04 - Isekai Waiting Room

When I come to, I find myself sitting in a fluorescently-lit, bland-looking room.

Gray walls from floor to ceiling. Mostly featureless except for some PSA posters with Corporate Memphis artwork that say stuff like, 'No Weapons Permitted in Waiting Area', and 'Cheat Skill Use Limited to C-Rank and Below Inside Premises', and 'Keep Your Familiars On a Leash!'

I'm sitting among one of the many rows of hard-as-a-rock, mystery-polymer chairs. You know the kind: bolted to the floor, and seemingly designed for optimal hemorrhoid formation. And for some reason always painted that one shade of brownish-green scientifically proven to be the most unappealing color in existence. (No, seriously—that's a thing. Look it up. Some countries legally require all tobacco packing to only use that very same color. Right, because that'll cure your smoking habit.)

At the far end of the wall in the direction I'm facing, is a counter where several goddesses (all very much resembling the one in my black void) are sitting in swivel chairs behind computer monitors, typing away. Some of them are busy speaking with guests, who I assume are here for the same reason I am.

… All in all, the words, 'Passport Office', or 'Driver Licensing Wasteland' immediately come to mind.

Above me a digital chime sounds (Ding!), and a voice over the loudspeaker drones monotonously, "Now calling: Protagonist CC2345. Protagonist CC2345. Please make your way to goddess number 3 at the counter. Protagonist CC2345. Your isekai world awaits you."

Somebody from the next row down gets up from their seat, and walks over to the counter.

"Hey, you," I hear someone say to me, a few chairs beside me. "You're finally awake."

I turn to him, and wait for the rest to play out.

… But he just stares back, puzzled, wondering why I'm not saying anything.

"Oh, you're done?" I say. "I thought you were going to recite the rest of the—… You know what, never mind."

I scratch the back of my head, awkwardly. I realize just now that my skull is intact—a fact that, strangely, I don't find very surprising.

I look down. My foot's back to normal, too. I wiggle my big toe.

"… Hey, so, um—What is this place?" I ask the guy.

He chuckles. "Why, you're in the Isekai Waiting Room. We're all fellow protagonists, just like you. Died, and waiting to reincarnate into our ideal fantasy worlds."

"'Isekai Waiting Room', huh …" I repeat, to pad out the word count. "… Wait! So did you also incur Jesscia's wrath, and take a frying pan to the head?"

He seems puzzled. "… 'Jessica'?"

"Yeah. Dressed in a business suit? Ponytail? Looks like she wants to devour your soul as a light snack?"

He shrugs. "Not sure who that is. After I died, I ended up in a black void, with a goddess. I was told all the parallel worlds were filled up right now, so she zapped me away to this place."

"Oh," I say. "So … Just to be clear, you weren't brutally maimed, to end up here."

He raises an eyebrow. "No …? Anyway, you should probably take a number." He nods to the far wall, at the ticket machine.

"Yeah … That's probably a good idea."

Then, he says, his face growing stern all of a sudden: "… You were trying to cross the border, right?"

"… Huh?"

"Walked right into that ambush, same as us. And that thief over there."

I click my tongue. "Oh, you mother-fucker. You went and did it anyway!"

Before I can cuss him out even further (I bet this dude's just about to tell me how he 'took an arrow to the you-know-where' next), I hear another chime from the speaker overhead. The PA system calls over another waiting protagonist, which just happens to be the guy I'm talking to.

He stands up, pumps his fist, exclaims, "Hell yeah! Alright! … Slimegirl harem, here I come," and then dances over to the counter.

… Leaving me alone again, once more.

I stand up and stretch. Might as well go take a number, I guess.

As I shuffle over to the ticket machine, I look around at all the other protags sitting, waiting. They're either mostly all balding oji-sans like me, or skinny-as-a-twig young adults in tracksuits who look like they haven't left their room, or seen the sun, in years. Prime self-insert material. I see a few women, too. I dunno, I don't actually get a very good look at them due to my pathological inability to make eye contact with members of the opposite sex. (… Jessica doesn't count. She's more of a cosmic, punitive force than an actual woman.)

When I finally arrive at the machine, I reach out to take a number.

But then I stop.

Wait a sec. Hold on just a fucking second here.

… Why am I doing what I'm told? Doing what 'they' want me to?

Didn't I steel my resolve, back in the prologue? (… You read that part, right? You should go back and make sure—it's one of those troublesome 'Chapter 0' deals, so you might've actually missed it.)

Didn't I commit to doing whatever I decide I wanna do, from now on?

What—a little blow to the head and I'm already back to being a goody-two-shoes? A good little boy who does what he's told? … Am I really already reverting back to the spineless dweeb who doesn't cause trouble, who just swallows whatever crap 'they' spoon onto my plate?

… Man. I guess old habits truly do die hard. (… 3. With A V*ngeance.)

I spin around 1080 degrees and walk away from the ticket machine, and immediately put my mind to work on my next objective.

Hmm … Now then. How can I be as annoying as possible?

