A Glitch in the World Page 2

  “Probably not.” Brenda shrugged. “Yeah, emigrating here wasn’t a bad idea for me. I have time to work on my paintings, what with the stipend I get for taking care of the unit and all. Anyways, I’m sorry you can’t get out of certification, but don’t think it’s all perfect, Stu.”

  “Who cares what people think? You didn’t have to keep going to school.”

  “They can be rude to me, you know. Haven’t you paid attention to anything around you? Now, let me get back to the program.”

  Stuart went to his room. He’d call Dwayne in a bit to make sure his parents had said it was okay to spend the night. A few hours lay ahead until it was time to go over there. A notion of impatience stirred within him. For years, he had waited for an escape from his idea of the world, and tonight he’d get a taste. HSP altered consciousness, changed perspective. It could offer him what he’d been looking for: a different way to view Janus and the people around him—because from this angle it all looked defected, a glitch in the universe itself that only he could see.

  Homework occupied his time for the next couple of hours. Stuart perused Mr. Okada’s notes, only halfway following them. The patterns were easy, but uninteresting—so uninteresting they challenged his ability to interpret them. It wasn’t that he was unintelligent; he knew his grades were indicative of the fact he could do the work, but the constant trudge forward, the adoption of one mathematical concept after another—some never to be seen again—fatigued him, drained him of all his energy. Stuart was tired. So tired that even being bored felt exhausting.

  Brenda called to him from the kitchen as he heard his father walk through the front door. It was time for dinner. The fat man likes to eat as soon as he gets home, Stuart thought. He rushed towards the sounds of his parents, feeling fairly hungry himself.

  “Stu,” Brian boomed. Stuart had just walked into the room “I need your help this weekend. We’re going to install a new panel on the roof.”

  “Do I have to?”

  “What? It’ll lower our power bill! I’ll let you watch more VidScreen. You should enjoy doing it.”

  “I don’t watch the VidScreen much.”

  “What do you do?”

  They seated themselves at the table, reunited for a proper meal, making up for the one they had missed at breakfast. Brenda laid out a dinner of green beans, corn, and synthetic chicken. She passed condiments to her husband as they began to eat, appeasing the beast. Stuart poked at his food, eating just fast enough as to not be asked what was wrong.

  “I think,” Stuart replied, answering his father’s question.

  “Think? How can you spend that much time just thinking?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “What do you think about?”

  “How much I hate school.”

  His parents chuckled.

  “He doesn’t want to have to get his Ranks,” Brenda said.

  Brian almost cried out at hearing this. He dropped his silverware on the table and pointed a fat finger at Stuart—one that could have sufficed as the family’s whole meal. “Boy, we all get our Ranks—it’s how Janus functions.”

  “Mom didn’t get hers,” Stuart retorted.

  “Your mother is an exception. Family units need home-carers—just like we need everyone else to get their Ranks. Have you put any thought into what you’ll do for your Zero?”

  “No.”

  “Put some thought into it. Do you like computers? You seem like the type of kid who would. Try programming. You know, it’s okay to change fields after your Zero. It’s really the One and Two that you should couple.”

  “I’ll think about it.”

  Thankfully, the rest of the dinner conversation didn’t involve him much, and that was the way he wanted it. His parents briefly discussed bills and then went on to talk about Brenda’s sister, Stuart’s dead aunt. Though he wanted to tune it all out, he heard every word. He didn’t like how people sounded when they spoke. Their inflections on certain words made them seem fake to him, as if it was that same glitch in the universe again, like genuine people were poor actors reading a bad script.

  Once dinner was over, Stuart dropped his plate into the sink and went to his room to get more homework out of the way before he went over to Dwayne’s. He wished the setting sun would set itself faster. It’s almost nighttime, he thought with glee. HSP, a different perspective. I better not hype it up too much.

  Stuart then realized he’d forgotten to call Dwayne. He rushed to the communicator and punched Dwayne’s information onto the screen, bringing his mouth closer to the built in speaker.

