Neo Chronicles: Black Void
Episode 28: Small World
Table of Contents
This place sucks. My room's barely got enough space for me to sleep. The bed's barely twin sized. It's not even a bed. It's a table with a sheet on it!
Now, I don't ask for much. When I go to bed, all I need is a comforter and maybe a pillow. I don't even mind if I'm sleepin' on the ground. As long as I got that pillow an' comforter, I'll be fine.
But no!
These rag-tail, oompah-loompahs gave me a table. A table and a sheet. Staak that man. Staak this. Staak them. Staak everything.
The rest of the room don't even got anything else. It's a walk in closet with no clothes. Only thing in it is me, the suit I'm wearin', my old suit, an' my sword. If I roll off the table, I'd be on the floor. If I roll over again, I'd be at the door. At most, there's enough room for four people, and they'd be touching shoulder to shoulder.
Y'know, I think this really is a closet. Them lames probably put me here cuz I'm new.
But you already know this song an' dance. I'mma complain about everything. I try not to—not really—but it makes me feel better. Complaining puts my mind at ease. If I can complain about somethin', I can put up with it. Yeah, it's bad, but I'm simple. If my room was any bigger, it'd be just as empty. You know this. You know me.
If I didn't complain about the small stuff, I'd start dwelling on the big stuff: like how I'm still in space, hundreds of thousands of how ever many lightyears from home; been gone for I forgot how ever long; and without any real hope or chance of ever getting back home. That junk's depressing. I don't wanna be depressed.
If I were a different person, I'd be lookin' on the bright side. I mean, I'm all about bright sides. Find the good in everything. Problem is the bright side to bein' lost in space is bein' lost in space. If I were a different person, that'd be great. It'd be exciting to me. I'm travelin' to places ain't nobody back home could ever dream of goin'. I'm meetin' all these different people, experiencing different cultures and environments, eating all these exotic foods. If I were a different person, that'd be amazing.
But I'm not.
I hate travelin', I don't care for people, and I like my old experiences.
I mean, I don't mind expanding my horizons. That's good for rounding yourself out and bein' a better person. That's good, and that's cool. But I know too much. I know myself too well. I know that no matter where you go, people are all the same. I know that whenever people—not a person, but people—are involved, I get disinterested. It's not like there's anything wrong with me. I just don't care about this kinda stuff.
Maybe if I was learning something, it'd be different. Ri'lar was starting to teach me about that aura thing, and every time I asked about a certain something, he'd do his best to explain it. That was cool.
But this drama that I'm a part of just ain't my typa thing. I'd rather watch it on TV.
Speaking of drama,
“Ey, how you holdin' up?” Carlos just walked into my room. He leans against the nearest wall and addresses me in his usual laid back fashion.
I'm laid back lookin' back at him. He already knows my answer, but I say it anyway, “Terrible.”
“Ah, don't be like dat.”
“I tell it like it is.”
“That you do. Lemme guess. You hate your life. You hate what you're goin' through. You hate me. Same caca, different day.”
“Yep, that about sums it up. You can go now.”
“Come on, ese. We're all we got now.”
“That doesn't help.”
“Nah, foreal. We just gotta rough it out for a bit. Don't worry, we'll get through this. I promise.”
“I ain't worried. It's all good.”
“That's the spirit! Positivity. You gotta hold on to it.”
“It's just that, looking back on it—and trust me, all I've been doin' is lookin' back—there were so many things I shoulda did different. I shouldn't be here, and it ain't nobody's fault but my own.”
“Nah, it ain't like that.”
“No, it really is. I mean, sure, I know there's stuff out there I can't control. Thinking otherwise is stupid. But for the things I can control—my actions—I gotta get better, man. From the get go, I didn't have to get on that ship with Ri'lar. Any sane person woulda saw that ship an' left. If I had another chance –”
“Come on man, let's not go down that road. Look, you're a kid. How old?14? 15? Whatever. You're a kid. You make mistakes. You're supposed to. It's a part of the game. And it's good that you're lookin' back on 'em. Really, it is. Now the next thing that's supposed to happen is learning. Learning, not dwelling. You wanna talk about dumb decisions, lemme tell you bout my life.”
