Chapter 7: Teleporting into Trouble
The afternoon sun beat down on Terrchel as he walked away from the Maximus Residence. He checked his swatch, but there was still no message from Leghorn. A small victory, he thought, as Emerson's contact information, securely tucked away, gave him a sense of quiet satisfaction. He wouldn't rush things; Emerson seemed like an old-school kind of guy, and Terrchel instinctively felt discretion would be appreciated. Uploading the information to the server would instantly alert the Arcadia Patrol and update Emerson's citizen profile—a risk Terrchel wasn't willing to take just yet. He had a strong feeling Emerson was hiding something significant, and Terrchel intended to uncover it before anyone else did.
With that sorted, his mind immediately turned to the next mystery: the girl with crimson-red hair and golden eyes. She had been on his mind constantly since their encounter, and he was determined to find out more about her before the day ended. He let his feet guide him, trusting his instincts to lead him to something, or someone, interesting. Maybe he'd even find a clue about this enigmatic girl who kept appearing when he least expected her.
As he walked, Terrchel noticed a subtle shift in the city's energy. A low hum vibrated in the air, a mix of excitement and anticipation that mirrored the growing flutter in his own chest. He turned a corner, and there it was—a colossal neon billboard, dominating the skyline. On it, the girl with crimson-red hair and golden eyes gazed back at him, an enigmatic smile playing on her lips. Her subtle pink bear-ear headgear was just visible. Terrchel's heart skipped a beat.
What is she doing on a billboard? How did she get up there? he wondered. A cryptic message scrolled across the bottom: "Meet me at Club Elysium tonight. Come alone." He cupped his hands around his mouth and yelled up, "What's your name?" But before the words fully left his lips, she leaped from the billboard's immense height with effortless grace, disappearing into the labyrinthine city streets below. He knew his speed could catch her in seconds, but a mischievous grin spread across his face. Why spoil the date she had so clearly planned for just the two of them?
He pulled up his Swatch to search for Club Elysium. The results flashed, and his eyebrows rose in surprise. The club was located in The Undergrid, practically on the other side of the city. He remembered their last trip from The Undergrid—it had taken nearly a full day. He glanced at the time, and his heart sank. Even running at full speed, and without having to accommodate his "chicken friend" who had clearly deserted him, he wouldn't make it to the club on time. He still had a few things to take care of in New Arcadia City before he could leave.
Pacing back and forth, he racked his brain for a solution. Then it hit him: Leghorn had mentioned a teleport station—a secure, fast way to travel across the city that might come in handy someday. "Well, someday is now," he muttered. He made a quick decision. He would finish his remaining tasks, head to the teleport station, and then meet the mysterious girl at Club Elysium. A surge of excitement and anticipation coursed through him. This would be a mission, but it would undoubtedly be worth it.
Next on his agenda was finding a way to rid himself of Arnold's memories. As much as they had been helpful, they were also a burden, a jumbled mix with his own burgeoning thoughts and feelings. He recalled Leghorn mentioning he had somehow chosen to leave his past memories behind, but couldn't disclose the details. There had to be some archive, a library, or something with information on Arcadia before this high-tech evolution, and a link to his reincarnation into all this. He pulled up his Swatch, but it simply read, "[error]." He suspected the Maximus residence might have old papers, given Emerson's preference for physical records, but he couldn't risk compromising his potential alliance with Emerson by exploiting that option.
His last item on the list was to debrief with Leghorn, but with the 'error' message and Leghorn's continued absence, Terrchel shrugged. He had hit a dead end. No Emerson, no Leghorn—it was time to move on. For a brief moment, he considered calling Leghorn to check if he was okay, but then he remembered Leghorn's words: "Just because I'm here doesn't mean you get a free pass at missing vital human experiences that need to take place." Leghorn was always putting him down, assuming he was some dumb fly incapable of initiative. Now was his chance to prove them all wrong. He would do this without their help and prove himself worthy of being human.
He needed to make his way to the Arcadia teleport station, but first, he needed some fuel. He spotted a restaurant nearby, and his stomach growled in anticipation. He walked in, and the aroma of exotic spices hit him like a punch to the gut. The sign above the counter read, "Mama Zara's Interdimensional Eats"—he was intrigued.
He took a seat at the counter, and the waitress greeted him with a warm smile. He ordered the special of the day—a "Graviton Burger"—and paid with the Arcadian dollars Leghorn had transferred to his Swatch. The restaurant's atmosphere was lively, filled with people dressed in intergalactic high fashion, chatting and laughing. A sign advertised a "best-dressed alien cosplay event," which explained the extravagant attire.
His food arrived, and he took a bite. The flavors exploded in his mouth, eliciting a satisfied groan and a nod of approval. This was definitely his new favorite. As he ate, he noticed a group of women eyeing him from across the room. They were dressed to impress and seemed desperate for his attention. One caught his eye and smiled, batting her eyelashes. He raised an eyebrow, but his expression remained nonchalant. He wasn't interested; his mind was preoccupied with the mysterious girl he was meeting tonight. He took another bite of his burger, savoring the taste, and ignored their flirtatious attempts. Clearly, these ladies didn't get the hint that he was trying to enjoy his meal in peace.
One, a stunning woman with porcelain skin and raven-black hair, approached him. She was dressed in a skintight black jumpsuit that showcased her curves, and her red lips were painted into a sultry smile. She sidled up next to him, her eyes locked on his. "Mind if I join you?" she asked, her voice soft but seductive. He raised an eyebrow but said nothing, which she took as an invitation, and sat down beside him.
