Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

My last thoughts were ‘Ah crap, I’m going to die’ as I gasped in panic. The sharp spikes of rock pierced through the fragile glass of my head - perhaps I should have heeded my own advice to Backpack. Everything went dark.

The next time I opened my eyes (I hadn’t even realised they were closed) I was standing in a grassy field. I released a slow, carefully controlled breath, attempting to sort out the jumbled thoughts launching themselves at me from every angle, which I found unexpectedly difficult - I’d never been one to overthink, really, which wasn’t surprising, considering I’d been living in a peaceful but isolated world for the past decade or so. At least, it felt like a decade. Living by myself for so long, who would expect me to keep track of time?

I was standing in a field of lush green grass that stretched out in every direction. Each blade of grass was standing up dead straight, and each seemed so neatly and equally spaced out from the other that it almost felt unsettling; like someone had carefully placed each blade down. Not at all like how a natural landscape should feel. There was no birdsong, no sounds of a waterfall quietly splashing in the background, not even a breeze to be felt. It was like I was in a photo. Where everything was still. Even the clouds that hung motionless above me felt strangely inanimate in the sky, which happened to be a rather bold shade of blue. Too bright, in fact - so bright that I found it oddly irritating when it glared down at me no matter how I tried to avoid staring at it.  

In front of me was a little shelter built purely out of wood. It was a simple structure: a few wooden logs around a makeshift table. I wondered why everything seemed so familiar. Then realisation struck me - I was standing on the Plane. The Plane that I made. How ironic that even in death, it would be the most important part of my life. And this structure - must have been the contestants who made it. An odd sense of pride filled me.

I approached it curiously, spotting a small black box sitting serenely on the wooden table. Then I staggered back as recognition hit me full force in the face. It was the radio. How could I not recognise the radio? After spending who knows how long with that cursed thing, flipping through the millions, perhaps even infinite amount of worlds that exist, I would recognise it from a mile away. Anyone would if they’d spent that much time with it: staring at the little knob on the radio as different worlds flashed past their vision, wondering if they should just give up. It’s like trying to figure out a ten digit password by trying every single combination that could exist. Every single one. Now change the ten digit password to a fifty digit one. Oh, and you die every time you have the misfortune to end up in a hostile environment. That’s how bad it was. 

Hatred surged up in me as I fixed my gaze on the object. I could almost see it smirking up at me; I could almost hear it saying, ‘So. Back to square one then, are we?’ 

“You wretched thing,” I muttered darkly, resisting the urge to just swipe it off the table and then crush the thing into tiny pieces. But I didn’t give in to the temptation. However much I loathed the radio, the logical part of my mind (which was most of it, despite what Backpack had shouted) told me that said radio was the only thing I could use to get out of here. I guess this is how One’s contestants feel, I thought wryly. Trapped. Wanting to get out. Right now, I even felt a tad lonely. Puzzling. I’d never felt lonely in my previous world… though I suppose that was because I had the contestants of One to keep me company, although most of them tended to dislike me. Company was company, though. And the radio doesn’t count. 

Reluctantly, I picked up the radio. Time for the inevitable. Taking one last look at my Plane, I rested my fingers on the little knob, feeling the all too familiar feeling of the tiny ridges underneath. I turned the knob, vibrations thrumming through my fingertips.

The antenna was lifted up.

I felt a whooshing sensation beneath my feet. Everything around me blurred into distorted colours and shapes. It felt distinctly like being sucked through a tunnel at the speed that my truck was going at when I died (for the first time).

When everything righted itself, I was standing on the surface of a smooth, bright purple surface that vaguely reminded me of soap. Just vaguely. And then I saw the even more brighter purple alien-like creatures charging towards me waving sticks in the air. I sighed despondently. Time for the other inevitable. Dying. 

The group of purple creatures surged onto me, battering at me with their huge sticks. I heard the smash as the glass of my head shattered, and everything went dark.

I opened my eyes. I was back on the Plane. I groaned as I saw the radio again. This was going to take a long, long time. My body moved towards the radio almost automatically; my hand stretched out to turn the knob of its own volition. My body was already falling back into the familiar sequence. Whoosh. 

