Sisuware Chapter 1: I Really Hate Smiling[Urban Fantasy, 1586]

This is not a promotion! Have I nailed chapter 1? I spent an unhealthy amount of time on it. Rate it from 1-10, based on how much you want to read the next one, not yet published, 1 being you don't want to at all.

Stuck in the bustling traffic of New York, a driver slowly stepped out. The door as it lapsed shut behind him.

The people around him, dead still.

Unmoving.

The cheers in Seoul faded. Another, far disturbing noise had stolen their ears. One fan lowered her glow stick. Unable to hear a single note. None was played, even her band had not the pride to keep performing.

In a market stand in Kampala. Tomatoes rolled, staining the ground with their blood. An old woman’s hand shook. Unable to remember.

She feared that after all these years of faithlessness; her ancestors had come for her damned soul.

The global panic came from a single noise. A one-note electronic beep echoing directly in their minds. A silent assassin to all thoughts they tried to form.

Shards of coffee scattered on the floor. Frantically the man looked around. Nothing affirmed his primal desire to feel safe.

Thousands around the world tumbled out of bed. Slamming straight onto the soft carpet. This is how many were tossed out of slumber. Violating them – the beep’s tenebrous wail reached them before the seven-foot jaguar could.

It had ground life on earth to a complete halt.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

Died, the constant clicking of keys. She starred at her coworkers. They stared right back at her. Her supervisors as oblivious to the state of things as ever.

Neither of them were sure what they preferred, the soul sucking clicks as the tolled away for a corporate overlord, or the ominous beep.

The wind did not shake. For this unbearable noise rung deep within their skulls. Soundly ricocheting around its thick walls. Only getting louder.

Without warning – It stopped.

The incessant nagging just ceased!? In its wake, it left nothing but an echo.

Shortly, another noise took the rains. A sinister voice, simply too soft and too calm to sound so wrong. Amused – its ethereal smile mocked them deeply.

«Attention! All of Humanity, » It said. «Let us play a little Game. »

***

Meilin Tan, assistant to Kimball Lim (legal name: Lim Sae-Jin) had nothing else to do at the moment. She just stood idle.

Dr Kimball paced around the desert sands. No-one held him in such high regard. Even Kimball didn’t make a habit of referring to himself as a doctor.

In his mid-twenties, he was a sapling bearing fruit. The PhD never helped him. It was just a laminated piece of paper that cost him dearly.

Mr Lim, his father, had said he’d one day learn to appreciate it. Kimball never did. Meanwhile, he had an inkling to shred all of it to pieces, and bathe in the momentary joys of madness.

Attentively, Meilin watched him walk in circles.

On the same call she found never failed to make a child out of the man.

‘His hands are shaking again,’ Tan thought, ‘definitely his mother.’

Like clockwork, Tan headed back to their camp.

“… you won’t find anything.” erupted the voice from the black screen.

“I will…”

“Just stop all this nonsense already. You’ve already turned our fortune into dust_”

“I… I_”

“You know what! Finish it. It’s not like there’s anything left.”

Try as he did, nothing came out. The line went dead.

Staring at the disappointing reflection on his phone, Kimball let out a long sigh.

The dust settled.

His gaze wandered to the bright afternoon skies. Numb to the sandy winds that scrapped indiscriminately across his face. It was all he could do to drown out everything.

Thoughts of failure.

Voices of despair.

Followed by constant suffocation orchestrated his heartless regrets.

He drew a large breath. His lungs filled with the dry Saharan air, forcing him to violently choke.

Come on Kimball… not again… not now at least…

A rainbow seem to have barfed on him, showering him in unhealthy positivity. With another drawn out breath, a huge grin plastered itself on his face.

I really hate smiling.

Out of the desert winds, he casually entered the tent. “I’m finally out of the hot air, can you believe the heat out there, it’s insane…”

“what did she say?” Said Meilin without a hint of hesitation.

Not going to mince words, are we?

The inside air was now dryer than that outside.

His smile cracked under the pressure. Fingers twitched. His hands dashed around his pockets, searching for an escape.

Unable and unwilling to find one, he surrendered to her death grip. He emptied his lungs. His smile – fractured, still remained.

“She said that we should stop…” Kimball’s shoulders scoffed, as he dismissed the whole reality of things. “I won’t find anything… the usual…”

Far removed from his desperation, she let out a slow sigh.

