Chapter 9 — Home
And thus begins Chapter Nine.
The final chapter.
Now, children.
Morning.
Somewhere between lying in bed,
headphones on,
and dissolving completely into music
I had fallen asleep.
The council nods.
Understandable.
The previous day had contained enough new sensory information to keep one nervous system busy for several fiscal quarters.
Weed.
X Men vortices.
Sweets.
Butterflies threatening America.
The ocean.
Sunset.
Music becoming symphony.
Eventually,
consciousness surrendered.
And then
eyes open.
The council looks toward the bedside.
Nyx.
Sitting on my bed.
Children.
Joint in hand.
Waiting.
The council pauses.
How long had he been sitting there?
Unknown.
Long enough, apparently.
I looked at him.
He looked at me.
And said:
“I was waiting to light it when you woke.”
The council grows solemn.
Hospitality.
Advanced hospitality.
He lit it.
And thus began the morning.
Smoke.
Pass.
Smoke.
Pass.
The council nods.
First joint finished.
Then
another.
The council raises an eyebrow.
And eventually
the final one.
Children.
By the time the morning ritual concluded,
I was
sufficiently high.
Very sufficiently.
The sort of sufficiently where assigning yourself logistical responsibilities should perhaps be reconsidered.
Unfortunately
logistics were approaching.
I got my bag.
Yes.
Bag.
Still Ancient Luggage Nuo.
The council preserves this endangered species.
And it was time to return to college.
ICAT awaited.
Or more accurately
the general geographical area containing ICAT awaited,
because whether I would actually attend a class remains statistically doubtful.
The council nods.
Nyx?
Not coming.
He was staying home for a few more days.
Children.
This meant something important.
For the first time during this trip
Survival Department was clocking out.
The council grows concerned.
No.
Yes.
Nyx had guided everything.
Tickets.
Train.
House.
Dealer.
First high.
The outside.
The market.
The ocean.
He had watched me wander around Kanyakumari while smoking cigarettes and making sure I remained among the living.
Now?
I had to get back alone.
The council looks at Story Nuo.
He’ll be fine.
Narrator?
Silence.
Nyx took me to the station.
Of course he did.
The Impulse once again.
Me behind.
Bag with me.
Bone tag necklace still part of the inventory.
We reached the station.
And Nyx
being Nyx
handled even more of the process.
He got me the ticket.
The council nods.
Good.
Told me the platform number.
Excellent.
Probably made sure I understood.
Very responsible.
Then
hug.
Children.
Simple goodbye.
No grand speech.
No ceremony about what the trip had meant.
No:
You are now initiated.
No:
Your life shall forever be divided into before and after.
Archive law.
Story Nuo had no idea.
It was just
thanks.
See you later.
Nyx went home.
And I remained.
At the station.
High.
Alone.
With exactly one job.
The council writes it down in enormous letters.
GET ON THE TRAIN TO CHENNAI.
That’s it.
Children.
One task.
Not:
Navigate several connections.
Not:
Cross a border.
Not:
Decode an ancient railway timetable.
Just
enter the correct train.
The council looks nervous.
Surely.
Surely I could do this.
I boarded a train.
The council goes quiet.
Sat down.
Train departed.
Excellent.
Task complete.
The council cautiously refuses to celebrate.
I settled into the seat,
awaiting Chennai.
Perhaps stared outside.
Perhaps listened to music.
Perhaps simply existed in the warm afterglow of several morning joints.
Children.
Everything seemed fine.
Until
signboards.
The council leans forward.
Outside,
the writing began changing.
Tamil
became Malayalam.
I noticed.
Looked.
Considered.
Odd.
The council stares.
Odd?
Yes.
That was my analysis.
Children.
A normal sober person might have thought:
Wait.
Why am I entering Kerala if I am travelling toward Chennai?
Story Nuo?
Hmm.
Interesting signage development.
The council collapses.
In my defense
I was extremely high.
And also
I did not have much experience independently boarding trains.
Important context.
Nyx had done all the difficult bits.
Ticket.
Platform.
Instructions.
I had merely been left with:
Get on train.
