XCEL

The journey was over as soon as it began. So quick, thought Dentaku Bango, that he could’ve blinked and missed it. “Could have” was the key phrase here, as no amount of blinking could’ve meant he missed the sudden lurch of motion he felt the instant Hideyori Hakana gripped down on that crystal ball. It felt as though he were being sucked through a very narrow pipe, squeezed on all sides, before abruptly popping out the other end. Whatever just happened, it definitely didn’t agree with him, and especially not with the contents of his stomach, which felt like they had done two successive flips in-transit. Dentaku gagged and Hideyori released his wrist, the man’s nose wrinkling slightly. Finding his feet, the boy stumbled forwards a couple paces and clutched at his stomach, screwing his eyes tight until he was positive the world around him had stopped spinning.

“What…” he said, and coughed into his elbow. “What was that?”

“Ride’s not over yet, kiddo,” Hideyori was talking, not to him but at him. “Follow me.”

Dentaku looked up and around, eyes wide. Wherever they were, it sure as anything wasn’t the same bar. The blare of traffic on all sides made him jump, as a buffet of colourful lights and advertising displays winked at him from every angle. Chiba’s central business district in all its neon glory bore down on Dentaku like spotlights in a stadium, dazzling him for a moment.

“Where—”

“Downtown,” Hideyori had his arms crossed, waiting for Dentaku to regain his bearings. “Five, ten minutes walk from the city centre.”

“But—”

“Don’t ask questions,” he advised, tossing another marble up into the air. It caught the light in a refracted spectacle before falling into the man’s hand. “Lot of new information for you to take on. Just don’t think too hard, and you’ll be fine.”

How can I not? Dentaku thought with a grimace. This didn't make any sense!

Hideyori snapped his fingers. Dentaku looked his way.

“Over here.”

Hideyori pointed to a tall tower looming ahead of them. Some way up—exactly eight floors, Dentaku counted—was the JPRO company logo, proudly displayed next to the identical rows of glass-fronted windows.

“Follow me,” Hideyori said, sticking both hands in his pockets and approaching the set of automatic double doors. Like dutiful servants heralding the return of their lord, they opened well before the man as he swanned in, Dentaku following close behind in the man's shadow.

The blinding lights of the foyer were somehow even worse than the neon blaring outside. Dentaku supposed his eyes had been getting used to the easy ambience of the bar, and this was a sudden shock. He blinked like a mole first encountering the sun, shielding his eyes under one hand. He looked to Hideyori. With the brim of his hat tilted so low over his face, it was difficult to tell much of anything. The shark-like grin on his face, however, was gone. In its place, the snarl of suppressed displeasure. Looking around, Dentaku saw crowds of employees in suits and professional lab-coats milling around, bustling with polite conversation about important business matters, no doubt. It was surprising to see so many so late. Surely most would’ve gone home hours ago. The sensory overload made it difficult to differentiate one conversation from the next, not that it was at all important.

The two approached the front desk, shoes squeaking cleanly on the lacquered wooden floor. Hideyori came to a stop, as did Dentaku. Unsure of what to do, say, or how to carry himself, he adopted a posture as neutral as possible, eyes flitting from side-to-side, waiting for a threat to show itself.

Nothing did. The woman behind the desk was slim with a slim face, likely in her thirties, wearing a bun of black hair so tight it couldn’t have been any good for her scalp.

“Hakana, sir,” she bowed her head. Her voice was far too clean, like it had only just come out of the dishwasher. “Welcome back.”

Hideyori nodded.

“I’m here with the new recruit, Dentaku Bango.” He pointed over his shoulder at the boy with one thumb, before the hand retreated to its appropriate pocket. His dull tone suggested he’d grown rather bored of this kind of procedure.

“Yes. Mr Ishimatsu alerted me of your arrival. He’s expecting you in his office.”

Ishimatsu? Dentaku narrowed his eyes. Must be Hakana’s superior, the one he mentioned that ‘scouted’ me, he thought.

“I’ll be right up.” Without waiting for a response, or to check Dentaku knew which way to go, Hideyori strode off past the front desk to a set of elevator doors. Pressing a button, he looked back over his shoulder to see Dentaku in close pursuit.

