Garfield had made a rather clumsy entrance into the dining assembly, but was there to stay. Of course, there were no hard feelings about him amongst the group, even if Karen switched seats with Argent, who was now sitting next to the energetic newcomer. When he was done apologizing (multiple times), Garfield focused his attention on who else was newcomer to the scene like him. He was delighted to find out that he, Richard and Tramaine were alike in that respect, even if the latter didn't speak much.
When prompted to elaborate about himself by Argent, Garfield eagerly explained he had moved into the city with his mother during the summer. Since they had to move in Jump City for various reasons, as Garfield said, his mother figured that sending him to Jack London High School would be a good opportunity to improve his less-than-stellar (hilariously delivered with air quotes by Garfield) grades. By a momentary grimace, it was clear as day that the thought did not entertain the brown-haired boy, but he nevertheless added that he enjoyed the school's vibe very much; perhaps his mother was right on this being a good opportunity. He then stopped to gloomily gaze into his tray, his light-hearted narration put into an abrupt stop. Silence took over the table for a couple of minutes, but the ice was broken when Roy made a very well thought-out question.
"Is Mr. Light your father, by any chance?"
Although the Joke went over poor Garfield's head, the rest of the gang burst into laughter. Their amusement was cut short when the school speakers barked that students were required to return to their classes swiftly. This made getting everyone's Visagenet account a priority for Garfield, who happily declared he'd message everyone at school day's end. As everyone at the table started rising and picking up whatever school gear they had brought with them, Richard took a moment to ponder who he would be hanging out with at the end of the school year.
The gangs formed during the first days were usually a result of a mutual need for safety and didn't last long, at least according to Richard's experience. He followed a silent Tramaine and a palpably bored Roy back to his class, all the while concerned with Garfield's overwillingness to keep in touch. It made sense that Garfield was in need of friends; he was, much like Richard, new to the city and the school. But why did Richard himself not have the same urge? Should he be doing the same? Was he wasting his days in the past when, by taking the initiative a couple of times, could he have made some valuable friends? And most importantly, would any of those newly-formed bonds last, or would they end up ignoring each other at the school corridors by mid-year?
By the time Richard was seated in class, he had almost completely forgotten about the fragility of school friendships, his attention focused on the classroom door. What sort of a person would their next professor be? Admittedly, Mr. Light wasn't that bad and had in fact offered some genuinely good advice. Roy himself had reassured Richard and Tramaine that most professors were quirky at their worst, provided you didn't get on their bad side. Even though Richard did not ask what it would take to do that, he mentally noted that he should avoid doing so. When a lanky, friendly-looking man at his 30's entered the classroom, it gave Richard the impression the man would teach something akin to philosophy. The man looked nowhere near as imposing as Mr. Light did, thus chatter did not stop like it did when Mr. Light had entered. The new professor did not seem to mind, however. He kept his friendly exterior and playfully struck the desk a couple of times before introducing himself.
"Welcome, welcome everyone. I'm Patrick Marsden and I'll be your history teacher… ok, so I'm sure most of you consider history to be a really boring subject, right? Well, if they've been teaching you dates and treaties, you're probably right. In my class however, you can forget about being lectured on such boring stuff."
"He's new." Roy whispered from the school desk behind Richard's. Richard took yet another look at the man. He did look somewhat nervous, but nowhere near a detrimental degree. He put on a wide, genuine smile and addressed the class with radiating energy.
"Instead, we'll be doing a historical overview of humanity the various cultures that represent it, or used to anyway. Interestingly, despite the vast array of knowledge about the past that is readily available via the internet or in books, the public has a lot of misconceptions about what life used to be like. Movies and videogames are by far the worst offenders… although to be fair, the first thing that got me interested in history in the first place was videogames. Ok, so has anyone here played any of the Primordial Writings games?"
Richard had never heard of such a series of games and yet, to his surprise, a couple of hands shot up in response to Mr. Marsden question.
"Ok," he said pointing towards a student in the back, "which one have you played?"
"Mysthills!" shouted the energetic voice. Mr. Marsden smirked, and looked diagonally upwards in thought, his hand caressing his bearded chin.
"Mysthills is not a bad game, but if you wanted to delve deeply into a fictional culture, you should be playing Canyonfell instead. Of course, it's an old game and definitely lacks in gameplay when compared to newer games like Mysthills. However, while playing it, I was really immersed into the province and culture. Now, for the rest of you, who may not have even heard what the Primordial Writings games are, they're a series of open-world role playing games that took place in pseudo-medieval worlds. I said took because Canyonfell was the first game in the series to feature a predominantly original, authentic culture. Besides fighting monsters and exploring dungeons, the game also allowed you to experience the culture firsthand via cities, books and the unfolding events… in short it was one of the factors that inspired me to study history… that's right people! A videogame turned me into a historian! Tell that to your mother the next time she yells at you to shut the computer down and go to sleep because it's 4 am!"
