Chapter 2: Never to be re-learned.

The Alfredsons drove up a gravel road to a one-story blue and white house on a hill overlooking the barn and crop field. Walter left the car with the singular focus of taking his afternoon meds at precisely 2:00 p.m. Once again, his single-task mind guided him directly to his room, where Walter stared at the clock on his wall for 2 minutes and 58 seconds. The instant the small arm reached two, Walter began methodically swallowing his pills. The labels warned of various side effects, from stomach aches to blurred vision or mood swings, but Walter felt the same as he had always felt. Once his task was done, the last 3 minutes began to fade from Walter's mind as he was left with stillness yet again. Downstairs, he could hear his father's heel pressing against the carpet in the living room.

"Any chores for me, Dad?" Walter eagerly asked after he ran downstairs.

"Milk the cows and feed the egg layers."

"Now, Jerry, don't get Walter too busy. He needs to get ready for his party."

"The party isn't for another six hours! Do you want him to shower all that time?"

"Dad, that was only one time…and it was only for three hours."

"All the more reason I don't want you getting caught up in your work," Joanne said. "Promise me you'll be back by four o'clock. You shouldn't be working any longer on what's supposed to be a celebratory day."

"Four o'clock. Got it."

"And just to help you out, we've got a New Year's gift to give ya."

Walter watched as Jerry took off the golden wristwatch and handed it to him. The glass covering the clock was stained by decades of dust, but not enough to obscure the fourteen numbers and three arms. Spirals and swirled engravings covered the watch like vines, but parts had been worn down and smoothed down. As Walter fidgeted with the watch, he noticed a dent in the back of it. Walter had seen his father with this watch a hundred times, but Walter had never seen this before.

"Just a little trinket until you buy yourself something better."

"Oh, Jerry, it's much more special than that."

Jerry rubbed his scalp as he muttered out more details. "Oh…well. This watch was my mother's and before her father's, and so on and so forth. I guess no one ever thought to get a better one."

"Jerry, why are you selling your family's legacy short? It's a lovely gift."

"Heirlooms are supposed to be valuable, special, exciting. Walter deserves better than a cheap hand me down."

"It's not just a hand-me-down!" Joanne marched over to Walter and pointed to the dent. "This watch was made 300 years ago, during the Last Wars. This dent was caused by a bullet that pierced through your- I mean, Jerry's ancestor's wrist. This watch survived the last and bloodiest period in Malcula's history, but it still works. Remember that no matter what you go through."

Gifts were wonderful problems for Walter. Part of him felt like jumping like a toddler from his new present, crying from the thought of holding such a precious gift, and falling to his knees and praising his parents for all they had done for him. So many emotions and thoughts ran through his mind that he felt like he could shatter from trying to hold them all in. All those medications did nothing, but that wasn't new.

"Thank you," was all Walter could mutter while he struggled to maintain composure. He hated how indifferent he sounded, but he could tell his parents knew how much he appreciated the gift from their smiles and tears in the corner of their eyes. Walter left the house before the strain could become too much, and he'd have another breakdown. Once outside, he ran to the chicken coop and began mentally running down the list of tasks he needed to do. Partying and planning a thank-you gift for his parents had to wait; right now, he was Walter, the farmer.

Inside the chicken coop were various bags and shelves of different types of feed. Walter measured and mixed every pellet, crumble, shell grit, seed, and fermented feed to ensure the animals were healthy and laid sturdy eggs. It took two years to develop his own special blend, but Joanne once told Walter that ever since then, they never had a sick chicken or oviraster. Once Walter had finished preparing the meal, he brought the bucket of feed into the meshed fence pen around the chicken coop. The chickens and shelled ovirasters ran outside, knowing Walter's schedule by now, and seemed to dance with joy as Walter began tossing the food.

Chickens were such strange creatures. They had two legs that were covered in feathers, as well as weird combs on their beaked heads. Ovirasters had six sickle-like legs, horseshoe-shaped armored heads, spiny mouths that were like miniature claws, and were covered in a bright brown exoskeleton. Creatures like that were common on Malcula, and fossil records showed their order had existed for millions of years. Chickens, humans, and cows were another story. The only fossils of them were 10,000 years old, and no clear ancestry could be found. Walter even considered becoming a paleontologist in hopes of finding the missing link between these three animals and the rest of Malcula's wildlife. Maybe even settle the age-old debate on whether humans were more closely related to cows or chickens.

