenly, soap began oozing from the bottom of the bottle, making the floor slippery, like a sticky gel. Madden held the bottle as the soap flowed toward Evan, who still had his eyes closed and started to notice something slippery beneath his feet, causing him to lose his balance and nearly fall. Evan's eyes shot open, searching for something to grab onto to avoid falling, but there was nothing. A potentially dangerous slip seemed imminent. But at the last moment, he managed to shift his weight forward and regain his balance.
"Nice save! You looked like an ice skater there," Madden laughed.
"Very funny," Evan said, breathing a sigh of relief. "What were you trying to do, make me fall?"
"What are you talking about, man? The bottle was broken, I had no idea. Why would I do that?" Madden said in an exaggeratedly offended tone.
"Why? I don't know, maybe you're still upset that your girlfriend left you for me," Evan speculated.
"That's water under the bridge," Madden dismissed.
"It was just a week ago," Evan pointed out.
"Yeah, and what's your point? It's worse for you, you ended up with someone who can't be faithful," Madden argued, but Evan just laughed.
"Come on, if you go by this logic, nobody would change partners if we couldn't upgrade to a better partner when we see one," Evan reasoned.
"Are you implying you're better than me?" Madden said, now getting angry, as he grabbed both towels from the ledge and stormed out of the showers.
"I meant that I'm better for her... hey, you took my towel! Damn it!" Evan shouted, only to be met with the sound of the door slamming. Just then, a hand holding a grey towel appeared in front of him.
"Here, take this, and let's go. The girls are waiting for us," a voice said.
Evan took the towel, recognizing the slender silhouette of Jonah. His hair was tied in a not-so-neat ponytail. The geek rarely cared about his appearance, unlike Evan and Madden, who were always at the gym perfecting their bodies.
"Thanks, man. It's that idiot Madden's fault," Evan grumbled as he dried himself off.
"I figured as much," Jonah replied with a shrug. "You two are always bickering like an old married couple."
Evan couldn't help but laugh. "Yeah, well, that's what friends are for, right?"
"I suppose so," Jonah said with a smile. "Now, hurry up. We don't want to keep the ladies waiting."
Jonah might not have been as outgoing or athletic as Evan and Madden, but he brought a sense of balance to their group. His intellect and calm demeanour often acted as a counterpoint to the more impulsive and competitive nature of Evan and Madden's friendship.
"Does this top look good on me? I don't want to overdo it either," Leah said, smoothing out the wrinkles on her newly purchased piece of clothing.
"What are you telling me? If you're trying to impress Madden with that, forget it. Ever since he and Mia broke up, he doesn't seem interested in relationships," Remi replied, not taking her eyes off the horizontal screen of her mobile, frantically moving her fingers.
"You haven't even looked at me! Can't you take your eyes off your Summer Hunting Event for a minute and tell me if this color suits me?" Leah insisted.
"Besides, I didn't say I came on this trip to try and hook up with Madden. I know it's still fresh, but he'll have to get over it eventually. We're too young to be suffering for love," Leah continued.
"Just because we're not 40 doesn't mean it doesn't hurt to be dumped. Besides, don't you think it's weird wanting to hook up with Madden? I mean, we've been friends since we were little, in that beach town where we used to vacation.
It's almost like hitting on your brother," Remi said, still focused on her favourite game's hunting event, "Run & Hunt."
Leah sighed. "Look, I'm not saying I want to jump his bones right away. I just think maybe there could be something there. We have a history together, and we get along well."
Remi paused her game and finally looked up at Leah. "I get it, but be careful, okay? You know how guys can be, and Madden's always been a bit of a wild card. I don't want to see you get hurt."
"I know, I know. Don't worry, I'll tread carefully. For now, let's just focus on having a good time on this trip. I'm sure there will be plenty of opportunities to test the waters with Madden," Leah said with a hopeful smile.
Remi nodded, returning her attention to her game. "Sounds good. Just promise me you won't let this whole thing with Madden ruin our vacation, alright?"
"Cross my heart," Leah promised, making a crossing gesture over her chest.
"Now tell me, doesn't my blonde hair perfectly match this pink tank top?" Leah insisted.
"Yeah, I suppose it does. I guess us brunettes can't pull off pink," Remi teased.
"If you ever let your hair down, I'd know whether you're actually a brunette, but you always keep it in that bun. Don't you want to attract someone?" Leah asked.
