Fiction | Sci-Fi | Short Story Series | Fascinate Me Fiction

The Agnostic of Alastairon: Collusion

3/5 | In a society that revels in its inclusivity, Armis is an outcast.

The colorful and intensely bright streaks of light zip back and forth before him. Ambient noises whirr in response to Armis’ hand motions. He rotates his wrist and sits up. The lights disappear. He blinks and rubs his eyes. The constant eye motion had begun to hurt his head. He pushes a soft key on his Wrio for a dose of pain relief.

Light coding, the assignment for people who didn’t know what they wanted. Though important work, updating the code that keeps Alastairon running is horribly dull. Armis decided it was better to accept whatever the Field Office suggested for him until he could figure out his next move.

Armis can’t remember how long he’s been on this assignment. Weeks? Months? He was losing time, constantly working and alone. His parents keep to themselves, and his friends are always occupied. He hasn’t heard from Paley since PinWheelz. Their odd fight remains a mystery to him. Armis had only been dreaming out loud. He assumed she’d appreciate an honest conversation. Clearly, he was wrong.

In Alastairon, everyone expects you to find something to do that you love. Armis had been taught since as far back as he could remember that Alastairon was built upon the ideal of complete autonomous freedom for all. No one should be required to work in a job they hate. The much-lauded Assignment Program is centered on this Alastairon core value and the scheme is simple: try different vocations until you find one that makes you happy, then you’re set for the rest of your life. A year into adulthood, however, and Armis is getting mixed signals about this fundamental truth. People seem to be nothing less than offended by the things that excite Armis, and he does feel forced to do a monotonous job he hates. At a loss, Armis exhales heavily as he falls onto his pale blue sheets.

The moon lights pop on as Armis walks outside. Bleary-eyed from earlier and groggy, he knows fresh air will help him feel better. He had dozed off after work and experienced the most intense dream of his life. It was one of those dreams that sunk into your skin and was hard to shake off. The details were murky, of course, but it left a horrible dread behind. All he could recount was vivid white hands pushing at his face, and pulling him down somewhere. Dream-Armis didn’t know where the ‘somewhere’ was, but he knew he didn’t want to be there.

Armis stuffs his hands into the pocket of his jacket, a dark denim one his father gave him years ago. They don’t make jackets like this in Alastairon. His father wore it as a teenager when he lived Outside. The jacket is Armis’ favorite and reminds him of what he wants.

An icy blast of cold wind suddenly pummels Armis’ face and chest. He shivers and zips the jacket all the way up as he quickens his pace down the street. The Antarctic winds slice through the Pel when the storms Outside are bad enough. Armis hates the cold. Still, the air could get no fresher.

The bar is emptier than he’d hoped. Armis wants a distraction from his thoughts. He doesn’t want to talk to anyone, but being surrounded by real people while he sits quietly in the corner usually works as a balm to his soul. Alas, it appeared he was going to be just as lonely here as he was at home.

Armis settles onto a stool and orders a drink. He looks around the room as he waits. This bar is the same layout as the space bar in the Altverse, the same neon lights, the same stage in the corner. It actually is the same bar — real version. Except this one is a little less lively. The people were different, and the lighting not as intense. Also, there was no alien band or windows looking out on spacescapes. Just a little neighborhood Earth pub.

Armis is still little groggy from his nap despite the astringent breezes on the walk over. He absently rubs a hand over his face, feeling the roughness of his stubble and enjoying the brushing sound it made. He knows he looks a little disheveled, but he also knows there’s no one he cares to impress here, and no one will look twice at his appearance. What was he doing here? Only a handful of people, mostly kids a few years younger than Armis, bopping to a screeching amalgamation of 20th century pop and 22nd century shrive cutting through the speakers in the ceiling. A few are obviously online in the Altverse, probably in the virtual version of this same bar. They sit and stare stony-eyed at nothing. Suddenly, he realizes he’d rather be back at home, safely in his bed and online, too. This bar is dreary in comparison. He came out to feel present and be social, but here in public he feels more lonely than ever.

