When did I allow this to happen? How is it ten at night already? I just played a couple of rounds and it’s already dark outside!
“You should know already that your perception of time is FUBAR. Not to mention these hobbies of ours really don’t help grasping what’s going on.”
It didn’t use to be like this.
“Oh yeah? Can you remember how long you’ve been using the computer?”
Of course I can. It’s been in my life since I was like six or something, when Dad brought home that used computer with all the Dobrand games! But I didn’t pay much attention to it back then…
“That’s not how I remember it. We used to spend entire afternoons playing with the Encyclopedia, and trying out those games we barely understood. Maybe going into the Cartoon Central website too, even if we couldn’t read very well. Face it, we’ve always been addicted to distractions…”
Ok, maybe a little, but–
“And even before we started to use the internet more seriously, we’ve never been very into sleeping at all. Remember how we used to check the channels back then? Zapping and looking for stuff on the TV? Back then everything was so scary and novel at these hours… Now it feels just like a routine. We’ve always been night owls.”
Frowning and feeling the voice creeping on me more than usual, I finally close the game and my computer, standing up and turning on the lights to look at my room. The floor is still filthy, the plates are still scattered about… opening my closet, I not only see what remains of my clean clothes and the old montgomery hanging, but also the old bamboo blade I used to train with.
“Yeah. Remember that? How everyone looks for a local sport to practice and you chose fucking kendo? Not sure if that was just the weaboo in you, or you are just that pretentious.”
I pick up the long stick and take a look at it from the sides. Four bamboo sticks, held together tightly by leather straps and string. It’s elegant in its simplicity, firm enough to hurt a little when hit by it, but not strong enough to really harm, mostly thanks to the white leather covering its tip. The handle has the dark stains of sweat coming from the months of use.
“Before you left it incomplete, like everything in your life.”
Sigh.
I put the blade back in the closet and then turn around, grabbing the many plates and cups that were piling up in the room and walking the dark way over to the kitchen to clean them up.
“Cleaning plates in the middle of the night. That’s the kind of stuff Venus did back when she was here, just to call your attention.”
Ignoring this annoying voice is getting harder… I am tempted to pick up the S.O.S. pill, but if I do that I can say goodbye to my agency for the entire night and maybe even a few hours after waking up. Urgh.
“Guess you’re stuck with me, huh?”
Biting my lower lip, I try to focus on the task at hand, cleaning each plate as carefully as I can and trying to ignore the feeling of grease building up on my hands. Saints above, it is so disgusting! I can’t stand it, really. But if I keep letting the plates stack up, I’ll never do it.
“Look at you trying to be responsible. So silly. You’ll just let them stack up again soon enough.”
“What matters is that you are trying your best.”
Ah, there She is. Still talking from the corner of the room… Her kindness has always felt fabricated to me. Fake.
“It’s hard to accept mercy from yourself.”
You are not me.
The glugging of the drain interrupts me before I can start arguing again. With a heavy sigh, I let the water run away to clean my hands for a moment, and then, now that everything is clean and in place, I close it and walk back to my cave and take a seat back beside the window, opening the blinds just to see the darkness of a misty winter night in Saüle.
“Maybe it’s time to sleep after all.”
“You’ll just start rolling around, kicking and stirring all night.”
“You’ll eventually fall asleep!”
“Or maybe you won't. Let’s just keep playing until the Sun rises.”
I’ll do you both one better and just go back to the living room to check Dejima.
“Oh right! It has been a few hours, hasn’t it?”
“If you are so eager to be disappointed…”
Taking the computer back to the dining table and reconnecting it to the Tripolar Edge Router is easy enough, and yet I still feel the anticipation killing me. My hands tremble a bit as I type the address again, and even more when I have to wait the eternity until it loads.
My post… it got answers! Four answers to be exact! It’s not much but, considering how few users are online at a given time here, it’s good!
“omg it’s so cute when people actually come and use the ‘Introductions’ spot. I mean it, it’s great. It’s also cool to see new faces here, welcome! My dms are open if you want to ask anything.” — GalaxyTaco
“Hey there! We are all glad to have you here! If you have any doubts or questions, throw them my way and I’ll see to answer them whenever I can!” — Ventotto
“Fresh meat, bring out the paddles! Just kidding, welcome in, kid. Hope to see ya in the chatbox one day.” — jeepcreep
“Welcome. Complete your profile data.". — ογδόντα
Three of these are mods, so that was to be expected… but this ‘GalaxyTaco’ guy. He seems like a nice fella. Maybe trying to gun for mod too, or maybe just a legitimately friendly person! Whatever the case, the Helenian mod had made a fantastic point. I did have to complete the profile stuff.
