* New Life, Who 'Dis

*

I was suddenly in my childhood room, sitting atop my bed. The moment was so vivid that it was more than a dream. More than a memory. It was reality. As though I had been transported back in time to a period in my life I had forgotten.

Before me, the boxy television screen revealed a small boy with pointed ears and a green tunic. He swung his sword with expressive grunts and cries as he collected precious gemstones from the grass he trimmed.

Then the screaming started.

I paused the game, moving my eyeline like an alerted rabbit, searching the world for the sound of the threat I knew well. Pivoting my head allowed me to shift my ears around the safe space of my room, a trick I learned to help me avoid the repercussions of my parents' frustration. I knew that if I could tell where they were in the house, I could better hear the argument and be prepared to respond to their unwarranted anger.

Currently, the sound was loudest in the direction of the kitchen on the other side of their large and echoey home. It was only faintly possible to hear what they were saying, but it seemed that one of my older brothers had done something to disappoint them again.

I could tell that Mom was furious, her voice always carrying the most between her and Dad. But then, after a burst of shouts, the argument quieted. Harsh words were replaced with Dad's heavy footfalls coming down the hallway.

I quickly jumped from the bed, turned off the video game console, and slid the controller behind the family picture I had to keep on my desk. Having just hidden away the evidence that I had been enjoying a quiet moment to myself, Dad threw my door open and screamed at me for being locked away in my room. Whatever my brothers had done, I had once again caught the parental aggro from my corner of the house.

He approached me, hand raised. I flinched.

—ooo—

I awoke with a start, sitting up in an unfamiliar bed, my head twitching to investigate the space. No longer in my childhood home nor my apartment bedroom, I was somewhere else.

“Gyahh—what the fug?” I gasped, grabbing at my racing heart.

Anxiety gripped my mind as thoughts swirled around. It was as though I had experienced the moment for the first time. Remembering something buried deep down inside of me that I had locked in a chest at the bottom of a dungeon behind an impenetrable wall.

I latched my trembling hands together and pulled them to my chest. Closing my eyes, I tried to calm myself through shaky breaths.

What was that? I thought to myself, thinking about the vivid dream—no, the memory. Why did I—why was that…? Phyllis?

Inhaling deeply, I exhaled a hiss of air and began to slow my vibrating body. As I did, everything started to come back to me, piece by piece. I remembered the moments before coming to Esseria, locked in my room. I had been sad, depressed, and lonely. But I couldn't remember why. There was the faint recollection of looking at a picture turned down, covered in dust. Yet, when I tried to think about it, I drew a blank as to who was in the frame. Nothing but blur came to mind. 

Then there was the sound of a truck coming through the wall, and I was in Phyllis's Mall Dimension. I was in the body of a Kalish, equally blessed and cursed with reliving memories of past lives.

"Was that—?" I mumbled to myself. "A memory? Of mine?—No...of Tahvin's. I shouldn't have had that. Kalish or not, I had a contract with Phyllis to block—"

Even thinking of what could be locked away in my mind with Phyllis's help sent a shiver down my spine. I couldn't recall what I didn't want to remember, and it terrified me. To think that every time I closed my eyes, those thoughts could slide back into my mind to torment me. With a grip of my chest, I began to slow my yet again racing heart with calming breaths. I could recall that I was used to nightmares, most of them a blur, but that moment had been different. That was too real.

Finally, with a heavy sigh, I regained enough of my faculties to begin looking around and inspecting my surroundings. 

I was currently in a small studio apartment, no bigger than the bedroom I had been isekai'd from. Much like a peaceful space I recalled from my teen years, the walls were adorned with game posters from all my favourites. I eyed the super soldier in green armour and a blocky rifle from the game Horns: Conflict Adapted. Near it, a retro-futuristic pinup model with a laser pistol pushing a brand of special cola from Rad Sickness. Finally, on an adjacent wall, a floating, multi-eyed monster was chasing down a trio of terrified adventurers, a popular image from the tabletop game Kaverns and Kobolds.

Seeing the posters brought me joy and a pleasant sense of nostalgia, but nerdware wasn’t the only thing present in the space. It was filled with plenty of bobbles, figurines, and tchotchkes from World Eighty-Two. Set into the walls were bookshelves filled with various tomes and potted plants drooping their limp leaves over the headboard of a bed that took up the majority of the room. Then, beside that was a single desk with a window above it revealing rolling hills of amber set in early-morning light.

Reaching over, I touched the knob at the bottom of the wooden frame. With a flicker, the image beyond the window changed, and rain splashed against the darkened panes of glass that now overlooked an underground, noir cityscape. I leaned in closer, pressing my face to the cool surface, looking out at buildings constructed into towering stalagmites and the flashing of lights as old-world vehicles moved quickly across meandering highways that dangled haphazardly from cables.

What the hell? I thought as I looked through the glass. 

Tapping the knob again, the image shifted once more to an endless, sandy desert.

“Do you like it?” Phyllis's voice spoke up from across the room.

