Chapter 6 — Wind
And thus begins Chapter Six.
Now, children.
There I sat.
X Men on the television.
Reality softening.
Colours brighter.
Edges gentler.
Body lighter.
And then
lighter.
More.
The council pauses.
How light?
Children.
Unreasonably light.
At first it was pleasant.
Weight draining away.
Body becoming less committed to gravity.
Then somewhere in my rapidly changing brain,
a concern appeared.
What if I actually float away?
The council stares.
Children.
I did not possess the experience required to identify this thought as nonsense.
So I responded to it with the seriousness it deserved.
Which is to say
I grabbed the sofa.
The council collapses.
Both hands?
At least one.
Enough.
My grip tightened around the armrest.
Firm.
Secure.
Anchor acquired.
Because I knew something very important.
If I let go
gone.
The council looks toward the ceiling.
Nuo would simply ascend?
Correct.
Perhaps through the roof.
Perhaps into the atmosphere.
Perhaps Kanyakumari would gain a new weather phenomenon.
Nobody knew.
Certainly not me.
So I held on.
Children.
Hard.
The television remained directly ahead.
I fixed my eyes on it.
Something stable.
Something rectangular.
Something with mutants.
Good.
Then
the screen changed.
Not the movie.
The screen itself.
The council leans forward.
At first,
I didn’t really notice.
Just a strange motion around the edges.
A little spin.
Almost peripheral.
Then the edges began rotating more clearly.
Slowly.
Around and around.
The outer part of the screen turning while the center remained normal.
Children.
Interesting.
Then
it crept inward.
The council grows quiet.
More of the image began spinning.
The border.
Then farther in.
Then farther.
Every second,
the stable part of the screen became smaller.
A large rectangle of movie
turning into a spinning tunnel around one shrinking circle of visible reality.
The council whispers.
X Men vortex.
Precisely.
And the spinning created
pressure.
At least to me.
Wind.
The council pauses.
Actual wind?
Children.
Almost certainly not.
But remember:
Story Nuo was currently fighting for his life against imaginary aerodynamics.
The screen spun.
The room felt like it spun with it.
The pressure pushed.
My body lighter and lighter.
And I tightened my grip.
Because this was no longer recreational relaxation.
This was aviation prevention.
The council erupts.
HOLD THE SOFA.
I held the sofa.
Children.
With conviction.
The tiny stable circle in the middle of the television remained my final portal to ordinary reality.
Everything around it
spin.
Wind.
Pressure.
And me?
About to become debris.
The council watches Nyx.
Now imagine his perspective.
He had smoked weed many times.
He was sitting in his own room.
The television was behaving normally.
The sofa was behaving normally.
Gravity was operating under standard regulations.
And beside him
his novice roommate was clutching the furniture
with the expression of a man riding out a hurricane.
The council laughs.
He looked at me.
I remember that much.
And on his face
amusement.
Perhaps affection too.
Because children,
I must have looked hilariously adorable.
Terrified.
Focused.
Very high.
Trying desperately not to become airborne.
Did he ask what I was doing?
Maybe.
Did he say something?
Possibly.
The Archive does not preserve it.
And honestly,
I may not have heard him anyway.
I had responsibilities.
The council nods.
Maintain grip.
Do not fly away.
Important work.
Then
joint.
The council freezes.
Another?
Yes.
Children.
Apparently Nyx had decided the correct response to watching me barely maintain planetary attachment
was to roll another joint.
The council sighs.
Experienced host.
He lit it.
Took a puff.
Passed it to me.
I looked at the joint.
Then at my hand.
Problem.
The council leans forward.
Holding the sofa required hand resources.
But I accepted it.
Shaky fingers.
The little burning object wobbled.
I brought it up.
Puffed.
Coughed less dramatically this time.
Probably.
Passed it back.
The council watches the rotation continue.
Nyx.
Me.
Nyx.
Me.
Joint travelling between us while I remained deeply committed to anti flight measures.
Children.
At some point
hunger.
Sudden.
Powerful.
Confusing.
The council nods.
Munchies?
Present Nuo knows that word.
Story Nuo did not.
To Story Nuo,
this was simply:
Why am I hungry?
I ate lunch.
Recently.
A lot.
The council checks records.
Free dealer house lunch.
Confirmed.
So why did my stomach suddenly behave as though I’d been abandoned in the wilderness for several weeks?
Children.
Mystery.
No context.
No vocabulary.
Just hunger.
Then
Nyx returned.
The council pauses.
Returned?
Yes.
Returned.
Which implies
he had left.
The council stares.
When?
Excellent question.
Children.
I had no idea.
At some point during my heroic defense against atmospheric ejection,
Nyx had apparently stood up,
left the room,
gone somewhere,
and returned.
Entire event missing.
The council writes:
NYX DEPARTURE:
UNOBSERVED.
REASON:
PRESUMABLY SNACKS.
And in his hands
sweets.
The council perks up.
Chocolate?
No.
Children.
Actual sweets.
The dense little creations of sugar,
ghee,
flour or milk or whatever glorious mathematics Indian sweet making involves.
The exact type has not survived.
But the category has.
Rich.
Sweet.
Heavy.
The kind of thing you normally eat one or two of and think:
Yes.
Enough civilization for now.
Nyx handed me one.
I took it.
Bite.
The council goes silent.
Children.
Holy shit.
Taste.
Not new.
Important distinction.
I knew that taste.
I had eaten sweets before.
Obviously.
But this
amplified.
Tenfold.
Maybe more.
Sweetness expanded.
Texture expanded.
Everything my tongue already understood suddenly arrived with orchestral accompaniment.
The council watches Story Nuo’s face.
Heaven?
Beyond.
The rave had not happened yet.
The Jacuzzi heaven had not happened yet.