How interested am I in this? I could tune out everything he's about to say and go to sleep. I could, but there's something about a story that draws a brutha in. I'm intrigued. Aight Carlos, you have my attention. Tell me a story.
“When you look at me, what do you see?” he asks. “Really look and tell me.”
What do I see? Some straggly ol' shaggy haired, dark skinned Latino. He's dressed in loose fitted flannel—probably somethin' he found on board the ship—and it covers his skin tight, full body space suit. What am I looking for?
“Go ahead, you can say it,” he urges. “What do you see?”
“I see a bum.”
“Exactly! And ya know what? You're right. I am a bum. I'm the worst kind of bum. I'm sleazy. I'm amoral. I live for me and nobody else. I'm a pirate! I was a pirate long before joining this crew. Back on earth, I did the same thing I'm doing here. I would steal the anti-Gravs off people's cars, hack people's houses and steal 'em blind while they weren't home, and on days when I just didn't give a f***, mug fools in broad daylight. Ain't nothin' they was gon do about it. And it wasn't about me tryna survive or nothin'—I mean, yeah I was—but it was mostly because I was a stupid kid that didn't care.”
“I know how this story goes. Lots of regrets. Lots of misery. Probably found yourself at rock bottom, and now you're tryna climb your way back up.”
“You'd think that.”
“But?”
“Let's just say I'm still lookin' for the bottom.”
“How the world'd you get into space?”
“Oh, now that's a story. So I was all around the place. I was hangin' with this chica. You probably know this one, too. She was into the rude boy, bad man thing, and I was that dude. Then the puta ended up gettin pregnant. Now don't get me wrong, I probably got like 10 or 15 lil hijo's runnin around with different mamas, but I was usually out long before then, never to be seen again. Ain't stickin' me with no snot nose to raise! No sir! But this one was different. She wouldn't take the hint. Tried her best to stick with me. Everyone thinks they can change a person. If you don't take anything else away, learn this: people don't change.”
“Got it.”
“So I stuck around. The girl had her kid at 17. I was 19. She had her kid, and I stuck around.”
“So you changed?”
“No, I didn't. I had a baby mama and a baby that I had to support. She practically abandoned her family. Always said that they'd never take her back and that I was all she had. Kinda felt bad, so I stepped up. The hustling had a purpose. I had a family to take care of. We got an apartment, she stayed with the kid doin' her best to raise him, and I stuck to the streets.”
“Sounds like you changed to me.”
“Idiota, you payin' attention? I was doin' the same caca that got me into that caca in the first place!”
“But you weren't doin' it for you.”
“Shut up an' let me finish. So we managed to survive for the first 5 years of his life. Kid was always gettin' into stuff. His mom got on her feet and was tryna make a legit living gettin' these low end minimum wage jobs. House cleaner, maid, waitress, whatever. She made due, and I was still about that hustlin' game. And sure, she tried to get me to stop, tried to say we had to do better, but she knew me. She knew me more than anyone should know me. Think she was a psy. Either way, I wasn't about to give up my life for her or the kid. Why? Go ahead, that ain't rhetorical.”
“Because people don't change.”
“Now you're getting it. I wasn't doin' nothin' to better anyone's lives. Still had b*****'s on the side. Still livin life one impulse at a time. And eventually, one night, I left and didn't come back. Took me 5 years, but I got out, and never saw her again.”
“That's... that's kinda messed up.”
“Ain't no 'kinda' in it. It's messed up. It's more than messed up. It's f***'d up. People aren't supposed to do that.”
“Doesn't stop it from happenin'.”
“You're right. So bein' the deadbeat that I was, I wanted to get as far away from the two as I could. So I thought, 'why not space?'”
“Dang? It's like that?”
“Like that, hombre. Again, impulses. I had a thought, and I acted on it. Saved up enough to get a one-way to Mars. Not cheap, by the way.”
“Nah duh. Space travel's as expensive as it gets. You had that much just layin' around?”
“Hustling is an art. Ended up ripping off the the highest profile mob boss on the map, which may or may not have influenced my decision to get as far away as possible.”
“You were that good?”
“I was that lucky. So I get there. I had all these dreams of doin' whatever the f*** I wanted. Ended up doin' what you're doin' right now.”