“Y’know,” he said, rolling a marble between his fingers, “I know I said don’t ask questions, but you are allowed to speak.”

“I’m not sure what you want me to say,” Dentaku responded, cautious, lest the wrong word might get his head taken off.

“Jeez, kid, anything,” Hideyori sighed. “This corporate hellhole’s dull and whitewashed enough as it is. Guess if this doesn’t work out, there’ll always be a spot for you down with the other lot. You’ll fit right in.”

Dentaku wasn’t sure what to make of that, and so he didn’t.

An electronic ping broke the silence, and the metal doors slid apart. Both stepped inside.

“Mr Ishimatsu,” said Dentaku. “That’s the name of your boss, right? The one you mentioned before.”

“That’s the one. Vested interest in talented young folk, so he says.”

With the click of a lighter from goodness knows where, Hideyori lit a cigarette that had magically found its way into his mouth. Sucking on it, the smoke escaped through an exhale that resembled more a sigh than anything else. The putrid smoke made Dentaku cough, earning him a sour gaze from the man.

“Got a problem?”

“No.” Dentaku coughed again, as quiet a cough as he could manage.

Hideyori pocketed the lighter—an expensive-looking metal number—and smiled.

“Good man. No-one likes a killjoy.”

Trying his best not to asphyxiate, Dentaku tried scanning the buttons on the wall to distract himself.

“999 floors?!” He exclaimed. “You’ve got to be joking!”

There was no way the office block could’ve passed even 45 floors, from what he’d seen down below. Dentaku wondered whether something that tall could even exist. Indeed, looking at the rest of them, before Floor 999 the numbers only came up to 40.

Instead of answering his question, Hideyori pressed the offending button. The electronic voice announced their impending ascent, and the doors closed. Hideyori took another drag on his cigarette, avoiding Dentaku’s wide-eyed stare. They had begun to move now. Dentaku could feel the slight pull of inertia under his feet.

“What?” Hideyori asked, as though this were a completely normal occasion. “You never been in a lift before?”

“Not even the Skytree in Tokyo is this tall!” Dentaku said. “Please tell me this is some kind of joke.”

“Do I look like I’m joking?”

There couldn’t have been a more rhetorical question.

“That’s not possible, surely…”

“I told you not to think about it too hard, didn’t I?”

“You did, but—”

“I don’t say things without a reason, kid,” he pulled on his cigarette as the ash neared the filter. Tapping it into his hand, one flourish later and the remnants were gone—butt and all. “Think about it for too long, and your mind won’t work properly. For the sake of our deal, that’s not a good idea.”

Dentaku leaned up against the wall of the elevator.

“Right,” he said, unconvinced.

As they climbed further and further, he watched the number tick up on the series of seven-segment displays. A nice natural progression, he thought. The comfort in knowing what would come next made his hunched shoulders drop ever so slightly. They had reached floor 30 now; they should be nearly there, even if this Mr Ishimatsu’s office was on the top floor.

They had just reached floor 31, now 32.

He looked at Hideyori. The man had a crystal ball in his palm and was holding it up to the light, watching some kind of scene unfold within. What could be so interesting? Dentaku thought. Snow globes were a nice ornament, he supposed, but this took an interest in them a little bit too far. Sneaking a glance, Dentaku saw what looked like a sunrise taking place over a city skyline, animated in real time like film. The sky, a beautiful blend of orange and purple, held thin clouds lined with gold and the occasional morning bird, silhouetted like cutouts were the line of tall buildings, their shape outlined against the first glimpses of the rising sun. At first he thought he was hallucinating. He checked the dial above the elevator door.

33.

34.

“What is that?” Dentaku asked, unable to help himself.

Hideyori didn’t look away for another moment.

“This?” He indicated towards the orb. “Beautiful, isn’t it?”

So much so, in fact, Dentaku was lost for words.

“I’ve never seen a snow globe like that before,” he said in awe. “How does that even work?”

“Snow globe?” Hideyori repeated, and let out a chuckle. “Oh, you poor sweet child.”

Dentaku’s brow furrowed.

“Chill out, kid, it’s an expression.”

He turned his gaze back on the orb.

Dentaku glanced at the floor counter.

35.

36.