A few students laughed their hearts out. Richard didn't think it was particularly funny, but he had to hand it to the man; it was something most people his age could relate to, and it really helped improve the mood. Mr. Marsden's train of thought was put off course when Tramaine of all people raised his arm as if to ask a question. Encouraged by the professor himself, Tramaine asked in a polite and formal manner.
"Sir, what about the curriculum? When are we going to be able to pick our preferred lessons?"
Mr. Marsden scratched his head in a comically intense manner.
"Well guys I'm new here myself but… from what I know you'll be able to select your preferred classes by next week probably… either online or via the school's secretariat. The same applies to clubs I think, speaking of which…"
At that point, Mr. Marsden extended his hands in excitement, taking almost everyone by surprise.
"I have been thinking of starting a club of my own… for you guys of course! A fencing club, to be precise. We're going to focus medieval weapons mostly, but also dabble with weapons of antiquity from Europe and other nearby regions… problem is, it does take some students declaring interest for that to happen…"
At that point, Mr. Marsden scanned the classroom for signs of excitement, interest or anything at all. His futile search soon ended in vain.
"So… if anyone's interested, I'll make sure relevant information can be found in the various noticeboards of the school, including that giant thing outs-"
Mr Marsden was interrupted by the school speakers coming to life once again.
"Attention students. The school day has reached its end. We expect you to attend tomorrow, at the same time and place as today. You may leave in order."
Mr. Marsden looked somewhat disappointed at being unable to finish his sentence, but appeared to shake it off quickly.
"Well folks, looks like that's it! See you around!"
"Come on," muttered Roy under his breath, "I doubt that this Garfield fellow will let us skip our planned reunion…" And indeed, before they could even make it out of the classroom, all three of them received a message from Garfield.
When the gang met in the vicinity of a crowded school day, they brainstormed what they should do next. Argent and Karen vouched in unison for a hip cafeteria in the park a couple of steps away. Despite the fact that both Garfield and Roy had something else in mind, they both agreed that the proximity sealed the deal. As the gang walked on the active pathway, they evaluated the look and vibe of several coffee bars before settling on the coziest one (according to the girls, anyway). They picked a vacant table amongst several already occupied ones and after getting an extra couple of empty chairs, they sat down and placed their orders. Richard did not participate much in the conversation but was nonetheless enjoying himself, indulging in an intoxicating mixture of acoustical atmospheres; the idle chatter, the downtempo music coming from the bar's speakers and the tirelessly chirping birds. After what was about 20 minutes, Roy seemed to re-evaluate where the girls had led them.
"Well," he exhaled, "you COULD have brought us somewhere worse, so…"
"Unlike you," countered Karen, "we'd have to try!"
"I actually like it…" commented Garfield with a warm smile on his lips.
"Thank you! Finally, a boy with taste!" said Karen.
"… it really isn't bad for a place a girl picked. Not bad at all…" Garfield continued. In response, Karen snorted loudly and took a sip from her coffee, whereas Roy snickered in satisfaction.
"So Roy," Argent began, "tell us about the new professor."
"Nuts." Roy said plainly in apathy.
"I liked him." countered Tramaine, sounding somewhat insulted.
"You misunderstand me. He's nuts… but in a good way. He's passionate." elaborated Roy.
"How is he nuts? What does he even teach?" Argent persisted.
"He's a historian. He was raving about how a role-playing game turned him into a historian and now he wants to create some sort of a fencing club…" explained Roy.
"Definetely more interesting than the old faces…" commented Karen.
"Man, I'd kill to have a professor like that! I am an avid fan of role-playing games!" said Garfield in uncontrollable excitement, getting a couple of looks from nearby tables.
"I think the word you're looking for is nerd." Roy snickered.
Garfield was about to produce to a passionate rebuttal when his attention was caught by a police car driving slowly on the pathway, causing a minor commotion by its appearance. It drove further ahead from sight, but was soon joined by even more police cars, one of which stopped directly in front of the hangout. Unexpectedly and at a speed approaching that of light, Roy jumped up and awkwardly declared he had to leave. He grabbed his backpack and almost fell into a couple of chairs before Richard's eyes lost him in the midst of the students who had gathered around out of curiosity.
"What's up with him?" Garfield asked to no-one in particular.
No-one answered, but Karen's face spoke volumes of her ignorance and concern for her audacious classmate.
"I'm not a nerd…" Garfield mumbled in defeat as a police officer exited his police car parked on the pathway and approached them in sure, slow steps.
