Chapter 7

RJ

BAM! I strike my (real) foot hard against the door of my room, kicking it open and I collapse onto my bed. Breathing deeply, I carefully slide my backpack off my shoulders, letting it fall onto the floor.

For a moment, I just lie there, unmoving. I bury myself in the pillow, feeling the soft fabric brush against my face. I am exhausted, beyond exhausted: the trip back costed every single fiber of energy in my code.

It took me about 5 minutes to get onto the Internet.

Yet it took nearly an hour just to get myself back.

The reason? I wasn't an avatar.

So, after I got out the Older Net, through the winding alleys, and back into the heart of the Internet, I went into the nearest search website to find how I can get back to the arcade. I'll be clear here: it wasn't the SearchBar, but the character in charge was just as annoying as KnowsMore, especially when he didn't really know what I was talking about. This is how our conversation went:

Character: Welcome sir! What do you wanna find today?

Me: Um, I just wanna go home, that's all.

Character: Well, okay. Where do you live?

Me: Uh, Litwak's Family Fun Center, Los Aburridos, California.

Character: Sir, but that's a real place!

Me: Yeah, I live there.

Character: But you can't possibly live there! That's impossible!

Me: Oh yeah? What if 'tis IS possible? *Annoyed*

Character: Well, you're not an avatar, right?

Me: Look at me! Just look at me! What makes ya think that I'm a freakin' avatar?!

Character: Well, so where is your website?

Me: I. Don't. Have. A. Website. *Getting more and more annoyed*

Character: But…how is that possible?

Me: Look. All I wanna do, 'tis to just get out of the freakin' Internet. Ya hear me?

Character: Oh wait…so you're not an avatar, nor you're from the Internet?

Me: So ya finally realized that?! Ya freakin' finally realized that?!

Character: Yes…I unfortunately only realize this until now.

Me: ARRRRRRRRRRRRRUGH! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! *Throwing up my hands in rage and slamming them down on the counter, screaming*

After I'd calmed down, the character kindly offers a suggestion to me. Since I wasn't an avatar, I don't have an IP address built into my coding. Luckily, he said, there were several websites that recorded every single character's addresses, even for those who aren't avatars. All I have to do, he said, was to go there, find my IP address from the sea of results, then go to one of the Internet Exit Portals scattered throughout the web, give the netizens in charge my address, and away I should go back to Litwak's.

Sounds complicated?

Good, because it is much more complicated when you put it in practice.

Getting to the website was easy, but everything went downhill from there. Finding my IP address from the millions of results was tedious work, especially when you can't mention your name for quicker searching. By the time I found it, I was so tired that when I reached one of the Portals, I had tripped over a record-breaking number of fifteen avatars, six netizens, and enough pop-ups to win several jackpots from over ten websites. Being 7'1" didn't help at all.

As I was about to leave, I heard the netizen in charge ramble something like 'remember to do this manually every time you leave' or whatever, but clearly I wasn't paying attention as he had to slap me awake to prepare for my trip home. I'm so tired, so freaking tired that I couldn't keep my eyes open as I whizzed away from the Portal, returning through the cables back to the WiFi router at Litwak's. It was a miracle that no one caught me staggering through the WiFi portal, stumbling through the station, and crawling onboard the train back to my game, arriving about half an hour just before the arcade opens.

I let out a loud yawn, my eyes getting droopy. My trip to and fro the Internet had taken its toll on me, and I am exhausted from all of it. All I want now is rest; sweet, sweet, sweet rest.

As my vision closes up, a random memory from the Internet pops up at me. There! In the Older Net, where I confronted the clone for my sandwiches. I can't help but bark out a laugh, laughing at the fact that I went that far just for some sandwiches.

Then again, I admit I was hungry at the time.

But really, recalling how I chewed the clone out when I reached the Older Net, I cannot help but feel sorry for 'Ralph'. I admit I shouldn't have been that hard on it; my temper got the better of me back then. But really, seeing how bad its conditions are, I can't help but think there must be something that I can do to help…

Are you kidding me, Ralph Jerome?! You're planning to go back to the Internet for that worthless clone?!

I nod my head. Yes, it sounds absurd, very absurd. Why would I go back to the Internet, to the place where I was forbidden to go, just for this one person who isn't even a real character?

Why would I?

But at the same time, I know someone else who had a similar experience to what 'Ralph' had, and that I really don't want it to follow in his footsteps, to receive a second chance when it is too late…

It deserves a second chance, like right now.

Maybe I should do something to help it.

Maybe I should…

"Hey, RJ! Wake up!"

I yelp and snap my eyes open. I turn my head a bit, only to see Ralph leaning on the doorway, looking back at me. "Wha-what?" I mutter, "What is it, Ralph?"

"Litwak's here, arcade's open, we've gotta go. You tired?" He asks concerned. "Naps aren't really your thing, RJ."