“Does it have to be now? It’s late…”
Yes, it does. I click back to my profile and, well, it asks stuff like ‘Email’, ‘Country’, ‘Languages Spoken’ and ‘Gender’, all easy to answer.
Email: [email protected]
Country: Wohl.
Languages Spoken: Wohlian, Dobrand.
Gender: I’d rather not say.
“What sort of stupid answer was that?! Are you really this delusional!?”
Please. Just… let me have this…
“Don’t come crying when they learn you’re a man and you get all embarrassed.“
“Are they a man? Have you not stopped for a second to think that maybe they would be more comfortable as a–”
Shut up.
Both of you. You are looking way too deep into this. I’ll leave it as it is and that’s final.
With a huff, I go to the next section of the profile… ‘Referred to by:’
Oh no.
“Well, time to skip that one.”
There was no way I could just say ‘Ah, I found it in a book’ without getting strange looks. Not to mention the book itself told me not to talk about it for anything.
Next.
‘Mystical Specialization’.
“Saints damn it.”
I could just copy the specialization from some other profile, but then what if they decided to ask me about it? Well, that wouldn’t be a problem if I decided not to get in the chatbox at all… but I won’t advance in my investigation at all if I don’t talk to people, right?
I decide to just leave it open, for now.
Finally, I just gotta put a ‘Comment’ in the end of my profile… hmmm…
Comment: ‘Please don’t kill me.’
“A little on the nose?”
It’s all in good humor. I hope.
With that done, I don’t waste time on making a signature for myself (yet) and go straight to check on the Chatbox.
Four people: ‘GalaxyTaco’, ‘Ventotto’, ‘souseiseki’ and… uh… ‘Canned Tea’.
I take a deep breath… and log in.
Tav has connected to the Chatbox.
souseiseki: byeeee canny!!
When did I allow this to happen? How is it ten at night already? I just played a couple of rounds and it’s already dark outside!
“You should know already that your perception of time is FUBAR. Not to mention these hobbies of ours really don’t help grasping what’s going on.”
It didn’t use to be like this.
“Oh yeah? Can you remember how long you’ve been using the computer?”
Of course I can. It’s been in my life since I was like six or something, when Dad brought home that used computer with all the Dobrand games! But I didn’t pay much attention to it back then…
“That’s not how I remember it. We used to spend entire afternoons playing with the Encyclopedia, and trying out those games we barely understood. Maybe going into the Cartoon Central website too, even if we couldn’t read very well. Face it, we’ve always been addicted to distractions…”
Ok, maybe a little, but–
“And even before we started to use the internet more seriously, we’ve never been very into sleeping at all. Remember how we used to check the channels back then? Zapping and looking for stuff on the TV? Back then everything was so scary and novel at these hours… Now it feels just like a routine. We’ve always been night owls.”
Frowning and feeling the voice creeping on me more than usual, I finally close the game and my computer, standing up and turning on the lights to look at my room. The floor is still filthy, the plates are still scattered about… opening my closet, I not only see what remains of my clean clothes and the old montgomery hanging, but also the old bamboo blade I used to train with.
“Yeah. Remember that? How everyone looks for a local sport to practice and you chose fucking kendo? Not sure if that was just the weaboo in you, or you are just that pretentious.”
I pick up the long stick and take a look at it from the sides. Four bamboo sticks, held together tightly by leather straps and string. It’s elegant in its simplicity, firm enough to hurt a little when hit by it, but not strong enough to really harm, mostly thanks to the white leather covering its tip. The handle has the dark stains of sweat coming from the months of use.
“Before you left it incomplete, like everything in your life.”
Sigh.
I put the blade back in the closet and then turn around, grabbing the many plates and cups that were piling up in the room and walking the dark way over to the kitchen to clean them up.
“Cleaning plates in the middle of the night. That’s the kind of stuff Venus did back when she was here, just to call your attention.”
