Chapter 6: Pills

In moments like this, I am thankful that Marina is in such excellent shape, as I quickly land on the 4th floor without breaking a sweat. Experiencing things that weren’t in the game are surprisingly nerve-wracking. I don't know what to expect, is he hurt? Are the bad guys here?

Opening the door to 405 reveals a clean apartment, decorated in gray and beige tones. The furniture looks modern, yet cozy. The place is somewhat in disarray, though, with random items clearly out of place; sofa pillows are strewn across the floor, a couple of tissue boxes are overturned, assorted blister packs of various sizes containing differently-colored pills are spread on the kitchen table.

A red-faced Elliot is hunched over, arms supporting his weight on his knees. He seems to be catching his breath next to his kitchen counter. When he sees the door open, he signals for me to come in.

“Are you ok?” I say, running to stand next to him. I rest my hand tentatively on his shoulder and look around; there doesn’t seem to be any immediate danger. I’m just glad he’s ok.

“I’m fine. Just a little out of breath,” He says, straightening his back. He doesn’t seem to mind the contact, but I retract my hand promptly, not wanting to overstay my welcome.

“I can’t find my pills,” He gestures around the mess he made, “I looked everywhere, I swear, but I couldn’t find them. Figured another set of eyes would help.” In his eyes, a silent plea; if we don’t find his medicine, we might be late for our first important assignment.

“Yes, of course. What am I looking for?” I immediately scan the room for any misplaced blister packs.

“It’s a transparent pill bottle, full of yellow pills. It’s the only yellow ones out of all that I take,” He says, restarting the search on his end. He rummages through his kitchen cabinets one by one, hastily.

“Got it. Do you remember where you last saw them?”

“I mean, they should have been with the others… Why aren’t they with the others?” He doesn’t look at me when he speaks, still browsing through his kitchen. I scan the medicines on the table. There’s a worrying amount of them.

“Do you… Do you usually take this many pills, Elliot?”

“Huh? Yeah. It’s no big deal. Focus, Hayes, we need to get out of here soon.” Whether he actually thinks it is a big deal or not is not apparent in his demeanor. He brushes it off easily, returning to his search.

This is what he has to deal with daily, I suppose. No big deal for him, but still a little shocking to actually see it for myself, how he lives his life. I am momentarily struck with a bittersweet feeling of admiration. He’s so hardworking; he pushes himself, never making any excuses, especially not because of his condition. That’s exactly what I’ve always liked about him. Me, on the other hand…

I know I can be a bit flimsy sometimes, I procrastinate and laze around perhaps a bit too much, despite not having any major health concerns. I keep telling myself that I don’t have the luxury of chasing my dreams, there’s no time, no energy left in me after my 9-to-5. I wonder if that’s really the case, or if I’m just rationalizing my inaction.

The intrusive thoughts bum me out as I search through his living room, but I try to distract myself with the fact that, hey, I’m in Elliot’s room. I pick up the pace, searching in between the sofa cushions, underneath a coffee table, at every level of a tall bookshelf.

Searching through Elliot’s house provides a great opportunity to delve deeper into who he is and what he likes, beyond what the game shows. He seems to like reading, his bookshelf full of books whose titles sound oddly familiar: Frankensteen, Dracoula, and Withering Heights. 

The romantic books sit among other, more technical-sounding ones; some seem to be about augmentations and their uses, and some others have titles like ‘The beginner’s guide to handling government-issued weapons’. I assume he got that one at the law-enforcement academy.

Giving up the search in the living room, I step deeper inside the apartment, where I notice a slightly ajar door at the end of a short hallway. “Mind if I step in?” I say, taking a couple of steps into the corridor.

“Knock yourself out,” he says, checking the same kitchen cabinets he already looked through like a madman.

I pass a couple of other doors on the way to the one that caught my attention, taking a mental note to check those out later if needed. I push the door, and the bathroom welcomes me. It’s spotless. The bathroom is comprised of a small sink with storage space under it, a mirror, a toilet bowl, and another door that leads into a shower.

It’s a promising location, with many people putting their pills in the compartment behind the sink mirror, like in the movies. But Elliot’s mirror doesn’t have a compartment behind it. Crap. I quickly search the compartment below the sink and come up empty-handed once again. I don’t relish the idea of getting close to the floor of a bathroom, but we don’t have much time.

I get on my hands and knees and look under the sink shelf. All the way back in the shadows beneath the storage space, sits a clear bottle containing pills of an unidentifiable color. I reach for it as best I can, my hand missing the bottle a couple of times before finally grabbing it.

Now that it’s out of the shadows, upon examining it, I realize that the pills inside the bottle are yellow. The bottle has no labels, but this must be what Elliot’s looking for. Holy shit, I actually found it! I gently remove a couple of tiny dust bunnies that were clinging to it and rush out of the bathroom.

“Elliot!” I snake through the apartment and step next to him in the kitchen. “I found it!” I say as I extend my hand to show him the small bottle.

His eyes widen, and he immediately snatches the bottle from my grasp, “Where did you find them?!” He says as he cradles the bottle close to his chest and takes a deep breath. “I could hug you right now.”

“I wouldn’t mind a hug-” My treacherous mouth betrays me as the words come out faster than my brain can stop them. When I realize I said them with my outside voice instead of my inside voice, I freeze as waves of heat rush to my face unceremoniously.

Oh my god, he must think I’m a creep now. I scan his face for a reaction, but he doesn’t say anything; his expression suggests he seems more confused about the idea of sudden skinship than disgusted. Thank the gods.

“-BUT! We really need to go,” I scramble to get the phone, turning it towards him to show him the time. 6:35 pm. “If we go like, right now, we might yet make it.” I turn awkwardly and exit the apartment without looking back.

As I cross the front door of his place, I swear I can hear a faint chuckle coming from behind me. Did he just… laugh? Ok, maybe he doesn’t think I’m a creep after all. Not wanting to embarrass myself further, I choose not to comment on it as I single-mindedly make my way downstairs.

I exit the building, closely followed by Elliot, and we hurriedly board the car again. Elliot presses a few buttons on the GPS device, and different routes are shown. He cycles through a few of them until he stops at a route that seems to be the most optimal. If we take the highway and a couple of shortcuts, we should arrive at 7:05 pm. Not exactly on time, but not so late that anyone would make a fuss out of it, hopefully.

As the colors of the sunset give way to darkness, we ride in silence once more. Silver City looks even more futuristic at night; bright LED panels and neon signs intertwine with holographic advertisements both at ground level and high up on the tallest skyscrapers. I am mesmerized by the landscape; it looks like something out of a movie. However, the most beautiful sight of all is undoubtedly the man sitting next to me.

As we halt at a stoplight, he looks at me briefly from the corner of his eye, without turning his head. “Sorry about that… I know we almost made ourselves late, but... Thanks.” I can tell he’s trying hard to sound casual, yet his tone reveals a kind of awkward vulnerability.

“Don’t worry about it, let’s just get safely through tonight. You can think about how to make it up to me in the meantime.” I say, lightheartedly, and he smiles. If I could choose, I would definitely ask for that hug.

As I gaze upon his silhouette, I am once again reminded of the fact that he is not a character in a game anymore; he’s a real person now, as real as I am. I look at my hand, the feeling of his shoulder as I comforted him still fresh in my mind. My heart aches for some reason; everything about this situation is so fucked.

This is real, the stakes are real. The outcome of tonight might affect the rest of his future, and then there’s me, playing Marina, with only good intentions and a MeTube tutorial on weapon handling. I really hope I don’t pave the road to hell tonight.