  “Hello?” A woman’s voice.

  “Hi, this is Stuart. Can I talk to Dwayne?”

  “Sure, and you can come over, Stu. But you two better actually be studying!”

  “It’s math. We’ll need to.”

  She laughed at that. “All right, well here he is.”

  Then, the sound of Dwayne’s voice, “You heard her. You can go ahead and come over now, actually.”

  “All right. See you in a minute.”

  “Bye, Stu.”

  Stuart closed the call, and went to get a few things, his heart pounding. While he gathered everything, his mother walked by.

  “Going now?” she asked, leaning into the doorway. She was in her bathrobe again.

  “Yeah,” he said.

  “Hurry up. I haven’t talked to your father about it. If you’re already over there he won’t bother you.”

  “All right.”

  “Damn. Say thank you, Stu!”

  “Thanks, Mom.”

  With haste, Stuart collected his school things for the next day and rushed out the door to meet the bus. Dwayne lived only a few minutes away, so the ride wouldn’t be like his commute. Most of the dwelling units were close together—even the richer ones like Dwayne’s family’s.

  There weren’t many people on the bus. This reassured Stuart. He always felt like everyone was watching him, and he didn’t want his anxiety to hold him back this time, to make him get off the bus and turn around. A nervous feeling took hold of him, pulsating as if it had a life of its own—like it did every time he faced a new experience. An altered state of consciousness... There was a lot to be excited for.

  The setting sun of Janus, nicknamed Macrobius, began to sink below the horizon. The dark blue sky became darker, and a red glare wrapped around the disappearing celestial body. Soon, it would be nightfall, when no one could see two young men experimenting with drugs in a backyard.

  The bus lowered into Dwayne’s stop. Stuart got off, carrying his school things with him. His senses seemed more focused, his awareness of the flow of time more controlled. It was an odd feeling. The excitement of knowing you’re going to alter your state of consciousness was already enough to bring about an alteration, he thought.

  Stuart walked up to the front door of Dwayne’s dwelling unit. Rapping his fist on its upper half, he hummed to himself. He wasn’t even aware he was doing it.

  The door slid aside. Dwayne stood there.

  “Put your things in my room for now.”

  “Okay.”

  The two boys walked through the dwelling unit, hoping they wouldn’t run into Dwayne’s parents. The old couple might have already gone to bed since both of them volunteered as bus supervisors in the morning—Dwayne’s father’s little pet project after having retired from teaching. Stuart hoped this was the case. He had spent the night several times before, and if they had already gone to bed, his being over might not have been a big enough deal to elicit a greeting from them.

  They made it to Dwayne’s bedroom and he was proved right. There was no need to deflect tiresome small talk from them: they had gone to their room for the night. Stuart thanked them in his mind. Thank you for being at the right place at the right time, he thought. Out of my way so I can get high.

  “We’ll go out there once the sun’s fully set,” Dwayne said. They sat down in his room.

  “Sounds good,” Stuart said.

  “You feel excited?”

  “Yeah.”

  “I really hope it helps you with how you’ve been feeling. I’m sorry again about your aunt.”

  “It’s okay,” Stuart said.

  “You feel like you don’t want to live anymore?”

  “I wouldn’t go that far.”

  “But you’ve thought about it?”

  Stuart shrugged. “Sure.” He didn’t like discussing this with Dwayne. His perfect, happy friend would probably just say it was all in his head—as was the rest of any person’s reality. Stuart felt infuriated with him, infuriated with him for the things he imagined his friend might say.

  “That’s kind of scary, but I don’t blame you,” Dwayne said. “I’ve never had a close family member pass away.” Of course you haven’t, Stuart thought, you lucky guy. Dwayne went on, “So I have no idea what it’s like. Maybe doing this is a good idea. I’ve made sure the amount we’re taking is safe, and who knows, it might help get your mind off her. Was she on your mom’s side?”

  “Yeah,” Stuart said. He wished Dwayne would stop talking about it. The truth was, he couldn’t have cared less about his aunt. He hated being dragged along to visit her on Earth anyways.

