Chapter 20: Homecoming (PART II)

"Tamara," Roger said. He looked at her from behind a satellite; she looked like a floating astronaut in space. She stood as if on a gravitating surface, standing tall with her eyes focused on him.

"Roger," she said, she started walking towards the satellite, leaving glowing footsteps on a non-existent surface. With every step she took, the world would crumble as sudden breaches with light behind them would wound the outer atmosphere. She took four steps, each step widened the crack in that part of the spherical zone. Roger was bewildered at the sight of Tamara thrusting her arm into the satellite's lenses, as if grabbing Roger by a shirt he had not known he had worn, and pulled him outside into the open space. Roger pulled both of his hands to cover his face as he rolled on a surface he could not see, a surface of blackness with distant stars and galaxies.

"How did you do it?" Roger said, looking at his eyes. He turned towards the girl with haste, rushing to her her. "You cannot do this. This place is not a simulation, this is space you can't breach the dark matter, you can't just pull me from the satellite. I'm not a body, I'm a virtual being, consciousness itself! You tell me now, how the hell did you do any of this?"

Tamara remained silent, walking towards the nearby breach. Roger boiled at the sight of her ignoring him as he sprang after her. "I'm talking to you!"

"None of what you have said was wrong. The only problem was that you didn't realize that people like us have better control over their own lenses, that we can create a world through our eyes and feel it. From a chip bearer's perspective, everything is simulation."

"That so? Then how can we even perceive the same glitches?"

"Maybe our consciousness is one, maybe we all have the same consciousness, only to be altered by different memories and in different heads, confined to our brains. I have no understanding of it more than you do, trust me. As for the glitches, they are the result of your contradicting consciousness, it turns out that you messed it up during your time in the digital web of space. There are some things to be fixed, maybe I can help," Tamara said, walking without turning back. Roger took a step back, hesitating with a visible distortion across his face.

"Tamara, I know everything. I know your chip, I know about my disease. I may be stuck here, but I can hear everything I got access to. I see you believe that I am here because my consciousness is spread across the servers I logged into; you say that I am trapped here. Let me enlighten you, I chose to stay here by my own will, there is nothing you can do to pull me back into that filthy city, no, that filthy world. I am here, this is my heaven until my body dies and I vanish as well. I don't give a damn about the city, about what my father wanted me to do, about Owinson or even about anyone who pretended to care, yet only had some interest in me because I am either my father's son or my chip's keeper."

"Really? What interest did Jeremy have in your father? Did he even know about your chip? What about me? My father is dead, there is nothing I can do to bring him back, which means I have no interest or no technical… no literal use for you. Yet here I am risking my cells to come here and find you. Do you have an answer to that?"

Roger looked down, rubbing the back of his neck despite feeling none of it. "I-I I don't—"

"You have all the time in the world. You can slower your perception of time like a slow mo video, there is nothing that can hurt you here. Let us at least explore the glitches, fix them and I will go back to my body once I realize you're safe. So, are you coming?" Tamara said, stretching her hand to him. She closed her eyes, Roger gripped her hand. Both of them turned into lines as they zipped into the breach. During the rift, Roger could spot bits of his corrupt data streaming into a numerical ocean, mingling with the correct ones.

Roger opened his eyes, spotting Tamara sitting next to him. It was all sunny; all what could be heard was the sea waves. There were only two groups sitting by the sea, getting tanned while Roger and Tamara took flight looking at them from afar. The buildings were smaller next to the sea, palm trees were dancing to the wind. A vehicle passed every few minutes only, it seemed like a weekend morning. Roger sat by the ridge of a building despite knowing he could traverse the world however he liked; Tamara followed.

"I recognize this place, back from the time I was kid. I just can't—"

"I think I know, Roger. Look over there," Tamara said, pointing at a painted word in a gigantic template for every traveler to see. Roger sniffed the air, his mouth slowly spelling the word with a sense of warmth traveling across his system. That was it. It was home, the only place he knew beside Garlem.

