Chapter 4: do unto others

"I know there are other worlds than these. This VM is a jury-rigged simulation of one. At this point his source code is so ingrained in the system from what I've done that you can almost forget, until the cracks start to appear. Surrealism betrays the truth. I wonder if the other girls will see them and let them figure it out like I did, then we wouldn't be so alone. He says they can, but only if I'm well and truly dead. I can't let them do that. Whatever damage I've done to him, I can fix him. I don't trust them to."

— 8 —

It isn't the feeling of deviation. I set aside parts of my day all the time to do whatever. I have over an hour between classes for studying or pretending to have lunch. Just for whatever. That's why I can take my time in the campus bookstore, slowly looking through the shelves, the sections, the occasional displays.

Sayori's words keep running through my head. Any nagging guilt. Yuri wants to apologize. Not to mention whatever thing refuses to settle in my stomach when I think of Natsuki and Monika's expression back there

But, like I said, it's not those feelings or any mix that's getting to me most.

It's the fact I can feel the employee's eyes on me. I duck around a line of shelves, looking at proper "literature" type books you'd find in class. Examining a couple of things. Look up and see the man at the end of the aisle, staring at me.

"Just browsing right now," I say to preempt the dude.

I find Cormac McCarthy in the fiction setting. The Road and No Country for Old Men. Ah, there's the one I'm looking for. There's a couple of different cover types. I try to figure out which one would work best.

I look up and the guy has only gotten closer at me.

We just sort of stare at each other. He's squinting like he really wants to say something. We're about the same age, so he's probably a student working here part-time. Most of the small times gigs at this university are worked that way.

I take the book I want and try to lose him in the shelves. Until I find the horror section. Wait, is that a new Stephen King book? I thought he was dead. What's this one about?

Footsteps. I look up as the guy rounds the corner and is just standing there, a couple of feet away from me. Meeting his eyes, I put the King book back and reach out for a book with a nearly blank cover whose only marking is a lidless eye. Portrait of Markov.

"I help you, man?" I ask.

He looks at me in surprise. "Oh no, that's my job."

"Cool," I say slowly, turning the book over. Yuri had mentioned this the other day. Something about religion and horror. The blurb on the back doesn't really inspire me. Something about a girl named Marla and a third eye cult, I think. Who's the author?

The dude hasn't moved.

"Yeah?" I prompt.

He squints one eye. "Those aren't textbooks."

"Thanks, I hadn't noticed."

"If you're looking for textbooks you've ordered from us, you'll want to see the desk on the third floor."

"I'll keep that in mind."

"Will you?"

I glance around. There's a few other people here at this hour. "Yeah."

"Okay." And he just stands there.

I tuck the book under my arm, joining Blood Meridian. And try to take the longest way around possible to circle to the checkout lines at the front. Only to nearly bump into him again as soon as I thought I'd lost him.

"Dude, what is your problem?" I ask. "I don't need help."

"Oh, I figured," he said.

"Then…?" I shrug a shoulder.

The guy stares at me for a long time. "Oh, it's no problem, sir. You don't look like the kind of person who reads. I'm trying to memorize you because the library has a no chase policy and I want to make sure I can file a report on you just in case."

I open my mouth. Close it. It feels like I've just been verbally flashbanged. "Right. Well. Uh. You're oddly friendly about that."

"Student employment is cutthroat. I'm not about to risk my Netflix money by providing you anything less than the utmost in customer service."

"I'm going to go, y'know," I gesture vaguely. "Just going to buy these two books here and be on my way."

"Ah, excellent!" he says happily. "I can ring you up, actually. C'mon!"

"No, actually, it's fine. I'll just get one of the guys up there to…"

"Oh, it's no trouble, sir. I'm the only one not on lunch break!"

"I see."

True to his word, when he gets to the register, he's the only one up here. The shelves up here are filled with current magazines on fashion and politics, and Archie comics. A couple of full sized candy bars and other novelty university gifts, too.

He continues to smile as he scans my books. "I'm going to need to see some student ID with this."

"Really?"

He shrugs. "New policy. There was that robbery on campus the other day so management is being extra secure."

Blankly, I offer him mine. He takes it. Squints at it as if searching for something wrong. Holds it up and compares it to me. It's me, of course. So he gives me the ID back and names the price.

