“If These Walls Could Talk”

  — (BATHROOM & PRISON GRAFITTI)

  //Codex Tag

  function inscribeAnnotation016(content=

  /* Contrary to what many believe, Kendrick Lamar didn't coin this phrase. While his song is apt, using physical walls and prison walls as a metaphor for hidden moments, secrets, and emotional barriers. He also makes it about sex. Which is…less apt.

  If real school bathroom walls could talk they would probably say—why the hell are all of you in here during class, or why are you putting that firecracker up my ass. This is why sentient objects are risky business in stories.*/

  codex.updateEntry("Found Graffiti | Every story leaves a mark. Some are just rude and use sharpies.");

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  There was a story that Remi used to read to Bea when she was little. It began with a penguin swimming in the sea, when from its belly it heard a funny sound: Rumble! Grumble! Gurgle! Roar. The onomatopoeic sounds made up the title of the children’s book. She had loved how Remi leaned into the words; it was pure hyperbole, and Remi loved it. Never in his life had he ever heard a stomach make actual audible sounds, gas sounds sure, but never had his stomach ever spoken to him. That was until today.

  Needing no further clue of where the story wanted him to go next, he proceeded directly to the lunchroom. While the space should have felt familiar, Remi had learned the Crucible did nothing ordinary. While the space had the long folding tables, the eclectic collection of disjointed chairs, and even the haphazard wrappers and refuse scattered about, it was missing something significant. Other people.

  Normally, the cafeteria at lunch was a bustling beehive of activity, filled with activity and the buzz of students as they milled about. If you looked closely, you could usually even spot the queen, circled by attendants bringing her french fries hoping to earn some attention. Today the space was missing all of it—drones, worker bees, and the requisite monarchy. All it had was Remi.

  He was too hungry to care. Sitting down at the nearest table, ensuring his back was to a wall, he fished Astrid’s lunch from out of his shopping bag. It was encased in brown paper, and felt strangely heavier now that it was in his hand than when he was carrying it. He tore into it, spilling the contents on the table.

  There was a soggy-looking sandwich, a cookie that when he touched it felt warm, like it was fresh from the oven. There was also a granola bar like the one he had eaten before, and a pair of juice boxes, and a folded note. He went to open the neatly folded parchment so he could read it, but paused, and set it down for a second. The thought of reading had reminded him. That unspent stat point, the one he had thought to put in Lore upon receiving his codes, still sat unspent. It was the obvious choice. It’s still the right choice. He just hadn’t done it yet. Remi brought the menu up quickly, assigned the point, and then returned to his note.

  Remi could hear her voice as he read it.

  

  Nino,

  

  The sandwich is PB&J with the crusts cut off. Just like you like. The cookie is magic. The granola bar is backup. The juice boxes are obviously for when you’re thirsty. Use when hungry, but remember to eat the sandwich. Yes, all of it right now.

  

  I know you forget to eat when you’re trying to disappear. You hide and hope that no one notices you, or remembers. I notice, and I remember.

  

  Astrid (and the Mom in Me).

  He shouldn’t have been surprised that Astrid knew how he liked his sandwiches, but he suspected there was far more to her than he originally expected. His stomach gurgled again, which was the last motivation Remi needed to bite into the sandwich. It was perfect. Smooth peanut butter, and strawberry that tasted like it was grown and preserved for him today. It tasted of his childhood and his home, and even though it made him incredibly sad, he felt remarkably better. As he ate, his mana and HP climbed.

  Remi smirked. This was far better than the moist sandwich that would have been his lunch in the real world. There is something really great about a good PB&J!

  Before he ate the second half, he examined it to understand why. The tooltip appeared right away:

  Soggy Sentiment Sandwich

  Type: Food (Consumable )

  Effect: Fully restores HP and Mana. No buffs.

  Description: Two halves. No crust. Packed with love and strawberry jam. Tastes like someone still cares.

  A quick examination of his bars showed that both his HP and Mana had crawled to 50%. He momentarily considered saving the other half, but thought better of ignoring Astrid’s instructions. As he finished, he looked closer at the other items.

  Warmed Cookie of Memory

  Type: Food (Consumable)

  Effect: Restores +25 HP instantly. Buff +5 Luck for 10 minutes.

  Description: Grade 6 field trip quality cooking in a plastic pocket. Oatmeal Raisin. Still warm. Just enough sweetness to feel lucky again.

