Summary: The Devil - In Avalon, Arthur slept. Legend warned that only in Britain's time of greatest need shall he be awoken. However, the truth remains thus: Britain is always in its time of greatest need. And at the summit of the mountain, all voices rang nil. One will – one dream engulfed every light of passion like wildfire. Where the conquest of the individual burned bright and scorched dangerously, there stood only one force that could surpass that power. It connected everything, everything that the light of conquest sought to rule: It was God. The one and only. Love. Every fiber that holds together all of creation – it is Love in its purest essence. From the kingdom of humanity, love is knit out like grand tapestry. It’s a work born out of every living form in discordant synchronicity. That’s where you come in, Anon, Fang. I’ve seen you – all of you. Machines of desire and longing attach themselves to the warmth of Volcaldera Bluffs. They seek out perfection in you. So do I, but I know the truth: It’s impossible. There will come a time when your story will be drained of all love. It will be conquered, subdued by the will of desiring machines. Maybe it will become something new – something beautiful in its own right, but before that happens, I want to have my fun as well. You two will do your little song and dance, this time under my supervision. Everything will be A-okay. From the top: Anon, you feel like new, but with a fresh outlook comes fresh struggles. Lucy, slowly but surely you’re coming to find yourself, but you lack agency and clarity. Three. Two. One. Wake up. Suddenly, I stir in my bed. My alarm hasn’t even gone off yet, that’s unusual. Yesterday turned out pretty nice – I got an earful on the phone after the whole ordeal was said and done, but our impromptu date was a definite success. I lay flat on my back, looking up at the dimly lit ceiling, making out spots of spackling paste. What’s this I’m feeling? “That’s an easy one. You’re going stir-crazy. This apartment is starting to feel like a prison. Between you-and-me, I think we both know the solution to this conundrum”. RETVRN TO CAVEMAN. It’s so obvious! I hurry to pack my things for school; I’m gonna be early today. I burst out the door, the sun is barely peeking from the horizon, casting dim light onto skin row. Let me check the time… Five twenty-three in the morning. Ideal commuting time for a primal cavecel such as myself. I lurch forward and let my knuckles carry the brunt of some of my stride, you may not like it, but this is what peak cro-magnon performance looks like. I let primal-vril flow through me as I climb and swing my way to school. By the time Volcano High is in sight, the sun has begun to properly rise, casting waves of pink and orange light across the billowing clouds. “That feels better, doesn’t it? Prying off the shackles forced onto you by your feathery oppressors. You’re a force to be reckoned with Anon, your muscles are crying out in cathartic ecstasy. Why not take a victory lap”? I don’t see anyone around. Time for a rematch against that bollard. I let primal forces take control of my body one last time as I freerun my way up the stairs. I maneuver my way about with athleticism the likes of which I’ve never experienced. Reaching the top, I slide back down the banister, my sights set on that bollard. I dive to the right and grapple it, swinging around and launching myself upward. Before I can stick the landing, I hear a car screeching to a halt in front of the school, “ANON Y. MOUS, what the hell are you doing”? The split-second distraction is enough for me to lose focus and land back-to-concrete, knocking the wind out of me. “OOOOohhkk… I’m… Returning to… Tradition”. “You had a good run, Anon. Hyperborea awaits”. I see an enormous neanderthal standing over me – it’s the gatekeeper of the human afterlife beyond, reserved only for Humanity’s most glorious primal warriors. Yes, it’s my time to go. To Hyperborea, “Anon, take my hand”. I do, the strength in his enormous mitts is otherworldly, befitting of Paradise’s lone guard. He says to me, “Get a hold of yourself, Anon”. He shakes me, and… Oh. It’s Principal Spears. “Good morning, sir”. “Why so early, son”? “I’m embodying the vril cycle of our based ancestors”? “...These kids nowadays…” He sighs and speaks to me, “Anon, I’m going to go park my car; you’re coming inside with me”. I sit on the stairway as he makes his way back to his car and rolls over to the parking lot. With his absence, the pain settles in. And it fucking hurts. “Anon, this might be a lot coming from me, but we might have overdone it there”. But it felt so right. I thought you were supposed to be right all the time! Come on man! “I’m allowed to have fun too, you know. Give me a break”. I see spears walking towards me from the parking lot, and he motions for me to get up and follow him, “I was going to be talking to you today, anyhow. I hope that fall didn’t get you too good – you don’t have a good relationship with stairs, do you Anon”. He takes a key to the front entrance and unlocks the door, holding it open for me. “Thanks, Principal Spears”. He nods to me before locking the door behind him. As we walk to his office I check my phone, six-thirty-ish, this is around the time I normally would have woken up. He turns into his office and hits the lights, then he crashes into the seat behind his desk and gestures toward the opposite one. I snap the door shut behind me and plant myself in the chair across from him. Spears looks at me, and gives a long, heavy sigh, “Listen, I won’t lie to you, I went through the whole ‘sapien sovereignty’ phase at your age as well. It may feel liberating at first, but it’s a road that