"I want to attract this zombie, kill it, and move on to the next stage in my game. That's all I want," Remi said, sticking her tongue out in concentration.
Just then, Leah's phone beeped with a message notification. "Where are you guys? I'm looking for you, and Remi's not replying to my messages," the message from Madden read.
"Remi, did Madden send you a message?" Leah asked.
"No idea, I have notifications turned off. I'm in an important event, you know? I can't exit the app to check chats," Remi explained.
Leah sighed. "So he only messaged me because you weren't answering him?" she thought out loud, glancing out the window of the beach clothing store they were in.
Leah typed a quick reply to Madden, letting him know they were almost done shopping and would meet up with him soon.
Just as Leah hit send on the message, a beach ball came flying through the open window at full speed. Leah managed to dodge it just in time, leaving Remi exposed on a sofa behind her, which would cause the ball to hit her directly on the head. Upon seeing this, Remi instinctively raised her hand holding her mobile phone and stopped the ball with the device.
"Damn ball, a zombie got away because of you," Remi grumbled.
Leah looked out the window at the Okinawa beach, which was bustling with tourists playing ball, volleyball, and swimming. "Someone must have lost their ball. Sorry for moving away, honey. It was just a reflex," Leah apologized.
But Remi didn't pay attention, she was too busy trying to fix her mistake and catch the escaped zombie on her game. "For the record, I would've caught that zombie if it weren't for the beach ball attack. Wait, someone stole the loot of cartridges I had while I was distracted for a moment?! Who the hell is this player Dolly?" Remi complained.
"That wouldn't happen if the game wasn't cooperative and you could pause whenever you want to continue later. This would keep you more grounded," Leah said, rolling her eyes.
"This character has come straight to steal from me. They had to know my ID, or else..." Remi trailed off when Madden walked in triumphantly, holding up his mobile and a bag of clothes, whistling.
"Dolly beat you, little one!" he said gleefully.
"It was you? Damn you, dude!" Remi complained.
"It was too easy," Madden chuckled, clearly pleased with himself.
"Ugh, I can't believe I fell for that," Remi grumbled.
"Where's Evan? Wasn't he with you in the showers?" Leah asked, closing the distance between them.
"Uh, yeah, he should be coming soon," Madden replied, eager to change the subject.
"Anyway, I need Jonah to tell me how to reprogram my bot. I can't leave the game unattended while we're diving. I'll lose all my loot," Remi said, still focused on her gaming dilemma.
"You know, sometimes I think your love for virtual reality outweighs your appreciation for the real world," Madden teased.
"Oh, please. The real world is just one big game with less-predictable rules. At least in a game, you can level up and have fun doing it," Remi quipped back.
Remi's expression turned somber, as if remembering something painful. "Well, we can go eat now. No need to wait for fools like Evan," Madden said. "Who's in?"
Leah smiled, secretly happy about the idea of having more of Madden's attention to herself. She had always found him attractive, but lately, with his regular gym workouts, his physique had become even more alluring in her eyes.
"I'm in. If Evan doesn't come, nobody will notice anyway," Remi said.
"Well, well, someone hasn't gotten over the incident," Madden said, emphasizing the word 'incident' in a dramatic tone.
"Still bothers you, huh?" Leah asked, looking at Remi's foot.
Remi glanced down at her foot. "Sometimes, but it's nothing," she said.
A few years ago, during a rugby game, Evan had made an illegal tackle from behind on Remi, applying excessive force on her foot and twisting it into an abnormal position. The physical contact resulted in a severe ligament injury, forcing Remi to quit rugby and other high-risk sports. Since then, she had turned to video games as her new hobby.
"He didn't do it on purpose, Remi. He didn't even realize it was you," Leah said, knowing that everyone was thinking about that incident.
"I know, I know," Remi sighed. "It's just hard not to think about it sometimes. But let's not dwell on the past. I'm starving.”
Madden put a hand on Remi's shoulder. "You're a champ, Remi. And Leah's right, it was an accident. I'm sorry it happened."
Remi gave him a faint smile.
The shop assistant at the souvenir store finally emerged from the back room and, in broken English, tried to tell them that this wasn't a bar and they either had to buy something or leave. The shopkeeper's continuous and nervous shuffling seemed to activate the creaking they heard above their heads, and a strip of flag ceiling gave way. Leah, who was holding onto the clothes rack she was trying on, stood right below. Leah didn't even see the sudden attack coming. When suddenly, a pair of arms pushed her away from danger. The wooden board fell loudly beside her, as if dividing the area between them. Leah found herself on the floor but safe and sound.
