Busy Room

The physical benefits of weight training weren’t a mystery, but the mental benefits brought me true joy: A crisp and addictive cocktail of purpose, endorphins, and tangible results. Though, in this happiness, I desired more. I didn’t know what “more” constituted, but I wanted it. Running? True, it might’ve been nice to leave the one-room apartment and go for a jog. I wanted it for vanity, to show people my new body and the confidence it brought.

On the other hand, it might’ve been faulty confidence. If I stepped outside, it was equally likely I’d regress. My muscles would be on my skeleton but I’d be numb to them.

The scrutinising eyes of the public didn’t care about muscles. They cared about results. What had I achieved? I’d achieved a set of great muscles. But who cared about muscles? The world wanted purposeful action. I’d found purpose in my muscles. So what? Society and humanity and reality itself called for successive change: Metamorphosis of the world around you.

In the eyes of the majority, muscles had no intrinsic value unless they were being used for manual labour, saving someone, or modelling gigs. I had the tools but not the job. After Junko dealt with the rogue Americans and helped me leave the pocket dimension, what was my next step?

Junko would help. Yet, my mind kept drifting to that other girl, Hasegawa Rina. If Junko was classically beautiful, Hasegawa was the model of Luminary Decadence. For the ignorant: Shortly before the Hive Virus wiped out the android population, there was a rising subculture of youths dedicated to light-based aestheticism. Clothes with neon accents, shining hair, reflective accessories, chrome-toed boots, etc. 

Forget her, I told myself.

I trained to let my primordial lizard brain assume control. Lift heavy rock, make sad head voice quiet. Still not quiet? Lift heavy rock again. Oonga boonga. Sweat good. Sweat mean working hard. Working hard good. Working hard mean useful human. Useful human good. Useful human mean—

Shit, I thought. Rational thoughts were cracking through the lizard brain. I needed to regress. Lift heavier rock, make sad head voice quiet. Quiet! Quiet!

I should’ve focused on the practicality of wanting to jog. It would’ve helped my endurance, which lagged behind my strength, which in turn proved an issue when the Fulcrum rattled more than a few times in succession. When that happened, my strength slackened, grip weakened, and my vision grew unsteady. Once, the Fulcrum rattled for nearly ten minutes straight. When it stopped, all the blood in my head was elsewhere; I stood, saw nothing but brightness, and passed out for a second.

But, as I said, there wasn’t much space to jog.

As I finished a set of weighted pull-ups, I heard an odd grinding sound. It came from the walls. The ceiling and floors, too. It sounded like someone used a mortar and pestle. The volume increased. The mortar and pestle became a sawmill. Every surface of the room moved inward. The room got smaller. I knew Junko could remove rooms to increase her telekinetic power, but I didn’t know modification was possible.

I hopped over falling books and shifting weights to stand in the middle of the room. It’ll stop soon, I thought. Any second now. My barbell touched two walls, ground against them, and the pressure flicked it out of the rack. I ducked as the heavy steel spun overhead and landed beside me. ‘Junko!’ I yelled, as if she could hear me. What would happen if it didn’t stop? Was it like an adventure movie, with the walls crushing intruders? Was I about to—

The grinding halted. My apartment had transformed into a sizeable walk-in wardrobe. I stood, stunned amongst the wreckage of fallen books and disorderly weights. I stared, unsure even how to clean my—well, it wasn’t really an apartment anymore. My room? My closet? My coffin?

In a few minutes, the door opened. Junko crushed books underfoot and found a clear spot in the corner. ‘Sorry about this,’ she said. ‘It’s temporary, so don’t worry about living like this.’ She had bloodshot eyes and wore a trench coat. Must’ve been a long day.

I exhaled. ‘Was this really necessary?’

‘The person getting shot at decides what’s necessary.’ Her expression lightened. ‘But, good news, I’m closing in on the enemy. Shouldn’t be long until I find—’ Junko paused, craned her head, and sniffed. She whirled to me. ‘What happened?’

‘What do you mean?’

‘Someone was here.’ Junko ran her hands across the walls.

‘N-No…’ But, Junko would see through the lie. ‘Well, yes, another Conduit got in, but I scared them off.’ She didn’t look proud like I’d hoped.

‘Who were they?’

‘I don’t know.’

‘They didn’t tell you their name?’

I busied myself with the dumbbells at my feet. ‘I scared her off before she had the chance.’

‘She?’

‘Um. Yeah. It was a girl.’

‘What did she look like?’

‘Ordinary,’ I replied.