“Listenin' to a loser tell his life story?”
“Feelin' sorry for myself.”
“Well you had an actual reason to. Surprised you had a conscience for it.”
“Believe me, I was too! And it got to me bad. Instead of startin' up the business, I ended up bein' a product of it. Instead of dealin', I was usin'. Found myself in bars more often than not. The sad, lonely, pathetic look works great for pickin' up culo, but they only stick around long enough to see if they can help. I was beyond any of that. So I went back to the bottle until I got banned. So I was just about ready to end it all, but felt I had enough for one more go around. Got back in the hustlin' thing, and met Ran through that.”
“Wait, Ran? Ryndis Ran? She was on Mars?”
“Yeah, just blendin' in with everybody else. Didn't know much of anything, oblivious to everything else. All and all, the perfect target. A sucka. I took her for a ride all around town. Took advantage of her in every way you could think of, and just when I was about to drop her, I found out she could shape shift. That made things really interesting. But when I found out she couldn't change all her—how do I put this—all her “parts,” I knew somethin' else was up.”
“All her parts.”
“Yeah.”
“All her—OH. Okay. Wow. You actually –”
“Of course I did.”
“How?”
“I explained to her a few things about a few things, showed her some educational material.”
“You're talking about –”
“Yep, and from then on, everything was set.”
“And by everything you mean –”
“I mean everything. I had a partner in crime now. Best part is, she was still oblivious to everything. Sure, it was strange, but it worked out. We wreaked havoc on every street corner and alleyway. I taught her almost everything I knew. We were always on the go, always making money. It was great. Until we got caught. Then things went down, quick. Turns out, Miss Ran knew a lot more than she had me believe. I didn't know if she was just playin' me or if I taught her too much, but somehow she got away and I ended up bein' the one rottin' in jail. Nullifiers kept me from portin' out.”
“Shoulda left you there.”
“She really shoulda.”
“But she didn't?”
“I know you know.”
“Lemme guess. She breaks in, breaks you out, and the two of you fly off out into the black.”
“Pretty much. Takes the identity of a cop, and it worked out just like you said. Asked if I wanted to put all of that behind me. Of course I said yes.”
“So you were always a lame?”
“Lame isn't the word I'd use, but yeah. The point of the story is to stop asking for second chances. I got all the second chances in the world and ended up doin' the same thing I did the first time. Why? Because people don't change. Stick with the chance you've got and make the best of it.”
I don't know what to make of Carlos now. I mean, he's the typa dude mom's always told me to stay away from. I can see why, too. He a scumbag. He knows he's a scumbag. Doesn't seem like something he's proud of, but he sho ain't doin' nothin' to change it. I don't think I can respect him for that. I might could respect him for ownin' up to it, but I don't think it should work like that. Not to mention him havin' a kid an' leavin'. That kinda hits close to home. Real close. Real –
“Real quick, what was the name of that girl you spent time with on Earth?”
“Man, I don't remember.”
“You spent over 5 years with her. I hope you ain't that that typa dude who'd forget his own babymama's name.”
“Fine, I think it was Rachel.”
“Uh huh. And the kid? You remember his name?”
“Oh, now that I do. See, Rachel was real crazy. See, I wanted his name to be somethin' simple. Nothin' too ghetto, nothin' too Mexican, somethin' that would get him places. Mike. Martin. Y'know, along those lines, but Rachel was deadset against that. She wanted him to stand out. Somethin' that if you heard, you'd never forget. Think we went with soemthin' French. She was so excited about him being so unique, we even shelved out the extra creds to do the gene thing. Nothin' too out there, but his hair did end up comin' out blue.”
“What was his name?”
“Christophe.”
“Uh huhn.” I murmur, stroking my chin.
I jump off the bed and head to the door where Carlos is standing at. He takes a quick glimpse at me, but is too caught up strollin' down memory lane that he doesn't see it comin'. It happens so fast that I don't even see it, but there it is.
BLAO
One punch, straight to his jaw. It sends him straight to the floor. I pulled back at the last millisecond, but there was still enough force in there to shatter at least one bone. You know I wanted swipe his head clean off, but I restrained myself.