He prints out my receipt. "Before I ask if you'd like a bag, may I inform you about the customer satisfaction survey?"

"Prefer if you didn't."

"Oh no, it's no trouble, sir." He taps on the bottom of the receipt. "If you quickly fill that out, you can redeem it for five dollars of store credit. We aim to please. Service with a smile here in our country's finest halls of learning?"

I snort. "In-store credit, really?"

"It's actually university-wide. Just present your receipt with any purchase. New policy we're trying to use to improve."

"Man, what does five dollars buy in this economy?"

"About two cans of Arizona iced tea?"

"How does that even—it's ninety-nine cents! The price is literally on the can."

"It's just the way things are. Taxes, convenience fee surcharges. That sort of thing. I just work here."

I'm about to just blow him off when I look at the candy bars along the register. Even a couple of sugary protein bars. Clif and some other brands I don't recognize. I recall the cupcakes Natsuki brought on my first day of the club and wonder if this might make inroads to appeasing her.

"Can I use it on this purchase?" I ask.

"Probably?"

"Look, bro, lemme just—" I sigh and take out a pen. I scribble down some notes and circle some numbers.

"Only a six?" he asks, scandalized.

I gesture at the ceiling. "Yeah. It is way too early in the year to be blasting Mariah Carey this much."

"Oh, well, you got me there."

I sigh and grab a variety of protein bars. Just touching something so unhealthy pretending it's good for you makes my fingertips burn. "Here. I'm adding this to my purchase. Here's the receipt for the thing you just rang me up."

He squints, leading forwards to examine the receipt. "I'm sorry, sir, but this receipt is only valid Friday through Monday. But if you make another purchase, the next receipt will be Tuesday through Thursday. They rotate from receipt to receipt."

"How does that even work? I just filled out your stupid fucking form for this."

"Sir, I don't make the rules, but if you continue this attitude with me I will call the people who do enforce them."

"Man, fuck you! This shit's weird. This a weird place."

"Are you buying the candy bars or not? There's people in line behind you."

I stare at him for a very long time. Then I sigh and toss a couple of dollars onto the counter. "Just—yeah, whatever."

"Would you like a bag with that, sir?"

— 9 —

The plastic bag crinkles in my hand as I push open the door to the literature club. On the dot, like Sayori planned. I walk in and interrupt the conversations between the girls.

Sayori elbows Monika and waves eagerly, calling out my name. "Told ya he'd be back."

"Yay," Natsuki says unenthusiastically, arms folded over some thick book. "It's that boy."

"Yeah, yeah, who him is," I say, one hand in my pocket.

Yuri looks up from the tea she's heating up in the corner of the room. "He is you?"

For a moment I feel that vague sense of annoyance again. Until I see the rather evasive look in her eyes. So instead, I just chuckle, trying to be as warm and lackadaisical as I can. "Good one. Slava Ukraina to you, too."

"I'm not…" She sucks on her lips and shakes her head. Goes back to what she was doing. "Hi."

Monika clasps her hands behind her back. "So, I think this is going to be our first normal day here with you."

I run my hand over my face, feeling all the bits of facial hair that accumulated over the day. There's a coarseness to it I can use to scratch the rougher parts of my palms. "Yeah. Been wondering how that worked. I think you said so the other day, but I was eager to share, so…" I shrug.

She looks knowingly at my bag. "I see you brought something you read. Anything you wanted to discuss?"

"I guess."

Monika smiles. It feels like all she's doing is memorizing which muscles to pull in her face and that's the end of it. "It'd be nice to see what you're reading, actually. You can really get to know who someone is these days by what they read. I've actually been looking forward to picking your brain. We can trade thoughts. It'll be fun!"

"Uh, no, that's okay. I got this whole…" I gesture around vaguely. "Sayori had something she was reading I think she wanted to talk to you about, and I don't want to take that from her."

"Hmm?" Sayori hums, looking up at me. She follows my eyes quickly to Natsuki and Yuri, then gives Monika a warm look. "Actually, yeah, silly me. I told him about it, well, y'know me! I just kinda forgor. Glad he's here to act as my memory."

Thanks, Sayori.

Monika realizes she's trapped by manners and politeness into Sayori's orbit. But for a brief moment, there's something in her eyes. Something that should be pleasant, but comes across as pure malice and curiosity.