“Whaa—” I gasped audibly as I quickly shifted towards the figure looming in the corner of the room.

Phyllis stood in front of the door leading away from this dwelling, where she smirked before walking towards me slowly. The walker I had initially seen her with had been replaced by a cane that was, in fact, a magical musket—maybe more of a shotgun—from a bygone age.

How very Chekhov-esque… I thought to myself, wondering if I was destined to go the way of the pheasant in her presence one day.

“Phyllis, where am I?”

“Your room, obviously. Well, the room that the bowl of scrambled eggs you call a brain wanted. This is where you’ll sleep while I own you—I mean, umm, while you’re still poor and under my employ. So don’t worry about getting rich too quickly!”

I looked around the space once more with this new understanding, and I could suddenly see it. The bookshelves I had noticed were filled with my favourite textbooks, light novels, and epics. Though upon grabbing one and inspecting it, I soon realized that the text written between the sheets read like a bad fanfic regurgitated by TalkGPT, loosely resembling how my mind had remembered the stories. Closing the bastardization of the classic, The Cunt on Monty Santo, I moved towards the early 2000s-style disc storage towers. These were loaded with cases of my favourite movies and bands, which I was excited to have at my disposal. Yet, as with the books, upon closer inspection, I found poorly generated A.I. cover art and scrambled song titles on the back.

"Ah, my favourite artists...Three Eyed Bard, and The Goop Goop Rags." I sarcastically muttered to Phyllis as I slipped the cases back into place before continuing to wander the space. "You really cut corners, huh? I mean, what the fug even is this?"

Taking hold of a movie, I quickly extended the red-ray disc case of 2021: A Splace Odysseusus to Phyllis. She snatched it from my hand without question and inspected it.

"Not my fault you drank and smoked yourself stupid." She shrugged, tossing the object onto the bed. "I only had blurry clips to work with, so I used the ol'faithful Generative Phyllis Translator to fill in the gaps. You'll find them better this way."

With a shake of my head, I wandered to the desk space that had been built into the wall under the window. It had been tailored towards my preference for LoFi realness, set with plants, a lamp, and plenty of ink and parchment. It was ideal for those lonely nights of moping that I normally enjoyed. A computer would have been better, but the idea of Phyllis replicating that from my memory was a scary thought.

"Speaking of my mind. I had a trauma dream, Phyllis." I casually asked, continuing my inspection of the room. "What the fug was up with that? I thought—"

"I know, I know—" She interrupted. "But listen here! Before you get all pissy-poo-poo with me. The memories are locked away. It's simply the fact that you being a Kalish kind of forces those things out. No way around that. You don't have to live with the trauma, but if your body deems it necessary, they're going to come out. So, just...I don't know—don't do anything that reminds you of traumatic shit!"

"How am I supposed to know what that is if I can't remember the traumatic shit to begin with?"

"That seems like a you problem! Look behind the pin-up girl poster. I gave you a welcoming present."

Glancing at the lich suspiciously, I walked over to the poster. Peeling it away, I reveal a secret mini-wet bar already stocked with a dozen bottles of local liquors and a pack of prerolled fyreleaf cigarettes—this world's version of a familiar World Eighty-Two psychoactive depressant.

“Awk!” I gasped pleasantly as I reached in and withdrew one of the bottles.

“Yeah, this space is pretty…c-cool?” Phyllis stammered. "Right?"

“What?” I turned back to her. "What's wrong with the room you created for me?"

“Well, since it's from your mind, it’s giving—hmm, what's the best way to put this…living in mom’s attic? Umm, failure to launch? Oh, oh, oh, what’s that word that means you don’t fug because you can’t get any. Something-CEL?”

“Gah!” I growled, looking away from her, thinking to myself for a moment.

That hit hard, deep in my soul. Wait—I don’t have one anymore, right?

“Phyllis! It’s not that bad—” I finally replied, only to be cut off as she slid open the second of two doors in my tiny apartment, revealing an even smaller bathroom.

“Look, I made the shower have lights that strobe different colours and made sure the drain was large enough, so it doesn’t clog with your excessive ejac—”

“Okay, enough.”

“Oh, don’t be so sensitive—oh crap, that’s what your mommy used to tell you." She grinned deviously. "Triggered much? Don't dream about it!”

I suddenly remembered the wording of the contract I had signed, giving Phyllis the right to do with my traumatic memories as she wished. Meaning, she knew everything about me that I had forgotten.

Ah, shit. The scrawly, little lich!

“Phyllis!” I yelled at her.

“Mwahahahaha—” She cackled as she disappeared in a burst of pink sparkles, her voice lingering for a second longer. “Gotta go! Customers are coming in. Lotion and tissues are in the desk drawer—don’t hermit too long or you’ll go blind.”

Then, just like that, I was left alone in my dream room, which gradually felt more like a shrine to a me that was dead. And, with every passing second, the more I thought about it, the space began to feel like a prison.

I don’t think I want to be in here right now. I finally thought, hopping from my bed to escape the room and begin my journey in the world beyond.