Small world.
Episode 28: Small World
Table of Contents
This place sucks. My room's barely got enough space for me to sleep. The bed's barely twin sized. It's not even a bed. It's a table with a sheet on it!
Now, I don't ask for much. When I go to bed, all I need is a comforter and maybe a pillow. I don't even mind if I'm sleepin' on the ground. As long as I got that pillow an' comforter, I'll be fine.
But no!
These rag-tail, oompah-loompahs gave me a table. A table and a sheet. Staak that man. Staak this. Staak them. Staak everything.
The rest of the room don't even got anything else. It's a walk in closet with no clothes. Only thing in it is me, the suit I'm wearin', my old suit, an' my sword. If I roll off the table, I'd be on the floor. If I roll over again, I'd be at the door. At most, there's enough room for four people, and they'd be touching shoulder to shoulder.
Y'know, I think this really is a closet. Them lames probably put me here cuz I'm new.
But you already know this song an' dance. I'mma complain about everything. I try not to—not really—but it makes me feel better. Complaining puts my mind at ease. If I can complain about somethin', I can put up with it. Yeah, it's bad, but I'm simple. If my room was any bigger, it'd be just as empty. You know this. You know me.
If I didn't complain about the small stuff, I'd start dwelling on the big stuff: like how I'm still in space, hundreds of thousands of how ever many lightyears from home; been gone for I forgot how ever long; and without any real hope or chance of ever getting back home. That junk's depressing. I don't wanna be depressed.
If I were a different person, I'd be lookin' on the bright side. I mean, I'm all about bright sides. Find the good in everything. Problem is the bright side to bein' lost in space is bein' lost in space. If I were a different person, that'd be great. It'd be exciting to me. I'm travelin' to places ain't nobody back home could ever dream of goin'. I'm meetin' all these different people, experiencing different cultures and environments, eating all these exotic foods. If I were a different person, that'd be amazing.
But I'm not.
I hate travelin', I don't care for people, and I like my old experiences.
I mean, I don't mind expanding my horizons. That's good for rounding yourself out and bein' a better person. That's good, and that's cool. But I know too much. I know myself too well. I know that no matter where you go, people are all the same. I know that whenever people—not a person, but people—are involved, I get disinterested. It's not like there's anything wrong with me. I just don't care about this kinda stuff.
Maybe if I was learning something, it'd be different. Ri'lar was starting to teach me about that aura thing, and every time I asked about a certain something, he'd do his best to explain it. That was cool.
But this drama that I'm a part of just ain't my typa thing. I'd rather watch it on TV.
Speaking of drama,
“Ey, how you holdin' up?” Carlos just walked into my room. He leans against the nearest wall and addresses me in his usual laid back fashion.
I'm laid back lookin' back at him. He already knows my answer, but I say it anyway, “Terrible.”
“Ah, don't be like dat.”
“I tell it like it is.”
“That you do. Lemme guess. You hate your life. You hate what you're goin' through. You hate me. Same caca, different day.”
“Yep, that about sums it up. You can go now.”
“Come on, ese. We're all we got now.”
“That doesn't help.”
“Nah, foreal. We just gotta rough it out for a bit. Don't worry, we'll get through this. I promise.”
“I ain't worried. It's all good.”
“That's the spirit! Positivity. You gotta hold on to it.”
“It's just that, looking back on it—and trust me, all I've been doin' is lookin' back—there were so many things I shoulda did different. I shouldn't be here, and it ain't nobody's fault but my own.”
“Nah, it ain't like that.”
“No, it really is. I mean, sure, I know there's stuff out there I can't control. Thinking otherwise is stupid. But for the things I can control—my actions—I gotta get better, man. From the get go, I didn't have to get on that ship with Ri'lar. Any sane person woulda saw that ship an' left. If I had another chance –”
“Come on man, let's not go down that road. Look, you're a kid. How old?14? 15? Whatever. You're a kid. You make mistakes. You're supposed to. It's a part of the game. And it's good that you're lookin' back on 'em. Really, it is. Now the next thing that's supposed to happen is learning. Learning, not dwelling. You wanna talk about dumb decisions, lemme tell you bout my life.”