"You weigh a little too much for these things," Jonah complained from beneath her. Leah blushed slightly and quickly got up, helping Jonah to his feet.
"Thanks for the save," Leah said gratefully, brushing off her clothes. "Talk about a way to kick us out of his shop! Seems like he’s not fan of Americans."
Madden and Remi joined them, looking equally shocked and amused. "Let's find a proper bar where the ceiling doesn't try to attack us,” Madden laughed.
As if on cue, Evan burst through the door, slightly out of breath. "Sorry I'm late, guys. Madden and I got into a bit of a towel fight in the showers. Don't ask," he explained, chuckling sheepishly.
"Well, we're all here now," Madden said, giving Evan a slightly unfriendly look. Jonah was smiling at Leah, and she turned away, somewhat embarrassed, while Remi kicked the wooden board that the shopkeeper was now picking up.
"Let's get going to the karaoke bar then," Evan suggested, breaking the tension. "We don't want to miss out on a night of terrible singing and some repulsive uncooked food."
Everyone laughed, and they made their way down the bustling street.
"Hey, just wanted to make sure you're okay after that close call. Jonah's pretty quick on his feet, huh?" Madden approached Leah.
"Yeah, he saved me from a potential concussion. Thanks for checking in. You ready to show off your karaoke skills?"
"Born ready! Though I doubt I can compete with Jonah's heroics."
Leah smiled, though she felt it wasn't entirely genuine. She had thought that if Madden paid attention to her, she would be happy. But now, seeing him seemingly jealous of Jonah, for some reason, she didn't feel that way. Perhaps deep down she knew that Madden wouldn't have been the one to risk saving her, maybe he wasn't the strong and brave man she had romanticized. Maybe Remi was right and she should forget about Madden, perhaps focus on someone else? Her gaze shifted towards Jonah who was enthusiastically talking with Remi about programming a bot for gaming. Evan was walking on the other side of Remi, observing everything around them.
They entered a karaoke bar called "VocaPunk." Inside, the place was filled with panels simulating holographic robots, one for each table, that acted as servers. The panels could record orders and even give the private capsule number for singing on the floor above. The Japanese waiters were busy at the bar and attending to other tables.
Leah was immediately drawn to the futuristic ambiance and watched as a holographic robot greeted them in a mechanical voice, "Welcome to VocaPunk. May I take your drink orders?"
"This place is wild," Madden commented, glancing around in awe.
"Agreed," Remi chimed in. "I wonder if they have a gaming section. Imagine playing VR games while eating!"
Evan, who had been taking in the sights, nudged Jonah and gestured towards the stage where a group was singing a lively Japanese pop song. "Looks like the competition is fierce up there."
The group sat down at a small but cozy table, where the napkins were made of transparent plastic with a very cyberpunk style, and lit up when they were lifted. Together, they ordered several typical dishes, including tempura, prawn crackers, ramen, and yakisoba chicken.
"No soy sauce for me, please," Remi said in strained Japanese. "Shoyu nashi de onegai shimasu, allergy ga aru desukara."
"We've come to a great place for a summer vacation, considering someone with so many allergies," Madden teased. "You're easily poisoned."
"Shut up, I'll poison you with this knife," Remi said, raising her utensil while the waiter looked at her fearfully, but then smiled, pretending to catch on to the joke. The waiter, having regained his composure, took their orders and left the table.
The group that was singing on stage came down and approached their table, handing the microphone to Jonah. "Oh no, I can't sing," he protested.
"Come on, Jonah, don't be shy!" Madden exclaimed. "We all know you have a hidden talent."
"Yeah, Jonah, don't chicken out on us now," Remi added.
Leah watched as Jonah's face turned a bit red. He hesitated for a moment before sighing. "Alright, fine. But you all better sing with me."
They cheered as Jonah reluctantly made his way to the stage. The group huddled together, browsing through the song selection on the tablet provided by the bar.
"How about something classic?" Evan suggested. "Maybe 'Don't Stop Believing' by Journey?"
"Ooh, that's a good one!" Leah agreed, and the rest nodded in approval.
Jonah took a deep breath and started singing. Much to everyone's surprise, he had a great voice, hitting all the notes perfectly.