And I kept turning the knob, and dying, and turning the knob, and dying… I was only vaguely conscious of the worlds I was transported into, as soon they all blurred together and I couldn’t even remember where I was going or where I had been. Was this what the first contestants of ONE felt like after I killed them (albeit on accident)? And then I turned the knob again… and- wait. This world…  it seemed familiar, although I was quite certain I’d never been to it before. I seemed to be standing on countless numbers of… stones. And then I knew - this was Stone’s world.

Chapter Text

Now, here’s the thing. I knew it wouldn’t be any easy feat to figure out how Airy’s computer worked - the utter gibberish on the screen when I first confronted him was a sign of that. Endless lines of code taunted me from the painfully bright screen, as if to say, ‘Airy did it. Why can’t you?’ Then again, Airy had a decade of experience and I didn’t.

I hoped I wouldn’t.

Desperately, I wished there could be someone else here to help me, even just to talk to me, and my thoughts wandered back to Texty. The loneliness here was suffocating. If only there was a way to turn her laptop back on again… I thought despairingly of the charger that had plummeted into the water when I had slipped on the bridge. That charger had been Texty’s power source. And now it’s gone.

But… maybe there was a chance - a very slim chance - that I could get it back? What if the charger might still work? A small spark of hope appeared. All I needed to do was dive back into the water and retrieve it. Without my cast, obviously. 

With this thought in my mind, I hobbled with newfound determination to the logs placed near the waterfall. I struggled slightly as I took my heavy cast off. A sense of deja vu overtook me as I recalled glumly that the last time this happened, Amelia and Bryce were next to me. The thought of going back into the pool was not an exciting prospect - my most recent experience with large bodies of water ended up in death.

I gritted my teeth as I came to stand at the pool’s edge, trying to block out the restlessness in my gut. The overly loud noise of splashing water wasn’t helping that much either. Come on, Liam, I told myself firmly. This is for Texty.  

Taking a deep breath to steady myself, I plunged into the cold water. Immediately, my lungs seized up in panic as I remembered the feeling of my chest constricting in the need for air,  desperately trying to swim back to the surface but only being dragged down and down by the weight of my cast. No… I can’t just give up like this! But the burning in my lungs said otherwise.

I broke the surface of the water, gulping down deep breaths of the wonderful air. Coughing, I closed my eyes, dreading the feeling of submerging myself back underwater. But I had to. Knowing what was coming now, I dived back under, and this time I swam deep beneath the surface. Water pressed down on me as I swam deeper and deeper, and… there. The small but unmistakable shape floating in the darkness. I’d found the charger.

Constantly conscious of the diminishing air in my lungs and the slowly dimming light, I sluggishly reached for the charger. I was so close to having it within my grasp again. So close to having Texty back. But suddenly, I was acutely aware of just how deep I’d swum; when I looked up, I could barely see the comforting light from the sun reflecting on the surface of the pool. Few precious seconds were wasted as I debated in an ever-rising panic for either the charger, just out of my reach, or air. My thoughts (most unhelpfully) sprang back to the moment when I was drowning, sinking, and I could see Scenty’s hand reaching for me, just inches away from mine. It seemed the roles were now reversed. So close…

In a split-second moment, my burning lungs made the decision for me. If I stayed down here even a bit longer I would die. I thrashed to get to the surface before I could be greeted with the sight of the Waiting Room again, but a whirlwind of irrational thoughts and memories that I didn’t want to think of consumed my mind and were clouding my sense of direction. The weight of the water was pushing down on me, amplifying the crushing weight of my own anxiety. With panic gripping at me mercilessly, each frantic stroke felt weaker than the former.

A chilly realisation sunk in that every movement could be my last, and cold dread clawed at my chest, squeezing the air from my lungs. I couldn’t die. If I died, I would never be able to come back, and there would be no more hope for my friends. Bryce would be left wondering why I hadn’t come back to help. The thought of my friends sent a small surge of renewed energy through me. Time seemed to slow down as I struggled for the surface, fighting to escape the icy embrace of the water around me, my movements painfully slow. 