"Hello everyone. Sorry for the inconvenience but I'm gonna have to ask you to leave the park immediately." He said.
"Anything wrong?" asked Argent with a hint of fear in her voice.
"I can't say anything else at the moment. Thank you for your cooperation." said the officer sternly, leaving no room for comments or questions.
As he gestured for the customers to leave, he had to put up with a disheartened cafeteria staff, which put up a minor protest as their workplace was gradually getting empty. Argent, Karen, Tramaine and Garfield joined the rest of their peers in their way towards the exit of the park. The mass of teenagers descended the hill towards the large avenue generating endless chatter, but Richard and his new acquaintances were silent bar Garfield who was asking open-ended questions now and then, receiving no answer. They eventually reached the subway situated on the curb by the large avenue that Richard had crossed this morning. Karen, Argent and Tramaine had to ride the subway in order to go to their homes, leaving behind a waving Garfield and an idle, solemn Richard. As the latter moved to cross the bridge, Garfield initiated a casual conversation:
"So, you live near the avenue, huh?" he said absent-mindedly.
"Yeah…" responded Richard, "just across the bridge." He added a couple of seconds later.
"Pretty weird how Roy nearly killed himself in his hurry back there. Then again I'm sure the police officer made all of us pretty nervous…" said Garfield skeptically.
"I-well, I thought something may have come up. I-I wouldn't want to jump to conclusions right away." replied Richard, his right foot on the edge of the bridge.
"Eh, I guess…" Garfield just stood there in hesitation for a moment, "there's a nice hot-dog place not far from here. What do you say we grab something to eat?"
Richard weighted his options. On one hand, he wouldn't mind to spend some extra time out before heading back home, especially since their coffee-enjoying session had been interrupted so prematurely. On the other hand however, he was sure that it wouldn't take long for uncle Leonard to learn of the incident. His uncle would probably prefer that Richard was at home and rightfully so. Ultimately, Richard came to conclusion he'd have to decline the offer for today.
"Uhhh, I don't know… they're sort of waiting for me at home. Maybe tomorrow?"
"Ah, yeah! Sure! See you tomorrow!" said Garfield in apparent excitement.
"L-later!" Richard started waving his arm towards Garfield, who went past the subway station in parallel to the direction of the avenue.
And so Richard began on his journey home, his first stop being the other side of the pedestrian bridge, the cars buzzing with their engines beneath him. He observed the tall buildings inviting him to cross the bridge and used them as canvas to illustrate his thoughts upon. Why had Roy left like that? Richard didn't want to jump to conclusions but was sure it was something to do with the appearance of the police officer; in fact, he was positive that that's what everyone else in the gang thought. But what could have happened inside the park causing the police to appear? If Roy had left because of the police, was that an indication that he had something to do with whatever happened? And what would or did uncle Leonard think of all of this? Would he scold Richard for being where he wasn't supposed to? Or would he just tell him to be careful? His thoughts were interrupted when a catchy melody emerged from his pocket. He was receiving a call from none other than uncle Leonard himself. He braced himself for the worse, and picked it up producing an awkward "yes".
"Hey Richard," he heard his uncle's voice through the phone coming in a somewhat alarmed tone, "are you alright? They found a body near your school!"
So that's what it was. A body. Someone had died. Or worse, murdered…
"Y-yeah… the police came too!" Richard inwardly scolded himself for producing such a childish-sounding sentence.
"That's right. They decided to evacuate the park. It's gonna hit the news soon enough, too." uncle Leonard paused, his breath detectable through the phone, "Listen, I'm gonna get back home with Lisa at noon. Please wait for me Richard. There are a couple of things I must tell you…"
Richard's senses tingled alarmingly at the prospect of an imminent, non-deserved lecture. Seeing as he couldn't help it, Richard decided he's simply have to cope with it. He was being a guest, after all.
"Yeah, ok…!" Richard said robotically.
"Alright then, make yourself at home while you're waiting for us. By the way, there's food on the fridge, so make sure to help yourself if you're hungry. Bye!"
Putting his phone back in his pocket, Richard unlocked the door and entered the house, setting straight for the laptop on his desk upstairs.
…
It was approaching midnight. Uncle Leonard, who had gone back to work at noon and had returned a few hours ago, was watching the news along with his nephew, Lisa-Marie sent to bed hours before. The police officer and family man was sitting on the couch, producing occasional signs as he commented on the media report that concerned the incident. Although Richard did not remember the details, he did retain in memory the gist of it; a young man in his 20s had been found dead within John Muir Park, hanged by an antenna on the highest hill. The police had not so far declared whether it was a suicide or homicide just yet and the media did what it always did, wild speculation.
"Heh" chuckled uncle Leonard, "seeing the media blow things out of proportion like that would be fun if that particular case didn't mean more hours at work for me."
