An Unwelcome Welcoming

I was lost. Completely and utterly lost. I don’t mean in a metaphorical or existential sense, like I was drifting aimlessly. Actually, for once I had a clear goal in front of me. I mean I was truly physically lost.

When was the last time you were lost? For me, I was a kid—around eight, maybe nine. My family and I visited some relatives across the country over the summer holidays. One day, we were out and about around town, and I somehow wandered off on my own. Looking back, I couldn’t have been gone for more than an hour, yet somehow, seconds felt like days. I was completely disoriented, running around aimlessly with tears in my eyes, desperately trying to find my parents. Everything was so unfamiliar, and the streets were so uncanny. Strangers surrounded me on all sides. I couldn’t recognize anyone’s face, and that only made me even more afraid.

I was later told by my mother (who looked a bit too happy saying this) that a policeman found me bawling my eyes after I tripped and fell in the middle of a busy intersection. Apparently, my pain and suffering looked “absolutely adorable”.

No matter how cute everyone else found it, I’d been traumatized. I had no desire to go outside anymore. I might have stayed that way until the day I died, if not for my uncle. I’ll never forget it. The very next day he sat me down, and gave me what would become my most prized possession.

It was an old GPS watch. Black and bulky, the device couldn’t even fit the wrist of someone my age, but that didn’t matter to me. I was in awe at seeing something so small have such a large screen on it. I was even more impressed when my uncle showed me how to use it. Just one press of a button. That would send a signal to a satellite in low-Earth orbit hovering thirty-five thousand kilometers above sea level to mark your location. Then, you could press another button, and the watch’s internal mapping software and navigation algorithms create a route in real-time to get you back to your starting point. This wasn’t a mere demonstration; to me, it was a revelation. Never again would I have to be lost, with all the discomfort and negative feelings that accompany it.

Technology truly is wonderful!

But still, despite all the miracles of the Industrial Revolution and Information Age, I was lost.

“Stupid piece of junk,” I muttered as I looked back at my phone for what must have been the twentieth time today. It was no use. I had no signal. The worst part was that I had specifically bought an expensive international plan by the advice of the people, whom I’m forced to call my parents, had recommended — well, more like ordered — me to take out to prevent a crisis like this from happening. I was repeatedly assured by the salespeople that there was a corporate guarantee from the cell provider of coverage wherever I went in the world. A fat load of good that did me. Rot in hell, V Cellular.

I tried to get a new SIM card after I got off my plane past customs. Unfortunately for me, the new ultra high-spec Universe phone I splurged on for an upgrade only used e-sims, and this backwards country I was stuck in didn’t seem to even understand the concept. At least, the airport workers didn’t seem to know, even when I explained it in excruciating detail to them before they rudely kicked me out.

I threw my phone back into my pocket and glanced at my trusty GPS watch. Over the years, I had managed to grow enough so it could actually fit firmly on my wrist instead of awkwardly dangling and sliding down my arm. Not like it could do me much good now. It could only navigate me back to a destination I was already at. And that left me with only one option: a map.

It was degrading. Who actually used a physical map now? I had managed to pick one up in the terminal, but it was complete nonsense. It’s not that I couldn’t read it. I was forced to learn this country’s language before I came (despite my protests that real-time translation was perfectly fine). I just can’t use it to get around. All I could do was fiddle with it while lugging around my heavy suitcases.

I tried to ask strangers for directions multiple times, but that only led to more wandering around this unfamiliar environment. All that work, and I was no closer to my destination—or maybe I was. I had no way of knowing. What I did know was that this aimless walking with my luggage was making me tired. I found a deserted street, threw my bags on the side of the road, and sat down to rest on them. What a mess. Why was I even here in the first place?

I took a deep breath. That’s right. I was here as part of the IRFEUM, the International Research Fellowship Exchange for the Unity of Mankind. Quite a mouthful, but it certainly got the point across. I was far from home here in the country of Miklagardia on a glorified study abroad program. To tell the truth, I didn’t even want to do this, but due to various circumstances, I was unable to decline.

According to my schedule, I was supposed to check in at Saint Isidore’s University by noon for an orientation. At this rate, I had two more hours to be hopelessly lost before I missed it. I wonder what would happen then. The instructions I had said I had to be there on time, and Miklagardians are said to be a punctual people. Maybe they’ll disqualify me right then and there, and I’ll be sent on a one-way ticket back to the motherland. That actually sounds quite nice, but I’d be chewed out to hell back. Either way there’ll be nothing but trouble for me.

Amidst my musings, a droning noise jolted me back to the outside world.

“Hey! Are you even listening to me?” a shrill voice cried.

I was startled, enough so to fall back off my suitcase and onto the hard pavement below.

“Woah! Are… are you alright?”

“Yeah, I’m fine, just startled is all,” I replied as I slowly stood up. As I regained my bearings, I finally got to take a look at who so rudely interrupted my inner monologue.

It was a girl. Her jet-black hair was divided into twin ponytails that came down slightly past her shoulders, and her bangs almost completely obscured her sharp, penetrating green eyes. She could be the answer to my prayers. Not because she was attractive—although she definitely was. I could easily see her being a model, or perhaps a streamer, revelling in donations from the wretched who would do anything to even get close to her angelic visage. No, what I was interested in were her clothes. She stood proudly wearing a purple uniform that I quickly recognized as a symbol of the elite of the elite of the educated in Miklagardia, worn only by those who were talented (and connected) enough to get into the highest-ranking academy in the nation, which conveniently was also my destination.

She kept blankly staring at me, so I decided to strike first.

“I’m trying to get to the Miklagardian Institute of Technology at Saint Isidore’s University,” I said. I showed her the markings on my map. Could you help me out?”

Her eyes lit up in recognition. “That’s not a problem! I can take you right now.”

I couldn’t believe my luck. A minute ago, I was ready to give up. And now, a kind and beautiful girl showed up to solve my problems. Maybe I was wrong about you, Miklagardia! I couldn’t believe that a girl like her from such an elite academy would be randomly wandering the streets alone for such a chance encounter.

“Oh, I almost forgot. My name’s John. John Caesarea.” I held out my hand as I introduced myself. The girl stared at my open palm for an uncomfortable amount of time. Was a handshake that weird here? Finally, she broke out in laughter before taking my hand, rotating it ninety degrees so the back of my hand faced the sky. She clasped her hands over mine, sandwiching them all together.

“You’re a foreigner, aren’t you? Pay attention! This is how we do a proper Miklagardian blessing!” she exclaimed proudly. I figured “blessing” is what they must call greetings.

“You could tell just from the fact that I tried a handshake?” I asked.

“Well, I had my suspicions. I mean, no one would wear something like that around here,” she pointed to my clothes. I didn’t know what was wrong with my T-shirt and jeans, but I didn’t like the tone of her voice. “I thought you also could have been homeless or one of those non-conformists, but the handshake confirmed it. No Miklagardian would ever conceive of doing that. Only a Westerner would.”

“But I’m not a Westerner at all. I’m from Ustasia.”

“Ustasia?” she laughed. “They’re practically Western lapdogs! No wonder you act like that. Well, I suppose if you’re trying to get to the Institute of Technology, someone thought you had potential, so there must be at least some hope for you.”

I wonder if she talked to everyone like this. Suddenly, I could easily believe that a girl like her from such an elite academy would be randomly wandering the streets alone.

“What are you waiting for? Let’s get going!”

I could already tell this was going to be a long walk.