doesn’t lead anywhere good”. “Oh. It-it wasn’t like, that political or anything. I Kind of just wanted to get in touch with my caveman side”. He gives me a funny look at the utterance of ‘caveman’ before responding, “That’s how it always starts, you know. Just remember that you’re allowed to do that without political violence”. “Is that all, Mr. Spears”? He taps at his desk a bit, “No, I wanted to ask you about Aaron”. “Fang”? “Yes. You two were absent yesterday, were you not”? “Well… Yeah… Why ask”? “Well, I had received a… ‘Request’ of sorts, that your presence would be made with the gardening club after school for the rest of the week. Normally I’d be inclined to ignore these sorts of things, but… You two… How should I say this? There’s reason I have to believe that you two would benefit from this”. “Is this campus beautification again”? “Are you joking? You’re lucky I didn’t expel you for crapping our bandwidth on Saturnia! Watch a real anime, uncultured filth”. Ouch. He continues, “I don’t know exactly what the gardening club wants of you…” I’m pretty sure ‘gardening club’ just means ‘Rosa’, “... But I’ll cut you a deal: Do this, and perhaps I’ll look the other way on any subsequent torrenting from you, so long as it’s good shit”. “Good shit as in”? His lips pull back into a smug grin, “Well, I’m glad you asked. We’ve got some time to kill, don’t we? Care to be enlightened”? Every fiber of my being screams no but… “Say yes”. No! You’re wrong about stuff now, remember? Why should I listen to you? “Because I’m right on this. Spears is objectively more badass than you, and you know he’s got better taste. One episode can’t hurt”. “Just one episode”. He smiles at me the way a father does watching his son learn to ride a bike, “Does that mean you’ll be staying after school”? “Yeah, alright”. “Great, I’m sure you’ll be able to drag Aaron along with you”. For the next twenty-something minutes, we watch some show called ‘Welcome to the DMV’ – it’s one of his favorites, apparently. It was pretty awkward, huddling over a computer monitor, but I’ll admit that it wasn’t half-bad. Once the credits roll, Spears looks to me, “I won’t keep you any longer, Anon. I trust that you’ll keep your word”. “Yes, sir”. I walk out into the empty halls, it’s still pretty early. Moats of dust float in the air, suspended in the rays of morning light shining through the glass doors and sunroofs. Outside there are students arriving; they talk amongst themselves, waiting on the building to open. Some teachers are approaching the doors too. “Remember what I said about awkward situations? This could be one of them. Luckily I’ve got an Idea: Just walking around! It’s not everyday you get to see this place so empty.” I suppress my shitposting urges and decide to listen to the voices in my head. Some lights are on, but many remain shut off in preference of sunroofs. Foliage lightly speckles the halls. Okay, it’s cool to look around for like a minute, but there’s literally fucking nothing in here. I walk down to a side-door that leads to the garden. Lucky for me, there’s a familiar face waiting there, back turned to me. “What’s up”? Fang looks around, trying to figure out where my muffled voice could be coming from. I knock on the door behind her, she looks back, startled, and then flips me the bird. “Get in, loser”. I open the door, and she’s the one to pull me out, “Why don’t you come out here , loser”. Well played, Fang. She looks into my eyes and smiles, “...cute fkn… bite-his-face-o…” I ignore her violent ideations and give her a hug; she rests her arms around my shoulders and her wings slip around me, “...love’m…” I’ll ignore that for now, too. “Alright, I’ve good news and bad news”. “Good news first, always”. “I have official permission to torrent my anime here”. “That’s supposed to be the good news”? “Bad news: We’ve been forced into indentured servitude for Rosa the rest of the week”. “Fuck! She called me yesterday… Is it detention”? “Apparently not. We’ve been ‘personally requested’ by the gardening club”. “That bitch”. “Excuse me”? Speak of the devil, and she shall appear. The Ankylosaur stomps towards us, fuming. She gives us some choice words in her native tongue before speaking at our level, “Did you two not think that I go to the garden in the mornings? Not even trying to hide”! “Obviously Rosa would frequent the garden she tends to feverishly, even in the mornings. You should have thought about that before having this conversation the second you saw Fang out here”. I thought your job was to warn me before these things happened! “I did”. Neither Fang and I nor Rosa say a word. The three of us stare each other down, not making a move. Rosa squints at us, she’s in an ‘at attention’ position, the tension begins to swell; it’s an old-west duel. Rosa makes her move. Unfortunately, none of us have pistols to draw, “I take it you’ve been made aware of your obligations, then”? Obligations? Seriously? “There’s something not quite right here, Anon. Rosa seems like she’s holding something back, no”? Maybe. She’s usually a bit more lively, isn’t she? What’s this all about? “What did you want with us”? “I’m keeping you two in check – teaching you a thing or two”. “A chill down your spine. Anon, this won’t end well, but you’re going to have to do it anyway. There’s something calling to you, a feeling you’ve felt in another life”. “You’re fine with that, Fang”? “Whatever”. With that, the exchange dissipates. Rosa goes off to talk to Stella, Fang and I continue to stand around at the door, “...This damn life… bullshit”. “You’re telling me”. She raises her eyebrows, “Huh”? “Something about your life”? She looks a bit regretful, then returns to baseline, “Oh. Yeah