tthhee oddiissee Chapter 18

The apartment was quiet. It was completely devoid of furniture and decorations, and had been cleaned floor-to-ceiling as if no one had ever lived there. Ro walked in, looking morose in his black suit, making barely a noise as he entered, staring at the floor.

Ro slowly made his way to the center of the living room, seemingly exhausted. He stopped, not having an idea of what he was even doing in the apartment in the first place. He sat down on the ground, legs crossed and slumped over.

Despite his previous professions, Ro had never gotten used to funerals. At least it wasn’t much of a surprise when a merc died. It was just a part of life back then. This was different. This hurt. But Ro didn’t feel sad. He didn’t cry. He didn’t even feel guilty about not feeling sad or crying. He should be feeling all of these things, he thought, but couldn’t. Ro felt hollow. It’s not like he didn’t know why, but understanding that didn’t make him feel better. It didn’t make him feel anything.

Ro continued staring at the floor, idly swirling his hand around in the carpet in front of him. They had done a pretty decent job on the flooring, all things considered. It wasn’t too shaggy, but still plush. It was easy to clean. Ro wasn’t that surprised, it was made for rich people after all and the landlord was at least lazy enough to not try and strip it out and try and put it into a higher-priced place.

Ro wasn’t sure why he was there. He wasn’t sure what he was supposed to do. He had his fill of the theme park and couldn’t fathom going by, even as a patron. He had already said his goodbyes to Lady Jayze and the boys at the brothel, pickpocketing was more of a chore than anything else, and he wasn’t getting any more professional thievery jobs any time soon. He needed to really think about what to do next, but he didn’t have the energy or motivation to do anything.

Ro let out a heavy sigh and got his feet, moving slowly and lethargically, as if he were dragging a large weight behind him. He made his way to the indoor deck, and got into the pod at the end. It usually helped clear his mind, though he was skeptical at how effective it would be in his current state. He hit the lever and the pod slowly flew outward, propelled only by the rotation of the building. He could see the entire city from up there, in all its strange, over-packed, labyrinthine glory.

How long had he lived in this city now? If he counted the amount of time he was held captive at Dexetrio, it was probably close as long as he spent being “Arro.” And yet, he still felt like he didn’t know the place at all. It didn’t matter how long he had lived in Nok, he would always feel like a stranger. It something he knew deep down, but was hoping wouldn’t be true.

As the pod spun around, rotating him upside down, Ro wondered why he continued to stay in Nok anyway. There was a giant world out there that he had seen only a portion of and now he there wasn’t anything keeping him there. No anchor. No one to guide him. No one to come home to. No one to understand. No one to care. It was just like anywhere else. No, it was worse; it was somewhere he thought he could genuinely call home only to be reminded that there was no such place for him, anymore. Now it was a city full of memories that he didn’t want: of people he didn’t want to be reminded of, no matter how he had felt about them before

Ro swung his arm above his head, and the silver star appeared in his hand, striking the connector to the flexible safety tube, disconnecting the pod entirely. He didn’t even know why he did it, but it didn’t bother him. He was flung through the sky, traveling at a much greater speed than he anticipated. It was better than crashing directly to the ground below, he guessed, and he figured it would at least get him out of the city. He was leaving it all behind and starting over by himself, again.

Tears started flowing down his face. He didn’t even cry at the funeral, but he couldn’t stop himself from weeping now. He broke down, falling to his knees in the little glass bubble that was flying high above the world, sailing past the city limits of Nok. He could see the rail that the whole thing was traveling on, stretching far past the horizon. He wondered how long it would be before it had stopped moving entirely. He knew he’d live long enough to see it stop in its tracks. More tears.

The pod continued through the air, gaining altitude, letting Ro get a more full view of the planet he had been living for far longer than his home world and still knew so little of. There were vast deserts, giant mountain ranges, lush rain forests, and strange cities dotting the land below. One area that caught his eye was a wide swath of black dirt and ash: The Junkyard. He had heard about it on the Tethered from people who were looking for a quick payout despite the risk. They said there was a fortune to be made if you didn’t care about your health.

The pod finally started to fall to the ground. The descent was rapid with little in the way to prepare for a crash landing and even less to protect the occupant from it. Ro didn’t care. He didn’t bother to brace himself or try to slow down the descent in any way. He got back on his feet as it hurtled towards the ground, the tears still streaming down his face. He wanted this impact. He needed the pain. He knew he wasn’t going to die, but this was the closest thing someone like him would ever get.

Ro started coming to, face down, in the middle of a field of wild grass and flowers and could see the sun set in the distance. It would’ve been a nice place for a picnic if it weren’t for all the broken glass, shrapnel, and his own blood everywhere. He could barely lift his head up and every breath was harsh and painful, with each exhale resulting a little blood coming out of his mouth. Besides the internal bleeding, his entire body felt like it was on fire and most of his bones were broken. Ro was in a physical state that was about as miserable as his mental one, but he knew he would at least bounce back from the physical injuries. He was more focused on the figure standing in front of him: a man, his back turned to towards Ro, only showing a dirty black cloak that was tattered at the bottom. Don’t fucking tell me.

“You shouldn’t be so reckless,” The Magician said.

