ANNUAL LEAVE - PART I

“I guess I’ve just always been interested in people...”

Meganie and I indulge in small talk as we meander around the streets of a magical world in twilight afterglow. Specks of light afloat upon the breeze – like candle flames without wicks – paint the town in a low blush, complimenting the sunset.

“...they all have their own stories that I can learn from and maybe...”

It’s a picturesque place. No science to speak of, but probably my home-world’s level of technological advancement, entirely through magic. Foxfire is far more romantic than street-lights, afterall.

“...I’ll find what I want to do with my life through someone else...” I trail off, keeping the ‘I hope’ quiet.

Whether through their example as a person, or what they have done in their own lives – as a friend, lover, mentor, or whatever – I try to find something in it I could dedicate myself to. All I do is search for purpose and find nothing but flitting interest and shallow connection.

Something of the silent part must have made it out loud, as a little warmth and pressure wraps itself around my arm.

Meganie, entwining herself about me with both hands, from my fingers to my shoulder, brings a small smile to my lips.

Something pained, but still affectionate.

We bask in the ethereal luminescence and sail on. Like we’re a couple moving through a scene of soft focus and filtered moonbeams in a dated romance or fantasy movie. That’s just how this world likes their night light.

A soft tug on my arm brings me out of my reveries. “I think this is it.” Meganie looks up at me and then to the storefront I would completely missed while daydreaming.

It seems like a pawnshop.

Some odds and ends place full of curios.

Maybe even tourist tat as far as that exists here.

As we enter, I am hit with that musty old bookstore smell, along with something else… down boy!

“Are they incubating media?”

What did she just say?

“What did you just say?” Meganie shrugs at my question as if the answer is obvious. I'm stumped.

How bad is my sense of smell if I couldn’t notice lab chemicals?

They’d be so out of place here for starters, unless there’s potion equipment somewhere that has a similar scent. I’m not picking up anything on the meaty, malty, beery, bready, end of the scale.

Maybe there's a bakers or brewers nearby?

The shopkeeper, noticing our confused sniffing, nods at what looks like a miniature rock garden, a pile at one end and a basin at the other, with this tiny trickle of a waterfall running down between.

“Is that a humidifier?” it looks like it, but the smell I’m getting… let’s just say it’s less laboratory and more lewd.

As if that tiny stream were source enough to emit such an intensely concentrated odour of stale paper, loose bindings, and something bittersweet... as if those scents could be distilled at all!

Yet, there it is, a babbling brook over palm top boulders, that smells of old books and-

“Keen eye, or should I say nose!” the seller winks at us and leans over the counter, “Rather than having to change your incense or candles round t’house whenever you’re sick of a scent, this little beauty combines water sprites and sensory magic to allow you to smell whatever it is you think would be best for that time and place.” He goes off on his salesman’s patter while we stand like deer in headlights.

As I inspect the scent stones more intently – I don’t know whether it was just the shopkeeper’s pitch having an affect on me, some aspect of the illusion spells at play, or there’s something cast upon the store to amplify the allure of the items within – I swear I can see the shape of almost humanoid forms dancing atop the water.

They certainly got what I'm hankering for right-

Meganie bumps into the corner of a table and I become conscious of her again.

I shoot her a smile and an apology to the salesperson for her rattling things. Nothing is broken, so no harm no foul, but it doesn’t hurt to be polite.

We potter about and take in the wares, being subjected to further in-person infomercials about this or that magical item.

I would have bought a couple of things had the shopkeep not noticed and gone into a spiel about the less savoury ones as audibly as the others. Like, how they’re allowed to sell peering shards, but you can still get fined if you’re caught with one in public, on account of them letting you see through clothing and other light materials. Seems they were designed for checking the contents of parcels or body searches at events, but my intent has already been legislated against.

Meganie scowls as soon as she hears and I put the magic crystal back on the table and walk away with a whistle… hand gesturing to the seller I’ll take two and to be quiet about it this time.

The place is filled with novelty items like fabric dissolver, or body part enhancement potions – cough cough – but after might have been a couple of hours of wasting the salesperson’s time, he shoos us out to be able to lock up.

We resolve to come back in the morning and root around some more, much to his chagrin I’m sure, but it’s a big shop full of lots of stuff, including several junk displays.

“At least we know where it is and no one knows what it is.” I try to look on the bright side, as I would have preferred to have all of tomorrow to give Meganie my complete attention, but alas the fates have decided otherwise.

“It’s ok,” Meganie links back in at my side, “you’ll just have to make it up to me.”

Like that isn’t the purpose of all of this?!.