How interested am I in this? I could tune out everything he's about to say and go to sleep. I could, but there's something about a story that draws a brutha in. I'm intrigued. Aight Carlos, you have my attention. Tell me a story.
“When you look at me, what do you see?” he asks. “Really look and tell me.”
What do I see? Some straggly ol' shaggy haired, dark skinned Latino. He's dressed in loose fitted flannel—probably somethin' he found on board the ship—and it covers his skin tight, full body space suit. What am I looking for?
“Go ahead, you can say it,” he urges. “What do you see?”
“I see a bum.”
“Exactly! And ya know what? You're right. I am a bum. I'm the worst kind of bum. I'm sleazy. I'm amoral. I live for me and nobody else. I'm a pirate! I was a pirate long before joining this crew. Back on earth, I did the same thing I'm doing here. I would steal the anti-Gravs off people's cars, hack people's houses and steal 'em blind while they weren't home, and on days when I just didn't give a f***, mug fools in broad daylight. Ain't nothin' they was gon do about it. And it wasn't about me tryna survive or nothin'—I mean, yeah I was—but it was mostly because I was a stupid kid that didn't care.”
“I know how this story goes. Lots of regrets. Lots of misery. Probably found yourself at rock bottom, and now you're tryna climb your way back up.”
“You'd think that.”
“But?”
“Let's just say I'm still lookin' for the bottom.”
“How the world'd you get into space?”
“Oh, now that's a story. So I was all around the place. I was hangin' with this chica. You probably know this one, too. She was into the rude boy, bad man thing, and I was that dude. Then the puta ended up gettin pregnant. Now don't get me wrong, I probably got like 10 or 15 lil hijo's runnin around with different mamas, but I was usually out long before then, never to be seen again. Ain't stickin' me with no snot nose to raise! No sir! But this one was different. She wouldn't take the hint. Tried her best to stick with me. Everyone thinks they can change a person. If you don't take anything else away, learn this: people don't change.”
“Got it.”
“So I stuck around. The girl had her kid at 17. I was 19. She had her kid, and I stuck around.”
“So you changed?”
“No, I didn't. I had a baby mama and a baby that I had to support. She practically abandoned her family. Always said that they'd never take her back and that I was all she had. Kinda felt bad, so I stepped up. The hustling had a purpose. I had a family to take care of. We got an apartment, she stayed with the kid doin' her best to raise him, and I stuck to the streets.”
“Sounds like you changed to me.”
“Idiota, you payin' attention? I was doin' the same caca that got me into that caca in the first place!”
“But you weren't doin' it for you.”
“Shut up an' let me finish. So we managed to survive for the first 5 years of his life. Kid was always gettin' into stuff. His mom got on her feet and was tryna make a legit living gettin' these low end minimum wage jobs. House cleaner, maid, waitress, whatever. She made due, and I was still about that hustlin' game. And sure, she tried to get me to stop, tried to say we had to do better, but she knew me. She knew me more than anyone should know me. Think she was a psy. Either way, I wasn't about to give up my life for her or the kid. Why? Go ahead, that ain't rhetorical.”
“Because people don't change.”
“Now you're getting it. I wasn't doin' nothin' to better anyone's lives. Still had b*****'s on the side. Still livin life one impulse at a time. And eventually, one night, I left and didn't come back. Took me 5 years, but I got out, and never saw her again.”
“That's... that's kinda messed up.”
“Ain't no 'kinda' in it. It's messed up. It's more than messed up. It's f***'d up. People aren't supposed to do that.”
“Doesn't stop it from happenin'.”
“You're right. So bein' the deadbeat that I was, I wanted to get as far away from the two as I could. So I thought, 'why not space?'”
“Dang? It's like that?”
“Like that, hombre. Again, impulses. I had a thought, and I acted on it. Saved up enough to get a one-way to Mars. Not cheap, by the way.”
“Nah duh. Space travel's as expensive as it gets. You had that much just layin' around?”
“Hustling is an art. Ended up ripping off the the highest profile mob boss on the map, which may or may not have influenced my decision to get as far away as possible.”
“You were that good?”
“I was that lucky. So I get there. I had all these dreams of doin' whatever the f*** I wanted. Ended up doin' what you're doin' right now.”