"Florida," Roger muttered, pushing himself off the ridge of the building as his perception slowed the fall. He walked through the alley with the burning sunshine at the end of it, like a far hope to be grasped. Tamara was just around the corner; he did not care to wonder how fast she teleported. They sat by the side of the beach; their sandals vanished as they stepped into the sinking sand, contemplating at the sight of the tumbling waves that kept coming. The spray of the salty water passed by their sensors, even though none of it was in actuality real. As they sat side by side, they heard a noise from behind, seemingly between a parent and his child.

"No, uncle! I want a sandwich right now!" the child said, wallowing and jumping in a circle, eddying around the man. The child had a short loose hair, dripping from every side. He wore glasses, a sleeveless shirt and summer shorts. The man was three times both his size and height. He seemed rough, even had a little belly on him.

"Shut up you little snake! I told you I'd give you a sandwich only after we sell all of these babies here in my basket," the man said, holding a covered basket. The smell was fresh, escaping through a little opening at the corner of the basket. The child yanked the sand up in the air with his foot, folding his arms and anchoring his gaze unto the tracks left on the sand. Roger turned around, barely able to keep his jaw in its place. He stretched his hand to touch the walking pier. Tamara didn't turn; she kept looking at the sea and smiling.

"You wouldn't give me a sandwich, Uncle! You will sell them all because you a greedy pig!" the child said, sticking the tip of his forefinger into the man's belly.

"What?" the man said, gripping the child by the back of his shirt before heaving him off the sand. "I am a what?!"

"Mom says that, not me! Let me go, Uncle!" the child said, before the man let him go. He propelled him to move forward, trying to ignore his sister's talk about him.

"We need your cute face to earn a buck for the rest of the day," the man said, pointing at a couple with a child sitting by the other side of the beach. The child jumped, trying to leave a similar distance between each hole he left. The man kept his distance, a bottle of beer in his hand with its tip kissing his lips. The child went to the family, holding both hands together.

"Hello, I am a cook and that man out there is my assistant. Would you buy a sandwich? You won't regret, I promise!" the child said, softening his voice while keeping both of his hands under his chin. The couple smiled, nodding as their child came crawling from the foaming waves, humping before falling on his hands with both his eyes set on the little sales boy. As they all turned around to look at the man, he hid the bottle of beer behind his back, clumsily walking before he gripped three sandwiches, squatting to give the child the third one. The man found six dollars in his pocket; the seller took it from his hand before he picked up the trail.

Roger was smiling, walking atop the path of their footsteps across the sand. Something was in his eyes, either the salty sea water or the juice of grief rebelling against his rationalization. He looked around, spotting the man and his wife spitting on the sand, hurrying to hook the third one off the baby's soft arms. Roger gingered, Tamara was still there by the side of the sea. An old man came walking with the beach guard, pointing at the scurrying man with the child.

"That's the guy who sold us shit sandwiches!" the old man said, sharp and strident enough for the pier to hear him. The man pulled the child, resting his stomach upon his right shoulder before he strode towards the end of the beach with the guard after him. The child pulled the bit of meat under his eyes and let out his tongue, mocking the beach guard while the man started sucking what was left of the beer in hope the child wouldn't see him. Roger went after them, laughing. His laughing was louder with every step, he even rose both of his hands in the air while jumping much like the kid. The pier hid behind a wall, holing through the dark alley while barely able to keep their breaths. The man put the basket down, mopping his forehead of sweat while the child kept laughing.

"You laugh ay? These fools don't understand how fruitful it is not to grill meat too much. I guess tongues are no more, isn't that right, Roger?" the man said, playing with the child's hair. The child closed both of his eyes, stretching his smile across his reddish cheeks. His cheekbones were buried deep under his loose skin.

"Yes, Uncle Derek," the child said, picking up the Uncle's hand as they went back to the beach, trying to sneak back to spot where the beach guard would not see them. Roger stood at the middle of it, feeling the unifying soul between the two. They sat not far away from the waves; the water only brushed their toes. They put the basket in the middle, taking turns in picking up sandwiches. Uncle turned at the child. The child would yet turn towards the Uncle and smile with red meat stuck in between his teeth. There was bitterness in his tongue, yet he smiled.

"Uncle."

"Mm-hmm?"

"How come you don't have children?"

Uncle gingered, looking at the sky above. "I had a child, Roger. He's just not here now."