An easy retrieval mission is basically the perfect cover for getting away for a couple of days.

I don’t know if it’s frowned upon, as we can technically take vacation whenever, so there’s not really a need to supplement our time off, it just doesn’t sit right with me when we can do a working holiday and remain at least a little productive. That and you’re stuck in the Returns Agency if you take annual leave… can’t have long dead heroes wandering the multiverse just for kicks, now can we.

Hell, it’s not like we get paid, other than expenses. Speaking of which, “Well, I’m sure you’ll hate it, but I managed to forge reservations at a fancy restaurant. Had a drone nip in and amend the books.”

Honestly quite proud of myself that I’m getting more confident with some of the tech we have at our disposal.

Meganie isn’t the best teacher, she gets too enthusiastic in her explanations and too frustrated when you don’t pick things up instantly. However, she’s only been openly feeling things for the first time these past few months in her century long second life, so getting used to controlling those emotions will take time.

“Well done!” she smiles with obvious glee, almost a smugness smearing her lips, tugging at the corners of her eyes, “Only took you a year.”

The whiplash on its own could have killed me.

Let alone how much my heart expanded with elation, then had all the joy crushed out of it at once.

An explosion turning into an implosion far more devastating.

She stretched on tiptoe to kiss me on the cheek.

A girlish giggle in her throat.

I’ve created a monster...

The restaurant is almost a theatre, magic used in the most ingenious ways to prepare dishes that almost defy description.

Some of it, I assume, is sensory trickery. Similar to the water sprite fountain effectively casting illusion magic on your olfactory system, but affecting your ability taste as well as smell.

It’s gimmicky, but delightful, like an adult theme-park for the senses.

The changing scenery and architecture, the floating lights and personal fireworks displays, even your cutlery and crockery attuning itself to your preferences.

Everything shifts to match a course down to what material they should appear to be, whether that should meet your expectations in weight and texture or defy them, if they should clatter as normal, make a more pleasing Skinner box tinkle like in a game, or cause no sound at all so to not distract from the dish’s contents.

Truly baffling levels of thought have gone into every detail... the food could be literal clods of clay with runes wrought in them to fill my mouth, nose, and eyes with whatever they wish to perceive, separately or combined, and I would still shovel it down while grinning like a loon.

Meganie, unsurprisingly, is just as enamoured.

In fact, she may even be having more fun than myself. Her scientific mind has taken over, so every aspect of every sight, sound, and smell needs investigating.

“Put that away!” I hushedly prevent her from placing a portable analyser on the table – portable in that it is only the size of a large handbag that folds out with various screens and devices for a whole range of laboratory purposes – so as not to blow our cover with something that would stand out like a sore thumb... like a mecha in a mascot parade, “Just enjoy the experience!”

I must sound like a parent scolding their child... or a sugar daddy-

My companion looks forlorn, my ruining her way of having fun, so I capitulate and meet her in the middle, “Anie, here... take samples.” I’d picked her up a little souvenir earlier, but was waiting for later to present it.

“It’s a Case of Containing, anything you put inside gets its own little pocket dimension. Airtight stasis magic for whatever you can shove through the lid.”

After rattling off a condensed version of the description I’d been forced to endure until I could buy the damn thing – I already understood the concept, if not the specifics, from my parents forcing fantasy crap on me as a kid – Meganie’s eyes widen alarmingly.

She makes grabby hands like a child across the table, even shunting it a little with her torso as she leans.

Surprisingly, it doesn’t make a sound as it scrapes against the floor with each of her jolts, but that’s just the ambiance spells at work. Keeping everything calm.

The remainder of the meal is spent as if she had a dog under the table, for every other bite there is a third that is dropped into the case.

Her childish delight infectious.

Cost a fair bit, and we annoyed the shopkeeper by browsing for so long, but “Thank you, Ken.” Meganie and I reconnecting once more is priceless.

Worth it-

BANG! BANG! BANG!

“Nobody move!”

The doors to the restaurant are blasted open, their magic seal negated by three rounds of hot lead.

Oh god damn it!

“This is a robbery!”

A dishevelled looking guy stands in the entryway, eyes wild with adrenaline and the power in his hands.

He points a gun up and down the room at the scared and confused staff and guests. No one knows what a gun is in this world. All they comprehend is that some random dude has defeated high end security magic with a bent wand.

I just have to hope no one tries to be a hero.

Meganie eyes me expectantly... encouragingly... Oh shiiiiiiii-

“If you insist,” I slowly stand from the table, “but now we’re even!”

She nods and goes to checking her luggage for anything that might be of use.

I’m the hero… it me.