Then I couldn’t help it: desperate for air, my mouth opened of its own will, and water flooded in, and I gulped it down, and I tried to stop but I just couldn’t, and the surface seemed like it was miles away…

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity of torture, I broke the surface of the water, gasping and spluttering and coughing, pulling myself onto the bank and laid sprawled there on the bank for what seemed like hours, coughing up water and too exhausted to stand up. But most of all, I felt hatred. I hated myself for giving up so easily, for not wanting to go back down into the depths of that pool, for being so exhausted and just lying there with no desire to get up. For just wanting to stay there. I felt hot tears of shame streak down my face. I tried to wipe them away but they just kept coming, spilling into the ground. 

I don’t even deserve to cry, I thought bitterly. But I knew that I couldn’t go down there again; I couldn’t bear to feel the pressure of the water pressing in on my entire body - the fear of dying again.

Driven by my self-loathing, I forced myself to stand up, the crutch I had abandoned earlier supporting me. Although every part of my body protested, I limped over to where I had previously set down my cast. Attaching it by myself this time felt foreign - both times before had been by Airy, and I distantly wondered if he had run off into the horizon like the rest of the objects, or was stuck flipping through the radio like Julien. Should I have put the cast on while my leg was still wet? I didn’t know, and honestly I didn’t care. 

I trudged over to the little cave that contained Airy’s computer… and the Plane. Slumping down in front of the computer, I turned it on, and opened the files containing the-

Hold on. Airy’s computer had power. But it must have been here for years… so it must have had a power outlet.

A rush of excitement suddenly swept through me, and I stood up so suddenly that I knocked over the little wooden stool that served as a chair. Leaning over the small table, my eyes searched feverishly for a possible power source… there. Hardly daring to dream, I shifted the computer back a little, revealing that there were two wires connected to the back of the computer. An unsuppressable feeling of hope rose from somewhere deep inside me. How? Where did all that come from when it seemed that all was lost just a few minutes before? Now, if only one of them worked…

I took out Texty’s laptop, and my fingers flinched back a bit as they met the cold surface of the laptop. I wasn’t surprised though: when a device runs out of battery, it is essentially dead. And it’s a fact that those who are dead are cold. My fingers trembling slightly, I unplugged the wires from Airy’s computer. Hopefully that wouldn’t interfere with any of the code. The once bright screen flashed and went black. I plugged the first wire into Texty’s laptop. I waited. I waited some more.

Nothing happened. 

I let out a breath that I didn’t know I’d been holding. A heavy wave of disappointment crashed down on me. One out of my two hopes was gone. I turned to pick up the other wire. All of my wishes of saving my friends on the Plane depended on this. I plugged the wire into the laptop, anticipating the worst. I didn’t dare raise my hopes up for the fear that they’d just come tumbling down again. I waited, my heart thudding against my chest, fingers tightly gripping the edge of the laptop.

The screen lit up. 

An uncontrollably wide grin spread across my face as I watched the laptop flicker back to life, a sense of pure exultation washing over me. I was flooded with sheer delight as I realised that I would finally have Texty back - finally - and I could talk to her again. I was tingling with eagerness all over as I waited for the laptop to gather itself up, and my fingers tapped impatiently on the keyboard as the insufferably slow process was completed. Eventually, the image of the home screen appeared. I quickly pulled up the search bar. 

“Texty?” I ventured hesitantly. “Are you.. are you there?” I waited for the response. My heart soared as the textbox started filling up with words, seemingly by itself.

‘Liam! Is that you? What happened? How long have I been gone?’ Texty said - or rather, typed. ‘ Wait a moment - let me search for something so I can speak out loud.’

After a few moments, a monotone female voice sounded. 

“All right - explain to me what happened,” the voice spoke. “Why didn’t you charge my laptop before it died? Where’s Airy?”

Smiling slightly at the familiar (albeit emotionless) voice - this was the voice Texty had used last time I spoke to her - I responded.

“It’s a long story.” And then I delved into everything that happened before and after her laptop died: how I had lost her charger in the waterfall, how Airy had apparently slipped and died from smashing into the sharp rocks, how I tried to figure out the codes on his computer, how I had dived into the water to retrieve her charger and failed. Although in the end I’d managed to turn Texty’s laptop back on, I was still bitterly ashamed of the way I’d given up on the charger when I was just a few inches away from succeeding. When I’d finished recounting events, Texty seemed to be thinking, for it was a while before she responded. 