  “Well, might as well get a few minutes of studying for that test in while we wait. That way we won’t be liars.”

  The two of them pulled out their math books and groaned when they looked at the relevant material. Monotony lay ahead. Tedious, boring, mind-numbing book work. Maybe I should go into programming like Dad suggested, Stuart thought. Get the computer to do all this for me...because I can’t stand it.

  3

  The sky had been completely dark for almost half an hour. Dwayne was positive his parents were asleep. The boys made their move.

&nb
sp; “What’s it look like?” Stuart asked.

  “Like a thing of cough syrup,” Dwayne said, showing the bottle to Stuart. “Talk quietly until we’re out in the backyard.”

  “Sorry,” Stuart whispered. “Let me see it.” Dwayne passed the HSP over to him. “How much are we going to take?” he asked.

  “Fifty milliliters each.”

  “Is that what newbies should take?”

  “That’s what I read.”

  “How much will be left over? How many milliliters are in this container?”

  “A hundred. I only got enough for one night.”

  Though he hadn’t even tried it yet, Stuart felt a twinge of disappointment. Just thinking about how the HSP would make him feel had already made him attached to the substance.

  Janus’s night sky hung above, the stars brighter than on Earth due to the colony’s smaller light output—they didn’t expend what little power they had on illuminating nothing. The backyard to Dwayne’s house was wide and open, and its surrounding metal fence made for good cover. They snuck into a corner of the backyard, where a small shed that housed the family’s tools was situated. Some of the colonists were designated repairmen in case of emergencies; such insurances were scarce on a developing world.

  “We’ll do it here,” Dwayne said, walking into the shed. He turned on a small light overhead, dimly illuminating the cramped room. Various anti-gravity and atmospheric tools littered the shelves, and a simple collection of screwdrivers, drills, and hammers sat in the corner. The boys seated themselves, almost shaking with excitement.

  “I really hope this makes you feel better, Stu,” Dwayne said.

  “You’ve been saying that a lot.”

  “I know, but a death in the family sucks. Let’s have fun and take your mind off it.”

  “All right,” Stuart said, eager to get to the point.

  “What do you think it will feel like?” Dwayne asked.

  “I have no idea, I’ve never done anything like this before.”

  “What if it makes us crazy?”

  “If it’s legal on Earth, it won’t make us too crazy.”

  Dwayne began to pour the strange, amber liquid into a pair of small, plastic cups. “That’s true,” he said as he emptied the bottle. Stuart watched him intently.

  “How did you get it?” he asked.

  “My older cousin,” Dwayne said. “He actually does it all the time.”

  “Did he warn you about anything?”

  “Like what?”

  “I don’t know. Anything that could go wrong.”

  “No,” Dwayne said. He held his arm out, giving one of the cups to Stuart. “This one’s yours.”

  His heart pounding, Stuart reached for his share. The flow of blood in his veins seemed to strengthen. Finally, something was happening, something to stir up the monotony of his miserable life. The contents of the little plastic cup splashed left to right as his hand trembled. The liquid smelled sweet, with a hint of an almost alcoholic scent, but not quite. It wasn’t like any medicine either.

  Dwayne stared at his cup. He looked to Stuart. “Ready?”

  Stuart swallowed hard. “Yeah.”

  “Drink it all at once.”

  “All right.”

  Nervously grinning at each other, they raised the cups to their lips. Drinking one full swig, Stuart drew the plastic shot-glass away from his mouth, forcing himself to hold it together. The HSP felt like fire in his mouth. Cringing, his face in a contorted expression, Stuart swallowed the burning liquid. It was how he imagined a cleaning product would taste. Unbearable. His eyes began to water. The burning feeling then subsided, and his mouth began to feel deathly cold, almost giving him the sensation of brain freeze.

  Stuart looked over to see how Dwayne was handling it. His friend seemed less taken back, but still surprised. He coughed once, made a hacking sound, and then his expression returned to normal. It had taken Stuart far longer to recover. Again, he was jealous of his friend for being better than him; it was always one thing after another.