"So, what's a handsome guy like you doing all alone in a place like this?" she asked, her hand brushing against his. He leaned in close, a sly grin spreading across his face. "I'm just here for the food," he said, his voice low and smooth. "But I have to say, the company's not bad either." She smiled, thinking she had him hooked. But then he dropped the bombshell. "However, I'm afraid I'm not interested. I'm already taken... by my own awesomeness."
Her face fell, and she looked as though she was about to storm off. Instead, she decided to cause a scene, raising her voice for everyone to hear. "You're kidding me, right? You're just going to reject me like that?" She grabbed his drink and threw it on the floor. He chuckled and leaned back in his chair. "Hey, don't take it personally. I'm just not interested in playing games. Besides, I've got a prior engagement tonight." She huffed and stormed off, leaving him to enjoy the rest of his meal in peace. Or so he thought.
As he was finishing up, the restaurant staff called him to the front. "Congratulations, sir! You're the winner of our cosplay competition!" He was taken aback. "What? I'm not even cosplaying." But they just laughed and handed him a prize of 500,000 Arcadian dollars, instantly transferred to his Swatch, and a year's worth of free food coupons uploaded to his Arcadia Space. They took a picture for the Arcadian Media, and everyone complimented his "cosplay," stating his cerise eyes and green hair looked so authentic. He just laughed and shook his head. "Thanks, I guess. But this isn't a costume—it's just me." They all just smiled and nodded, still convinced he was cosplaying some niche, underrated anime and trying to guess what it could possibly be, some even searching the internet for clues. He shrugged and pocketed his prize. Free food and a fat stack of cash? Yes, please.
He stepped out of Mama Zara's Interdimensional Eats, thinking to himself that this money might come in handy for whatever lay ahead. The Retro-Futuristic Architecture of the city stretched out before him, skyscrapers of gleaming metal and glass piercing the sky, their peaks hidden in the clouds. As he walked, he noticed a neon advertisement flashing on the side of a building—a giant screen, and on it, his own face staring back at him. It was the picture they took at Mama Zara's, and below it, a clip played of him saying, "It's just me." He raised an eyebrow, amazed at how quickly this had been posted.
He walked past a group of kids and noticed them watching a Swatch hologram headlined: "The latest Arcadian Media: 'Mystery Man Wins Cosplay Competition! Who is this handsome stranger and what anime is this?'" He chuckled to himself, shaking his head. This was crazy. Leghorn would be laughing if he saw this, for sure. Sigh, I kind of miss having him around, he thought. But if he misses me, I'm sure he'll swoop in any minute or wait until I fall asleep so he can poop on my face again and call it a treat.
As he continued walking, he noticed people staring at him. Some smiled, others winked, and a few even flirted from a distance. A flush rose to his cheeks, and for a moment, he was taken aback. He wasn't used to this kind of attention. He awkwardly grinned, a sense of amusement rising in him. He made his way to the central point of the city, where the teleport station was located.
As he entered the station, he was immediately struck by the luxurious décor. The walls were made of polished marble, and the floors were covered in thick, plush carpets. A receptionist looked up at him, a hint of disdain in her eyes. "Can I help you?" she asked coolly. He was honestly surprised it was a human, not a robot, this time.
"I'm here to use the teleportation service," Terrchel replied, trying to sound confident.
The receptionist raised an eyebrow. "I'm afraid this service is only available to elite Arcadians. It's a prestige environment, and we have to maintain a certain level of... class."
Terrchel smiled, using his newfound fame to his advantage. "Ah, but I think you'll find that I'm a bit of a celebrity. I'm all over the Arcadian Media. Don't you keep up with the latest trends? It surely would be a shame to have to turn me away and have it on the news how poorly I was treated, after stealing so many hearts but couldn't use the teleport station."
The receptionist looked him up and down, clearly unimpressed. But then she glanced at a nearby screen, and her expression changed. She saw the post about him, and her eyes widened slightly. "Ah, I apologize, sir. We didn't realize... Well, in that case, the teleportation service is available to you. But there is a fee, of course."
He grinned, pulling out his Swatch. "I think I can handle it. How much?"
The receptionist named a hefty sum, but he just chuckled and transferred the funds. "Done. Now, where's the teleporter?"
The receptionist looked at him with a mixture of surprise and admiration. "Right this way, sir."
As he was about to step into the teleporter, the receptionist raised an eyebrow and asked, "And where might you be off to, sir?"
He grinned mischievously and replied, "Club Elysium, The Undergrid." The receptionist's expression changed instantly, her eyes narrowing in disapproval. She tsked, shaking her head. "You're one of those, huh? Fraternizing with the Undergrid crowd." She muttered under her breath, "New City Arcadians don't usually... associate with those people." He realized that there was some kind of animosity between the New City Arcadians and those from The Undergrid. But the receptionist had to cooperate, since he had already paid. She handed him a small, sleek device. "Very well, sir. Please hold onto this teleportation orb. It will guide you to your destination."
He took the orb, and the receptionist gestured to a gleaming, silver teleportation pod. The pod was adorned with flashing blue lights and strange, pulsing symbols. He stepped inside, feeling a thrill of excitement mixed with a dash of trepidation. The pod door closed behind him with a hiss, and he was enveloped in a warm, golden light. The orb in his hand began to glow, and he felt a strange, tingling sensation wash over him. The pod started to spin, faster and faster, until he was weightless, floating in mid-air. The golden light coalesced into a swirling vortex, and he felt himself being pulled through it.
The sensation was exhilarating, like being on a cosmic rollercoaster. He laughed out loud, feeling alive and free. The vortex dissipated, and he found himself standing in the middle of a crowded, dimly-lit nightclub. The air was thick with the pulsating beat of music, and the smell of smoke and sweat hung heavy over everything. He grinned, feeling a rush of excitement. He had arrived at Club Elysium.