“Woah. That was quite eventful…”

I grinned ruefully. “It did cause me a bit of… stress.”

The voice spoke again. “Have you considered talking to the objects on the Plane? Telling them what’s happened? Or do you plan to just let them sit there wondering if they’re going to rot there for the rest of their lives?”

The grin faded from my face. Even with a completely emotionless voice speaking, I could still sense the sarcasm practically dripping from her words. I sighed, knowing that this was coming however much I dreaded it.

“You’re right.” Anxiously, I surmised how they would feel about my voice replacing Airy’s. “Well, I’m going to have to disconnect the wire from your laptop. You’re on 20%, you should be fine for a bit.”

After a confirmation from Texty, I reconnected the wire to Airy’s computer again. The screen flashed back to life, no password needed, and I slowly moved the cursor over to the unmute button. The click of the mouse was awkwardly loud.

Adjusting the microphone, I took a deep breath in, as I prepared myself to talk to Bryce and everyone else. Hopefully my voice wouldn’t crack.

“Hey guys. It’s me, Liam.”

Chapter Text

I sighed as I picked absently at a blade of grass that seemed to stand a degree more crooked than the other blades. It had been what felt like weeks since I got transported back to the Plane by Airy, apparently to ‘make things a bit more interesting’ to the game by bringing back an eliminated player. But straightening blades of grass did not seem very interesting. In truth, it had been ages since we’d heard Airy’s droning, emotionless voice; after he’d brought me back, he seemed to have just… disappeared.

After the other objects’ initial surprise at having me back, there had been a heavy silence hanging in the air. An overwhelming sense of hopelessness had enveloped all of us; at first, weak attempts at conversation were met with subdued tones and forced smiles, but after a while, no one bothered to talk anymore or even make eye contact with anyone else. Even the light of the constantly glaring sun seemed to have dimmed a little. 

Right now, all the objects were either sitting hugging their knees on the grass or had retracted their limbs into their original completely inanimate form. Tray was slanted on top of Whippy Creamy, and I could see Scenty staring blankly into the distance, thinking about who knows what. Probably about when we’d get out. I thought derisively. Though judging by how long we’ve been stuck here, I doubt we ever will. Might as well just accept it. I chuckled to myself humourlessly, attracting the attention of Moldy, who was sitting a few metres away from me. She glanced at me questioningly - the first time I’d made eye contact with anyone in ages. I shrugged back, and she slowly got to her feet. I looked on with some surprise as she came to sit next to me. 

I suddenly felt sick of the way everyone had cut themselves off from each other. We should’ve been supporting one another instead of pushing each other away. Turning to face Moldy, I decided that talking wouldn’t do any harm. 

“So…” I remarked with a weak attempt at a smile. “How are you doing?” 

Moldy stared at me for a second. Then she answered, though not in the way I expected.

“How am I doing? How am I doing?” she said incredulously. “Soda Bottle, we’ve just spent the past few months - probably a year - stuck in this damned place with no way out, we have an invisible psychopath as a so-called game show host and the first question you ask in weeks is how am I doing? ”

 I flinched back as her scathing tone cut into me. The other objects were also turning around curiously, wondering who was speaking after days of miserable silence. Moldy continued to rant; it seemed that she had been bottling up her feelings for a while, for she’d never really lost control like this before. 

“But of course you don’t understand,” she continued bitterly, “since you got eliminated early on, didn’t you? You got to go back to your wonderful life and just forget about everything while the rest of us were trapped here for who knows how long and-”

Her rant was abruptly cut off and everyone started slightly as a new voice sounded out of nowhere: it was a voice I’d hoped but never expected to hear again.

“ Hey guys. It’s me, Liam. ”

Liam. My eyes widened in utter disbelief. My mind was racing, my thoughts turning into a whirlwind of questions. How was Liam here? What happened after I came back to the Plane? Did he figure out the rest of the post-it notes? 

“Liam!” I cried out eagerly. “What are you doing here? How are you here? What-” But Scenty interrupted my flurry of questions, a small frown on her face.

“Where are you?” 

My thoughts stopped in their tracks as I realised that she was right. There was no sign of Liam anywhere, not even a hint of his shadow, and yet we had all heard his voice, as clear as day.