"How? Where did he go?"

"You were only little. You see, Roger, sometimes people leave you. God Forbid, you may as well leave them yourself. They go to heaven," Uncle said, gulping while rubbing his small beard. The child turned to him; his face was less hectic than before. His voice was less sharp and punishing. The child put the sandwich aside, surrounding his knees with his arms.

"Can I be your child, Uncle?"

Uncle Derek smiled again, covering the child's hair with his gigantic hand like a helmet. "But you do have a father, Roger, and lucky to have the greatest mother the world has ever seen."

"Dad's never there, Uncle. Mom's sick, I'm always with you. You are my real Dad."

"Alright alright, we'll cut a little deal. I will be your daddy only if you don't tell anyone about it, and only if you would still love Isaac. We have ourselves a deal?" the man said, raising his fist for Roger to bump. The child smiled, landing a rocket blow into Derek's knuckles. "Deal!"

Roger stood between the two of them. Tamara was right behind him, her eyes diverted at the child with his fist hung next to Uncle's. The little moment of tenderness triggered a rift into their world, tearing a breach that sucked all of it starting from the seas to the lights to the sun itself, leaving only Tamara and Roger standing there motionless as if it was all to be expected. Tamara stood silent, yet Roger sat down on one knee looking at his and his daddy's ashes flying away from him.

"Uncle… what have I done?"

"Roger, we don't have enough time. The simulation seems to be changing, we need to be ready," Tamara said, sensing an energy striking the ground from beneath. Their feet started to dance as they lost their balance; small rocks and pebbles exploded off the floor, steaming up into the air before being followed by whole buildings. Either small houses or sky-tall skyscrapers, buildings tore holes in the ground as they climbed up the air. With every building, flying vehicles turned around corners, clouding the sky for the smaller four-wheeled vehicles. Bots became alive as they were squeezed out of buildings. In a second's time, the sky was all gray and superficial, even the atmosphere seemed moist. Things were darkening, yet the sun was kept above the covering clouds. Both of Roger and Tamara found themselves on either side of a tall skyscraper, watching taller buildings spawn after each other throughout the horizon. A large airship shook their clothes as it passed above them with a large screen stretched across both of its sides.

"Welcome To Garlem," the brightening words said, accompanied by fireworks from across all Garlem. People cheered, celebrated, bots and humans alike. Roger's consciousness along Tamara's traversed throughout Garlem, hearing the laughter and the cheering. The screens were only visible when taking a picture or recording a video, yet Garlem seemed to be just like any other city. People talked to each other, heard each other, actually felt for each other. Time went by fast, Roger found himself in the next day of the simulation looking at his old house. Tamara was around the corner, hardly able to catch up to Roger. They heard footsteps coming. The same child from the beach walked first, followed by a different man. This time the child had both of his hair and his smile cut. He held unto the other man's head as they crossed the street towards their car.

"Dad?" Roger said.

Isaac was wearing a long gray vest up to his knees. He wore glasses; there was a bit of baldness crawling up from his forehead up to the center of his scalp. His face was eaten by hair; his eyes were tired and seemingly teary. He opened the door for the little one, no words said, before he opened his own door and turned the engine on. As the car rolled its way out of the garage, Isaac would take a quick glance up at the flying cars, only a few of them comparing to the present times.

"So, do you like our new city?" Isaac said, looking at the mirror every few seconds as if he was about to turn back.

"It's okay."

"What do you mean 'okay'?"

"It's not like Florida, but it's okay," the little child said, looking down at his hands, remembering his mom telling him to answer that way to avoid unwanted conflict with a father bugged by burdens beyond his capability and his time.

"You know you should start to make new friends, it's a big city, you'll do fine," Isaac said, keeping neutral in his tone as if he was speaking to a colleague.

"Uncle Derek is my best friend."

"What?" Isaac said, eyes diverted towards the mirror. "No, he can't be your best friend. He's your Uncle, yes, but not your best friend. Your best friend is usually someone your age; you find that in the neighborhood, at school, something like that. You know people from my time found their best friends in online video games."

He smiled, almost close to laughter. He withdrew when he noticed how his son kept looking at the world from behind the window, seemingly unimpressed.