  “That was fucking awful,” Dwayne said.

  “Did he say it would be that bad?” Stuart asked, the taste of it still in his mouth.

  “I guess so, but I didn’t think that’s what he meant.”

  “Do you feel anything?”

  “No, do you?”

  “Not yet,” Stuart said. He looked away from Dwayne and began to stare at the floor of the shed. The material was a cheap, grey metal, one that covered every dimension of the room. Stuart ran his fingers over its dull shine, feeling its cool, conducting surface, just barely illuminated by the small light overhead. It felt strange to be in lighting so dim.

  There was no sound. Nothing at all except for the gentle gasps of the boys’ breathing. The two of them looked around, waiting for the effects of the drug to kick in, but nothing came.

  “How long does it take?” Stuart asked.

  “My cousin said a couple minutes,” replied Dwayne.

  “Do you think we’re going to fail that test tomorrow?”

  “Probably, but so will everyone else.”

  “I really don’t like Mr. Okada.”

  “No one does.”

  “It’s so quiet.”

  “That’s a good thing in case anyone comes.”

  They sat in silence for a few more moments. Stuart couldn’t believe how little sound there was. But Dwayne’s backyard was fairly sizable, and not much else was nearby—save for a few other dwelling units, though none of the neighbors were out. Just barely, he could hear a hover bus off in the distance, the sound of one setting down, though it could have been his imagination.

  He could also hear the air flowing into his mouth. And out from it. He could hear it so well.

  Too well.

  Then, it struck him: he could hear the air. Not just from his breathing, he could also hear it from across the room. He could hear all of them, the little bitty particles bouncing around, smacking into each other like cars in a busy street, one where the drivers were all toddlers, three-year-old children who couldn’t drive.

  Stuart shook his head, taken aback by the strange image that had appeared in his mind. But he could still hear them, the air molecules. He began to wonder what they tasted like. After hearing something, you have to know what it tastes like. Isn’t that the rule? Isn’t that normal? Very normal, Stuart thought. Normal as breakfast in the morning and dinner before breakfast.

  Shaking to life in a burst of energy, Stuart began biting at the air, chomping at the flux of diatomic nitrogen and oxygen passing by his teeth, the molecules so palpably audible. The sound waves from the clack of his incisors stirred them up even more, making them louder than they already were. Stuart listened intently. He could hear the air screaming as he tried to eat it. He laughed. It could scream all it wanted, but he wouldn’t stop. He didn’t feel sorry for it. Air was for eating. It had always been that way.

  There was the sound of cannon fire off in the distance. Dwayne laughing. Each chuckle a roaring bellow, an explosion from the lungs of some beast. Dwayne boomed, “What the hell are you doing?” He laughed and laughed and laughed and laughed.

  “I’m trying to taste the air!” Stuart exclaimed. His teeth shut together violently once again, the thunderous clap of bone meeting bone. They were still screaming, all the mommy and daddy air particles crying out as he ate up their little bitty air particle babies, ripping their families apart, chomping them to even tinier pieces than they already were.

  “Then lick, don’t bite,” Dwayne laughed, still roaring like a canon. “You’re just munching on it.”

  “This is how you taste things,” Stuart said. “You tear them up with your teeth!” He leapt up off the ground, jumping towards the ceiling, trying to eat the air that was higher up, the air that was trying to escape from him.

  Dwayne was nearly in tears from laughing. “You need to be lickin’ it, like this!” He began tasting the air in front of him, long, exaggerated, up and down motions with his tongue. “It tastes good, Stu! The air tastes good!”

  Stuart began to laugh, too. It was fun eating the air. He looked for some he hadn’t gotten to yet. He looked down at Dwayne, his friend still there sitting on the floor, laughing to himself. Stuart noticed all the air around his friend’s arm, warmer from the heat given off by his body. Opening and closing his teeth, softly chewing, Stuart began to approach Dwayne.