Liam seemed to hesitate before he answered. “I’m… well, let’s just say that I’m where Airy was before.”

This introduced a new flurry of questions from the other objects, who had started to chime in as well. Tray’s limbs had popped out again and she’d jumped off Whippy Creamy.

“You’re where Airy was before? What does that mean?”

“Yeah, where even is he?”

“Be quiet!” Moldy’s voice rang over everyone else’s, and the chattering gradually ceased. “I think we should let Backpack talk.” 

“Thanks, Moldy,” Liam said gratefully. It was strange, hearing his voice but not being able to see him. “I know the rest of you still have lots of questions, but please, let me explain first.”

He proceeded to tell us everything that had happened after he’d been eliminated: how he’d used Stone’s post-it notes to find me in San Francisco, how we’d also run into Texty, how we’d both gotten struck by lightning, how we’d gone to the Waiting Room and found the radio, but then I got put back into the game and he was left alone. This part I was all familiar with. But the next bit? Not so much. According to Liam, he’d then used the radio to go to Airy’s world, and Airy turned out to be a lantern psychopath instead of well, air (this drew many gasps from us), he was using codes to control the Plane and its contestants (this drew even more gasps), and that he slipped while Liam was asleep and died smashing into sharp rocks. Wait, what?

“Airy’s dead ?” I burst out before I could stop myself. I heard many whispers around me that echoed my words.

“He’s dead, yes,” Liam confirmed, and many people around me gaped. The person that had tortured us for months on end, taking us from our lives and keeping us here… was dead. Slipped and died. Just like that, leaving us behind. It seemed so abrupt, somehow. 

“But… what do we do now?” Scenty asked. “Airy was the only one who could bring people in and out, right?” At these words, everyone stiffened. Did that mean we were… stuck here? Forever? Cold tendrils of fear started to wrap themselves around me.

Liam’s disembodied voice spoke again. “Yes,” he said grimly. “He was. But don’t forget: this is all just code. And codes can be learnt. I’ll do anything I can to help you all get out of here.”

Chapter Text

I slowly picked my way through the world of seemingly endless stones. I adjusted the knob on my torso, turning the light from my bulb brighter, which provided a better view of my surroundings.  Did this even count as a world? So dark, so empty, so… silent. I spun around, the absence of noise grating on my nerves. Suddenly, I caught sight of a familiar object sitting a few feet away from me. It was the radio.

Why had the radio been transported with me this time? It had never done that before, in all those times I had flipped through each universe. The radio hadn’t ever disappeared while I was in the Waiting Room. And believe me, I’d spent a very long time in it. 

Curiously, I made my way over to it and picked it up, turning it over in my hands and examining it thoroughly. There was nothing new; nothing was different from usual. My thoughts were buzzing around with intrigue, and I trudged absently through the silent world, my mind too preoccupied to take note of my surroundings - not that there was much to see anyway.  

Lost in thought as I was, I didn’t spot the out-of-place phenomenon until I tripped over it. One moment I was upright, and the next I was hunched over on all fours on the ground, hands and knees pressing harshly into the multitude of stones beneath me.

I groaned as I heaved myself upright to a sitting position, rubbing my knees, squinting at my surroundings, trying to find the source of my mishap. I discovered the object lying just next to my leg: it was a flashlight. My curiosity was piqued to the limit. Someone had been here before me.

All of a sudden, I discerned a muffled scraping noise behind me, an uncomfortably loud occurrence in the utterly silent world, and I whipped around, picking up the flashlight as I did so. Might as well put this to good use , I thought as I turned it on. The dim, flickering light - it was probably on low battery - penetrated the lingering darkness and the figure behind me gradually became clear as my eyes adjusted. My eyes widened in shock as I saw that one of the stones had sprouted arms, legs and eyes, and was now facing my way. It picked itself off the ground and stood up.

“Stone?” I whispered (as any louder volume didn’t seem fitting, in this silence). “Is that you?”

Stone stared back at me unblinkingly. Of course - he can’t speak, not without a mouth. Eventually he raised his hands.