‘That’s all?’ Junko stared at me, arms crossed. I pretended not to notice. After tense seconds, she ran a hand through her hair. ‘Okay. I warned you about other Conduits. If one found you, more might follow.’

‘Got it.’

‘Keep training. We’re almost done.’ Before leaving, Junko tossed me a bag of pre-cooked chicken breasts and broccoli.

I had trouble eating, given the mess. There was no choice but to toss stuff out. I filtered my belongings. The computer and desk were useless, so I tossed those into the void. Next, the bookshelves and old manga volumes. My new strength made most of the lighter dumbbells redundant, so out they went. The items floated away in the void until the darkness consumed them. What remained was my futon, squat rack, barbell, steel plates, and a few boxes of books and manga.

It’s temporary, I assured myself, before going to sleep.

#

As usual, Junko was right. More Conduits intruded.

The first Conduit intruder was a man whose head almost scraped the ceiling. He wore a khaki tank top and perversely short shorts. His close-cropped hair and goatee left an impression of coarseness. His eyes told me his intent before his mouth did. ‘Work for me,’ he said. I declined, for behind the words lingered the tacit: Work for me, or else.

Sure enough, he lunged. Despite his larger frame, he didn’t have an advantage. The tight space let me manoeuvre around him. I wrapped my arms around his waist and pulled him toward the door, but his elbow caught my nose. Bone cracked and blood spilled. I had to breathe through my mouth. We struggled for another minute, before he gave up and fled.

My nose was definitely broken, but it healed within the hour. Not to say it didn’t hurt.

The second Conduit intruder was a young man. He had a weird gait, flaming red hair, and a scar above his left eye. Rather than attack, he rambled about how the nation’s various political factions were being controlled by genetically-modified crows. The crows, he suggested, nestled in a politician’s hair and flattened into a sort of toupee. When his rant finished, he sneezed in my face, and then left.

The third and last intruder was a woman. Thirties, maybe. She sauntered inside and slipped off a pink negligee of soft satin. Then she unhooked her bra and—

Cutting a short story shorter, she left unsatisfied in more ways than one.

There was less time to train or read. The anxiety of waiting for new intruders left me exhausted and irritable. Would they keep coming? Was there a way to barricade the entrance? Well, if I continually fought them off, they’d give up eventually.

A few hours after the latest intruder, the door opened again. I sprung at it, ready to push whoever walked through. I skidded to a stop at the last second. My hands landed on Junko’s shoulders. We almost head-butted. Or kissed, depending on your perspective.

‘I take it you’ve been having visitors,’ Junko said, to which I laughed. She gestured at my hands. ‘You mind?’

I startled and pulled away.

‘They want you because you’re strong,’ Junko said, stepping further into the room. ‘Probably one of the strongest Sources in the void. Conduits are drawn to you like moths, and you’re the brightest flame.’

I shrunk away from her compliments and changed the subject. ‘What’s that?’

Junko tossed a paper bag at me. Rather than food, it contained a kid’s toy. It was a palm-sized screen with dials on the side. The software booted up and displayed a cartoonish woman with various clothes and hairstyles on the side. A dress-up game.

‘Use that to recreate the Conduits who visited you,’ Junko said.

I sat down and did as commanded. First, the tall guy. He was easy to recreate: Muscular, tank top, shorts, goatee. Junko looked over my shoulder. ‘I’ve encountered him,’ she said. ‘He’s ex-military, but his Source seems pretty weak.’

Next, the crow-conspiracy guy. ‘He went crazy after his Source died,’ Junko reported. ‘Last I checked, he’s in a psychiatric hospital.’

Last, the seductive woman. The software didn’t let you adjust bust size, so the recreation wasn’t exact. Junko frowned. ‘Not sure,’ she said under her breath. ‘Did she tell you anything?’

‘Nope,’ I hastily answered. Technically, it wasn't a lie. She hadn't tried to tell me anything with words. 

‘So, you scared her away before she talked?’

‘Yep.’

Junko looked uncertain but dropped the subject. ‘Next,’ she commanded.

‘That’s all,’ I said.

‘What about the first girl?’

‘Oh, her.’ I sped through to make a girl with brown hair and brown eyes, who wore a T-shirt and denim jeans.

‘You’re certain this is her?’

‘Yep,’ I replied, uncertain why I lied. If I had to give an answer, I didn’t reveal Hasegawa because she hadn’t attacked, ranted, or tried to seduce me.

Something wet fell onto my skin. Teardrops? Junko wiped her eyes. ‘If you don’t want me as a Conduit, I’d prefer you were honest.’