“Listenin' to a loser tell his life story?”
“Feelin' sorry for myself.”
“Well you had an actual reason to. Surprised you had a conscience for it.”
“Believe me, I was too! And it got to me bad. Instead of startin' up the business, I ended up bein' a product of it. Instead of dealin', I was usin'. Found myself in bars more often than not. The sad, lonely, pathetic look works great for pickin' up culo, but they only stick around long enough to see if they can help. I was beyond any of that. So I went back to the bottle until I got banned. So I was just about ready to end it all, but felt I had enough for one more go around. Got back in the hustlin' thing, and met Ran through that.”
“Wait, Ran? Ryndis Ran? She was on Mars?”
“Yeah, just blendin' in with everybody else. Didn't know much of anything, oblivious to everything else. All and all, the perfect target. A sucka. I took her for a ride all around town. Took advantage of her in every way you could think of, and just when I was about to drop her, I found out she could shape shift. That made things really interesting. But when I found out she couldn't change all her—how do I put this—all her “parts,” I knew somethin' else was up.”
“All her parts.”
“Yeah.”
“All her—OH. Okay. Wow. You actually –”
“Of course I did.”
“How?”
“I explained to her a few things about a few things, showed her some educational material.”
“You're talking about –”
“Yep, and from then on, everything was set.”
“And by everything you mean –”
“I mean everything. I had a partner in crime now. Best part is, she was still oblivious to everything. Sure, it was strange, but it worked out. We wreaked havoc on every street corner and alleyway. I taught her almost everything I knew. We were always on the go, always making money. It was great. Until we got caught. Then things went down, quick. Turns out, Miss Ran knew a lot more than she had me believe. I didn't know if she was just playin' me or if I taught her too much, but somehow she got away and I ended up bein' the one rottin' in jail. Nullifiers kept me from portin' out.”
“Shoulda left you there.”
“She really shoulda.”
“But she didn't?”
“I know you know.”
“Lemme guess. She breaks in, breaks you out, and the two of you fly off out into the black.”
“Pretty much. Takes the identity of a cop, and it worked out just like you said. Asked if I wanted to put all of that behind me. Of course I said yes.”
“So you were always a lame?”
“Lame isn't the word I'd use, but yeah. The point of the story is to stop asking for second chances. I got all the second chances in the world and ended up doin' the same thing I did the first time. Why? Because people don't change. Stick with the chance you've got and make the best of it.”
I don't know what to make of Carlos now. I mean, he's the typa dude mom's always told me to stay away from. I can see why, too. He a scumbag. He knows he's a scumbag. Doesn't seem like something he's proud of, but he sho ain't doin' nothin' to change it. I don't think I can respect him for that. I might could respect him for ownin' up to it, but I don't think it should work like that. Not to mention him havin' a kid an' leavin'. That kinda hits close to home. Real close. Real –
“Real quick, what was the name of that girl you spent time with on Earth?”
“Man, I don't remember.”
“You spent over 5 years with her. I hope you ain't that that typa dude who'd forget his own babymama's name.”
“Fine, I think it was Rachel.”
“Uh huh. And the kid? You remember his name?”
“Oh, now that I do. See, Rachel was real crazy. See, I wanted his name to be somethin' simple. Nothin' too ghetto, nothin' too Mexican, somethin' that would get him places. Mike. Martin. Y'know, along those lines, but Rachel was deadset against that. She wanted him to stand out. Somethin' that if you heard, you'd never forget. Think we went with soemthin' French. She was so excited about him being so unique, we even shelved out the extra creds to do the gene thing. Nothin' too out there, but his hair did end up comin' out blue.”
“What was his name?”
“Christophe.”
“Uh huhn.” I murmur, stroking my chin.
I jump off the bed and head to the door where Carlos is standing at. He takes a quick glimpse at me, but is too caught up strollin' down memory lane that he doesn't see it comin'. It happens so fast that I don't even see it, but there it is.
BLAO
One punch, straight to his jaw. It sends him straight to the floor. I pulled back at the last millisecond, but there was still enough force in there to shatter at least one bone. You know I wanted swipe his head clean off, but I restrained myself.
Small world.