They were getting closer now.

Why wasn’t the lift slowing down?

“I took this back in September,” Hideyori continued. “The skies over the city are heavenly at first light. If you ever get the chance, it’s well-worth the early wake-up. This was my first time in the city for a while, actually.”

“Took?”

The man nodded.

“What do you mean?” Dentaku asked. Was this glass orb some kind of camera? Thinking about it just made his head hurt; he couldn’t make heads or tails of it. How could this palm-sized crystal ball be displaying such vivid scenery? “I don’t understand—”

Hideyori laughed again. “Just enjoy the view, kid. Moments like these are few and far between.”

Don’t think about it too hard, Hideyori’s voice from earlier reminded him. Dentaku’s gaze flitted between the orb and the floor counter.

37.

38.

Was he imagining it, or were they getting even faster?

“Excuse me,” he said. “Mr Hakana—”

“What?”

He pointed. “Why hasn’t the lift slowed down yet?”

Hideyori looked at him as though he had said something incredibly stupid.

“Surely we’re nearly there, right?” Dentaku asked. “I mean, there are only 40 floors displayed on the panel.”

“Did I press the button for the 40th floor?” Hideyori raised an eyebrow.

Again, Dentaku took the executive decision not to answer.

“That’s what I thought.”

Dentaku watched as the number ticked over 40, then to 41, 42, 43, and higher still! How was that even possible? With every number that ticked, the interval between them became shorter. Soon, it became scarcely more than a blur. Dentaku felt a sudden increase of pressure on his knees, as the lift continued accelerating beyond anything he could’ve expected.

“What’s going on?” He looked to Hideyori, desperate for an answer.

The man only grinned. He couldn’t have looked more at ease.

Dentaku looked on in horror as the entire space they were in began to distort. The walls began warping, the brushed metal shifted through several entire colour spectra with no end in sight. The numbers on the buttons rearranged themselves before his own eyes. The counter above the door had disappeared entirely. The whole lift was starting to shake, as though it had come alive and was now desperately trying to break free from its rails.

What in the world was happening?

Dentaku backed into the corner, clamped his hands around on the railings and screwed his eyes shut, wishing for it all to be over.

As soon as the thought crossed his mind, however, it was. A sudden rush of blood up from his legs, as the lift ground to a halt. The electronic voice from before sounded, though Dentaku was hardly paying attention to what it was saying, and another ping heralded the opening of the doors. Dentaku stayed rooted to the spot, as though if he dared move the awful juddering would start again. Hideyori, having watched the whole development with detached amusement, snapped his fingers in front of the boy’s face.

“We’re here.”

Dentaku opened his eyes. The lift had returned to normal, only now the number 999 on the button had been replaced with a slashed zero. That symbol usually denoted ‘null’, a set of numbers containing nothing; but enough of set theory—what the hell did that mean here? He stared around, bewildered.

“What was all that?”

“You didn’t listen to me.” Hideyori shook his head.

“What?”

“I told you not to think too hard, didn’t I?”

Dentaku shrank slightly, as though being scolded by his father.

“I tried, but—”

“Not hard enough. That was some serious distortion you created there. I was beginning to think you’d have us trapped there forever.”

“I—Distortion?” Dentaku didn’t understand. “How could I have—”

“You were worrying too much about the existence of the 999th floor, and where we were going.” Hideyori glared. “Your anxiety was what warped the space in its fragile transitory state.”

The man was speaking words, words that, by themselves, Dentaku understood, but none of what he said was making any sense.

“Transitory space? I—”

Hideyori sighed and pulled down the brim of his hat. Dentaku thought it odd he was still wearing it. They were both inside, after all.

“Think about it,” he said.

Not needing an invitation, Dentaku thought long and hard.

“I still don’t get it.”

In the time that had taken, Hideyori had long since left the lift, and was walking along a corridor.

“Wait!” Dentaku called after him, stumbling out of the accursed device. Looking back with a shudder, he swore he’d never step foot in one of the damn things again. Hideyori didn’t seem to be going anywhere in a hurry, and soon Dentaku had caught up.

“Take a look outside, why don't you,” the man said, motioning over to his left. Dentaku turned and stared through the panes of glass that stretched across the walkway. Amidst a sea of darkness, the void stared back.