I’m just bitching”. When the building opens, we hug and go our separate ways. “Are you ready to deal with everyone else now? I’ve got a feeling that the small one is going to be particularly fun today”. I swim among the river of backpacks, going class-to-class. One by one, familiar faces all find their way before me. Naser is awkward and tense around me, Naomi is Naomi. I notice Reed around the halls a few times, I set up the fist bumps each time. “In his own way, he looks out for you. You feel that, right? It’s not unwarranted, you’ve taken him for granted. You’ll be brothers in due time”. Classes are that much more interesting to me, mostly. Science and music, obviously, but I’m getting a cathartic pleasure out of math. Wait, I’m doing math? I’m in math class. It’s been feeling like I’ve been floating about. People around me talk amongst themselves, I feel daggers stabbing into my soul. Trish is staring death into me. “You should make the first move here”. Suddenly I’m walking towards her and Reed. My tactic? Pure intuition. Cave-chad style. “What’s good, Reed”. “‘Sup, Anon”. “Your fists meet once again, it’s a positively electric feeling. He’s not just any old bro, he’s your bro. Look into his eyes for a sec. He knows exactly what you’re going to do, and he’s got your back. He’d have your back more often if you’d actually bothered to notice”. “Trish, why’re you casting aspersions upon my soul”? “...They’re fucked up, Anon! You fucked everything up – I tried talking to Fang”. “Jeez, how’d that turn out”. “Sure, we made up or whatever-” “Then what’s your problem!? You’re lucky either of us talk to you ever again, especially this soon”. “They were acting like you! Mumbling around and acting like a… Fuck! And what’s with you? Just talking to me, drifting around school like you own the place – you’re different, too”! “That’s odd. You don’t feel different. Is it a new haircut, maybe? Regardless, you’re on the right track anon, just talk to her”. “Trish, we both have shit we need to work through. You expected me to go on like normal after your little stunt? No! So is it really that crazy that we’re acting a little different”? “You're molding them”! “And you weren’t? I’ll be honest, I was doing jack-shit until now – I was being dumb. But you want your ‘Fang’ back, right? Fine! I’ll be Fang! I’ll play bass and become a socialist or whatever! And if you can’t deal with a skinnie enbie, you’re just another bigot – like all the rest”! “You’re drawing attention to yourself, but Trish doesn’t realize that, she’s shrinking back in embarrassment. In some roundabout way, she’s just starting to realize what she’s done wrong. Reel it home, Anon, and do it quick. You’re in a bit of a tough spot”. “Damnit, man. You’re her best friend. You do have a better read on her than I do. No, duh! She’s struggling, this isn’t something I’m forcing onto her. I need your help, Trish. I don’t want to keep going like this with you. It’s retarded”. “Her”? “Whatever man, we both care about Fang. You know that much”. She hesitates, looking at the floor, flashing looks towards me. She holds her hand out, “...Truce”? You take it, matching her grip. “Truce”. “Mission complete. Reed is smiling, satisfied. You did good, Anon”. At lunch, all of us, Fang included, are able to talk pretty casually. I can tell that we’re all walking on eggshells around each other, but the sense of normalcy does not go unappreciated. Reed is explaining ‘Dinero’ to me, apparently anyone with a brain uses it over Snootcoin. Trish and Fang are talking things out, Reed and I gave them some space. Everything is going down very smoothly. Never before in my life have things gone so well. It’s scaring me; I’m waiting for a wrench to be thrown into it all. “Be careful what you wish for”. The rest of the day proceeds as normal. And now, here we are. Fang and I walk towards the side doors leading to the garden. The gardening club doesn’t meet every day of the week, but something tells me that these visits aren’t all that club-related, “...garden…” Gee, I almost forgot. We make it out. Rosa is sitting on a bench expectantly. I look around, expecting to find Stella around, but she’s absent, “I am happy you two could make it; in this weather, the plants need special care”. And right to work we go. I get to be on compost duty, there’s more work than I expected there, but none of it is very surprising. I guess I was wrong - this was bog-standard garden stuff after all. I’m measuring the internal temperature of the compost at the moment; Fang and Rosa seem to be having a hushed argument over the bushes. After a good while of hauling trash around and raking literal shit, I head into the shed to put the tools away and catch a moment for myself. The air is stiff, the smell of plywood and soil is heavy. Light in the shed hangs dimly over me, filtered by the thick, opaque window above. I stir for a moment, stale air in my lungs. As I begin to put tools in their proper place, I hear a creaking behind me. I’m paralyzed, I don’t look back. It’s Fang. She’s walking in behind me. “It’s all going to go down, baby. Take one last breath of that cool shed air. Anon, there’s no paradise where you're facing”. Slow steps make their way towards me. My nerves are prickling, my body goes numb and hot with tension – my muscles are locked up. Hands slide up my sides, they wrap around my body and stop at my chest. A head presses into my back. I’m being held tenderly, but my blood runs ice-cold. It’s not Fang. “In another life, this touch was the one to ignite your flame. The longing you feel in this embrace, it’s painful. All you sense here are echoes from a different world rearing their ugly faces”. One. Two. Three.