Song 8

Maersen lay on his stomach, legs kicking behind him as he watched Meloria perform for her little brothers; truly making each performance her own. As she grew, her eleventh birthday just days away, Meloria was starting to mature and develop her sense of self in this new world.

“She’s shining so bright,” he hummed, kicking his legs like a schoolgirl watching her favourite boy band. “Mature, dedicated, and her singing voice is getting better with each performance.” Maersen giggled to himself, holding his pillow close to his chest as she turned over and looked at the ceiling. His laughter died down, and his smile faded. Meloria was making many strides; however, she had still only performed for her little brothers. The songs she loved to sing were hidden away, only to be brought out and displayed on the occasion when her parents would leave the house, and even that was becoming less frequent.

Maersen’s head started to fill with negative ideas that Meloria might lose the light in her voice if she were unable to express herself freely. “If this goes on,” he mumbled, holding the pillow tighter. “Then I may never hear her sing again.”

He couldn’t let that happen!

Maersen shot up, sitting up straight and slamming his pillow on the ground, the gears in his head ticking over to come up with a preventative measure to ensure Meloria never lost her spark. But what could he do? Their laws dictated that one could not interfere in worlds that have sent reincarnates, too.

In that moment, it felt like the puzzle had put itself together. “I can’t mess with the world,” he chuckled to himself, pushing his body up, stretching his arms high to loosen his muscles. He smirked to himself, striding along the halls as he made his way to his next destination. Every rule has a loophole, and he had just the idea.

Maersen took a right, followed by a left, and a walk ten minutes down the narrow hallway. He stopped in front of a tall, slim oak door, adorned with black metal finishings. He shook his body, cracking his neck before knocking on the door. Silence hung heavy, not even as much as a tiptoe from the person inside. Raising a brow, Maersen placed his ear against the cold oak, hearing the soft hums of technology. Chuckling, Maersen knew he wasn’t going to get an answer from the one inside.

“Guess I’ll just let myself in then,” he grinned, throwing the wide open as he yelled his proclamation.

The room was a stark contrast to his own; while most of the room was shadowed in darkness, there was a faint flickering light from the far end of the wall. Maersen took cautious steps, being mindful of the wires that tracked along the floor, which served as a path to lead him to the hunched-over figure in front of the screens. “How’s it going, Tampsen?” He waved his hand, his voice more casual. He waited for a response, leaning over the figure’s shoulder, seeing his fingers wrapped around a controller, using it to move his 8-bit character on the screen. Not getting a response, Maersen shook his head, taking a deep breath. “Tampsen!”

The controller flew out of Tampsen’s, breaking as it crashed against the floor. “What in the-” Tampsen snarled, turning to see Maersen standing above him. “Honestly, Maersen,” he sighed, tossing his headset to the side. “Have you not heard of knocking?”

“I did,” Maersen shrugged. “I think you were a bit… engrossed in your current game.”

Tampsen collected the broken parts and put them beside his controller, then pushed himself off his beanbag chair. “Okay, sure, whatever,” he scoffed and mocked a bow. “And to what pleasure do I owe this wondrous visit?”

Maersen’s smirk returned as he started to walk along the shelves, eyeing up the various consoles and games, as if looking for something specific. “Say, you don’t happen to have the console that lets you peek and have a little play in the other worlds, right?” He asked, looking back at Tampsen.

“Oh no no no,” Tampsen waggled his finger in Maersen’s face. “Don’t even think about it!”

“Come on,” Maersen interrupted, playfully punching Tampsen’s shoulder. “You and I both know you enjoy dipping your fingers into the other worlds. Planting a tree here, maybe a sprinkle of tropical thunder there.”

“Uh-huh. “Tampsen nodded, leaning against his wall, crossing his arms. “Think you want to tell me the real reason you want me to get that console out? We both know I can get in serious trouble with the others if I mess around in their worlds too much. Remember that plague I started in Celeste’s world? She didn’t let me hear the end of it for three decades!”

“But,” Maersen dragged out the word using his hands for emphasis. “It’s not Celeste’s world. It’s my world.”

“I’m listening,” Tampsen’s ears perked up, his eyes glazing over to the bottom left of his shelf. “If you make a compelling argument,” he looked back towards Maersen. “I may get it out. Though I’m not promising we will do anything.”

Maersen cheered, taking a seat on the bean bag, looking up at Tampsen with a joyful glee in his eyes. He began to tell the story of the world he sent his reincarnate to —a world without songs —and how he sent Meloria there to become an idol, bringing songs back into the world. However, with Meloria getting older, the idea of her becoming an idol seemed far-fetched. “I need a way to push her to sing outside of her little farmhouse,” he explained, the frustration clear in his voice. “Somehow, I want to construct a situation that allows Meloria to sing to a wider audience.”

Tampsen hummed and nodded, taking in each word. He grumbled, chewing on the inside of his lip, his resolve to keep the console tucked away, but surely looking wouldn’t hurt. He sighed, shooing Maersen out of the chair with his hand as he knelt to the console, pulling it out with the variety of wires.

Maersen watched eagerly as Tampsen unplugged his console, exchanging the wires and making sure everything was in its place. With a click of the button, he booted up the console. On the screen, a menu with a list of hundreds of worlds overseen appeared. Tampsen turned, holding up three fingers. “Rule number one: I hold the controller,” his voice stern as he began to lay down the ground rules for Maersen to follow. “Two, no killing people, and three, we leave the world as we find it. Do you understand?”

Maersen gave a toothy grin, nodding rapidly. “I got it. Now let’s get Meloria singing!”