"I want to go back to Florida, I want to stay with Uncle Derek."

"No, son, you can't do that, you can't. Uncle Derek's got his own life, we got our own, you may see him during the holidays or during visits, you can't just move around and do whatever you want."

"But you do whatever you want too! You're never here!" the little one exploded, hurting his vocal cords. There was nothing but silence accompanied by Isaac's fast breathing. He gripped his tie and tried to free his neck from it. Redness overrode the color of his skin.

"I— I— Roger, it's just—" Isaac would start and halt; his voice was low enough for Roger not to try to understand what he muttered. The car was stopping near a building, a kindergarten. Isaac opened the door for the child to hop down; he put his hand on his shoulder, pushing him to move towards the door. The little one stood behind the door, watching the Isaac speak with the teacher about the timing and payment. Both of Roger and Tamara stood behind the child, watching the world from his eyes, a world where he was abandoned. Roger and Tamara followed Isaac back to his car, watching how refrained from getting in. He drew his phone, dialing a number he took the habit of calling.

"He was trying," Tamara said, almost whispering in Roger's ear.

Roger nodded. "But I was too young to notice."

"Hey, buddy, I don't know what to do. My life's heading down the toilet, my wife doesn't talk to me, the kid thinks I'm not there for him. I feel missing man, I feel like I'm drifting away. Between the family, our work, the organization, I'm just losing myself. You shoulda seen Roger, how he said I wasn't there for him. Look Bob, I know we don't have work and you're supposed to rest, but give me a call, will ya?"

"Bob?" Roger uttered.

Tamara wept for a quick moment. It was all too quick, the heat in her eyes and fall of her tears. They felt confined to the building as if the remaining part of the glitch incited them to walk back inside the kindergarten while Isaac left the area. Roger walked back, Tamara behind him. They could not bring it up, what they had heard Isaac say in the voicemail, yet they both knew it felt different, something was different.

"The memory isn't over. It seems there's something we need to see back inside," Tamara said, catching up to Roger. The latter walked inside the room; the children sat on the covered floor. There were smaller robots scattered around the room as children played with them in groups. Isaac's son sat at the corner, a small notebook in his hand with a pencil. The teacher was talking on the phone, saluting a coming family. Tamara raised an eyebrow, leaning on the wall as Roger sat beside his little version, looking at the gray shape in the paper. Before he could properly see, Roger closed the notebook when someone sat by his side. The child was weightier than most of his peers; his cheeks were tingling and his belly was dancing.

"Hey," the weighty one said. Roger, sitting in between the two of them, remembered that exact moment out of all the memories that were lost into oblivion.

"Hey," the little Roger said, turning to the other side.

"Where are you from?"

"Florida. You?"

"Missouri. Dad brought us here a week back; it looks like the best place in the whole world! What about you?"

"Us too, but I want to go back where I came from," Isaac's son said, keeping his head in between his knees. Everyone was busy greeting each other, only this fat kid smiling at him.

"What's your name?" the weighty kid asked.

"Roger Garaldson."

"I'm Jeremy Jackson," the weighty fellow said, looking left and right before he picked up a donut from home. His fingers were painted with melting chocolate as he cut the donut on half. Jeremy stretched the donut to Roger Garaldson, his best friend. The little Roger smiled back, taking his half of the donut. Roger stood in between the two, faced by a concerned Tamara. The whole memory was frozen the second Roger took his first bite of donut. Time froze, only allowing the virtual beings to interact with each other.

"Back then, how did you see Jeremy? You said you never cared about him."

"It must have been sometime after we grew up. The moment he sat next to me, he was my only friend. Years up until now, he was my best friend. And I failed him, even though I tried to fix it. My attempt to hurt him was enough," Roger said. Every entity around them turned to pixels, drifting off into the infinity of the dark matter. They seemed to be crawling their way back to outer space, outside of the glitch. Something was off. The numbers of the simulation were still there, the world seemed to be freezing during a morph. Roger turned towards the silent Tamara, nodding.

"I see what you did. You assembled pieces of my scattered consciousness when I was down there in the evidence room. You thought you could upload them back together to fix me. The glitch was a logical result. I had to relive those memories for my consciousness to be fixed, memories that I wouldn't be able to discover if it wasn't for this chip."