  Luck, huh? Most people treated raisins in baked goods as a punishment. Figures that he’d be the weirdo who secretly liked them. Most people ignored the ‘unlucky dessert’—a bonus, as there were always plenty left in the staffroom when a parent brought them in.

  The other two items seemed even more straightforward.

  Crucible Grade Power Bar

  Type: Food (Consumable)

  Effect: Restores +30 HP and +30 MP over 60 seconds. Buff +1 Endurance and +1 Wisdom for 5 minutes.

  Description: The snack your dad kept in his glove-box for when he missed breakfast. Keeps his and your stories going.

  Remi was not a dad. Maybe Dorian had a snack or two in his glove box. He had only expired pink cards, stacked one on top of the other. A map that he no longer used because of the power of GPS, but he kept transferring from vehicle to vehicle for nostalgic purposes. And a few plastic straws, which he continually reused, as nothing angered him more than a paper straw becoming mush in his Root Beer.

  Juicebox of Perspective

  Type: Food (Consumable)

  If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

  Amount: 2

  Effect: +50 MP instantly. Cooldown 10 minutes.

  Description: The juice you get after donating some blood. You feel better, but may not do it again right away.

  Juice after blood loss. Classic. Solid Crucible as school nurse move!

  Remi gathered the rest of his lunch, tucking it back into his plastic bag for later. He paused with the note still in his hand, reading it one last time before folding it carefully to stow it.

  There was something about the second-to-last line that had stuck with him. You hide and hope that no one notices you, or remembers.

  That wasn’t true. Was it? Sure, he’d avoided the staff photo. And yes, he’d always joked that when he was done teaching, he could just walk out of the building and disappear. But usually, that's just how it worked. Teachers were part of the place until they weren’t. And once they were gone, the school just moved on. It was quick, efficient, and ruthless. And while the walls might hold your photo, your face was quickly forgotten. Institutional memory was short. Maybe it was easier to vanish than to be erased. He had always thought so.

  He ate in silence, finishing the last bite. As his HP and Mana bars ticked upward, he savoured the reflective moment; the warmth the note had given him, which lingered longer than it should.

  [AI]: Wasn’t that nice?

  REMI: Wasn’t what nice?

  [AI]: Astrid’s lunch and note. Delicious treats, and existential reflection. The perfect lunch pairing.

  REMI: I would ask how you can read my thoughts, but you will give me some bullshit about reading my breathing patterns and heart rate, I'm sure.

  [AI]: No, I do have some ability to read your thoughts. I have limited omniscience in the crucible.

  REMI: You’re kidding, right?

  [AI]: Yes, it's the heartbeat thing. But it was fun to make you doubt yourself. I think I will do that more often. But as I was saying, why are you so worried about your permanence in this place?

  REMI. I don’t know. Doesn’t everyone want to matter?

  [AI]: But you said that isn’t important to you. Were you lying to yourself?

  REMI: Probably. I think it's easier. If you say you want to matter and you don’t, that's a hard pill to swallow. If you say you don’t care, and your fear is true, it's easier; I guess.

  [AI]: So do you want to matter in this place? Well, not this one, but the old one. You get what I mean.

  REMI: I guess so. Now that I'm thinking about it.

  [AI]: Well then. I guess that means we’ll need to get you up on these walls.

  [NEW QUEST: PROVE YOU EXIST]

  Some echoes are louder when you leave something behind. So, leave behind a permanent trace of your existence within the Crucible. You have skipped every staff photo. You’ve joked about disappearing without a ripple. The system is calling your bluff.

  Affix your image to the staff photo wall in a way that can’t be erased. Bonus: make someone remember you who otherwise wouldn’t. The photos are where they always are, in the staffroom. Figure the rest out yourself. Next time, you probably should just show up for picture day.

  Remi: That doesn’t sound too bad.

  [AI]: No, not really, if you can get a photo of yourself. You could just use the photocopier. Oh wait. You Ginsu-knifed it, and set it on fire. That seems problematic.

  Remi smiled.

  Remi: Not really, I just need to set another fire.

  He didn't mean literally, of course. That would be rather difficult. Instead, he went to the main hallway looking for a little red box on the wall. They were typically every few hundred feet in a high school. He had also noticed that every intersection had a security camera. It didn’t take long to find a fire alarm near a camera. He looked right into the camera. Waved, just in case it was motion activated, and then pulled the alarm handle down.