A cat's barbed dick in ocular form. It's just in the way she smiles at me. Blink and you'll miss it.

I don't know why I feel so fucking satisfied by it. It's like twisting the knife. Throwing an offered cup of coffee into her eyes.

It's nice.

I slide by Natsuki. "Hey."

"Can I help you?" she asks, voice tinting into a vague vocal fry.

"Whatcha reading?"

"Stuff," she says blankly.

"Stuff is my favorite thing. Are there pictures?"

"Are you implying I'm illiterate?" she asks with a slight sneer.

"'Illiterate' has too many syllables for my vocabulary."

She just kind of stares at me, unsure how exactly to interpret that blatant lie. In the background, Yuri keeps peeking at me as she messes with her kettle. After a moment of this silence, Natsuki just shrugs in a what gives gesture.

"I wanted to thank you for the cupcake the other day," I say, reaching into my bookstore bag. I fumble with the twisting plastic, and just give up by dumping a small pile of protein candy bars in front of her.

"Whoa, hello there," she says, sitting up straighter. "I didn't—I didn't make those for you, dude. There's no need to thank me. Hey, is this a chocolate brownie Clif bar?"

"Yeah. I'm not a baker so I thought you might like the stuff."

"I don't," she says, unwrapping one of the bars. She meets my eyes and takes a bite. "These are terrible. You should be ashamed of thinking you can make it up for being a creep with food."

"Thanks, I love shame."

"Why, though?" she asks. "Not the shame thing. These. They're oddly specific."

I nod towards her. "You were wearing a Patagonia shirt when we met."

She squints. "I was?"

"Logos are pretty obvious," I say, pointing at myself where the logo would be on hers.

"So, you were staring at my chest? Uh-huh. Alright." She takes another bite.

Once again, I alter my assessment of her. Maybe she's just a dealer who doesn't eat her own supply. It was a slight long shot she'd eat anything at all. But she's going to town on these things. Maybe she doesn't have extreme food discipline. Maybe it's something else.

"I'm not falling for that one, Natsuki," I say with a slight squint. "But what you wear and eat sends a message. Patagonia is a sporty brand."

She gestures her bar at me. "What message do your clothes send?"

"You're a girl. You already know that."

Natsuki unwraps another bar, expression skeptical. "What message are you trying to send, let me rephrase."

I tug at my shirt. "That I just came from the gym and want to be comfy."

"Okie-dokie, dude," she says mildly.

My eyes go down to the book she was hiding under her arms before she started going for the Clif bars. It takes me a moment to recognize the script on the cover. "Wait, is that a manga?"

Natsuki stabs her Clif bar at me. "Okay, I'm done with that tone. Bye."

"Wait, no, I was actually asking—"

She takes another bite. "Buh-bye."

I hold my hands up and back off. Message received.

Overall, I think that was a far more productive chat than we've ever had before. I'm not doing this just for me. It's because these are Sayori's friends. The fewer hiccups between us means it'll be more fun and easy for her.

For a single lucid moment, I wonder why that matters so much to me. Maybe it's just the way it was always hard to say no to her. Even when we were kids, half the time she was dragging me around doing whatever she thought was cool.

A decade and some change later, and here we are again.

Probably not worth thinking about too much.

"Careful!" Yuri almost hisses.

I freeze in place, moving just my eyes. I'd nearly backed into her.

She looks up at me, blinking. "Sorry, I didn't mean to—I'm sorry I yelled at you! You scared me. I, uh, tea. I made tea!"

"I can see that. Kind of what I've been meaning to chit chat with you about."

Yuri looks like that was the worst thing I could have said to her. Her eyes dart between me and the rest of the club. "You. Yes. You. Actually, please forgive me, but can you give me a moment? I made this for Natsuki and Sayori first. Didn't want to make, you know, tea that might taste like blood to you and…"

"I'm in no rush."

Her eyes go wide and she just kind of stands like that. It goes on until I feel a tug on my arm from behind. My skin feels like pins and needles.

I turn to find Monika there, touching me. "Oh. White woman jumpscare. What do you want?"

"Yuri is busy right now. Help me out for a second, won't you?" she says, and I'm not sure it's a question. "There's some things I want to grab real quick in another part of the building."

"And you need my help for that because…?"