And somehow,
against formidable odds,
I had failed the final tutorial objective.
The train continued.
Malayalam continued.
Kerala continued existing around me.
Still,
somehow,
the revelation did not arrive.
Not yet.
Eventually
station.
The council checks the sign.
Kochi.
Children.
Kochi.
My then hometown.
The council goes silent.
And Story Nuo looked at the sign and thought
Huh.
Another place named Kochi.
The council erupts.
ANOTHER KOCHI?!
Children.
Yes.
That is where my brain went.
Not:
Oh, I am home.
No.
Apparently geography had simply produced a duplicate Kochi along the way to Chennai.
Very reasonable.
Common issue.
Multiple Kochis.
The council begins removing my access to transportation.
Then
finally
something connected.
Wait.
Malayalam.
Kerala.
Kochi.
My Kochi.
The council leans in.
Oh.
Oh no.
Children.
I had boarded the wrong train.
Completely wrong.
Not a little wrong.
Not:
missed my stop by one station.
I had travelled in the wrong direction
until I reached my hometown.
The council laughs uncontrollably.
The quest for weed had somehow concluded with an accidental journey home.
Now.
One useful piece of wisdom did survive the fog.
A saying.
Something I had heard before.
If you’re on the wrong train
get off as soon as possible.
Because the longer you stay on it,
the more expensive the return becomes.
The council nods.
Finally.
Practical intelligence.
I did not debate.
Did not think:
Maybe Chennai will somehow happen later.
Did not remain aboard hoping the universe would correct the railway network.
I got off.
Immediately.
Children.
Wrong train identified.
Wrong train abandoned.
Growth.
Tiny,
but measurable.
Then I stood there.
Kochi.
Home.
Bag.
High fading eventually.
No Nyx.
No college.
No sensible route to the original plan.
The council asks the obvious question.
What now?
Children.
Home.
What else?
I was already there.
The universe had delivered me directly to my parents’ city through incompetence.
It seemed wasteful to fight it.
So I went home.
Unannounced.
The council becomes interested.
Parents knew you were coming?
Absolutely not.
Because I was not supposed to be coming.
I had been at college.
Then Kanyakumari.
Then allegedly returning to college.
Instead
surprise.
Nuo.
The council watches the front door open.
And naturally,
an explanation became necessary.
Why are you here?
Children.
Truth?
“I travelled to Kanyakumari with my roommate specifically to try weed for the first time, got incredibly high, smoked again this morning, boarded the wrong train, failed to notice I was entering Kerala, briefly concluded there must be another Kochi, and then realized I’d accidentally come home.”
The council considers.
Difficult pitch.
Exactly.
So
lie.
College gave us a few days off.
The council sighs.
Simple.
Believable enough.
Convenient.
Parents received an unexpected son.
The Archive received an unexpected ending.
And the college?
Children.
It would survive without me.
It had been practicing.
The council laughs.
And just like that
the journey ended.
No dramatic return to ICAT.
No final scene with Nyx.
No ceremonial closing of the quest.
Just one wrong train,
one late realization,
and an unscheduled visit home.
The council settles.
But now
Present Nuo gets to look back.
Because children,
this is where the shape becomes visible.
The before.
And the after.
Before Kanyakumari
I had cigarettes.
Alcohol.
Curiosity.
That was the border of my experience.
Weed was something Nyx talked about.
Something other people did.
Something I kept asking about because I wanted to know what existed on the other side of that word.
Then
Kanyakumari.
The council grows quiet.
The journey began with one question.
Can I try?
Nyx said no.
Again.
Again.
Again.
Then finally
yes.
But not here.
Not with whatever happened to be available.
Home.
Good weed.
Your first time is sacred.
The council remembers.
And so we went.
Train.
Fast Travel.
Nyx’s house.
His mother.
The Impulse.
A dealer who looked nothing like the cinematic criminal ecosystem in my head.
A family home.
Lunch.
“Idukki Gold.”
Then Nyx’s room.
The first joint.
The photograph.
The coughing.
X Men.
The sofa becoming an anchor to Earth.