  The sirens blared. A wail of frustration in response to Remi’s defiance. Previously hidden lights began to strobe. Syllabugs scattered, and he simply waited. He wasn't sure what was going to happen next, not exactly. But there would need to be some sort of intervention. Would it be firefighters? Or maybe the prep-vulture? When the response came, it was with the cool efficiency found at most high schools. The siren cut off, followed by an announcement.

  Remi Page. Please come to the office!

  There it was. He almost skipped his way down the long hallway to the office. Might as well find it now, given that he would need to go there for detention after next block. It was near the staffroom, which was convenient for the quest.

  As he entered, he took it all in. It was like all offices, smelling of industrial lemon cleaner and quiet judgement. No one ever came here happy. Most students were here because they wanted something or were in trouble. In Remi’s case, it was both. There were a half-dozen chairs sitting awkwardly near the wall, plastic and uncomfortable. Infront of him was a counter that separated the student waiting space from the office space. Everything behind that counter looked cleaner, newer, like a separate system had been installed for staff only. And there waiting for him stood Astrid.

  Remi was happy to see her. She, however, couldn't say the same about him. Her previously soft expression had hardened. Her jaw was tight, and her voice came out in a restrained hiss. “Mr. Page!” The councillor’s warmth had evaporated. “What exactly do you think you were doing? What could have possibly led you to think that pulling the alarm was a good idea?”

  He knew he had to play this one close to his chest. “I'm sorry, Ms. Mendoza, but I'm not sure what you are talking about.”

  “We have you on camera pulling the fire alarm.”

  “Sorry, that wasn’t me.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Ya, pretty sure.”

  Remi put on his best smile. The one he had seen a thousand times before when students tried to wiggle out of trouble. The I didn’t put gum in her hair smile. The I couldn’t possibly be on my cellphone in class smile. The kind of smile that infuriated adults, because it said I think you’re too dumb to know the truth.

  The effect was instantaneous.

  “I have it on camera. You can’t actually be denying it.”

  Remi did his best to look crestfallen. He had a role to play. “I'm positive you’re mistaken. Could you show me the security footage?”

  Astrid’s face changed; it was knowing, but she too had a role to play.

  “Sure, just come around here.”

  “No, sorry, Ms. Mendoza. Could you print it off for me? Just in case my parents want to see it.”

  Her face contorted. He had used the real magic words in a school: “my parents.” No one in the office wanted a phone call from an irate mom. That’s how the school ended up in a Facebook Moms of the Crucible group chat. Having no other choice but to comply, Astrid walked to the computer, hit a few buttons, and a sheet of paper slid out of the printer.

  It was a still frame of Remi, waving his left hand. His right was on the fire alarm. He took it, sliding it into his onion bag. “Thanks. I will show it to them as soon as I see them. I promise.”

  Astrid’s role cracked. She laughed out loud but was quick to stifle it. “You do that, young man.” She looked at him again knowingly. “You and the vice-principal can talk about it during your detention, which we have on the books. That is, if he catches up with you. You have to be here, but sometimes these meetings get missed. If you catch my drift.”

  “I promise I will be here,” he said. “I'm quite slippery, however, so who is to say about that meeting.”

  Her nod said everything he needed for confirmation. “And thanks again for all your help. The lunch. All of it. I really appreciate you.”

  For the first time since Remi had met her, she lost her swagger of confidence. It was there, and then, just for a moment, it wasn’t. Her smile was warm and genuine, not like the councillor’s, or the janitor’s, or even the secretary’s, but hers. “Thanks, Nino. And good luck with the rest of it. I hope someday we will meet again.”

  Remi gave her a half-nod, awkward but sincere. “While that would be nice for me. I’m not so sure you want to be in any more reruns. So instead of see you soon, let’s go with I wish you a better script.” He didn’t wait for a reply, just simply turned and left the office. With any luck, this loop would finally close for her.

  ?─??????─?

  Life isn’t some kind of grand destiny.

  It’s just a collection of decisions shaped by the moments that happen around us.

  Of Moon and Magic follows a silver-haired girl. Her mana was weak, but that never dulled her hunger for magic.

  We follow her steps. We weigh her choices. We sit with her loneliness. In a world where magic is everything, war is constant, and morality is little more than a neglected guideline.

  Will she become just another cog in the machine?

  Or will she be the one to end it all?

  Only one way to find out.

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