Chapter XVIII

To get in the right mindset to win the Quake deathmatch I planned a whole routine. I woke up a bit later than I hoped, but still started with the same morning walk to the coffee place I now often did at the start of my day. I even had their dumplings for breakfast.

Then I would pump myself up by listening to a playlist that I used as a confidence boost. I tried to focus on thoughts of self-affirmation. I already came this far. I beat Kyurem all by myself. I can do this.

But Finn won the Mario Kart race. And Sara killed Ghostface. She even solved the first riddle. Without them I would've still been struggling on Satoshi. I never played a shooter before. If Matcheon can't win this, why could I?

Hours went by overthinking my chances. Then a couple of more went by because of checking the news, filling in a grocery list, checking social feeds and anything else that would delay the inevitable. It already started to get dark when I stood at my desk, my gaze focused on the pill.

I forced myself to swallow it. I waited for the magic to take over and didn't have to wait long. I sat in my chair, put on my headset and materialized in the OASIS.

My avatar was in the recording studio that was my private chat room. Here I had been researching the Demon Gate, basic deathmatch tactics and my opponents.

I had to scrape deep in internet archives to collect it all, something Matcheon could never do handicaped by his translation software. This would give me an edge over him, I realised.

If I would leave the recording studio, my avatar would be back where I left him in the persistent universe. Right outside the Demon Gate, ready for another round. I no longer felt nervous about it. But with its newfound confidence my brain had something else it wanted to do first.

I opened my contact list. Scrolled down to JolieRouge and clicked. This was something I had been able to withhold myself from for the past weeks. I told myself I respected her privacy, but in truth I was afraid to confront emotions.

Opening her profile didn't change anything, her last online date was still the same. All the information on her profile card I already knew by heart. I searched online with every little detail of personal information I had, but didn't find anything.

No longer was I concerned with the deathmatch I had to win, but finally I allowed myself to unshackle my feelings for Sara. Break away all the reservations I carefully build up to protect myself from heartache.

I didn't know why I missed her, the girl from Argentina that I never met in real life. It wasn't rational. If I had to be rational, I'd admit we were two unhappy people that found each other in their escapism. That we both had to unplug our VR gear and live life in the real world. But love isn't rational.

I wouldn't leave the recording studio that night. I wasn't going to waste the clarity and conviction from the pill to try and win a game. I had to put this to better use. I grabbed a guitar, sat behind my piano, played the bass and the drums. Mainly I was writing, scratching, looking for words. I was creating a song.

Every burst of inspiration, every product of my imagination got a fair chance. Tonight there was no self-censorship, no oversensitive self-awareness. But for all the creative peaks that night, I ended up with a seemingly simple song.

It was real, though. Raw, angry, painful punk filled with heartbreak and physical yearning that would've made Iggy Pop proud. I did not even use any software to polish my vocals, which were more hoarse screaming than singing. The lyrics went a bit like this.

There's just one prey,

One prey worth chasing,

One trail worth tracing,

That prey is you.

And I pray, and I pray,

Don't lead me astray,

Let me find your track,

Pick up on your neck.

Your carotid artery.

It's luring me.

There's just one prey,

One prey worth chasing,

One catch worth tasting,

That prey is you.

"It rhymes, but it's no poetry," I said to myself when I listened to the first demo track.

Those words were Sara's response when I recited the first riddle to her in this recording studio. Maybe three months ago by now? It felt like at least a year.

This was a good moment. I was actually proud of the song I put together, every cell in my body had a sense of satisfaction. Could of course be the pill, but I was confident enough to upload the demo anyway.

It's not like I had anything to lose by doing so, I reckoned. Pandasaurus would probably leave a shitty comment, but if annoying little brothers would be a valid reason to hold yourself back, the world would still be in the Iron Age.

I needed a video clip or at least some visuals to get it on my social feeds, and a title. After a lot of fiddling it was already starting to get dark again. I hit the upload button and plunged into bed.