“I don’t know that comic.”
“Really?” she says. “You know them all.”
I stopped reading new editions when my mom got sick and I’m sure there are a mountain of comics I’m behind on.
We move to a spot at a counter running along the walls. I’ll play along. It’s all in good fun, right? Honestly, I haven’t thought about myself in a long time. What do I want? I have no idea, probably because months and months of holding down a full-time job, managing both a day and an evening caregiver, picking up odd remote jobs to help pay the bills, and managing my mother’s healthcare left me whimpering in a corner most days.
Me? Me,who?
Maybe I should think about it now. Whataremy biggest desires?
Arial scribbles away like she’s writing a book.
I can’t think of a single damn thing. The Con was the only thing on my radar for so long that I don’t know what else to want.
“Why aren’t you writing?”
I shrug. “I don’t know what to write. Coming here with you is the only thing I desired.”
She rolls her eyes. “This is not the time to get serious. Write down the frivolous things. You know, like having bigger boobs, or finally quitting the shitty pharmacy chain we work for. Or sleeping with your next-door neighbor’s hot drummer boyfriend.”
She sounds a little too resolute with that last one.
Just then, both of our phones go off.
She peeks. “I got a text that says I need to update my phone.”
“Updates take too long,” I grumble as I think about what to write. There’s a literal crowd at the door waiting to get in. I’m sure we’ll be shooed out of here soon. “Do it later.”
“This message is a little passive aggressive.” She turns her phone so I can read.
Restart required! Warning, warning, global announcement. All phones with 69G capability must be updated immediately. Failure to restart may lead to catastrophic results. Restart required!
“I bet it’s something the Con is doing, especially since our phones haven’t worked since we got here.”
It’s bothering me that my cell isn’t working. Not so much because I’m addicted to it or anything. But because of the voicemail from my mom that I saved and never transferred to the cloud for safe keeping. In a rare moment of lucidity, she asked her morning caregiver to call me. The caregiver dialed my number, but since I was at work, I didn’t pick up.
It’s me, Fern. It’s me. When will you be home?
She died late that afternoon and those were the last words my mother ever said to me, memorialized on my voicemail. And now the damn thing won’t work.
Arial continues. “Oh, maybe it’s a remotely installed app or game or something.”
A shiver of excitement goes through me. This place has spared no expense in creating an immersive experience. I wouldn’t be surprised if they’d dumped an app on our phones while we waited in the security line. Something big is going to happen. I can feel it in my bones.
“Hurry and write your list, Fern, so we can keep moving. I want to walk through that portal and see what’s in the next room.”
Drumming my fingers on the counter, I try and think. An image of Assassin Krunch’s character comes to my mind. She’s beautiful and not in a gigantic boob anime kind of way. She’s regal and natural with thick, glossy hair that falls to her shoulders in gentle waves. Her flawless porcelain skin is kissed with a sprinkle of light freckles. She’s curvy, but not too tall, kind of like I’m built, except she’s tight in all the right places and I’m… not. I have a love-hate relationship with my body. I’m shaped like my mom and my grandma, and damn it, we’re solid Fargo stock who can survive sixty below Fahrenheit in the winter and a hundred-ten in the summer and still get shit done without a single complaint.
Still, what would it be like to be a sexier, more seductive version of me? One who is quick-witted, confident, sassy, and super intelligent?
Assassin Krunch’s character has a Doctorate of Archeology. It’s a silly, but that’s what drew me to her character in the first place. She’s basically a female Indiana Jones and, thanks to my love for history, exploration, and archeology, I was instantly enthralled with her story.
I desire: To have skin and hair like Assassin Krunch
I desire: To know how to fight like a real assassin in case I need to rescue Arial from her next-door neighbor’s girlfriend
I desire: An unlimited supply of extra greasy burgers from Burger Joes. With a side of slightly burnt onion rings.