While the ovirasters and chickens feasted, Walter collected their eggs from inside their pens. Once that was done, he ran down to the pasture next to the barn, looking for the family's three cows, Isha, Lileath, and Morai-Heg, all of whom he had named. He wished he could remember why he picked those strange names. They were familiar, but he couldn't place a face on any one of them. Morai-Heg, a black cow with white patches on her face, was mooing at something. To Walter, he could sense distress in her call, and even from far away, he could see her body was tense. Hopping over the fence, Walter rushed over to Morai-Heg and gently rubbed her back as he looked for what was bothering her. When he spotted it, he felt sick.

It was a beluacaris, a creature similar to the ovirasters but about the size of a cow's calf, with large scythe-like mandibles and a more streamlined head. They were predators, but only to smaller creatures, which made it all the more confusing figuring out what could have disemboweled it. Something had ripped open its stomach, and its blue entrails and shattered armor lay scattered across the grassy meadows. The more Walter looked at the vacant gray eyes, the more he felt pity and fear for this creature. Its last moments were full of fear and confusion, and something Walter wouldn't wish on a beluacaris even if they did try to kill the occasional oviraster. Walter cried for the animal, and the cows circled him. It wasn't until the young grey heifer, Lileath, nuzzled Walter and licked his ear that Walter's mind pulled away from the dead animal. Walter rubbed Lileath on the head as he tried reconnecting himself with the present. A farmer was still needed. Crying would have to wait.

Walter checked each of the three cows. Thankfully, he couldn't see any injuries or blood on them. There were no footprints or a blood trail. While the beluacaris had been torn apart, it was all in one area. Whatever killed this beluacaris mutilated it for no reason and didn't even bother to eat any of it. Walter had to rule out the cows as they had no blood on them, they weren't aggressive cows, and beluacaris were too fast ever to be caught by cattle. Not wanting to stress himself anymore, Walter decided to chalk up the killer as another beluacaris fighting for territory. Grabbing one of the farm's many shovels, Walter dug a shallow grave, buried the beluacaris, and then led the cows to the barn so he could milk them. Even after all that, he still had hours to go before he needed to change out of his farm clothes and even think about driving to the New Year's party. Walter lay down in the grass fields, listened to his cows chewing, and watched the hands tick away on his family's watch, his legacy, as Joanne put it. At least it wasn't stillness.

"Now remember, be home by 12 o'clock so we can give you your injection," Joanne told Walter as he grabbed his car keys.

"I know."

"And try to have fun, even if you have to leave early."

"But don't do anything stupid, Jerry added. "You've been doing good so far, so don't screw up now."

"I know."

Joanne shot Jerry a dirty look before following Walter outside. "And if it gets too overwhelming, just call us, and we'll pick you up."

"I know." He stopped only once to let Joanne hug him before he got into his white utility truck.

Hours had passed, and all the details of Walter's farming tasks were like distant memories. All he knew was that he completed them and that now it was time to socialize. His legs shook, and his hands jittered as he concentrated on the road ahead of him. If there was one thing Walter hated more than sitting still, it was driving. It was bad enough that everyone around him appeared to talk and walk in slow motion, but his condition transferred over to the road, too. He knew he could go so much faster than the speed limit, yet someone decided that 80 miles per hour on the freeway was fast enough. This car could go faster, Walter could go faster, yet even in a vehicle made to transport people in a timely matter, he had to restrict himself. It didn't help that everyone around Walter was a terrible driver. Could they not see the cracks and developing potholes that were wearing out their tires? Did they have to have blinkers on for so long? If more people drove as well as Walter, maybe the speed limit could be increased, and faster cars could be developed. Maybe then Walter could stop holding back all the time.

After an agonizing twenty-minute drive, Walter had made it to Gus's house. It was large, but Walter hesitated to call it a mansion, just big enough to host thirty rowdy high-school graduates. Even as he parked his car down on the street, he could hear music and see the changing blue, red, green, and pink lights beaming from every window. They were set to a randomized sequence, just like the New Year lights.