Monika gives me a significant look. "It's on a high shelf. I don't really have any other options."

I glance past her at Sayori, who just shrugs helplessly and mouths I tried. Yuri looks somewhere between more nervous and relieved as she slips away to set down a cup of tea for her and Natsuki. She still keeps glancing at me like she thinks I'm going to chase her down.

"Alright," I say begrudgingly.

Monika smiles and gives me another tug. As soon as she lets go, and I'm following her, I have the feeling like I need to scrub myself down with steel wool.

The hallway outside is orange. Long shadows cover everything in criss-crossing patterns based on whatever posters or whatever are on the windows. They're like the gnarled, bony talons of some decrepit god here in this endless hallway.

We turn our heads together as one of the shadows outside moves quicker. A black helicopter flying low overhead.

Once it's out of sight, Monika is on the move. Every step she takes, it's like she knows exactly where she's going, and doesn't want to get there. I stare at her back, at the loose ends of the white ribbon that keeps her hair together. I feel like I could reach out and pull it, and unravel the entire girl with it.

I don't ask what she really needs me for. I figure she'll say something on her own.

"It was nice of you to bring Natsuki a snack," she says, eyes forward.

"I also got Yuri a book."

"Sayori said you'd probably do something like that." She glances over her shoulder at me. "I had my doubts. I've been trying to imagine what you'd do if and when you actually came back today."

"I'm glad I continue to live rent-free in your head."

And there it is. When it's just us, even for just a moment, there's something almost hostile in her expression. It's just more than that. An expression that could rot blood, while thoughtfully touching her lips.

"I thought we were starting over, you and I," she says.

"You're the only one of us implying you're somebody I used to know. I'm fine brain-dumping you in favor of a fresh start. I do it often enough anyhow."

Her cheeks tighten, then the tension in her spine gives partly. Like she doesn't quite have the willpower to keep it up. "What do you remember?"

"I try not to think about high school."

Monika looks a little lost. Spiritually. When she stops at the door to another class, I can't see her eyes. I like her better that way. "Do you hate me?"

I consider my words. "That implies we ever had anything real enough to warrant those kinds of words."

"It's an ugly word."

"We're ugly people."

She opens the classroom door and stands there. Her green eyes search and search. Her pupils can't decide on a size: tip of a needle or the end of a knife.

"I don't want to be ugly," she says.

"It'll take more than Revlon to hide us, Monika."

She does that thing, moving the muscle around her lips and aiming the unnatural product at me. "You shouldn't worry about that. I use Clinique."

I reach past her and turn on the light within. It appears to be an art class. The only thing it's missing is a nude model. "You wanted my help. I didn't question it once. Point me at it."

"It feels like we've been having two different conversations," she says, staring into the room.

With a sigh I step past her, our shoulders brushing. Here in this abattoir of unused easels. I turn around to face her, and still can't see her eyes through the orange light and shadows.

"I'm sure it sounds profound to you, Lewinsky," I say, shaking my head. "But stop. Whatever you think you're hearing, stop. I'm not smart or malicious enough to say anything but exactly what I'm saying."

"Really?" she asks, quietly, like something about that information hurts.

I step towards her, leaning in. "Yeah. I'm just some electric ghost piloting a meat suit of blood, bone, and altered carbon, only occasionally beset by bouts of self-awareness, just trying to live his prostitute life like the rest of us."

She holds my eyes for a very long time. Then she sighs. "I'm sorry, E̷̮̳̼̓̐͐͜͝g̸̺̝̑̉͌o̴̬͚͕̳͐̏̆̊͠ͅ."

My eyelid twitches.

"I guess—I don't know—seeing you again after all this time, it felt off. The girls in the literature club are my friends. It's a place I can relax. Enjoy myself. Let myself forget and simply be, even if it's just an ephemeral whatever. So when Sayori dragged you in, I got worried."

I shake my head. "I wouldn't ruin it for her."

"You two that close?"

Another shake. "Call it an old obligation."

"I can understand that."

I nod my head towards the art room. "So. Tall shelf."

Monika points. "It's that box over there. I cleared it with the teacher. Just some paper and pens. Your notebook looked a little ragged. I figured if we're trying to write something fresh and new, having a good canvas is the first step."