“What?!”

Unable to contain his disbelief, Dentaku blinked, stared, and stared some more. Looking down, the building stretched for many miles until he could no longer see anything at all.

“Where even are we?” He asked.

“Nowhere,” came the man’s reply.

“Nowhere?”

“Exactly.”

“But…” Just when he thought he couldn’t get any more confused, Dentaku found himself hit by another curve-ball. “What?”

“Where do you think we are?”

“I thought we were in JPRO’s Chiba office,” he began. “That’s where you took me, if I’m not mistaken.” He then looked back out the window, only to be treated to the same empty expanse of nothing. He tried looking deeper into it, trying to see something, anything, but with no luck.

Hideyori stopped walking. “You’re not… wrong, exactly.”

He lit another cigarette.

“Please explain this to me,” Dentaku implored. “You clearly know what all of this is.”

“There’s no point.” Hideyori shook his head. “You’re not on a level where you could understand it yet, you’re simply not able to understand yet.”

“Please, Mr Hakana.”

Hideyori sighed and turned to face him.

“Where we are now: in reality, this space doesn’t exist.”

Dentaku’s jaw hung open slightly, but he swiftly clamped it shut.

“You heard me,” Hideyori continued with a nod. “This place doesn’t exist at all, or,” he paused, then looked away, “or rather it shouldn’t.”

“Then, where are we?”

“Let me ask you this first,” Hideyori said. “Where do you really think we are?”

Dentaku was quiet for a moment.

“This is all linked back to the cognition you mentioned earlier, isn’t it?”

Hideyori grinned, and his third eye gleamed.

Dentaku continued. “You said that what happened in the elevator was on account of my anxieties. Then, my cognition must’ve influenced reality. You said that the space we were in was ‘fragile’ and ‘transitory’. That means we were going somewhere, right? Hence the disguise of an elevator.”

Hideyori looked vaguely impressed. “Maybe I’ll give you a little more credit next time.” He folded his arms loosely over his chest. “Wasn’t expecting you to make the connection, at least not now, but yeah. Where we are now… this place doesn’t exist in reality. That’s because we’re not in reality, nor have we been since we passed the 40th floor.”

“So, what you’re saying is that we’re in some kind of cognitive world instead?” Dentaku prompted. Listen to yourself! His mind was screaming. What the hell are you even saying?! Wake up!

Despite what his mind tried to tell him, Dentaku knew this was no dream.

“Hm.” Hideyori bit into his lip a little and tilted his head a little. “Uh, yeah, sure. Let’s go with that.”

Dentaku’s eyes narrowed. He looked back out the window. The general absence was a lot less shocking now the third time around.

Hideyori wasn’t telling him everything. Did he dare push his luck? The question of why begged another about the true nature of this ‘cognitive world’. Also, there was the man himself. Could he really trust what this Hideyori Hakana was saying? Dentaku hadn’t reached the point down the line where he could tell whether taking the man up on his offer had been for better or worse. Trusting either word or action of a man he’d known for not even half an hour, however, was entirely off the table. All he wanted was the truth as to what happened on that day; that, what was going on with Harigane, and a thousand other questions his mind wouldn’t rest until it had the answers to. However, the further down this psychedelic rabbit hole he went, the further away these answers became.

“Finished gawking at the scenery yet?” Hideyori had finished his cigarette, promptly disposing of it in the same manner as before so that not even a drop of ash fell to the floor; oddly meticulous for a man who smelled so foul.

“Oh—” Dentaku didn’t realise he had been staring out into space. “Sorry.”

“Come on. Follow me.”

The two walked in silence down the corridor until they had reached a large black door. There was a little divot on its surface where a peephole would ordinarily sit. Hideyori snapped his fingers, and another little marble popped into existence, held between his outstretched thumb and index finger. Dentaku was too busy gazing at it to wonder where it had come from. Slotting the little orb into the door, Hideyori turned the large doorknob left all the way, then right all the way. There was a click, and the door was suddenly outlined in white. Holding it open, Hideyori grinned.

“After you.”

That grin, Dentaku knew, would soon become permanently etched into his retina.

The intensity of it alone shook him to the bone.