On Malcula, once a year at midnight, the dark, vacant sky would transform into a display of one of four colors. All across Malcula, people believed that each color symbolized what the New Year would bring. It was also on this day, four years ago, that Walter crashed. Perhaps that's why he got sick on New Year's. Just remembering that monster made Walter's neck strain, as if the barbed tongue was wrapping around him again. Still, as he looked up at the night sky, she wished he could see the beautiful colors the way everyone else did. This party might be as close as he could get to enjoying today like normal people.

When Walter approached the house, he felt as though he could sink into the ground. He had never been to a party before, even though he had been invited countless times. He was just afraid he would hyper-fixate on something or be over-simulated. Even now, just standing still outside, his head felt like an egg about to crack as he heard all the music and talking going on inside. Looking at his watch, he wished the hours would go by fast so he could take his medicine before his New Year's sickness kicked in. He rang the doorbell and listened for footsteps to come closer.

"Walter! Glad you could make it. I've been wanting to hang out forever," The muscular, handsome, copper-skinned Gus said before patting Walter on the back and guiding him inside.

Walter smiled awkwardly. "We hang out after nuffle ball."

"That's not the same as chilling at home. What do you have there?"

Walter handed a small box to Gus. "I…I've never been to a party before. I…my parents said it was polite to give a gift."

"No one needed this party more than you, Walter. You've got to stop hanging out with people three times your age." Gus wrapped an arm around Walter's shoulder and led him to the main room. Most of the furniture had been moved to the outer edges of the room, save for a fold-up table with a punch bowl, snacks, and stacks of cone paper cups. A dart board was hung up on the wall, and a picture of their former principal, Mr. Nevin, was taped over the bullseye. Hanging from the ceiling was a rotating orb firing out the four New Year's colors.

Walter could see some of his friends had already arrived. Max, who taught Walter everything he knew about swimming, was playing darts with Walter's lab partner, Ping. It was at this moment that Walter realized he was overdressed. Max was wearing a bright blue polo shirt and blue jeans; Gus was the same, except he wore all red, while Ping wore a short-sleeved jewel-neck pink shirt and a skirt that reached just above her knees. Meanwhile, Walter was wearing a green sweater vest over a white dress shirt, which was strangling him with its collar and emerald tie.

Once Ping spotted Walter, she dropped her darts and ran over to hug him. "Wally, so glad you could come!"

"Did I miss anything?" Walter asked. He felt awkward around her, considering he had overheard her at the psychiatrist talking about needing to redo a history project during the summer to get into her dream college. He now knew why she had bags under her eyes despite her best efforts to cover it up with makeup.

"Just Max beating me. Could you avenge me?"

"Is there anything else I can help with?"

Ping stood back and twitched her fingers. She was anxious, and just looking at her made Walter feel nauseous. He was relieved when she changed the subject.

"I just need help shutting Max up."

"I don't know about that. You brought this on yourself when you challenged him," Walter answered, giving her a cheeky smile.

Max heard this and spread out his arms. "Afraid I'll finally beat you at something?"

Gus shook Walter from behind. "Are you gonna take that, Walter? At your first party, no less?"

Walter smiled as he picked up the darts she had dropped earlier. "Now, Max, you brought this on yourself."

"No, you're not beating me this time," Max shouted in a goofy voice. "You beat me at swimming, diving, breath holding, and water nuffle ball. I got a bull's eye; you can not top that. You will not take that from me."

Walter walked out of the room and towards the front door. "Max, did you throw the dart from here?"

"Noooo," Max answered, looking like a balloon being deflated.

Gus and Ping cleared the space, and the second Walter saw a straight line of fire, he flicked the dart right in the middle of Mr. Nevin's nose. Everyone watching cheered while Max shook his head.

"And so the search continues," Max said. "Is there any game you're not good at, Walter?"

Walter thought about it. He wished Max, or anyone for that matter, could give him a challenge. "I've never gone sailing before. Pretty sure I'd be bad at that."

Ping slapped her forehead at this. "Sailing? Really, Wally? The ocean is hundreds of miles from us; none of us have gone sailing. What made you think of that?"

"It was the first thing that came to mind!"

"Doesn't matter. I'll learn how to be a sailor."