“Fuck,” Ro spit out, along with more blood.

Ro started to get up, immediately feeling a shooting pain going through his right arm. Definitely broken. He pushed himself up a kneeling position, catching his breath for a moment before trying to get his feet. It wasn’t easy, his legs were quavering a lot, but he did get to his feet. He even briefly remained upright and tried to approach The Magician, but the horrible pain in his left leg was too much and he collapsed to the ground with a painful grunt, landing on his hands and knees, before letting out another scream from the pain in his right arm again, jerking back to a kneeling position, hunched over.

“Easy now,” The Magician said, turning to face Ro, his right hand holding the theater mask over his face.

“You shouldn’t push yourself in your state. Best to sit back-” The Magician said as he sat down on a block of thin air, putting one of his feet up on his knees. Ugh, why is he barefoot?

“-And rest. Relax,” The Magician told Ro, leaning back, putting up his legs and seemingly lying back on a bed of thin air.

“Fuck you,” Ro growled back. “What are you even doing here?”

“What are you doing?” The Magician asked in return, leaping to his feet. He walked towards Ro, leaning over the broken man.

Ro looked up into the theater mask, but couldn’t maintain eye contact, feeling a deep feeling of shame about his current state of being.

“Goddamnit, why do you have to wear that fucking mask?”

“The same reason you wear yours,” The Magician replied. Ro rolled his eyes.

“Don’t give me that shit, you know what I mean.”
The Magician let out a laugh. He took off the mask, revealing the same crooked, pale face that Ro had remembered from his dreams, though he wasn’t wearing the sinister smile he usually had on. He looked more like a real person, his expression much more gentle, though still looking somewhat smug.

“Feel better? Don’t worry, I’m not doing the face changing trick again.”

Ro stared at The Magician’s face, thinking about it for a moment, taking some deep breaths.

“That actually happened?”

“Sure did.”

“Why didn’t I remember it until then?”
“Because it didn’t happened until then. After which, it always had.”

“That doesn’t make any fucking sense.”
“There isn’t much of your life that makes sense. Get used to it.”

Ro was confused by The Magician’s comment, but quickly realized that he wouldn’t be getting any clarification on what that meant. He let out a deep sigh as well as another gush of blood all over the front of his suit.

“I hope you didn’t pay much for that thing,” The Magician joked. Ro let out another groan.

Ro looked around his landing area, realizing he was in the middle of nowhere, seeing nothing but grass and flowers all over the place.

“What happens now?” Ro asked.

“You’re asking me?” The Magician responded.

“Don’t you know?”

“I never have.”

“You don’t act that way.”

“Ro, I think you’ve got the wrong idea.”

The Magician sat down on the ground, legs crossed in front of Ro.

“I’m not God. Or the devil. I can’t see the future. I don’t know your whole life. I’m not a mystical guide. I’m a Magician.”

“Then why do you keep showing up?”

“I care. Didn’t I tell you? We’re the same.”

“Yeah, and you didn’t bother saying what that meant. Like what? You’re me from the future or some shit?”
“Don’t be stupid. We don’t look anything alike.”

“So? There’s been a few times where I haven’t looked like myself.”

The Magician let out a little laugh. “You’ve got me there. I promise you though, I’m not you. I’ve got my own life to lead, as unbelievable as that may seem.”

Ro would’ve blushed if he hadn’t lost so much blood. Ro’s head dropped, feeling ashamed of himself.

“What am I supposed to do now?” he muttered to himself.

The Magician looked at Ro, seeing how beat-up, broken, and bleeding he was before looking out at the surroundings.

“You already know. You start again.”

Ro sat with that answer for a moment, thinking about what that meant. Tears started rolling down his face.

“How many times am I gonna have to do this?”

“Until you get it right.”

“Will that ever even happen?”

“I couldn’t tell you. That’s just how it is.”

Ro fell silent, staring at the ground, letting the tears fall.

“But right now, you should be worrying about your injuries,” The Magician said. “You need more rest before you even try to seek medical treatment.”

The Magician lifted Ro’s head up to look him in the eyes.

“For now…” The Magician started, bring his other hand up near Ro’s chest.

“SLEEP,” The Magician commanded, shoving his palm into Ro’s chest. Ro felt a heavy weight in his chest, falling backwards onto the ground. He suddenly felt like he couldn’t move his limbs and had trouble keeping his eyes open.

The Magician stood over Ro’s body, but Ro could hardly make him out, seeing only his blurry outline.

“We’ll talk again in a while,” The Magician said, flicking a playing card down that floated down onto Ro’s chest, shortly before he passed out.

Ro woke again, on his back, staring at the stars. They were beautiful, so far away from the city. The last time he had looked at them was a different time he was suffering a massive amount of blood loss. It was strange that it became one his better memories. He tried not to focus on it, knowing that he would break down in tears again. Instead, he focused on the stars. He never noticed how different they were from the ones he stared at as a child. I’ll never see those constellations again, will I? I guess I was never much of a stargazer to begin with.

He then suddenly recalled The Magician dropping something on him. He reached up to his chest, his arm still hurting, but not in nearly as much pain as he was before, and picked it up off of him. What the fuck is this supposed to mean?

It was a two of clubs.