The welcoming music, the flashing lights: it all came back with joyous fanfare. “Regressi! Regressi!” it chanted like a holiday parade. Letters danced across the screen until the title took its rightful place near the top of the screen. “Start New Game” appeared below it with an inviting graphic of ripples.
The same. It was the same.
Null realized she hadn’t inhaled in at least a minute. Her lungs were begging for mercy, but she was scared that even the mere act of swallowing oxygen would dispel the dream and chase away what seemed to be a miracle. What miracle? Nothing was different. Nothing had changed. Regressi still taunted her with its promise of adventure. It was all the same. What was Tai trying to do, make a point? Get her hopes up? She was ashamed of her own naivete.
Without making a fuss, she gathered her bearings and took a gulp of air, which she nearly choked on because, at that very moment, a small box appeared on the screen.
“What is that?” she shouted. Her hand tore away from Tai’s and she began crawling desperately towards the TV. Her bare knees trenched through the carpet as she dug her joints into the ground, burning red welts into her skin.
She clutched the corners of the television, her face so close that she almost headbutted the glass as she tried to make sense of what she saw.
“No way,” she exclaimed. “There’s no way!”
“Way,” replied Shin, Though the shock was apparent on his face, too. His toothy grin gleamed in the TV’s reflection.
“That’s not possible. That’s not how the game works. I’ve done this thousands and thousands of times, and never once has it—”
“And yet it is,” Tai stated with ease.
“Yeah, but—” Null couldn’t bring her thoughts into words. Her heart pulsed rapidly. “This can’t be happening. This can’t be real!”
“And yet it is,” Tai repeated.
Null fell backwards, stupefied. She then propped herself up on her elbows and stared at the screen. Her glasses had slipped down the bridge of her nose, her mouth was agape like a door torn off the hinges, and in her eyes were disbelief and exhilaration.
A tiny box had appeared on the screen. Nothing too unusual or too exuberant. It was prompting her with a question, one she had never been asked before.
“Load saved game?”
What is going on? Null didn’t have the strength to move from her elbows. She so desperately wanted to grab the controller and mash the button. Yes, I want to load saved game! You’re damn right I do! But she was stuck. She had wished so long for something like this to happen. She had only dreamed of it, and here it was, right in front of her.
“So what?”
Was that Shin? Null was hardly able to comprehend what was happening before her, but he was able to say, “So what?” Maybe he was referring to the pointlessness of everything, but she was having trouble focusing on that. She felt like a fool. A dialogue box in a video game had blown her mind to distort every familiar thought. She mustered the strength to lift one arm and scoot the frame of her glasses into their rightful place.
Apathy. She had to remember that things like this didn’t matter.
“Yeah, now you’re getting it,” she whispered, her voice barely audible. “So what?”
“No, I mean, so what if you’re sand? If we’re all sand? Is it really that bad to be like each other? We may strive to be unique, but I’d say that’s only making things harder than they need to be.”
Shin was on the move. His pants ruffled against pillows as he edged over to the TV where Null had settled. He wanted to embrace her, to tell her that it was okay to have feelings, but he was worried that it would be too much; he didn’t want her to pull away again.
For a moment, he stretched out a hand to put on her shoulder as a friendly gesture, but even that seemed wrong. He withdrew it. Why did he hesitate so much? He just wanted to show her that he cared. His knees tensed in frustration and, without realizing it, Shin began to lean forward like a falling tree. His forehead made contact with Null’s back softly and he was positioned squarely between her shoulder blades. This is nice, he thought. I like this.
“Null, you and me, we don’t have to be apart. We can work together. In fact, maybe that’s how it’s supposed to be. It’s hard to make progress alone, but as a team we can move. You put your foot forward and my foot will follow after.
“And yeah, it’s scary. It’s scary knowing that maybe tomorrow the progress will be gone again. I know how it feels—like there’s no point in trying when the end result is the same. You know more than me about how it hurts to be trapped, alone.”
Null didn’t move a single muscle. She couldn’t. Her heart was a glacier, but Shin was warm. His little forehead felt like a heat generator that pumped fire through her back. Before she knew it, her glacier heart was sweating rivers. He talked to her as if she was the most important person in the world.
“I’m just as terrified as you are,” he continued. “Who knows what the future will bring. It could be awful or it could be amazing, but that doesn’t change the fact that we have to live through it. Nobody can live it for us—but that doesn’t mean we can’t help each other, you know? Let me be there for you, Null. You can be there for me, too. We shouldn’t try to handle everything alone.
“You said it yourself. We’re just sand—the same, single grains of sand. But that’s only if we’re alone. You, me, Tai, the others—add it all up and we’re a handful of sand. A whole clump of the stuff. And how many clumps of sand are out there? Like you said, there’s billions of us. We’re not just grains of sand, Null. Together, we make up entire beaches. We’re a whole desert. More than that, we’re a mountain big enough to part the clouds and touch the heavens!”
Her heart shivered. Spring water channelled down a riverbank long dry.
“You and me, Null, we’re mountains. You think anything can stop a mountain? No way. I’d like to see them try.”
Null laughed. It was a girlish giggle, something that Shin hadn’t heard from her in quite some time. It was nothing like her sarcastic scoffs or dismissive snorts. It was an honest laugh. She was tickled with joy and happiness, and before Shin had the opportunity to act offended by her laughter, Null launched off her elbows and wrapped the boy in her arms.
“Mount Shin!” she teased. “Since when did you get so good with words?”
Shin turned scarlet with embarrassment. Null’s hair floated swayed in front of him while she moved from side to side. That hair, those locks of bouncy curls, were they … blonde? His eyes might have been mistaken, but Shin could have sworn he saw the faintest shade of yellow.
“Mount Null.” Shin chuckled after saying it. “I’m so sorry it took me this long to get my head out of the dirt, but I care about you. I’m here now, and I won’t leave you behind.”
Null squeezed tighter. “Do you really think we can do it? Bring everyone back together I mean? Is it worth the try?”
Shin nodded. “I know it is. And if you’re with me, we will.”
Null looked at him.
“You have too much faith in me. It’s not over yet. I have one more thing to do.”
Excessive Issue | January 2019