Beatle's Tale

  “Before there was Truck-kun, there was Tyler Greene,” said Debuu-ni.

  It was later in the day. They were sitting in the shrine once more, after Inês had taken a few moments to regroup. For the first time since they had gotten to this world, it wasn't snowing; it was hailing. The hard, icy rocks fell from the sky with might and threatened to tear through the shrine at any instant. Still, Debuu-ni sat solemnly with his back to the rice paper door, facing the four teens. Jin seemed eager to listen to what the bug had to say, but Marcel looked jumbled. Lu was nervous, tapping her fingers on her leg mechanically. Inês, for her part, was ready to know the truth.

  Debuu-ni inhaled calmly and started.

  “It'll be easier if you see it for yourselves.”

  As it said that, a glow came from behind the group; the mirror that had once granted them sentai powers was rippling and growing anew. They watched it hover over and turn to face them behind Debuu-ni, whose red eyes were also gleaming. The reflective surface soon morphed into a sunny, urban street, flanked with palm trees and cracked sidewalks. There stood a school building on one side, a rectangular form made of red brick; in front of it, a tall sign read: Centennial High School, Welcome, Education Starts on Time. A bell rang a piercing sound, and scores of children soon flooded the way. A boy who couldn't have been more than twelve years old, wearing baggy clothes, his black curls clipped short, was walking at a brisk pace with books in hand, looking back and around as if to make sure someone wasn't following him; Inês soon understood why. Among the sea of shifting bodies, a taunting voice called out: “Here comes Ty-kun, about to tell us why the sky's blue in Japanese!”

  A group of kids, a baker's dozen, laughed ballistic; others simply watched or averted their gaze as they quickly hurried past.

  “Tell me, Green Bean,” the boy continued unsparingly “Why do you have to be such a Carlton all the damn time? You know it pisses me off.”

  Tyler, a fearful look on his face, turned and started to walk away without responding, but the boy swiftly grabbed the books he was holding.

  “What do we have here?” he said glibly, his bloodlust hardly concealed.

  He skimmed through the collection of magazines, some of which seemed homemade, as well as the cellophane-covered manga.

  “Anime Insider, Otaku USA, Gaijin Japanophile…” he read with disdain. “And Death Note?”

  He looked at Tyler with a temper, his eyes dark.

  “You're a fuckin' freak, you know that?” he said. “What's Death Note? You're looking for inspiration to shoot up the school? You finally decided to go full white?”

  The boy pushed Tyler on the lawn, who fell on his back with a loud thud. And then, ripping the magazines and books apart with a vengeful rage, he let their pages fall like snow on him as he and his friends kicked and beat him. Finally, the bell rang again, and Tyler found himself alone, laying on the dry grass, bloodied.

********

  Tyler was a young man, now, sitting at someone's bedside in a sterile hospital room. On the bed, laid a middle-aged woman; her white face was tired and pale, and she had deep, dark circles under her eyes. Her head was bare and covered by a muted scarf. They held hands as she tried to maintain a soft, pained smile. A small MP3 player connected the pair in a Y shape; Let It Be was playing.

********

  They saw a cramped apartment. They couldn't tell if it was small or big, nice or dingy, for the place was filled wall to wall with books, magazines, DVD, VHS, video games, boxed figurines and toys, and miscellaneous media merchandise. A lone calico cat with a pompon tail moseyed about around the precarious piles of treasure, stopping, every now and then, to play, here and there, with a gachapon or a Poké Ball. Tyler entered the room; he could have been in his mid-twenties, now.

  “Beatle!” he called in a high voice.

  The cat scurried over to him excitedly and rolled at his feet. Tyler picked him up and pet him; the cat let out a soft meow.

  “Have you been lonely?” he asked. “I'm sorry about that. They've been keeping me busy at work. I'll try to make more time for you, OK?"

  Beatle bumped his head against Tyler's and nuzzled in his chest.

  "Let's get you some chicken.”

********

Thanks for agreeing to do this for me!!!

Ive been wantin to learn japanese for the longest time!

Tyler, 00:30

Of course, my pleasure!

This is my first time teaching, so hopefully I have what it takes.

Yuki, 00:33

What's it like actually living there?!

In japan, I mean.

Tyler, 00:35

Oh, you know, there are good and bad sides. Like any place, I assume.

I love my culture. The people and the history.

But if I could change a few things, I would!

The work culture, for example.

And some of the very tight customs.

Yuki, 00:38

Like what?

Tyler, 00:38

Customs, you mean?

I mean stuff like age hierarchy.

In school clubs, you had to be so respectful of people who were just one year above you.

You had to do whatever they'd say and treat them differently than your peers.

It makes sense if someone's an adult, but if I'm 14 and someone else is 15? That's annoying.

www

Yuki, 00:42

Notice me senpai lol

Tyler, 00:42

Do you wear a uniform?

Tyler, 00:55

I don't understand.

Yuki, 00:59

Like a sailor fuku?

Tyler, 00:59

Not since I left high school...

College students wear regular clothes.

Yuki, 01:04

I bet you looked fresh in it :)

Tyler, 01:05

I don't know about fresh, but it was definitely cold in the winter.

Yuki, 01:13

I like winter.

I bet your favorite time of year's spring, right?

Sakura petals and all that. Must be like walking in a dreamland.

Tyler, 01:15

It is beautiful.

Although the best spots get quickly crowded with all the locals and the tourists.

My favorite season's summer, though.

Yuki, 01:21

Are you seeing anyone?

Tyler, 01:25

********

  It was a clear and balmy night; Los Angeles was full of light, and Tyler Greene was working late again. Inside of his company's self-driving ice cream truck prototype, he monitored the vehicle's stats and supervised the ride to ensure safety. The sailing was smooth that evening, and the truck returned to its warehouse without a hitch. Tyler stepped out, letting the door closed on its own behind him. He jotted down a few notes for his superior, his scribbles quick and short. As he did, a mellow sound drew his attention, it was like a movement or a scuffle, somewhere in the back of him. Except for Tyler, the place was empty at this time—or it was supposed to be. He looked back: the truck's doors, the ones which led to the freezer, were both open. That was strange, he thought. He stepped forward to look and flashed his phone's light inside: the freezer was empty. He entered it, standing with one knee on the truck floor, and the other leg still out, hesitating. He was about to jump out when the door kicked him in the back and he fell in. They heard punches and yells from inside the truck, but it remained irremediably closed. Tyler Greene frozen, the truck left its Angelino warehouse.

  They saw layers; strata of reality, like sediment in a riverbed. Some were ancient and dense, sinking at the bottom, other were translucent and new, dancing toward the top.

  Humming like blood underneath the skin, pulsed the signals: words and thoughts, concepts and code, heat and noise. It was all meaningless until it wasn't.

  Against the void, bucking the blue, there was a viridescent echo. No boundary between information and self.

  There were layers of perception, and a master to guide them.

  Truck-kun was born.