Leah's eyes sparkled. "He's an avid hacker. I'm sure he's activated the auto-tune on his phone,” Remi whispered to her. The group started eating while Jonah continued singing, as their food had already been served. Suddenly, Remi began to turn blue and her throat started to swell. Leah's eyes widened in horror, frozen and unsure of what to do.
Jonah, with his eyes closed and fully immersed in his singing, belted out the song at the top of his lungs, unknowingly performing a deathly symphony. Madden began to shake Remi as if trying to dislodge something stuck in her throat. "Remi, Remi! Don't leave us!"
"She's not choking, it's anaphylaxis. She must have eaten soy!" Evan exclaimed, rummaging through Remi's backpack until he found an epinephrine auto-injector and forcefully injected it into her thigh.
The bar fell silent as everyone's attention turned to Remi, who started to breathe more easily as the medication took effect.
Jonah opened his eyes, confused as to why the cheers and applause had ceased. He looked around, only to see the worried faces of his friends and the still-pale Remi in Leah's arms.
"What happened?" Jonah asked, rushing over to them.
"It's Remi," Leah replied, her voice trembling. "She had an allergic reaction. Evan just gave her an epinephrine shot."
Jonah's face drained of color as he realized the gravity of the situation. "I... I didn't know," he stammered, guilt and worry written all over his face.
"It's not your fault, Jonah," Evan reassured him. "You were focused on singing, and we didn't notice anything until it was too late. But she's going to be okay now."
Jonah nodded, approaching her with shaking hands. He knelt beside Remi, gently taking her other hand. "I'm sorry, Remi. I didn't mean for this to happen."
Remi managed a weak smile. "It's not your fault, Jonah. But hey, you were great up there. But be honest, did you use auto-tune?"
"Yes, yes, I activated it with my phone," Jonah admitted in a strained voice, as if it was forced out, with hypochondria taking over.
"Hey, waiter!" Madden exclaimed, banging his fist on the table. "Tell your boss we're going to sue! We told you no soy, and this girl almost died!"
A Japanese man in a suit emerged from a door and approached them with his hands clasped behind his back, bowing respectfully. "We not add soy, as asked. Probably girl eat plate not for her," he said, attempting to speak English.
Leah's face reddened with embarrassment. "Madden, stop it. It's not their fault. Remi could have accidentally eaten something from our plates with soy in them. We should just focus on getting her to the hospital."
The Japanese man nodded, relieved that Leah was calming the situation. "I call already. Ambulance on way. Please wait."
The group fell silent, anxiously waiting for the paramedics to arrive. Remi's breathing had stabilized, but her skin was still pale and clammy.
Jonah excused himself and headed to the bathroom. As he walked away, Leah watched him. She wondered if he was okay, knowing how shaken up he was about Remi's allergic reaction. Evan followed him with his gaze, then turned to Leah and Madden. "I think we should cut the night short. It's not right to continue partying when Remi's in this condition."
Madden sighed, running a hand through his curly hair. "Yeah, you're right. It wouldn't feel right without her."
Leah nodded in agreement, her mind still on Jonah. "Do you think we should check on him? He seemed pretty upset."
Evan stood up. "I'll go. He might need some space, but it can't hurt to make sure he's okay."
As Evan walked towards the bathroom, Leah hoped he would be able to provide some comfort to Jonah, who clearly needed it. Back at the table, Madden leaned over to Remi, whispering something that elicited a weak smile from her, while Leah watched them closely with a serious and scrutinizing expression.
Jonah locked himself in a stall in the men's restroom, trembling. He pulled out his mobile phone from his pocket and dialled a number, sweat trickling down the sides of his shaved face. The person on the other end answered promptly, though they didn't say anything initially.
"This has gone too far, I can't do this anymore," Jonah said, his voice shaky with nerves. "The stuff with the showers and beach ball was one thing, but this is too much."
The person finally spoke, their voice calm and collected. "Relax, Jonah. Only two have passed the test so far, the others don't qualify. You're doing well."
Meagre Easter
After Easter brunch, Liliana was clearing the table, eager for her annoying relatives to leave. Meanwhile, her partner Denis was taking out the trash when he tripped and fell. Suddenly, a werewolf bit him. “It’s just a human. I was revived to hunt a dangerous vampire that lives around here.” Denis returned home, believing he had simply fallen. Gazing at the full moon, Denis' inner wolf emerged, hurling the relatives' car off the cliff. Liliana tackled him and summoned her vampiric fangs, bringing his humanity back. Oblivious, Denis awoke on the ground. "What were we doing here?" Liliana just smiled.