Ignoring this annoying voice is getting harder… I am tempted to pick up the S.O.S. pill, but if I do that I can say goodbye to my agency for the entire night and maybe even a few hours after waking up. Urgh.
“Guess you’re stuck with me, huh?”
Biting my lower lip, I try to focus on the task at hand, cleaning each plate as carefully as I can and trying to ignore the feeling of grease building up on my hands. Saints above, it is so disgusting! I can’t stand it, really. But if I keep letting the plates stack up, I’ll never do it.
“Look at you trying to be responsible. So silly. You’ll just let them stack up again soon enough.”
“What matters is that you are trying your best.”
Ah, there She is. Still talking from the corner of the room… Her kindness has always felt fabricated to me. Fake.
“It’s hard to accept mercy from yourself.”
You are not me.
The glugging of the drain interrupts me before I can start arguing again. With a heavy sigh, I let the water run away to clean my hands for a moment, and then, now that everything is clean and in place, I close it and walk back to my cave and take a seat back beside the window, opening the blinds just to see the darkness of a misty winter night in Saüle.
“Maybe it’s time to sleep after all.”
“You’ll just start rolling around, kicking and stirring all night.”
“You’ll eventually fall asleep!”
“Or maybe you won't. Let’s just keep playing until the Sun rises.”
I’ll do you both one better and just go back to the living room to check Dejima.
“Oh right! It has been a few hours, hasn’t it?”
“If you are so eager to be disappointed…”
Taking the computer back to the dining table and reconnecting it to the Tripolar Edge Router is easy enough, and yet I still feel the anticipation killing me. My hands tremble a bit as I type the address again, and even more when I have to wait the eternity until it loads.
My post… it got answers! Four answers to be exact! It’s not much but, considering how few users are online at a given time here, it’s good!
“omg it’s so cute when people actually come and use the ‘Introductions’ spot. I mean it, it’s great. It’s also cool to see new faces here, welcome! My dms are open if you want to ask anything.” — GalaxyTaco
“Hey there! We are all glad to have you here! If you have any doubts or questions, throw them my way and I’ll see to answer them whenever I can!” — Ventotto
“Fresh meat, bring out the paddles! Just kidding, welcome in, kid. Hope to see ya in the chatbox one day.” — jeepcreep
“Welcome. Complete your profile data.". — ογδόντα
Three of these are mods, so that was to be expected… but this ‘GalaxyTaco’ guy. He seems like a nice fella. Maybe trying to gun for mod too, or maybe just a legitimately friendly person! Whatever the case, the Helenian mod had made a fantastic point. I did have to complete the profile stuff.
“Does it have to be now? It’s late…”
Yes, it does. I click back to my profile and, well, it asks stuff like ‘Email’, ‘Country’, ‘Languages Spoken’ and ‘Gender’, all easy to answer.
Email: [email protected]
Country: Wohl.
Languages Spoken: Wohlian, Dobrand.
Gender: I’d rather not say.
“What sort of stupid answer was that?! Are you really this delusional!?”
Please. Just… let me have this…
“Don’t come crying when they learn you’re a man and you get all embarrassed.“
“Are they a man? Have you not stopped for a second to think that maybe they would be more comfortable as a–”
Shut up.
Both of you. You are looking way too deep into this. I’ll leave it as it is and that’s final.
With a huff, I go to the next section of the profile… ‘Referred to by:’
Oh no.
“Well, time to skip that one.”
There was no way I could just say ‘Ah, I found it in a book’ without getting strange looks. Not to mention the book itself told me not to talk about it for anything.
Next.
‘Mystical Specialization’.
“Saints damn it.”
I could just copy the specialization from some other profile, but then what if they decided to ask me about it? Well, that wouldn’t be a problem if I decided not to get in the chatbox at all… but I won’t advance in my investigation at all if I don’t talk to people, right?
I decide to just leave it open, for now.
Finally, I just gotta put a ‘Comment’ in the end of my profile… hmmm…
Comment: ‘Please don’t kill me.’
“A little on the nose?”
It’s all in good humor. I hope.
With that done, I don’t waste time on making a signature for myself (yet) and go straight to check on the Chatbox.
Four people: ‘GalaxyTaco’, ‘Ventotto’, ‘souseiseki’ and… uh… ‘Canned Tea’.
I take a deep breath… and log in.
Tav has connected to the Chatbox.
souseiseki: byeeee canny!!
