Dimension Of Perfection (And Its Flaws)

Chapter 2.5 - Strangely Pleasant

The wind blows into my face as I stroll toward the waterfront.

Which isn't great, I just fixed it up nearly ten seconds ago and it's not easy reaching behind your own head to readjust back your pages.

I've been very busy this morning, I've got a big conference being held in one of the new themes that recently appeared.

I say recently appeared, because for the last twenty years it hasn't been safe to travel to. So, to everyone outside, recently appeared.

Anyway, this trip happens every Thursday, I take a train into Loom's rail junction, and the train is redirected from there to wherever else I need to be.

From there, it's just boring meetings that thirteen year-old me never considered in his life 'plan'.

There's one problem with this journey though.

Hector Damon.
Yes. Him, knows exactly when I'll show up to the train station, and always loves to annoy me until the train comes.

He'll take my laptop and dangle it just above my head so it's out of reach, he'll draw inappropriate imagery onto my face in permanent marker, and sometimes he even just chooses to answer every request of mine with: 'Why?'.

I can't say I'm a big fan of the guy.

I don't even know where he came from. None of us do.
He just appeared one day and now every time we all try to do something as a friend group, he'll be right behind us like he's able to teleport and then go on to make comments on whatever's happening as if he was there when we planned it.

He usually isn't, because he seems to phase in-and-out of reality until we see him and whatever condition he's in.

One time he showed up with a massive gash in his leg, and we had to help him put all his fluff back, that had fallen out in a line behind where he was walking.

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From through the trees, I glance to the train station, wedged between two massive skyscrapers, that previously did not block the view of the river.

The many platforms, all emerging from underground stretch far out over the lake and into the middle Sackperson Village island. The station is bustling with activity, given that the middle island redirects shipments of all kinds.

I see my platform; platform 32, just barely through the park trees and catch somehow no signs of a drunken demon in a hoodie and eyeliner. Instead just the lonely, empty waiting area remains, not being used because Metropoltans don't get out as often as they should.

Odd, but not rare.

I'm sure he's just late. Or somewhere causing trouble with the police. It's pretty common to see him on the news.

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I enter the station just to find no Hector in sight. He's really running late this time.

Everything is the same, all the trains are on schedule, nothing is down for maintenance, and that same to-go box from Jarvys and Arvys is sitting exactly as it was, with precisely four chicken nuggets left inside the packaging.

But nothing indicating the precense of a big red fella with horns about to draw a stylised S on my head.

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A minute goes by.

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Then another.

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This feeling of peace, it feels very... Unnatural. Almost eerie.

Like I shouldn't be experiencing this.