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Toy Story: Mister Spaceman

Chapter 2: The Year We Make Contact

"This is me," said the rat. "I think it's apparent I need to rethink my life a little bit."

Andy, sitting on the stairs outside the campus library, frowned. The animation was fine, the voice acting he'd provided was passable and yes, that was a knife coming down at the rat, but…

He rewound it. The project was a five minute short, which he had three more months to work on, before the summer break and the end of this semester. What the animation contained was at his discretion, bar anything too explicit. But…

Rat sneaks in. Rat finds food. Rat is confronted. Rat runs away. He rubbed his eyes. It's still missing something.

Even though this was his third year, Professor Redfern wasn't expecting Shakespeare. There was only so much one person could do by themselves when it came to animating a piece of media. Still, he had thirty-thousand dollars of student loans burning through his wallet, and somehow, he doubted this would pass muster through any animation studio. At best, it would get his foot through the door, but there were forty students in his class. All of them trying to get noticed, all of them trying to submit something unique. But this?

What am I missing? He rubbed his eyes. Can't redo the entire thing now. Can't do something else, unless it's more basic. But…

He sighed, and looked around the area. It was late May, with summer around the corner, and already he was feeling its heat. Usually he'd be inside the library, but the aircon had given out. So in twilight's gloom, and in the glow of the library's exterior lightning, he stared back at the screen.

Rat. Knife. Window. Profit. He rubbed his eyes. Still missing something. Not gnomes, of course. Or underwear. Well, maybe underwear. But…Christ, am I thinking of underwear? I-

"Hey."

He looked up. He hadn't wanted to be disturbed. But "hadn't" was the key word in that sentence. Maybe a little distraction could clear his head and provide inspiration like the guys who did Literature 101. Except…

Oh.

Except it wasn't anything like that at all. It was the girl from the computer lab. Standing above him. Looking at him awkwardly. Not exactly inspiring inspiration worthy of the arts.

"Remember me?"

Right foot twisting around left leg, left hand brushing the right side of her hair, the general aversion of eye contact as she clutched her books to her chest…Andy knew how this worked.

"A bit," he murmured.

He knew, because he'd been in this position a few times himself over the last three years. Trying to talk to girls and failing, before eventually giving up and focusing on his studies. That way, he could get A's for outcomes rather than E's for effort.

"A bit," she parroted, sounding disappointed.

Well, this was going great. He saved the animation file, and shoved the laptop into his backpack. "You make it on time?"

"Oh, I was late. Professor made sure I knew it."

"Right…" He got to his feet. "Well, don't worry. Your grade's going to depend on a lot of things, tardiness isn't among them."

"Maybe in your world."

"Oh?" He knew it wouldn't lead anywhere, but he nonetheless asked, "what's your subject?"

"Psychology."

Yep. Definitely won't lead anywhere. "Well, see you around, or something."

It was rude, it was abrupt, but the conversation had been dead on arrival. This wasn't even a question of friendship or even politeness, but simply the truth that he had nothing to add on the subject. He had an imagination, sure, but that wasn't the same thing as intelligence. Even if Einstein had once said it was more important. Einstein, after all, hadn't had to worry about student loans, or a global financial crisis, or a sector that could only take the best of the best. Granted, he did have to worry about a world war, and the Cold War, and his own financial stresses, but, well…he wasn't Albert Einstein. He was Andy Davis. No-one of any importance, and not a scientist or a shrink who could possibly discuss psychology.

So he began to walk away. Maybe he'd turn in, maybe he'd get a bite to eat, or-

"Do I know you?"

…or maybe he'd stop, and look back at the girl.

"Excuse me?"

"Listen, I know it sounds weird, but…have we met?" She asked.

Andy frowned. "You tracked me down to ask about déjà vu?"

"What? No, no," she exclaimed, brushing her hair aside. "I promise, I wasn't following you or anything, I just saw you outside the library as I passed by, and…" She looked up at its arch, reading its words. "Veritas ab illuminatione."

"Excuse me?"

"It's Latin. It translates as 'truth from illumination.' As said by John Luxo when he opened the university back in 1919."

Andy, in spite of everything, smiled. "That's a nice bit of trivia."

"You think so?" she asked. "Thanks. Usually people don't care."

Andy's smile faded. "What kind of people?"

"Oh, y'know…people…"

The smile became replaced by a frown, as he looked at the girl before him. "Girl" might not have been the best term, as she looked the same age as he, but the way she spoke, the way she carried herself…there was an…offness, he reflected. Not that she wasn't all there, but…well, it reminded him of people he'd known over the years. Kids who, like all kids, yearned for approval. Kids, who not like all kids, didn't get nearly enough of it.

He wasn't one of those kids. Even raised by a single mother, who'd had to bring up two children by her lonesome, he'd never lacked for attention. Nor had he lacked for gifts, from books, to toys, to videogames, to no shortage of holidays. His father's actions notwithstanding, by all accounts, he'd had an easy life.

He didn't need to be a shrink to tell that the girl before him hadn't.

"Well, anyway," I should go," Andy said. "Stuff to do, places to go, people to see…"

"Oh. Sure." She tried to hide the disappointment in her voice. "I…no, forget it. Just…"

"Just you think you've seen me before?"

She shrugged.

"Well, that's life for you." He smiled, however forced. "See you around Miss…"

"Phillips," she whispered. "Hannah Phillips."

"Right. Well, evening."

He turned around. He started walking in the direction of the campus food court. A quick bite, a quick drink, then back to work on his project before turning in and-

Wait.

He stopped. Turned. Stared.

Surely not.

"Hannah?" he asked.

Come on, the chances are astronomical.

"Um, yes?" she asked.

"Hannah Phillips," he repeated.

"That's my name," she whispered.

"Hannah," he repeated. "As in, two-nine-one Stuart Street Hannah?"

"Um, yeah, that's my old address," she murmured.

"I'm…" He steadied his breath. "I think I am…was…your neighbour. As in,"-

"Andy Davis, two-nine-three Stuart Street?"

He stood there. She stood there. The world moving around them, the stars shining above, and campus maintenance moving around them, finally having arrived to fix the library's aircon.

The two staring at each other. Waiting for one of them to finally break the silence. To utter words befitting of the moment. To say something.

"Holy shit," Andy whispered.

Anything.