Well, I did manage to find the kitchen this morning, without getting lost. Small victories, folks.
Ogden was sitting by the window, eating a bowl of his usual Frosted Flakes, when I made it downstairs. He still seems a little stunned, sometimes, to find himself sharing his house with the four of us, but he says that he likes it.
Shoto has been back to Japan, for a visit, but for the most part, we've all been too overwhelmed, trying to adjust to real life, the new reality, to think about moving out yet. Life at Og's is comfortable, anyway.
I have to admit, it's been a weird few weeks.
The OASIS is just not the same for me now. I mean, don't get me wrong. I still enjoy it. But I don't seem to have any purpose there, anymore. There's no longer anything to chase. As it turns out, there actually is a limit on how many sixers you can vaporize before it stops being fun.
That's a lie, actually. It's always fun. But there's not very many sixers anymore. Most of them got killed off in the final battle, and those that didn't have found themselves without a job, and nothing to fight for anymore, anyway.
Those days are gone now. I should be happy about that, right? Honestly, I find myself missing the hunt. Back when my goals seemed so unattainable.
But there's so much going on outside the OASIS, these days.
For the first time in my life, I'm actually invested in the real world, and it's going to take some getting used to. Wade Watts, CEO. Dear god, I'm the boss, and it's crazy; it's like trying to learn a new language, and I'm really not sure that I'll ever be any good at it. I do enjoy a challenge, of course, and running a company is certainly a change of pace.
Even stuff like this, pouring myself a bowl of cereal and making conversation with Og, is totally unfamiliar and feels like a skill that I neglected the hell out of while leveling up.
Never mind the thing with Arty. Samantha, I mean. She doesn't mind that I still call her Arty. It's her identity as much or more than Samantha is, after all. She still calls me Z, which is a habit she picked up from hearing Aech call me that, so frequently.
"So what's on your plate today, Wade?" Og asks me.
I look down at my bowl, half-full of milk and cereal.
Oh. He means, what am I doing today. I pause for a few more awkward moments while I try to decide why he's asking. Does he have something in mind for me to do today? Is he just curious?
I've now officially taken too long to answer. My lack of practice at picking up on social cues.
Og's looking at me, all amused.
"No agenda," he says, holding his hands up, grinning.
"Oh." I nodded at him, sheepishly. "Sorry. I guess," I trailed off, trying to remember, without the benefit of my digital assistant, "I've got meetings this afternoon. Quarterly reports?"
Ogden made a face, like something smelled bad.
"Nothing else, 'til then?"
I'm not sure. "Max?" I asked.
"N-n-nothing til fourteen h-hundred hours, boss."
"How about you?" I asked Og.
He looks past me, over my shoulder, and doesn't answer.
It takes me a little while to realize that Arty has been standing behind me for some unknown amount of time.
"I'm kidnapping you for the rest of the morning," she informs me.