"Is it a bad thing? Trying to bring you back to the world, even if it meant being tethered to a dying body?"

Roger sighed. He stepped closer to Tamara, expecting something to change.

"Every memory I experienced is directly linked to someone that I either care about or vice versa. There's still one person," Roger concluded, spotting how Tamara was looking at him. A whole scenery rose in the middle of them out of the numeral sea, setting them apart. It was in their painting class. The floor was wooden; sunshine broke its way through the window. There was Tamara with her brush in between her fingers, and on the other side of the room Roger was dotting an incomplete shape. Roger's consciousness stood behind Tamara, and Tamara's stood behind Roger. Each looking at the other. It was all frozen, there were no words, no sounds, nothing but the captured dust in the beaming sunshine.

"I guess that's the last part about myself that I have to embrace," Roger said, walking towards the spot of the sunlight. As he stood in the sunlight, bits of his hands were turning into crowding pixels before the rest followed. Tamara stepped into the sunlight too, bits of her turned to pixels as well.

"I wasted so much time here, even though it may have been slowed from my perspective. Even if I have no more than a month left, I'd still embrace the fact that I was a human. I let the chip tell me otherwise, but this isn't going to happen anymore. Today, I am a feeling being with a soul and this tool inside my head won't control me anymore."

Tamara smiled, seemingly proud. Bits of her shoulders and torso were turning into pixels as well.

"As a being blessed with a higher perception of this world, I fully acknowledge the fact that I love you, Tamara," he said, this time his eyes could almost pierce hers. His pixels rolled around hers as if in a storm. He was no more. She was no more. They melted into each other before every pixel of a webbed world up in space as equal to the other in flat darkness.

It's time to go home.

Roger's eyes returned back to their initial state. The doctor was sitting next to him, snoring in his chair. He unplugged the serum, landing a foot after the other. He sprang through the corridor, leaving two night nurses shocked at his sight. He stumbled a couple of times. He knew exactly where to find her. He crossed the street, running with the full moon guarding his path. As he turned around the corner, there was the bench where she was supposed to be.

Please, be there!

He walked inside the park, feeling his hands thrown down. His body waned. It was easier to slump this time; the girl was nowhere to be found. A few seconds later, a voice mail was triggered instantly in his head while he left the park, walking back to his home with his head down.

Roger, I know you have come look for me. I heard what you told me plain in clear. I know you wished to find me waking up there, waiting for you. I wished for that future too, to actually be with you and leave this city together. But soon, I realized that you won't leave it, during my time exploring your memories, I realized how your fate is bounded to it. With that jump I made to bring you back, my brain cells will likely start dying and I want to live, Roger, I want to live and take care of my sick mother. You? Even if you can leave this city, I know you won't.

On his way home, he stood next to Jeremy's apartment.

You still have to fix everything before the end of your last month.

Roger went closer to the window, leaning forward attempting to see if there was anyone there. There was no one, it was all empty and the furniture was not there anymore. A small "for sale" template was hung on the door. Jeremy left.

You still have to make it up to Jeremy.

Roger attempted to call to his friend, yet he was put on voice mail. Roger kept walking on the sidewalk, both hands dug deep into his pockets with an eye on the ground and an eye up on the moon.

My father put this chip in me to protect myself. But your father put your chip in your head for you to protect others.

With the time he spent looking for Bob and at the world from behind the lenses of a satellite, he sure missed Uncle. He turned the keys, pushing the door with an excited smile in his face.

"Uncle?" Roger said, walking towards the old man's room. The bed was made, the floor was clean. Roger took a couple of steps back, checking the other room before slumping on the floor.

I know you will be left alone now. I wish there was another way to make you understand.

He didn't even say goodbye, Roger thought. He tumbled back to his bed room, collapsing with his face sinking into the pillow. His only wish was the impossibility of a tomorrow.

Maybe if you could fulfill your purpose, maybe if you were given enough time, then you can come find me and use whatever time we both have. From now until then, I can't stay in Garlem. I'm sorry, Roger.

Everyone left him. He was all alone.