My brother's right: I'm not a big fan of naps. Somehow, even when I'm very tired, I am extremely reluctant to retreat to my bed. I don't want to spend every minute of my free time dozing in; I feel like my time shouldn't be used in this way. It shouldn't.

And now, with me clearly lying on the bed and my brother knowing that I don't usually do this, this is a clear warning to him that I've done something that I usually won't do, and it's definitely not my usual pranks. I can't let him know, I can't, so I try to answer in an innocent tone. "Yeah, I'm…tired." I say, my yawns interrupting my words "I'm just tired, Ralph, so I went and had a nap. That's all."

"With your portable stabilizer still on?" He asked, his eyes narrowing, suspicious.

Uh-oh.

With my extremely unstable coding, I have to wear a stabilizer at all times to keep my Glitch in check. But my Glitch is so strong, so unpredictable that I have to make adjustments to my stabilizer almost all the time, loosening or tightening it when I feel I might need to use more of my Glitch, or to keep it at bay. This I can do manually when I'm awake, yet when I'm asleep I can no longer adjust my code for myself, thus I have to rely on a huge stabilizing machine to keep track of my Glitch for me, preventing me from potential moments when my Glitch could go haywire. If I cannot quickly adjust my code when I need it, then…

Simply put: falling asleep without taking off my portable stabilizer and/or hooking myself to the stabilizing machine could cause disastrous effects on my code, especially if a Glitch Attack strikes without warning. This is the same even if I'm in my own game and have the power to regenerate.

"Uh, no! I, um, I forgot to take it off, sorry!" I bolt up in my bed, ripping off my hood and kicking off my sheets. I am about to unhook my stabilizer off when I realize that I'm no longer asleep, and that I'm okay with wearing it now.

Ralph sighs and shakes his head. "Remember to take if off next time." He calls, walking out. "I'll meet you outside."

Instantly, I slam my door shut, incredibly thankful that Ralph doesn't seem to know why I am so tired. I carefully unfasten my stabilizer anyways, fastening it again as I changed out of my normal clothes and into a green polo shirt, dark blue overall-like pants, and a pair of pale-green goggles to protect my eyes from the stray brick flecks.

My Wrecker Gear.

Back in my early days of wrecking, I have worn my jacket and trousers to work; but as I worked longer and longer, I realized that repeated hard work with these clothes could accelerate their wear and tear. Seeing this, Ralph persuaded me to get back my old polo shirt and overalls (the ones I used as payment for my new clothes) along with a few new fabrics, have them remade into a 'Wrecker Gear' tailored to my frame, and have me wear them during gameplay. Sure, I hated them when I first put them on, hated that I'm not able to wear my usual clothes during gameplay, but eventually they grew on me.

As I walk out, Ralph grabs an energy drink from the fridge and tosses it to me. As I drain it, he leads me out of our home and to the dump. Setting the empty can aside, I brush my hand through the brick flecks, and it bumps against something wooden. I thrust my hand into the pile, pulling out a huge sledgehammer, tied and woven with ribbons and fabrics of all colors on the handle. Since I've lost almost all my Wrecker Powers after my second unlocking, this bad boy does all the damage for me; and not to lie, it works pretty well for a character with almost-normal strength.

As soon I retrieved the hammer, I get up, toying with the strands of fabric tied on the handle. Each one of them represented a different character, a different memory of mine. I could have toyed with them for much longer if not for the familiar clink! of a quarter being dropped. As soon I hear that, I look over at Ralph. It is time.

"You, stay here." Ralph instructs me, and walks out, positioning himself next to the building. Right on time, the speech bubble appears above his head. Pumping his fists, he yells "I'M GONNA WRECK IT! ! ! !" , and turns to tear down the walls and windows in the building behind him. Ralph then climbs up the ladder on the side of the building and continues to chuck down bricks and glass shards to the ground, destroying the building. He finally reaches the top and pumps his fists once more, as if proud of what he has done.

"FIX IT, FELIX!"

Right on cue, Felix runs up to the building, magic hammer in hand, and starts fixing my brother's destruction. After the level, as soon as the damage is completed, Felix receives a medal and Ralph gets chucked off the side of the building, into the big mud puddle that waited for his arrival.

It will also wait for my arrival several moments later.

Sure enough, when about 10 levels have passed, Ralph turns his head to me and calls "SUMMON THE GLITCH!" That's my cue, and yelling, I run out from my spot and start wielding my sledgehammer on the walls, helping my brother to inflict more damage. I can see the player struggling to keep control with my appearance, but soon he regains his concentration and is able to fix our damage, sending Ralph and me plummeting to the mud puddle not long after.

As I continue to damage the building in the following levels, I can't help but think of my trip to the Internet, my search for the Crash, and about 'Ralph' in the Older Net. Specifically, how it looked at me when I left…

No, not it, him. 'Ralph's' not an 'it' anymore. Definitely not an 'it'.