‘ You could say that, ’ he signed. ‘ But since all of us are stones anyway, why bother differentiating us with names? Nevertheless, to more important matters. I’ve been expecting you, Airy. ’

Old memories awakened of my earlier years in life (my first life) when I had learned sign language as a hobby. I guess it turned out to be useful after all.

I smiled a little at Stone’s signs.

“Of course you were,” I said. “I’d be a bit surprised if you weren’t.”  

Stone gazed at me seriously. But he was always serious anyway so it didn’t make much of a difference.

‘I have some information for you,’ he signed. ‘Of course, I know about the Plane, you dying and Liam being trapped in your world. I’m going to help you, and then you can help Liam.’

I narrowed my eyes. 

“Why would I help Backpack?” I asked, allowing a hint of suspicion to enter my voice. Stone blinked.

‘ It’s quite obvious. You never kept your end of the bargain. ’

I couldn’t help it: I flinched. I knew exactly what he was talking about. Before I died, I’d made a deal with Backpack that if he gave me the pieces of my cassette player, then I would return everyone on the Plane back to their respective universes the day after. But I’d died before I had been able to keep my word, and I’d been feeling…well… guilty is the word for it, I suppose. Unfinished business. Although I’d been called a psychopath by many people in my time, I did like to keep my promises. It felt dishonourable - wrong - not to do so. 

“You’re right,” I admitted in a resigned voice. “But then you always are, aren’t you?” A flicker of amusement flashed in his eyes, and I couldn’t help but think that if he had a mouth, a hint of a smile would have flitted across his face. Then it was back to all seriousness again.

“Anyway,” I continued, “how are you even going to help-”

Stone raised a hand to cut me off. I then watched as he took the radio from my hands and started turning the knob back and forth, his face furrowed in concentration. I shifted uncomfortably on my feet as silence pervaded my senses yet again. After a few minutes, he gave it back to me. I looked at him quizzically.

“Do I just…?”

Stone mimed lifting something up. I inferred that he seemed to be telling me to lift the antenna.

I hesitated again. Where was he sending me to, and why did he think that I would trust the one thing that had killed me hundreds of times over? A slightly impatient look appeared on his face.

“Alright, alright… no need to rush…” I muttered, though I still lifted the antenna hastily. The familiar sensation of the floor disappearing beneath my feet  rushed through my gut with a whoosh.

I was instantly hit with gleaming sunlight blinding my eyes - a large contrast to the dim glow of my lamp in Stone’s universe. When my spinning head had righted itself and I had blinked the black spots from my eyes, I found myself and Stone standing on a familiar bridge. A very familiar, red bridge.

I spun in a circle, gazing around in wonder. Long-buried memories started to resurface. I thought I would never see this place again.

“San Francisco...”

Chapter Text

Despite what I would like to think of as an inspiring, determination-filling speech (mostly to my friends but also partly to me), I didn’t really make any significant progress on the codes. At least I had Texty with me. She was the one thing that kept me sane - in other words, she was the one thing that was restraining my urge to destroy the computer in frustration. 

Groaning, I smacked my head against the table. Somehow, it felt satisfying, so I did it again. And again. And again. Maybe I wasn’t as sane as I thought I was. 

Texty evidently thought so.

“Don’t make that a habit, will you?” I heard her say monotonously amidst my head abuse. “I don’t want you dying on me, thank you very much colon close-bracket.”

Bemused, I paused for a second to glance at the text box. ‘:)’ were the characters at the end of the sentence. 

“You did that on purpose,” I accused.

“Well, it worked, didn’t it? Semicolon close-bracket.”

I rolled my eyes, but suddenly smacking my head on the table didn’t seem so appealing anymore. Groaning, I heaved myself up off the desk and tried to make sense of the code on the computer for the eighteenth time that day.

It was only 8:06am.

Absently, I wondered if Texty’s laptop was able to change time zones inter-universally. Imagine all the work that would’ve gone into that. With a sigh, I shifted my attention back to the countless lines of code, skimming over them with a cursory glance and then clicking absent-mindedly through all the open windows. I wasn’t really looking for anything, so I had no reason for stopping so suddenly at the fourth one.

Intrigued, I flicked through the file. Of course, all it contained was code - as did basically every other page. I scrolled to the top, and was about to dismiss this abrupt pause as a stutter in my brain, when I saw the heading. There, written in bold: ‘Codes for Season 3’.

