A Fool's Errand - A Person You Don't Understand is A Person (3.00)

Thirdday, Autumn 3rd, 3–…4,372; Morning, 10:52 [3342512370]

I remember the first time we met, so very long ago, right at this moment. A contradictory phrase, I'm aware, but that doesn't make it any less true. Though, I doubt you remember. After all, it is a past long forgotten, with only the wisps seeping through the cracks. An action I must forever atone for.

Back in those days, I was more like you. My clothes were a mismatch of averageness, hiding my naturally good looks behind a facade. Shoulders scrunched, face down, like any other stereotypical shy girl, struggling to get a single word out. A perfect companion, in my mind. Who better to get close to than someone similar?

But unfortunately, you were nothing more than a terrified little doberman. One word sent you crashing to the ground, clutching your heart in a mini-panic attack. You didn't die, but from then on, you remained locked in your room, whittling away until your last breath. I was shocked, to say the least. I couldn't understand why you did that.

"Well yeah? What'd you think would happen?" the annoyance teased. "Someone with such severe trauma can be set off by the tiniest of things. Think back. Didn't you say her ex-friends used to wear the same clothes? That's some harsh mental bullying right there. You're an idiot for not putting two and two together." The way her braided, jet black hair swished from side to side irked me, but I couldn't discount her words.

"Then what should I do next?"

"Easy." she laughed, hopping off the desk. "Not that."

I would've punched her if I could.

Well whatever. Let's try again, back from the beginning.

I switched out my baggy clothes for a crop top and some shorts. Hair and nails dyed with style. My muted personality transformed into a bubbly gyaru, not particularly smart nor stupid. You know, the type that everyone got along with, whether you loved or hated them. Such sociability should've made it easy to get through -- to step around your walls.

And yet, once again, I was mistaken. Granted, you didn't start dying this time. Instead, you would apologize before scurrying away. More often than not, your friend along with her boyfriend did the same, chasing after as your bonds continued to unravel. I was stumped.

"Really? How is that hard to understand?" the annoyance giggled. "A popular girl talking to the class mouse? How else is she going to respond? Sure, you may be sociable, but you're exactly the type of person that would slander her with your words. Well, I get it. Trauma can be extremely hard to deal with. Well, not for me though." The way she said it all while playing a video game pissed me off, but I understood how far out of my depth I was.

"Then what should I do next?" I asked once again.

"Didn't I already tell you?" she raised her eyebrow. "Not that."

I would've set her on fire if I could use magic.

So I tried again. And again. And again. Sometimes, I would partially succeed, but most of the time I spectacularly failed. Trial and error, as they said. Tens turned into hundreds, and hundreds became thousands. Still, I inched closer and closer, ready to continue my "little" errand. Only after eight thousand attempts did I finally understand what I needed to do:

Become a goddess, so far above everyone else that she'd only feel awe while looking at me.

What? Does it seem too long to get it right? Does that sound ridiculous?

Well then, ruminate, for I have a question. A hypothetical, if you will. Though, I'll skip the preamble this time.

What does it mean to sympathize, to empathize with someone else? What does it mean to understand them?

From what I see, people are a menagerie of illogical whims and unreasonable demands. One moment, they're your closest friend, and the next, they turn around like nothing ever happened. Every single word is sprinkled with little white lies, both intentionally and unintentionally. And yet, for some reason, that means you should trust and believe in them. I can't say understand this innate psychology, and I doubt I ever will.

Though, that doesn't mean I never tried to. I have, plenty of times, well before I was restrained by these invisible chains.

It was a simpler life back then. I used to ask all kinds of questions, trying to poke at the heart of what made a person a person. They weren't always honest, but that was nothing a missing leg or arm couldn't fix. Sometimes, I even had to take the head off to help them cool down. Of course, I didn't leave them like that. A quick [Rewind] was all it took to erase any questionable immoralities. No physical side effects either. Though, I should've cleaned up better with the mind -- there were always a few cracks left behind.

Maybe if I did, I wouldn't be forced to play along with this farce.

Ah, but that's enough reminiscing for now. Like I said, it's all incomprehensible to me, not that it matters at the moment. I have an errand to run.

I've already planned, and planned, and planned every movement, every action I must take. Everything from my glistening, dark purple hair to my fashionable school uniform is all in furtherance towards my goal. A precognition born of brute force.

Now, it's almost time. Let me set the scene.

Linx Street is crowded with students walking towards Tona Academy -- towering right at the end of the thoroughfare. All the while, you can hear the nearby conversations, each catching up with one another. Eleanor Blackwell chats with her clique about the 'Tales from the Second Era' episode that aired the previous night. Georgina Johnson and her posse gossip about Eric Smith's public rejection, causing the man himself to run away in tears. As for Rufus Calder and his neanderthals, they're once again trying to air grope my breasts. Well, I am the most beautiful girl in school; even my chest is above average for the era.

And me?

Well, I'm right where I need to be: along the right sidewalk, slightly behind the main pack. All I have to do is stop for a brief moment and...

Bump. Someone runs into me from behind. Well, that's not technically true.

I already know who it is.

"A-ah. S-sorry about th--" Just like the last few times before, Ruya Ainsley instinctively begins to apologize, but the words catch in her throat. Her best friend Anabelle Paige is a few steps behind, with Anabelle's boyfriend Brennan Perdita a bit further back. She looks at my contradiction of illusions with a mix of fear and reverence. Not exactly what I'm going for, but I can make it work. And if not, I'll just do it over again until I get it right. I've already made 3,342,512,370 deviations. What's one more?

Now, show me. What will you do this time?