All those future categories did not exist.
So at this point,
children,
this sweet may have been one of the greatest sensory events of my young life.
I chewed.
Slowly perhaps.
Or quickly.
No idea.
But the experience was enormous.
Then it was gone.
The council knows what comes next.
“Another.”
Nyx provided.
Chomp.
Another.
Provided.
Chomp.
Another.
Still provided.
The council looks toward Nyx.
Good host.
Excellent host.
No judgment.
No:
You’ve had enough.
Just quiet acceptance that the novice had discovered munchies
without knowing they had a name.
Children.
I kept eating.
Every sweet magnificent.
Each one somehow deserving full emotional investment.
And while I ate,
my previous crisis continued somewhere in the background.
Still light.
Still altered.
Still the television doing impossible things.
But now
sugar.
The council nods solemnly.
New anchor.
Eventually,
another joint reached my hand.
The council raises an eyebrow.
How many?
Children.
The Archive is not a laboratory notebook.
More than one.
That is sufficient.
We smoked.
Finished.
And somewhere around then,
Nyx made an announcement.
“Okay.”
The council leans forward.
“Time to experience the outside.”
Silence.
No.
The council laughs.
Exactly my response.
Children.
Outside?
Why?
The sofa existed.
The sweets existed.
X Men existed.
Most importantly
the sofa was currently preventing me from entering low orbit.
Why would I voluntarily leave the anchor?
The council nods.
Bad proposal.
I was not enthusiastic.
Not remotely.
But Nyx stood.
And walked toward the door.
The council watches Nuo.
Problem.
I could stay.
In a strange house.
Alone.
High beyond comprehension.
Children.
No.
Absolutely not.
Because what if
ghosts?
The council freezes.
Ghosts?
Yes.
Strange house.
Altered consciousness.
No experienced supervisor.
Perfect conditions for paranormal escalation.
The council sighs.
And worse
what if Nyx’s mother came upstairs?
The council goes completely silent.
Children.
Imagine.
Door opens.
Friendly mother.
Normal conversation.
“Are you comfortable?”
“Would you like tea?”
And I,
clinging to furniture,
eyes wide,
possibly convinced the television has become a wind turbine.
No.
No.
No.
Ghosts were honestly the easier outcome.
The council agrees.
So
follow companion.
Ancient protocol.
Nyx leaves.
Nuo leaves.
Even if Nuo is currently suspicious of gravity.
I stood.
The council watches carefully.
Standing was—
different.
Children.
The ground felt farther away than usual.
My legs belonged to me,
but perhaps under temporary management.
I released the sofa.
The council gasps.
Dangerous.
Extremely.
And for the first few seconds,
I fully expected ascent.
None came.
Gravity,
mercifully,
remained.
The council applauds physics.
We left the room.
Downstairs.
Maybe greeted people.
Maybe not.
The Archive has no interest in preserving that.
Outside.
Sunlight.
Air.
Space.
Children.
A whole world.
And Story Nuo had only ever experienced that world sober,
drunk,
or nicotine enhanced.
Now?
New operating system.
The council grows quiet.
Nyx walked toward
The Impulse.
Of course.
The glorious stallion.
The hybrid machine.
He mounted.
I looked at it.
The council becomes slightly concerned.
Children.
Remember,
I was still very high.
But this was Nyx’s machine.
Nyx knew what he was doing.
And I possessed exactly one travel philosophy at the time.
Trust companion.
Follow companion.
So I climbed onto the back.
Held on.
The council nods.
An anchor that moves.
Fantastic.
Engine.
Vibration.
The machine came alive beneath us.
Nyx pulled away.
And suddenly
the world moved.
Not television.
Not walls.
Everything.
Road.
Buildings.
Trees.
Sky.
People.
Colours.
Wind.
Actual wind this time.
The council laughs.
Story Nuo finally receives confirmation:
Yes.
This wind is real.
Probably.
Children.
I held on to Nyx.
The Impulse carried us forward.
And somewhere behind us,
X Men continued without me.
The sofa
my loyal anchor
was abandoned.
The sweets
mostly consumed.
The room
safe from ghosts.
And ahead
outside.
The council looks toward the road.
For the first time.
Not first ride.
Not first Kanyakumari road.
Not first time on the Impulse.
Children.
I have learned my lesson about the word first.
But this?
This one survives safely.
The first time I experienced the outside world while high.
The council considers.
Dangerous statement.
Memory gods?
Please be merciful.
The council laughs.
Nyx had decided the initiation required more than a sofa.
More than a movie.
More than sweets.
He wanted me to see what the world looked like now.
And children
I had no idea where he was taking me.
I didn’t ask.
Maybe I couldn’t.
Maybe I was too busy holding on.
The quest had technically already succeeded.
I had tried weed.
Question answered.
But apparently Nyx considered the tutorial incomplete.
The council opens a new marker.
OBJECTIVE UPDATED:
EXPERIENCE OUTSIDE.
NUO’S OPINION:
UNNECESSARY.
COMPANION’S OPINION:
GET ON THE BIKE.
And so
The Impulse carried us into Kanyakumari.
Story Nuo behind him.
Very full of sweets.
Very light.
Very high.
And still not entirely convinced
that if he loosened his grip,
he wouldn’t simply float away.
Thus concludes Chapter Six.
The X Men Vortex.
The Sofa Anchor.
The Threat Of Becoming Flying Debris.
The Second Joint.
The Mysterious Hunger.
The Sacred Sweets.
The Unobserved Disappearance Of Nyx.
The Greater Threat Of Conversing With His Mother.
And The First Journey Outside.
Children.
Inside,
I had a sofa to keep me attached to Earth.
Outside?
I had Nyx.
And the Impulse.
The council nods.
Good enough.