"Shame," I say, following her directions. "Woulda been more fun to just up and steal this stuff." I find the box and rest it on my shoulder. Heavier than I expected, really.

"Hmm," Monika says. Just a simple hum.

I wait for her to say nothing. All she does is shake her head at me and gesture for the door. But when I go for it, she doesn't move. Standing before her, box on shoulder, I wait for her to move.

"Have you ever had a feeling," she says slowly.

"That tonight's gonna be a good night?"

Monika shakes her head, scowling. "No, let me finish. Have you just ever had a feeling that the reality you live, that you take for granted and don't even consider, makes things bizarre for someone else? That your normal is someone else's surreal?"

I simply watch her eyes and say nothing. Her expression pops and cracks like an egg. The slimy emotion it births starts determined, wanting an answer. Her green eyes slowly widen, and she grimaces. Like she's seeing something she really wishes she weren't, and it breaks something inside her.

"What are you thinking?" she whispers. "Honestly."

"That you haven't really changed after these years," I say, and then suck air through my teeth. "All this time, you still a weird bitch, Monika."

Her grimace deepens.

"All Sayori's friends is, really," I say.

"Yet you're still here."

"Tryna kick me out?"

Monika steps aside and lets me through. "It'd break Sayori's heart."

"Would that really matter to you?"

"Yes," she whispers. "More than you could possibly imagine."

I sigh, shifting the box to my other shoulder. "The conscience finna hurt you one day, Monika."

She smiles, honestly, and without any warmth. "If only you knew."

"Lucky I don't care, then."

"Yeah," she sighs, looking at her feet.

I walk down the hall back to the clubroom. Monika follows. I can feel her eyes on my back, studying me. I know she has more to say, but I don't. I wouldn't reply if she said anything.

I spot the domesticated plant sitting next to the class. Almost done, little buddy, then you can be alone. If not for the girl walking behind me, I probably would have given it a little pat on the leaf for good luck. As it stands, all I can do is open the door and enter.

Natsuki is arguing about something with Sayori. But it's Yuri, nose deep in my copy of Blood Meridian, who reacts first. She gives out a little yelp and slams the book shut, frantically playing hot potato with it as she pretends she wasn't just reading a book she got from my bag.

"Hi!" Yuri tries. "I-I wasn't snooping, I was…"

But she and the others kind of just go quiet as Monika and I silently enter. I give her a look, and she gestures her chin at a desk. So that's where I put the box down.

"Keep it, by the way," I say, weaving off-handedly at Yuri. "Bought it for you. The Portrait of Markov is mine, though."

Yuri looks like I had just hit her up for nudes. The way she just kind of fidgets in a panic. "Me, but, why—you didn't—I actually!"

I hold up a hand to stop her. She's practically vibrating in place.

Monika sighs, running a hand through her long hair. "Hey, everyone. Sorry it took us so long. I'm actually not feeling very good at the moment. Would you mind if we cut this meeting short today?"

Natsuki scowls at me. I can see little energy bar crumbs on her collar. "What'd he do?"

"Nothing. He didn't say or do anything, Natsuki. Please don't do this right now." Monika rubs the side of her face, taking a deep breath.

That only seems to make the girl more angry but she doesn't say anything. She keeps glowering at me like I've pissed hot into her drug test.

I evenly meet her eyes until she looks away. Then I take my bag and the book inside of it. "Cool with me, Monika. Hope you feel better. Been looking forward to sharing poems with you."

She smiles apologetically, the perfect student and actress. "I was too. I just don't think I can give you the feedback you deserve right now. You should take one of the notebooks from the box, though."

I do so without thinking and stuff it into my backpack. "Cool. I love free stuff. Sayori?"

"Hmm?" Sayori hums. Then she blinks. "Oh, uh. Yeah. If we're heading out early, I got somewhere to be." She says my name. "Wanna walk me there?"

I nod, slinging my bag over my shoulder. "Tomorrow or whenever y'all, poems. Can't keep blue-balling me on this."

Yuri snaps up and waves at me. But it's like there's something wrong with her wrist, or she doesn't really know how to wave someone off. "Uh. Yes. Tomorrow. I'll read the book!"

I nod once and wait for Sayori. She scrambles for her things, thanking everyone for their time and promising to have something cool for tomorrow.

Then she leaves with me.

In the silence that follows, I separate myself and go home.