"Hey uncle…" came Richard's question, who was aimlessly watching the TV screen from the kitchen, "d-do you ever regret becoming a police officer?"
"Eh…" he paused in thought, engaging in a silent but intense recollection, "not really. I mean, I like the job. It's just that sometimes I can't fit stuff that I'd like to do in my schedule. Or Lisa's…" he stopped mid-sentence, his eyes lost in infinity.
"I shouldn't be bothering you with such boring old-man stuff." He said, snapping out of it, "Anyway, to sum it up…"
He turned to look at Richard with a lecturing look.
"Make sure you always are in company of others when you're going to school or anywhere else from school, and also make sure not to wander the park for any reason at all! If you encounter anyone who looks suspicious, keep your distance. If not possible, kick them in the groin and make a run for it. There will be police stationed within the park and around the school. Use them."
"Yeah…" was all Richard could say whilst he was processing the information.
"I also called your father while I was at work to let him know you're alright. He'd have called but he was extremely busy…"
Richard did not need to hear about this particular topic now. He stood up, placing the chair in its original position as a showcase of good manners and declared he'd go to bed.
"Yeah, you do that. Goodnight, Richard!" he heard his uncle say while he ascended the staircase. He crawled in his bed swiftly, falling asleep in a vortex of concern and mental activity.
The people he met today, their interlinking social interactions and bonds, the perplexing death of the unidentified young man, all painted his mind in various brush strokes as he drifted into the land of dreams. His consciousness travelled through an infinite azure passageway that was nor real, nor fake. His essence came to a halt when it collided with a vehicle soaring through misty skies, a canvas of dark blue clouds enveloped by cryptic winds. His consciousness was blurry to the point of incomprehension at first, but it gradually improved to reveal fragments of this newfound environment.
He first felt the seat. Very soft. Velvet? Possibly. He traced the seat and his body with his trembling hands, his vision blurry. He listened on, but the place was eerily silent. Untill…
"Ahem"
The voice sounded like it belonged to an old person. It was captivating and melodic, if a little alarming to his frightened ears. He felt his vision gradually clearing up.
"Welcome, to the Velvet Room…"
Richard perked up in surprise and curiosity. What he saw before him was one of the most visually peculiar people he had ever seen; not that he had seen more than the average person. The old man's face was marked by what was an abnormally enormous nose, bearing a striking grin. The man, sensing the teenager before him being at a complete loss, continued:
"My dear guest… it would appear you have a most unusual destiny…"
Richard paid little attention to the man's words. He was frantically looking around, trying to make head or tail of the situation. He was inside what appeared to be a private jet, decorated in never-ending shades of blue with a pleasantly intoxicating savoir-vivre atmosphere. The view from the window was a mystical slideshow of clouds moving through a stellar night sky. It was very beautiful, but it revealed nothing factual about what was going on.
"I'm dreaming, aren't I?" he concluded.
"Allow me to clarify." beetled the man, "The velvet room, in which you are within right now, is a realm that is shoehorned, so to speak, between dreams and reality…"
"Am I dead?" asked Richard in terror. He tried to get up but found himself inexplicably paralyzed.
"…now what I have to tell you is very important, my dear guest, so I'd be honored if you exhibited some patience…"
Richard's silence was forced, but nevertheless allowed the mysterious man to clarify further.
"First off, I am Igor and I am pleased to make your acquaintance. As I said, the Velvet Room is a realm found between dream and reality, mind and matter."
The man's melodic voice started to pacify Richard, who starting to forget his previous alertness to the bizarre nature of the situation.
"Generally, only those who have formed some sort of a contract can visit this room." Explained Igor.
"I don't think I ever did such a thing…" mused Richard.
"May I remind you my dear guest that actions speak louder than words? Even if you didn't, which you did, your heart still yearns to uncover its hidden potential."
Richard stood completely silent. He listened to the majestic winds that whipped the exterior of the mysterious aircraft with considerable force. His face darkened as he started to connect the pieces.
"I-Is all of this connected to that…nightmare I saw the first day I came here?" he muttered to himself.
"Precisely! Although I am afraid that I cannot disclose how they are connected, at least not at the moment. You see, Mr. Richard, you'll find that many events are closely interlocked together in your coming journey. I hope that you will show perseverance and a sharp mind in making the required connections."
"J-journey…?"
"In the spiritual sense, but yes. It will be a journey none the less. Your vigor in the pursuit of truth will be thoroughly tested, Mr. Richard. Though you have faced unfavorable circumstances in your upbringing, the coming journey will gave you the chance to re-discover yourself. But what you shall do with that chance is your own responsibility, my dear guest… until we meet again!"