Interest aroused now, I studied the lines of code more intently. For some reason I couldn’t explain, this particular page felt important. Scanning through the lines of code that occupied my vision, one specific line caught my eye. Or rather, one specific name caught my eye. Owen Thompson.

My mind suddenly started racing. Before his death, I recalled Airy saying that he was planning to make a third season of One, using the current contestants’ friends and relatives for it - Owen, my friend, being one of them. For Airy to be able to get them to the Plane, there had to be some sort of teleportation code, and this page just so happened to be labelled ‘ Codes for Season 3.’ Could I have possibly stumbled upon the codes I needed completely by accident?

A bold idea began forming in my head. What if I substituted the names of the objects in the codes for the names of my friends, and the already written strings for my friends’ strings? It couldn’t do that much harm right? The codes were probably quite simple: just codes to transport people out from and into the Plane. I turned around from the screen to share my revelations.

“Hey Texty, check out what I’ve found!” I highlighted the codes enthusiastically, scrolling up and down the page.

There was a brief pause as Texty paused the puppy video she was watching. The background noise lessened noticeably.

“What’s that? I’m watching something here,” she replied, somehow sounding annoyed through her synthesiser. “Stop moving the page so fast, I’m trying to read it.”

After a short while, her toneless voice spoke again.

“Let me guess. You want to substitute the names and strings so they work for everyone on the Plane.”       

I nodded earnestly. 

“It's a good idea, right?”

“I don’t think so… maybe wait a while before you actually try something like that. It could be dangerous.”

“Your protest will be duly noted. And ignored,” I responded cheerfully. I wasn’t giving up on an idea that might work. I’d been slumped in front of the computer for days without motivation, a cloud of frustration enveloping me, and I couldn’t bear even a second more of that - not when the cloud had just started to dissipate.

Not waiting for her reply, I turned to the mic, filled with a sense of reinvigorated hope. I clicked the unmute button eagerly, already starting to anticipate breaking the good news and seeing their reactions.

“Hey guys!” I exclaimed. “I think I’ve found a way to get you out!”

I saw the little figures on the Plane perk up. The Plane seemed so small now… now that I was out. It seemed so insignificant: just a place that had been created to relieve the boredom of a psychopath. Too bad it was probably the cause for many objects’ deep trauma. Brushing that thought away, I directed my attention back to the objects, smiling to myself slightly as I heard Bryce’s voice.

“Really?” he called, hope tinging the edge of his voice. “You actually have a way to get us out of here?”  

I hesitated, apprehensive of the way they would react to the news that I needed a guinea pig to test my theory on.

“I’ve found some codes that I think were used by Airy to transport objects in and out of the Plane,” I explained. Then I paused. “But I need a volunteer to test it on first,” I finished reluctantly.

The buzz of their conversation followed my words as the objects on the Plane absorbed the news - with a wide range of reactions. Some of them were frowning (Moldy), some of them were smiling (Bryce), and some of them remained utterly expressionless (Atom - however, maybe that was just because he was too small and nobody could see his face). However, no one seemed to be acknowledging the last sentence.

I cleared my throat pointedly.

“But, I need a volunteer to test it on first,” I repeated.

That snagged their attention. Almost instantly, a thick, almost tangible layer of tension seemed to engulf them. Excited whispers turned to nervous murmurs, and everyone began to avoid each other's gaze.

My heart sank. If no one volunteered to test the code out, then we would have cycled back to another dead end again.

“Anyone?” I tried weakly. Silence ensued. “This could be your only hope of getting out…”

Finally, a lone figure stepped out of the meagre crowd. 

“I’ll do it,” said Scenty clearly. “This is our only chance to get out, and I’m not going to let us waste it.” Her voice wavered a little at the end, probably from nervousness.

I sagged with relief. But my concern for her safety still lingered.

“Are you sure?” I asked her. “Obviously I’m really grateful that we can test these codes out, but…it’ll be dangerous, Scenty. What if something goes wrong?”

But Scenty wasn’t fazed by this prospect, her small figure continuing to stare upwards at me in stubbornness. “You think I don’t know that?” she said, a wry smile playing at the corners of her mouth. “Just get on with it, Backpack.” 

