Chapter 1: Richard
Enter your name: RICHARD
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CHIGAIJIN BETA SOFTWARE -- LICENSE TERMS
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245. Disclaimer
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LoLS (Loss of Life Syndrome), RTS (Reality Transformation
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For as long as Richard could remember, he had lived in the quaint village of Coo Portino, or Little Port Coo. According to legend the first word of the first woman to visit the area was “Coo.” Richard only knew this because of an extra credit assignment.
Richard was one of the 43.5% or so (as per the last census) in the territory of Foreign Zix who had a talent. Talents were quite useful, since they allowed you to defy nature in one way or another. Richard’s talent was to go back to any point in time where he had “saved” his memories.
“Come on, let’s get some interactivity here!” said Gordon. Gordon was one of the 47.6% who did not appear to have a talent, beyond making bad jokes and saying “curry curry rice.” Not that it reflected badly on him. It was better, as he was fond of saying, than being the guy who can only do other people’s taxes.
“Wait, what? Gordon never said that,” interrupted Kushal. Kushal also did not have a natural talent, but was good with money and might eventually become a person who does other people’s taxes. Already he was in charge of the piddling wealth of Coo Portino.
“Enough of this,” said Richard, “You know what we need? Some adventure. And maybe a tennis game.”
“Whatever it takes to get out of Coo,” muttered Gordon.
“There’s gotta be something we can do on a Friday afternoon besides JETS,” said Kushal, “After all, I’m not in it.”
It was at that moment that a stranger in a dark cloak (or was it a dark shape in a strange cloak?) appeared between the three of them, which given the appropriate surroundings of a house meant that it was on the table. It promptly toppled over from its awkward position and landed in a bowl of ramen.
With much annoyed muttering it got to its feet, now standing on an empty chair. “I have come,” it began in a voice that could be a tenor or an alto, mysteriously giving no clues to its sex, “to–”. Then it saw Richard frozen with a blank look on his face. “What is he doing?” it said, extending a cloak-draped arm-like shadowy shape in his direction.
“Never mind him, he’s saving, go on,” answered Kushal impatiently.
“Yes, well, ahem.” The shape seemed a bit lost. “I have come to give you guys a Message.”
“Did you hear the capital on that?” Gordon whispered.
The figured turned its head in a way that suggested a glare, despite the utter lack of visible facial features. “One of you three is the One chosen.”
“Why not the one Chosen, or the Chosen One? Or Three?” said Richard, now out of his trance.
The shape somehow looked distinctly miffed. “Enough! I was going to be dramatic about this but you just can’t take the hint. Just make sure you’re at the next tournament. Dues are due in deux shuu.”
“What?” said all three.
“Just be there!” it responded irritably, and disappeared with a loud bang on an E flat, knocking the chair flat as well.
“Well, what do you think?” asked Kushal.
“Whatever gets us away from Coo,” answered Gordon.
“I don’t know…” replied Richard, more sensibly, in tone at least.
“We don’t get visitations every day,” said Kushal, “The last one was almost a month ago. I say we go.”
“That’s two to one! Suckaaaa!” Gordon cried gleefully.