‘What’re you saying?’ I didn't know how to treat a crying girl. 

‘Her. Whatever she offered you, I’ll do better.’

‘I’m not interested in her,’ I replied. ‘I didn’t even know it was possible to change Conduits.’

Junko wiped her nose. ‘I’ve never been beautiful like other girls, but I work hard. I hoped you would…’ She touched my shoulder. I pulled away. She glared. ‘Am I that ugly?’

‘No! You’re not even average. That came out wrong! I mean you’re way above average.’

I still couldn’t tell the truth. It felt like sand filled my mouth. Junko stared at me. I sensed a precipice, a crossroads, as if to fail in that moment was to ruin something permanently. I’d always lived without permanence. I never did anything that couldn’t be undone. Too scared to commit. Too scared to live. What the fuck was the point of being strong if I lived like a coward?

‘I’m afraid,’ I murmured.

‘Afraid of what?’

‘Afraid you’ll be grossed out.’

‘By what?’

‘By me.’

Junko wavered between smile and confused frown. ‘You don’t have a mirror in here, do you?’ She laughed, unsteady. ‘Have you seen yourself lately?’

‘It doesn’t matter.’

‘You don’t have to be scared anymore.’ She crawled closer. I’d sat against the wall; I couldn’t pull away. Her voice was soft and low. ‘You want this, don’t you? If the only thing stopping you is fear of how I’ll react, then let me handle everything.’

Junko moved closer, and I didn’t move away.

#

The ceiling looked different. Neither the ceiling nor I had changed, but I saw it differently. The grey had new shades. Does that make sense? Junko lay beside me and studied the kid’s toy. I’d changed the last design to better match Hasegawa Rina. ‘Does she look familiar?’ I asked.

Junko didn’t respond. I didn’t care.

‘When I was a kid,’ Junko said, ‘my parents brought me on a tour of those pig-labs. The pigs lived happy, free lives even though they were confined.’

‘Am I the pig in this scenario?’

Junko giggled. ‘No, the pigs had no choice. They were genetically-modified to grow organs for human use. When they matured, they got slaughtered and the organs were extracted. Waiting lists for people in hospital went down drastically.’

‘I’ve never heard of that,’ I mused.

‘It’s not public knowledge. Some people don’t like the idea of organs from pigs being put in their bodies.’

‘Even if they were going to die?’

‘People can be stubborn,’ Junko sighed. ‘And stupid.’

I peered at my depiction of Hasegawa Rina. ‘I pinned her as one of those Luminary Decadence types of weirdos.’

‘Good point,’ Junko remarked, running a finger across my chest. ‘Let me handle the other Conduits. We’re almost done, but we need a bit more strength.’

I chewed my lip. ‘I’m doing my best, but I can’t seem to lift more.’

‘You’re plateauing. It’s natural.’

‘Well, should I try new exercises?’

Junko drummed her fingers on my chest. She spoke slowly, like she didn’t want to shock me. ‘Have you ever heard of anabolic steroids?’

‘…Most people know what steroids are. Pretty sure they mess with your blood.’

‘That’s a myth. If you do a short cycle, we can get your strength up. Afterward, you’ll go back to normal.’

‘I don’t know,’ I replied.

‘If you work hard for another few years, you might be strong enough. But, we don’t have a year. I need you to get stronger now.’

‘I’ll think about it.’

‘Don’t think. Trust me. You do, don’t you?’

‘I…do.’ I think.

‘It’ll work out,’ she said, and reached for her clothes.

‘You’re going?’ I rested back on my elbows. ‘I thought there was time for another…’

‘Next time,’ she smirked, zipping up her skirt. She left. I flopped back on the futon, tired, somewhat happy, yet not fulfilled. Did everyone feel like that, after the first time?

#

The door had closed but reopened half-a-second later. I hoped Junko had changed her mind, but Hasegawa Rina stepped inside. I shot to my feet and scrambled to put on clothes. Hasegawa glanced at the walls. ‘Could’ve sworn this place was bigger last time,’ she mused.

‘Get out.’

‘You wanted the truth about Kishimoto.’ She chucked her phone at me. ‘Take a look.’

A video was paused. I glanced at Hasegawa, who nodded. I didn’t want to press play. I did want to press it. I didn’t. Did.

First, I reminded myself how easy it was to fabricate footage. Whatever I saw, I’d ask Junko about it later to hear her side. That was the fair and logical thing to do. 

I pressed play – but what I saw couldn’t have been fabricated.