Trying not to be heard she murmured to herself. “She might be right you know…”

“what did you say?”

The silence spoke for itself. She knew he heard her. He knew she wouldn’t repeat it.

“Okay then,” she said at last “I do think we should stop…”

With the indifference of a trained professional, he replied. “Not from you too, Meilin.”

Meilin saw the detachment in his eyes. “I mean it seriously, Kimball!”

A large paper unfurled on the table.

Dusty.

Aged.

Ancient.

“Look at this…” she ordered.

His gaze remained firmly on her. Meilin ignored it.

“Your escapades are always crazy, and that’s putting it lightly.” Her finger moved across the ancient blueprint, “But this one here, this one is pure madness.”

Noticing his lack of focus, she slammed her hand on the centre of it.

“Even if we make it through the stretches of Mauritania… there is no way you’re living through all this over here... this is the Grand Erg Oriental, in the heart of the dessert, mind you…”

Turning around. Their eyes locked. Her gaze fierce and steadfast. His lost.

“I’m going to give it to you straight, you’re not Indiana Jones, and I’m certainly not Lara Croft...”

‘He’s not even listening. Kimball never does.’ She bit her lip, drawing a drop of innocent blood.

Frustrated, she stormed out of the tent flaps. “If you finally figure that out, I’ll be in town.”

He didn’t even turn to look at her leave.

Great… even my assistant thinks I’m a good for nothing.

His eyes darted slowly around the room. Without any purpose.

Even now, he could not avert his gaze from a specific point on the blueprint. It spoke to him. Just as every single one before this.

Leading him to another failure.

… nothing’s changed…

Closer, he came. Guided by this unnatural force he knew from birth, until he bumped into the table.

Grinding his teeth, he swiped the paper onto the floor. Tearing the fragile fibres apart.

Unease found its way to his hands. They shook like an innocent man on trial.

I should stop! I should stop!? Don’t they think I know that! I should have stopped ages ago when I realised he was wrong. But now…

Crouching down, he picked up the tethered pieces.

… now I have nothing…

Patiently, he pieced it together with tape. Folding it neatly, he cradled it into his vest.

Kimball left the tent, immediately being scorched by the heat of the sun.

I better collect the markers before the winds pick up again.

One by one, he went around the excavation site, picking all of them up. Tossing them into a black case.

As he cleared the site of his tools, the sound of familiar grunts etched ever closer.

Locals…

“Hey you! Yeah, you. I know you can hear me.”

Unfazed, Kimball picked up another survey tag.

A big, brawny hand wrapped tightly around his collar, scraping into his skin. Lifting him up by his vest.

“we told you to stop digging here didn’t we.”

Like a doll, Kimball did nothing. His eyes still plucked on the next steel tag.

The hand on him loosened, tossing him unceremoniously onto the dusty sands.

“Just leave okay – my grandma won’t stop bugging me about it.”

The figure turned around to leave. “If I have to come back here again, I’ll… I’ll…” again he grunted, “Just don’t let me catch you here again.”

After he left, others came. Each as violent as the last. Leaving him as miserable as ever.

A group of children came. Throwing jagged stones at him. Kimball picked up another tag.

Then Another.

Then the next.

“He’s creepy guys, let’s just go.” Said one of the kids, dropping their stones.

Eventually he finished packing. Kimball shovelled all his equipment into one larger case. All of it, state of the art tech. What remained of his father’s fortune.

She’ll probably come back tomorrow morning. A faint genuine smile found its way to him. Talk though she may… she won’t leave me. Meilin as Lara Croft…?

Because of the scorching heat, he never failed to catch a glimpse. Memories filled with golden sweat licking her skin clouded his mind.

Kimball blushed.

I can see that. I better stop. I don’t want to get cold feet now.

Out of his numerous pockets, he took out a sticky note.

Found it.

With a piece of paper.  A black pen. And what was left of his pride as an archaeologist, he scribbled a last note. Slapping it to the crates in the tent. On the note Kimball wrote:

Here. Sell this junk. Go back home. Find yourself an Indiana Jones. There’s nothing left for me there. I kinda like it out here anyway.

Zipping up the tent. He left. His silhouette blurring with the starless night.