“Anyone sitting here?”

Armis looks up. An older man, wearing a fedora much like the one Armis wore with his avatar in the Altverse, sits down next to him at the bar. Armis frowns at him, confused. The entire row of stools is empty. He shakes his head at the man.

“Quiet night, huh?” The man offers.

Armis shrugs. “Yeah, sure. I guess.”

“Sorry, let me introduce myself. My name’s Late. What’s yours?”

Armis looks at the man, a question on his face.

“So, no name?”

“Sorry,” Armis mutters, almost to himself. “I’m Armis.”

Armis’ drink arrives and Late motions to the bartender to give him the same. They sit in silence for a moment.

“So… what kind of name is Late?” Armis tries. The man chuckles, much to his relief.

“Late is a nickname, short for Latimer. It’s also the one quality I have that people remember about me. I was an hour late to my own wedding. My wife didn’t speak to me for the first two weeks of our marriage.” He chuckles again. “Other than that, I’m awesome in every way.”

“Well, Late. Why are you talking to me?” New people bothered Armis.

Late shrugs. “I just saw a lonely guy who looked like he could use someone to talk to. Was I wrong?”

Armis shrugs again. “I just needed to get out of the house is all.”

“Yeah, I get that.” Late sips his drink. “You live alone?”

“With my parents, but they’re always out.”

“Friends?”

Armis shakes his head. “I’m not really that close to anyone.” He doesn’t feel comfortable telling Random Guy the intimate details of his life. There’s also not much to tell anyway. “I’ve got a few friends I went to school with, but I only see them in the Altverse. That’s where they probably are right now.”

“Ah, yes, the Altverse. That’s becoming more immersive, isn’t it?”

“There’s people that practically live their entire lives in the Altverse.” Armis scoffs. “The engineers had to put biometers and alerts to remind people to eat so they don’t pass out while they’re shooting space bats.” Armis stops. “Wait, do you not log in?”

Late smiles. “From time to time, but I try to pace myself. I much prefer real-world travel.”

“Travel? Like, around Alastairon?”

Late nods. “Sure. Alastairon, Antarctica, Europe, Asia…”

“You travel around Outside?” Armis can’t hide his excitement.

“Well, yeah. I was born up there in North America, and I still have family there. I see them occasionally. But I really love the ambiance of southern Germany. I keep a cottage near Mannheim. Have you never been outside Alastairon?” Late actually looks concerned, his brows furrowed.

Armis can’t believe what he’s hearing. “So, what — you just come and go? Whenever you want?”

“Alastairon isn’t a prison, Armis.”

Armis sighed. “It is for me. Everyone else is so happy with their life. But I’m…” He stops. “I guess I just don’t know how to be happy here.”

“Oh… well. That’s a shame.” Late meets Armis’ eyes. “You need a road trip, son.”

“I’ve been trying to get assigned to a role on the Outside, but I keep getting blocked. For some reason, the Field Office doesn’t want me leaving Alastairon.”

“Well, you don’t need an Assignment, Armis. Everything you need is on your wrist. You just need to pack a bag and get on a transport. I’m headed out next week. Island vacation in the Bahamas. This time of year always makes me long for the beach. You want to come with me? I plan to stay for about two weeks, if that’s not too…”

“Yes! Yes, please!” Armis no longer cares about who this man is or that he’s still pretty much a stranger. Late is opening a door wide open that Armis two seconds ago feared was permanently closed to him, and he makes it sound so easy!

All I have to do is pack a bag and scan my wrist at the gate….right?

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Fascinate Me Fiction is a Medium publication created and edited by Meghan E. Gattignolo. For more from Meghan, follow her on Medium. Meghan also writes for The Customs House Museum & Cultural Center, and you can find her on X and Instagram as Meggiebeth_Writes.

Disclaimer: This story is a work of fiction. The characters and events in this story are entirely fictional, and any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.