05 - A Tour of L.I.M.B.O.

The two of us exit the Waiting Room, and Jessica proceeds to lead me down the non-descript hallways of L.I.M.B.O., pointing out various rooms of interest.

It's a bland-looking building. Pretty much like any government office building. Or at least what I imagine those to be like. I dunno, I've never worked for the public sector before.

My office in the old world actually wasn't that bad, I gotta admit. One of the few perks of the job. Newly-constructed building. Sleek and stylish exterior. Massage chairs, ping pong tables, nap pods. Free snacks. (… Of course, none of that kept me from literally dying at my desk—but hey, at least the recruitment page photos looked hip and modern!)

"… Did you get all that, Odd-kun?"

"Huh?" I look up. "No. No, I, uh—I wasn't listening, actually."

"Thinking about your old life, huh?"

Dammit. You know, I still can't tell whether or not she can legitimately read my mind. Do I even have privacy of thought here in L.I.M.B.O.!?

"No," I lie. "I was thinking about, uh—you know that scene? In D*e H*rd 3? When they have to solve that puzzle with the water gallons? A-and I was thinking how funny it would be, if they accidentally drop the jug and it falls into the sewer or something, and then Br*ce W*llis says, 'Aw, shit, I lost my gallons!' … Or something like that."

Jessica simply stares back with her corporate smile.

(… Damn, that tangent would've instantly vaporized a tsukkomi of lesser self-control. … B-but then again, if she's not biting at anything I throw out there, can I even really call her a tsukkomi in the first place!? … I wonder how much dumber I have to go before I get a proper retort. My brain cells genuinely might not survive L.I.M.B.O., this goes on any longer.)

She says, bypassing my dumbass-ery completely, "… It's okay, you know, if you find your head occupied with thoughts of your old life. It's not unusual for the protagonists here. You're only human, after all."

Wait, is she—is she being … nice to me? I can't tell with that fake smile.

Well, if she knows what's best for her, she'd better not be.

We've already established well enough that the slightest amount of positive female attention almost immediately conjures up within me severely romantic delusions. Or, uh, severely delusional romances. Or, uh—whatever.

… Man, I've got fucking issues. (Sad News: I have no intentions of bettering myself.)

We move on.

She introduces me to the library (I gag dramatically, to express my disdain); and then the gym (I stick my finger in my mouth, to further demonstrate my disgust); and also the common area where protagonists sit and socialize (I stick my finger a bit too far in this time, and accidentally vomit all over the hallway).

"And this here's the cafeteria," gestures Jessica, completely unfazed, to a large hall that looks like any generic cafeteria out of a school anime. I see a few scattered protags eating at tables. I wonder if they serve meatloaf here.

"Do we, uh—Do I still need to eat?" I ask, wiping my mouth.

"'Need' to? No, perhaps not, metabolically speaking. But it helps with feeling … normal. In a place like this."

I tilt my head in confusion. I actually don't know what she means. (And I'm not just playing dumb this time.)

She explains, "Doing the things that make you human … It helps you hold on to your humanity. Routine. Habits. The everyday, mundane things you take for granted. They anchor you to yourself. It's sorta like …" She thinks for a bit. "It's like … hypothetically, even if you were nothing but a brain in a jar, you'd would still want the feeling of a normal body to be simulated, right? Normal sensations. Taste of food. The feeling of your feet on the floor."

My face turns ghostly pale. My knees tremble. "Y-y-you want to turn me into a brain in a jar?"

Jessica just smiles. (Hey, you know what—maybe this is just her version of a proper tsukkomi retort. Ehh … I guess I can live with that. I guess.)

Then she answers, "U-fu-fu, you're so funny, Odd-kun. But I wouldn't dream of doing something like that to you. (… Yet.) I was merely giving an example, for illustrative purposes. … And besides, the last time I tried it, we ended up losing the brain. They're fairly slippery."

With the back of my hand, I mime slapping her in the stomach. (I don't dare to actually touch her.) "IF IT'S JUST AN EXAMPLE, THEN DON'T PICK SUCH A WEIRD ANALOGY!"

Then I mime slapping her in the stomach, again. "YOU'RE TELLING ME YOU'VE DONE THIS BEFORE!?"

I follow that up with another … well, you get the idea. "AND WHAT DO YOU MEAN BY, 'YET'! … NANDEYANEN!"

… Holy f-u-c-k.

She somehow managed to get three tsukkomis out of me. … I wasn't even aware I was doing it!

How the fuck does she do this? What is the secret to her power!?

"Hu-fu-fu, Odd-kun," she giggles, "for people unfamiliar with manzai style comedy, this chapter basically makes no sense so far."

Aww, dammit, now she's going full self-aware meta mode. That was my thing! It's like, I don't even know what purpose I serve anymore. I've never felt so emasculated. … Which is quite the feat, given all the stuff I've mentioned so far regarding my past life.

We move on.

We walk by a row of windows overlooking the courtyard below.

I look out, at the various protagonists going about their day. I stop and watch them for a while.

Eventually Jessica says to me, "They're all like you, ya know."

"… What? Isekai haters?"

She smiles. "Protagonists in wating."

I don't say anything.

"Some people aren't merely waiting for an available world to open up. Some are here because they're simply not ready to move on to the next world. Still unsure about who they are. Those that wish to find out first, before starting a new life."

"… That's not why I'm here," I grumble. "I'm just … sick of the genre. That's all."

Jessica giggles. "Is that so?"

I don't respond. I continue watching the protagonists outside the window, in silence.

After a while, something interesting catches my eye. I gasp. "Are those—is that a goblin!? A-and … that's an elf! And over there!" I point to a hulking figure. "… A giant!?"

"(Ara … Actually that last one is just Fred. And he's very conscious about his size.)"

I turn to Jessica, still pointing outside. "What's the meaning of this, woman!? Are you telling me all those different fantasy races are real!? And they're waiting to reincarnate, just like me and the other humans!? What are the lore and worldbuilding implications of this!"

"Ah … Well, why don't we go outside? It'd be easier to explain there," suggests Jessica.

"Uh … Yeah, sure," I shrug. "Where's the main entrance?"

"Ara," she says. "There are no doors to the outside, Odd-kun. There's only one way out."

From behind her back, she slides out an aluminum baseball bat.

I tug at the collar of my vomit-splattered shirt. "Y-you know what? I'm actually good. I don't really need to see the outsi—"

But it's too late.

She winds up.

Batter up!!!, I imagine her yelling—just one of the many psychotic delusions brought upon by the misfiring of my synapses, the root cause of which can be attributed to the blunt force trauma she inflicts on my skull, inside which my brain sloshes around until it's the consistency of a finely blended paste.