Remembering my thoughts before I took that nap, the idea of actually doing something to help the clone again pops up in my mind. Sure, it will be risky, I'll have to keep several secrets all at once, and I cannot let Ralph know anything near my plan. But what choice do I have? Really, what choice do I have?

But really, I guess that happens to anyone when you want to do something without anyone knowing what you have in mind.

I wish I can somehow help him, if only…

It is then a plan hits me. A brilliant, brilliant plan that could try and help 'Ralph'. I can't solve all his problems, but solving at least some of them is already an achievement, right?

"Yes!" I say aloud. "I know what I should do!"

"What? What are you talking about?" Ralph asks, confused to what I am saying.

Oh, right.

I cannot let Ralph know.

"Uh, nothin'." I say quickly, leaping onto another ledge and smashing the wall behind it. I am about to leap further when I feel a hand grasp me from behind. I turn and see Ralph looking straight in my face.

My brother's voice then drops down to a whisper "You know, RJ, I think you've been keeping a lot of secrets lately, right?"

Not wanting to lie or tell the truth, I simply smile, letting the question dissolve between us before leaping to another ledge, swiping Mary's pie and smashing two more windows along the way.

Eventually I would have to come clean to Ralph, but…not now. Definitely not right now.

I'll tell you later, my brother. Just…not now.

Not right now.

'Ralph'

The winds are stronger today, fiercely piecing through me as I lie down on the cold hard ground, covered slightly by a few cardboard boxes I salvaged from the dump. I rarely wear my poncho when I'm sleeping: I cannot risk damaging it in my sleep, but today is exceptional as I don't think I have any other choice.

I have learnt that the 'winds' are actually data streams, pouring in new information to their respective websites in the form of freezing gusts when normal cables aren't fast enough. With the buildings up there, the winds cannot inflict most of their damage; but down here, in the abandoned areas, it sure gets cold really fast.

My teeth chatter nosily, and shivering, I pull my poncho tighter, hoping that it'll somehow be enough to shield me from the winds, that I'll be able to survive another day down here...

CRASH! I jerk up as I hear something big slam down in the distance. All these days of living in the Older Net tells me that there's another website being thrown down, another website that either no one wanted, or someone just wanted to do a makeover to their old site.

I pull myself to my feet and lumber towards the sound. Most of the times the websites offer stuff that is either not useful to me, or are damaged beyond repair for me to do anything. I usually get all my stuff on the Internet. But this time, I feel like I should check the website out, despite it having a larger-than-average chance of not having anything useful to me.

I get to where the newly-fallen website is and squint, making out the huge words printed on its sides: Moore and Johnston's Supreme Bedding Supplies. Apparently this website used to sell sheets and blankets and stuff.

Perfect.

I dig under the website, and feel my hand run against something soft. I grasp the thing and pull it out, revealing a blanket, both too thin and too small for my size, but still usable nonetheless. I dig further and pull out several more similar blankets, tossing them in a pile before picking them up and returning to my spot.

I take off my poncho and wrap myself up with the new blankets, bundling tightly within them. The blankets are thinner than I realized, but they're sure better than sleeping in my poncho or on my cardboard boxes. I snuggle further into them, hoping to get all the warmth I can get before my next trip to the Internet for more food and resources.

As I start to drift off into sleep, my mind briefly flickers back to a few moments earlier. As much I want to think about something else, I just can't help thinking about the mysterious stranger that came to me in the Older Net.

The character, I think he's a man, confronting me down in the Older Net, not because he wanted to kill me, but simply to take back what was originally his.

Something that I've never seen anyone done before.

I don't even know his name.

I grasp onto that memory, trying to recall every little detail about him. He was wearing a green jacket, blue trousers, and a metallic something on his chest that I cannot make out. He had extremely green eyes, and had his hood pulled up. I think he also walked with a prosthetic; yes, I remember his right leg being metallic. And he was glitching: his body never seemed to stop flickering in the slightest when he was down here, pulsing with green light every now and then.

I remember his humor, his mocking of the avatars, and his laughter. His loud, boisterous, contagious laughter ringing out through the Older Net as he pretended to be an avatar.

I remember these features about the stranger, but I can't help getting the feeling that he's not a stranger at all, and that I've seen him before…

That's absurd, why would I have seen him before? Why would I?

I rack through my head for memories. Every time when I reached the place where I see myself destroying the Internet with my brothers, my mind just shuts itself down, not letting me go further. And yet, although the features bounce off blankly in my empty mind, I can't help thinking how familiar those features look.

As if I should know him, somehow.

As I yawn and start to fall into slumber, I think of the stranger one more time, the mysterious, yet familiar hooded, green-eyed stranger that chased me back down the Older Net, that seemed nice to me, that rejected my invitation, with obvious conflict, to be my friend.

Although he's not here, I cannot help asking this question, as if he is there, able to hear my thoughts.

Who are you?

Tell me, who are you?