Metem: The Blind Chemist

Chapter 2

Cory awoke, head pounding, body in pain. The palms of his hands met his eyelids as he tried rubbing it all away.

Not again, he thought.

“Titus of Kon, log out,” he said, rubbing his eyes and temple.

Nothing Happened.

Cory snapped open his eyes. At first he screamed in frustration at the notice of still being in the circular stone room. His screaming hit some feminine tones and unintelligible indiscretions at the Universe when he saw that his hand was no longer his hand. His hand was there, present and accounted for, yet different. It looked a little bigger, his nails were longer with more defined points and his skin was… blue? Not the blue of an ocean or sky, but blue in a way that it bordered on purple. Expanding his gaze further he could see that his legs and naked torso bore the same shade. As he stood, he noted that his junk was uniform with the rest of his exterior. There was a joke there but Cory had more pressing issues on his mind.

Noting also that he was still in his birthday suit, Cory began to scan the room for changes. The four mirrors were still adorned in their places, a soft light emanating from each; smoke slowly trickling out. The room was still circular with no exits and the roof was no more present than it was before. He didn’t see any glass on the floor that he was certain should be there. Not knowing what else to do Cory took a few careful steps forward and placed himself in front of the mirror with the blue creature.

The being’s skin was the same as Cory’s. Its body was muscular but lean, somewhere between a soccer and tennis player. It’s hair, black and pulled back, exposed slender slightly pointed ears. High cheekbones and sharp jawlines could be seen under a face that showed signs of both age and youth. Cory involuntarily ran his hands along his scalp and felt the same pointy ears, his hair pulled back as well. The notion that this creature was him crossed his mind moments before their eyes met. Well, until Cory saw the empty sockets that stood in stark contrast to it’s periwinkle complexion. He wore what looked to be a simple snug brown tunic, carpi type leggings, bracers and sandals with straps.

“Hello,” Cory said, waving a hand in front of the creature's face. “Anybody in there?”

Nothing happened.

“You wouldn’t want to give me those clothes you got on there would ya?”

Nothing.

Seeing that this line of questioning was getting nowhere, Cory opted to reach out and touch the creature. As his figures passed the place where glass should have been the sound of a soft pop was heard, the figure disappeared and its gear fell to Cory’s feet. It did not surprise Cory when it all fit. The gear felt worn, malleable and had the smell of old leather. His footwear took some cajoling. Seeing his toes exposed for all the world to stub did not bring him peace of mind but having anything on his feet felt good. With the exception of beaches and bathing, sandals were the exception not the rule. If classic Christmas movies had taught him anything it was that running over broken glass and jumping off exploding buildings required proper footwear.

It took a good ten minutes to completely don the full set of basic gear. When Cory had finished lacing up the last strings and buckles, a translucent window with a glowing bronze border popped up in his vision. Startled, Cory took an involuntary leap backwards and assumed a defensive ninja stance even though Cory had no formal ninja training. The transparent window was similar to that of his VR interface except it was much smaller. Just like his VR interface, this one was empty too. With a thought, he closed the window.

Curious, Cory unbuckled and removed a bracer. Nothing happened. He then put the bracer back on: no window popped up, but he did feel...something. It was the slightest bit of nothing. Strange, Cory thought and repeated this several times. He could definitely feel the smallest of sensations when taking it off and putting it back on but nothing else. Strange indeed. Chalking it up as a mystery of the cosmos, Cory headed over to the mirror with the icon of the two crossed swords.

Skipping the small talk, Cory reached out to touch the spinning icon. Just like the last mirror, a small pop could be heard before the icon vanished with a bundle of leather and metal toppling to the floor. Two sheathed weapons lay on the black stone, tied together by various straps and buckling. The hilts looked basic, no ornate carvings or writing could be seen. One of the weapons was almost a foot shorter than the other, the longer of the two being just over two feet long. Cory picked up the bundle and examined it.

Turning the leather bundle in his hands, Cory could not see any obvious way to unravel it. Various buttons, straps and oddities needed to be undone until the whole thing could be unwound. Once unwound, Cory laid all of it on the floor, removing the shorter sword. It didn’t look like much. He ran his thumb across the blade and could surmise that it was about as effective as a butter knife. Unsheathing the longer sword Cory bemused the fact that he was now holding a larger version of a butter knife. It was pointed at the end but otherwise unrefined.

The sheath for the two weapons was something altogether different. Cory imagined if a straight jacket had a leather strap fetish, this is what it would look like. Straps and buckles everywhere, in an interlaced hodgepodge, connecting two sheaths with no clear direction of how it fit. There was no obvious belt loop or shoulder support or anything that said ‘Start Here’.

Arrgggg!! Cory grumbled.

Frustrated, Cory dropped the leathery bundle of weapons and took some deep breaths. He meandered back to the center of the room. He needed a second. He needed several seconds. Trapped in what appeared to be a broken game with useless gear and in a room with no exit; he needed to focus and calm. At least I'm not dead, Cory thought and then winced. Maybe...I am dead.

In the real world, he tried breathing exercises to help keep himself calm in uncertain and stressful times. After a gross misunderstanding and an unfortunate circumstance, the court system thought therapy was advised. The only thing he took from it was that deep breathing helped. This was not an exact science.

“I'm just stuck in a game,” Cory said in a hushed tone. Deep breath in.

“I am just stuck in a game.” He repeated and let the deep breath out. He followed this pattern until the ball of anxiety in his stomach puttered away.

He stood up, stretched and remarked that at least the clothing fit nicely and that things could be worse. With all the abject normalcy that he could muster, Cory stepped in front of the spinning icon that bore the words Speakeasy.

Once the magical barrier popped, the letters began to fall apart like sand. Before hitting the ground the grains whirled and swept into loop-de-loops over Cory’s head. He backed away and involuntarily swatted at the magical dust buzzing about his face. The dust glittered and glided, weaving its way through the air until all the particles started to merge. The closer the billowing cloud of magic dust got to the floor the more form it took. With a small flash of light and a thud, an old book dropped its weight to the floor. It was plain with no noticeable features, art or words; leather bound, worn and dirty. When Cory picked it up, a small empty interface window came into his view, blank just like the rest.

“It’s almost like you’re trying to tell me something.” Cory said out loud. He closed the prompt.

“It’s almost like,” he vented, with heat in his voice, “there might be some relevant information I should be receiving!”

His voice simply echoed off the plain black stone and filtered into the darkness above. Frustrated, he stomped over to the last mirror, where an image of a cloud, with three quick horizontal lines, spun in the open air. He reached his hand across the invisible barrier but instead of a pop, Cory heard a quick ZAP! and the slightest sensation of being shocked. The spinning cloud winked out from existence, the mirror disappearing as well. He noticed all the mirrors had vanished as well as all the residual smoke that had lightly layered the stone floor. With the exception of his swords laying at his feet, the room was empty and now pitch black.

It was also cold and stale, two sensations he either hadn’t noticed or weren’t there before. Cory opened and closed his interface; it bore no differences. Running with the logic that it is better to be caught with than without, he picked up his weapon bundle and loosened a sword. Before Cory could start tempting the Universe to smite him or be done with this charade, the floor shifted. Caught off balance, Cory fell to a knee holding his weapons like a newborn close to his chest. He wasn’t spinning, instead he felt like he was going up. Stone grated on stone as the platform he had been standing on ascended into the darkness.