Dimension Of Perfection (And Its Flaws)

Chapter 23 - That Feeling Of Secondhand Torment

Standing alone and lost, my stomach groans. Already. Now that I've already been trapped down here for so long, my knit longs to feel the sun again.

I still haven't found a way to get to 4663, since I'm well aware that without her I'm useless. Farrdus didn't help much, and I'll guarantee that asking anyone else with a uniform will be fruitless.

My only options are to wait, or find my own way.

Obviously, the second option beckons me. From the place where Farrdus was, I weave meekly through the crowd furtively investigating anyone with a similar situation to mine.

"Yeah, if we're out of here by tomorrow I was gonna get some cookies from that new place."

"What're you talking about?!? The original's obviously better!"

"Deadlines've been a bit tight, but we make it work."

"What're we gonna do for dinner tonight?"

"Oh, I don't know, I was just hoping our rations would come before then."

The distracting magnitude of chatting squeezes into the space, only a select handful of people not adding to it.

Out of those people, there's a shorter man standing opposite the main exit hunched against a wall, avoiding eye contact with anyone and gazing down into the ground, with one hand supporting their head on the wall.

The back of his square head is mostly light blue, above a white waistcoat and an ornate collar. He has a dull rectangle body and black paperclips for limbs, that seem bent and out of order.

As no-one else appears to care about my existence, I willfully trudge forward toward the figure without much secrecy.

I begin looming over him and attempt to lightly tap him on his shoulder. "Hey, I was just gonna-".

"OOH!" The man shrieks, his voice coated in shock. His tone is quite low with a particular accent that seems... familiar.

As he jumps in terror, he whips around and discovers all at once who was tapping him. Additionally, I also realise who he is in a wave of surprise.

Trembling in my direction, the dire and faded expression of Clive Handforth stares with his eyebrows tilted nervously.

I edge away a small amount, then instinctively lunging forward and grabbing him in a massive bear hug that he yelps inside. "Clive!!!!" His body at first shivers wildly, slightly softening over a few seconds. Slowly recognising what I'm doing, I latch off of him and return my arms to my sides as Clive wobbles from their strength. "Oh, sorry."

Clive drags himself up and draws a smile on his face. "Hello? Are you looking for someone?" He suggests.

"No!" I remember 4663. "Well actually, yes, but man! Have you seen what's been happening lately?! Wow! Talk about weird!"

Clive keeps his closed grin until it starts to falter. "I'm, sorry... do I know you?" He groans in a sincere expression.

"Yeah! Of course you do! It's me! Hector! Hector Damon! Y'know?!" I check around my surroundings and slide forward to whisper in my hand. "The one who showed up with half a leg?" I'm impressed I remembered that incident. It's unusual that I remember anything actually.

Clive questionably keeps his fading smile up and stares. "I... don't recall." Clive softly murmurs.

This joke wasn't funny in the first place, so I don't know what the hell he's trying. "Really? Oh, come on! You know me!! I know you do!!" I blabber in his smug face. His face melts further. "I mean, come on! How don't you and Don recognise me?!"