22 - Advent Rising (3)

For the next few weeks, Advent continues to do meaningless busywork, as I assign her more and more things to do.

And you know, I'd feel bad for making her do stuff like count all the bathroom tiles in L.I.M.B.O., or take a stack of her own reports back and forth across Point Parallax every day for no reason, but she kind of enjoys it.

I guess she enjoys roleplaying as an office lady, dressed in her business attire.

She's even taken to acting grouchy in the morning—it's more cute than anything, really—and telling the club members to not bother her until she's had her coffee. (Then when she takes a sip, she makes a face, trying to pretend she doesn't find it too bitter. … Even though she's already added enough sugar to give a horse diabetes.)

In fact, she likes the LARP so much that our club room grows more office-like, day by day. She sets up dividers on our club room table, so that it's kinda like those shared open-office plans you see in Japanese AV—I mean, perfectly normal non-erotic workplace dramas, and she's set up potted plants along the windows. There's also the classic "Hang in there!" poster with the kitten on the clothesline, and an inspirational quote-of-the-day calendar, which doesn't really keep track of the days accurately, since even now I'm not entirely sure how time works in Point Parallax.

We've even got some filing cabinets, filled with reports nobody will ever read. Also, she's taken some swivel chairs from the goddesses, and replaced our old chairs with them. (… Did she even get permission from Jessica? Oh, man, I might have to take the heat for her on that one.)

Let's see … What else? We've also got highlighters and pens in mugs, we've got rubber stamps and hole punchers and paperclip dispensers.

Advent even took to making us a plaque to hang on the club room door, declaring proudly to anyone who walks by, that this is the:

ISEKAI WAITING CLUB

So I guess it's not a temporary name anymore, now. It's official.

Right now it's another lazy day (at least for the regular club members—Advent is busy going back and forth, still occasionally tripping on things and somehow killing us in the process), and I've got my head down on the table, the late afternoon sun making me drowsy.

I can barely keep my eyes open anymore.

Around me, I hear Valerie and Alex arguing over something stupid.

Sunny and Moeka are playing a fighting game on the CRT.

Advent's filing papers, or something.

The last thing I see, before I close my eyes, is the sight of the club room door, opened inwards, and the placard sign nailed to it.

My club.

Our club.

As I drift off, a smile forms on my face.

Alex … Valerie …

Sunny, Moeka …

… And now, Advent …

I haven't felt like this since I was a kid.

Letting the days go by, hanging out with my—… Well, let's just say it out loud: my friends.

… Is it okay, for us to spend our days like this, so carefree?

… Can this really last forever?

… Is it okay, for me to be this happy?

"… Zzzz …"

*

I open my eyes.

The central air conditioning clicks on above me. Hum of the fluorescent lights.

I lift my head up from my desk, my neck sore.

Ugh, must've fallen asleep.

I look around the office, at the other cubicles.

Empty.

Shit, did everyone leave already?

I rub my eyes. The setting sun outside fills the office floor with an orange tint.

Then, I hear voices from down the hallway, getting closer.

Oh, good—they're still here.

Alex and Valerie come into view, holding cups of fresh coffee from the kitchenette.

"Well, well—look who's finally up," teases Alex.

"Morning, sleepyhead!~" sings Valerie.

"Why didn't you guys wake me?" I ask.

"You needed a break, dude," says Alex. "We've been going at The Project for an entire weekend. You're gonna burn out."

"I'm way past burnout," I scoff. "We passed that long ago."

Somebody's phone rings. It's Alex's. He picks up.

"Hello? … Yup, sounds good. … Okay, okay—I'll come get you." He hangs up, and informs us, "It's Moeka. She's downstairs with the bentos."

Valerie does a little dance. "Yay! Nothing like comp'd dinner!"

I roll my eyes. "Free dinner is the least the company can do for us, if they want us working every weekend."

Valerie's still dancing. "Jeez … Somebody's Mr Grouchy today!"

"He's Mr Grouchy every day," says Alex, as he moves to the elevators, to meet Moeka downstairs.

Once he's disappeared from view, we hear: "… Oh, hey, Sunny!"

"Good evening, Mr Alex," replies Sunny, the janitor, as he continues mopping the floor in the elevator lobby. They chat for a bit, their small talk indistinct. The elevator dings.

I turn back to Valerie. "Hey—wait. Where's Addy?"

"Uhh … The printer room, I think? Last I saw her, she was struggling to replace the toner."

And just as soon as Valerie says that, I see Addy turn the corner, a huge stack of papers in her hand. Tears in her eyes. A huge … black spot (!?) on her blouse, as if something blew up in front of her.

"Guys … Guys! The printer! …"

Valerie and I look at her in alarm. "… What's wrong?"

"IT WON'T STOP PRINTING! AND THE TONER EXPLODED! AND THE PAPER KEEPS JAMMING!"

She's full-on bawling now.

Valerie and I exchange looks. We can't help but smile—Addy is always getting into strange situations like this.

We go and comfort her, pat her on the shoulder.

"There, there …" I say.

"We're going to have food soon, okay?" says Valerie. "Donmai, Addy-chan …"

Looks like it's gonna be a long night in the office.

… But what else is new?

That's just our normal, everyday working life here, in our office building of Parallax Plaza.