The television vortex.
The certainty that if I released my grip I would become airborne debris.
The council smiles.
Sweets that tasted like divinity.
The first outside world.
Colour turned up beyond reason.
The market.
The trinkets.
The butterfly.
Children.
The Americans survived.
As far as the Archive knows.
The council nods.
Then
the necklace.
The bone tag.
The earliest currently remembered tag.
Safe wording.
Nyx handing it to me and saying:
Something to commemorate your first high.
Neither of us knew what that object would become years later.
To Story Nuo?
A necklace.
A cool gift.
A memory of the day.
That was enough.
Then Nyx said:
Go have fun.
I’ll stay near you.
Make sure you don’t die.
The council smiles.
And I did.
I followed colour.
Objects.
A plant.
A butterfly.
Whatever pulled the eye next.
No route.
Until somehow
ocean.
And I went in.
Played for hours.
Watched the sun descend.
Felt less like someone standing inside water
and more like something temporarily belonging to it.
Then returned to Nyx
and explained being high
to the man who had spent years being high.
The council laughs softly.
He listened anyway.
Then music.
Sleep.
Morning joints.
Station.
One simple task.
Complete failure.
Wrong train.
Malayalam.
Kochi.
“Another place named Kochi.”
The council refuses to let this line die.
Children.
Neither will I.
And home.
The Tenth Wandering.
Kanyakumari.
A quest for weed.
No secret deeper objective hiding underneath the departure.
No grief I was trying to heal.
No calling I could articulate.
I wanted to try weed.
Nyx said he’d show me.
So I went.
Simple.
The council nods.
And yet
this one remains foundational.
Not because Story Nuo knew it was.
He didn’t.
Not because every event needs to become prophecy.
It doesn’t.
But because when I divide that era in memory,
there is very clearly
Nuo before Kanyakumari.
And Nuo after.
The council grows quiet.
Before,
there was a door I had never opened.
After,
I knew what was behind it.
That is all a before and after really needs.
Not destiny.
Experience.
Something entered the known world that had previously existed only as stories from the older roommate in the next bed.
Children.
“How good can it be?”
The council smiles.
Now I knew.
Good enough that I spent part of the afternoon afraid of floating away.
Good enough that a sweet became heaven.
Good enough that a butterfly made me fear for another continent.
Good enough that colour,
water,
wind,
and music all felt newly invented.
Good enough
apparently
that I became too high to identify my own hometown.
The council erupts.
There it is.
Balance restored.
And perhaps that is the proper ending.
Not some poetic sunset.
We already had one.
Not the bone tag.
We already found it.
The Wandering ends exactly as this version of Nuo deserves.
He discovers an entirely new state of consciousness,
has a beautiful first experience,
is lovingly guided through it by Nyx,
receives a relic to commemorate the occasion
and then gets on the wrong fucking train.
The council applauds.
Perfect.
Absolutely perfect.
So.
The tag that resurfaced in memory was real.
The era behind it was real.
Karkala’s title has been revised.
Again.
And the so called final prequel was
not final.
Again.
The council cautiously looks toward me.
Are you going to declare this one the definitive final prequel?
Children.
No.
Absolutely not.
I have learned.
Memory may be standing somewhere behind me right now
holding another bone tag and laughing.
The council nods approvingly.
No promises.
Only the Archive as it currently exists.
And currently
this is the Tenth Wandering.
Kanyakumari.
The prequel after the final prequel.
The quest for weed.
The first high.
The earliest currently remembered bone tag.
The before.
And the after.
Thus concludes Chapter Nine.
The Morning Joint.
The Final Joint.
The Retirement Of Survival Department.
The One Simple Job.
The Wrong Train.
The Mysterious Second Kochi.
The Emergency Disembarkation.
The Unannounced Homecoming.
And The Beginning Of An Era.
And thus concludes the Tenth Wandering of the Unbegun.
Kanyakumari.
Children.
I went there because I wanted to know what weed felt like.
I came back knowing.
Just
not to the place I was supposed to come back to.
The council laughs.
The quest was complete.
Navigation
still in beta.