Just as Max was talking about what he'd name his future ship, the front door slammed open. Frankie, bobbing their dyed ponytail, came charging in with a metal keg. A red vest, an unbuttoned blue shirt, and green torn jeans, Frankie either didn't care what the New Year lights would be, or they just wanted to be the center of attention. Knowing Frankie, it was likely the latter. And Walter wouldn't want it any other way.

"Boys, girls, and others! Small and tall! Today, we live!" they shouted to the applause of the entire building. "I brought the beer!"

Beer! Walter had never tried it before. He was always afraid it would mess up his medication. However, he did come here to have fun, and it had been hours since he had taken his last meds, so they had already run their course. One drink was all Walter wanted, just to see what it was like.

"Max, if I start acting weird, you call my parents!"

"You mean weirder than usual?" Max said.

"Yes! You'll know."

"Don't tell me you'll become like Frankie."

Walter glared at Max. "I'm being serious right now, Max."

All the playfulness melted away as Max steadied himself and nodded. "I'll be your wingman." With that, Walter grabbed one of the paper cups and filled it up with the golden, foamy beer from Frankie's keg.

"So, how is it?" Frankie asked.

"Bitter," Walter replied. "That's about it. I thought this was supposed to make people drunk."

"Well, not just with one sip, you big baby."

Without another thought, Walter shrugged and gulped down the rest of his drink, much to the amusement of people around him. "I still don't feel any different."

Walter grabbed another cup and downed it, too. He looked around, but nothing was hazy. He didn't feel any happier or sadder, but he could tell some of the other partygoers were already getting sloppy in their movements. Confused, Walter had a third, a fourth, a fifth, and a sixth. Soon, a crowd had gathered around him and chanted his name.

"Max, what's going on?" Walter asked clearly, despite all the drinks.

"Dude, you just drank like fifty cups in five seconds!" Max answered.

Walter blinked as he looked around at the cheering, drunken high school graduates. All around Walter's feet were empty cups. Even if Max was exaggerating, this was still well above any safe limit, and if Walter really thought about it, he was moving a tad bit slower than normal, but he wasn't tossing his guts.

"Another record broken by the champ!" Gus said in an exaggerated, deep voice.

"Keep going, Wally!" Ping said, already swaying.

"Yes, don't stop. You want more!" A strong voice shouted in Walter's ear. "Drink all that you can, child. Live for once. Indulge. Shower them with your greatness!"

Walter felt like the whole room was spinning. He grabbed his head and tried to look for the source of the strange voice as the oblivious partygoers kept cheering. The party lights became stuck on the color pink as all the voices began to merge.

Walter!
Walter!
WALTER!
WALTER!
WALTER!
WALTER!

In the back of the room, lurking next to a sofa where a couple was making out, stood a tall person Walter had never seen at their high school. She was tall and slender like him and even had pointed ears, but her skin was various shades of pink and purple. Her eyes were blank, eerie lights beaming at Walter like searchlights. Most disturbingly of all, Walter wasn't sure if she was naked or just wearing an extremely snug body suit.

"Who is that?" Walter cried out, pointing at the woman.

"Oh, Tiffany, Scot! Take that outside!" Gus yelled at the couple.

"No, the naked lady next to them!"

Gus and a few of the less buzzed friends looked directly at the pink woman but seemed indifferent.

"There's no naked lady there, Walter, as sad as that may be," Frankie said before getting punched in the arm by Ping.

Max blinked a few times before shaking his head. "I think the alcohol is finally getting to ya, dude. Why don't you sit down and…"

"Don't listen to him! Don't stop now! You've only just begun to experience pleasure! Don't stop our fun!"

"I'm going home!" Without giving an explanation, Walter ran past his friends, out the nearest door, and threw himself into his car. Looking behind him, the pink woman was close behind. Walter stabbed the key so hard into the car he was afraid he broke something and floored it. He didn't care about following the speed limit anymore, and every bit of him screamed to get away from this woman.

"YES! DRIVE FASTER! DON'T YOU FEEL EXCITED? DON'T YOU LOVE THE THRILL!"

"What do you want?" Walter cried out. He looked in the review mirror next to him but couldn't see anything. However, when he looked to his right, he saw the woman sitting in the shotgun and leaning into Walter.

"I WANT YOU!"