The goddess clerks behind the counter. Their computers must be connected to some central database. Maybe I could get in and erase all the data. (Where can I find a very large magnet in this place?) … Or maybe I should think analog. Those papers on their desks … Sure would be a shame if someone poured coffee all over them … Maybe I can skip the queue, make a scene, demand to speak to their—

Er, actually, you know what? … I, uh—I don't think I'm gonna ask for the manager again. That is not an experience I want to repeat.

And then, right on cue, as though she's reading my mind, I hear from behind me, "U-fu-fu."

At the sound of that voice, I literally atomize into a fine aerosol mist. I literally transcend multiple dimensions. My immaterial soul literally splits into 108 distinct fragments that scatter themselves to all reaches of the universe—an ideal premise for a long-running manga serial in which the main characters must track down each fragment while fighting villains of increasing malevolence and power levels, and maybe—just maybe—they'll all discover the meaning of friendship along the way.

When I'm inexplicably reconstituted, I look behind me.

Jessica is standing there, her trademark clipboard in hand. "You know, you can probably repeat that gag just one more time, before everyone gets sick of it."

"Yeah," I say. "… That's true. A-and ideally it'd have to be a few complete arcs later, when everyone's forgotten about it." I cradle my chin with my thumb and forefinger, trying to look cool and intelligent and well-informed, and add, "I think in the biz, they call that, um … a refractory period. (… Oh, psst, hey, for a proper tsukkomi response, you should express your astonishment at the notion that there will be actual arcs to come in this story.)"

She smiles, and completely ignores my suggestion for a golden straight-man response. "I'm glad to see you've found your way safely to the Waiting Room." She looks concernedly at my head. "Everything okay up there? I saw you spin six times in place at the ticket machine. I was worried I might've given you brain damage."

"Y-yeah. I'm fine. No sign of drain blammage here," I say, the left side of my mouth drooping, drool collecting at the sides.

"What?"

I wipe my mouth. "Nothing."

"That's good. … By the way," Jessica says, her eyes catching the light, threateningly. "You wouldn't be thinking of interfering with the day-to-day operations of L.I.M.B.O. already, would you? Surely that can't be the reason you were eyeing my goddesses suspiciously, right?"

"N-no," I stammer out, "… I-I was … I was just admiring their dedication to upholding bureaucracy … That's all."

"Oh?" She leans in close. Too close. My back stiffens up like a board. She lingers there for a second—and then finally backs off. "… Well, that's good to hear!" She gestures to the counter, at a goddess who happens to be free. "Come here, we'll get your name into the system."

"But don't we have to—shouldn't I take a number and wait?"

Jessica places a hand on her cheek. "Ara! What a delightful sense of etiquette! Well, it's okay, dear protagonist—I'll make an exception, just for you. It's your reward, for being such an obedient and well-mannered … good boy."

My eye twitches. A blood vessel bursts somewhere in my head.

Argh! This fucking—… She knows exactly what she's doing, doesn't she? …

I begrudingly walk over to the counter, back hunched, sour-faced. Jessica behind me, making sure I'm not doing anything weird.

The goddess hands me a form to fill out from behind the counter.

The first field asks me for my name.

And I'm just about to write it, when I freeze in place.

… This whole thing is about new beginnings, isn't it? A new me. A brand new start.

There's no reason for me to use the name I had in the old world.

Ahh … Well, if I'm free to choose whatever name I want, then it's gotta be …

Let's see …

I'm a fan of Hype-rbolic exaggerations. And I really quite enjoy the shape of mathematical Hype-rbolas. Many have called me Hype-ractive before. And I most definitely have Hype-rsenstivity when it comes to being knocked out cold by cast-iron skillets.

… So with all that in mind, there can only be one logical name I can choose.

And that name is—

"—Odysseus Parthanopolous!!!" I declare, boldly, the pen in my hand pointed straight up to the sky, my eyes aflame with a renewed optimism I haven't felt in a long time.

Yes, that's right. I've gone and named myself after my favorite video game character, from that classic JRPG series. (You know the one.) He's the main hero. The guy who defies all odds to bring down the cosmic terrors that threaten the planet, together with his unlikely group of plucky misfits.

Which is exactly what I intend to do—except instead of fighting horrors beyond human comprehension, I will stop at nothing to take down this corrupt bureaucracy, this broken system that perpetuates the creative stagnation that plagues the entire industry.

In short? … I will take down the isekai-industrial complex—from the inside! I've already made it my life's goal. (I mean, okay, technically, I'm dead, but … You know what I'm trying to say.)

I hand back the filled-out form, grinning determinedly, knowing full well that I will never accept whatever world L.I.M.B.O. decides for me.

The goddess look at the form, and raises an eyebrow. She files the paper away. She informs me in a monotone voice that she'll let me know when there's an opening for me. (Pfft, yeah, don't bother, I think to myself.) Then she presses a button, and calls for the next person in line.

I turn back to Jessica. She's still smiling, like she always is.

"Well," she says, "now that we've gotten that out of the way. Why don't I show you around the premises …" Her eyes widen, an odd glint in her eye. "… Odd-kun?"

My nostrils flare. My eye twitches again.

… What'd she just call me?