Seeing that her face was set with determination, I sighed.

“Alright,” I said resignedly. I turned to the computer and picked one of the codes from the Season 3 file. I replaced the name in the code (Alice Howling?) with Scenty’s name and string. As well as that, I also changed the location she was going to.

“Okay, Scenty,” I began. “I’ll-”

But I was interrupted by Moldy, who had been looking on silently with a frown on her face.

“Just hang on a moment,” she cut in. “You’re telling us that you’re just going to test a completely random code that you don’t even know the function of, and Scenty will be victim to all that may or may not happen?”

I shifted uncomfortably. Everything she’d just said was true. Trying to word my sentence reassuringly, I replied.

“Yes, but the risk won’t be too high,” I explained. “When we were all on the Plane, the only codes Airy used were the ones to send people in and out of there, and to respawn people. It’s unlikely that he would have codes that harmed his contestants.”

Moldy snorted disbelievingly.

“Keep on pretending that you’re reassuring me and not yourself,” she retorted. Then she sighed, all of the doubt and disbelief in her face vanishing in that moment. “I’m just worried that something will go wrong.” 

“Aren’t we all?” Tray commented with a sympathetic glance towards Moldy and unintentionally lifting the tension. The other objects murmured in agreement. Eventually, Moldy spoke again.

“Fine,” Moldy said reluctantly. “But if anything goes wrong…”

“It won’t,” I promised her. “Trust me.”

Having finished substituting the characters in the code, my cursor was hovering over the ‘run’ button. My heart pounded; butterflies were zooming around in my stomach.

“Ready?” I asked Scenty, my voice taut with nerves. I had no idea what I should say - what are you supposed to say to a person whom you may never see again?

“We’ll see you again soon,” Tray offered optimistically. 

Scenty stood there unflinchingly, her expression remaining indifferent.

“Just do it,” she said flatly.

I clicked the ‘run’ button.

However, glancing over the code again once more, I realised that I’d typed a character incorrectly. I cursed, hastily correcting it.

“Wait a moment, Scenty…” I murmured to myself. “Let me try that again.” 

I clicked the run button again. Turning to look at the Plane once more, my heart leapt as I saw that the space where Scenty had been standing was now empty. 

“It worked!” I cried gleefully, without thinking.

“One of your crazy ideas actually worked?” Texty suddenly piped up. “Now that’s a first.”

I huffed indignantly. “Since when have my ideas been crazy? And when have they not worked?”

Texty seemed to be waiting for this line: I'd never seen her type so fast before.

“Oh, so climbing illegally to the top of a smokestack then proceeding to get struck by lightning doesn’t count as crazy now, does it?”

I rolled my eyes, choosing very deliberately not to respond to this comment. 

“Stop distracting me,” I said instead. “I need to run the code to bring Scenty back.”

I turned my attention back to Airy’s computer. 

This time, I checked the code twice to make sure there were no mistakes before clicking the ‘run’ button again. On the Plane, a familiar blue figure popped into existence. A sense of triumph overcame me. Texty didn’t know what she was talking about.

“Ok, Scenty,” I grinned proudly as I spoke eagerly into the mic. “How did it go?”

But I was only met with silence.

Chapter Text

We held our breath in suffocating silence as we waited for Liam to run his code, our eyes all fixed on Scenty, nervously anticipating what would ensue. But then the worst possible thing happened.

Abruptly, Scenty’s limbs disappeared. It was uncannily similar to a tortoise retracting their limbs into their shell, except ten times quicker. Her eyes widened in shock for a fleeting fraction of a second before her facial features disappeared as well. What remained of her simply thudded with a dull sound onto the ground and she lay there, unmoving.

I drew in a sharp intake of breath, frozen for a moment in pure horror. Then the initial shock released its iron clutch on me, and I dashed forward with Moldy and Whippy Creamy right on my heels, dread pouring into my heart. I stumbled to a halt just before I crashed into her, and dropped down onto my knees next to Scenty’s motionless form, turning her over so she was upright. 

“Scenty?” I whispered, my voice trembling in disbelief. “Are you okay? Can you hear me?”

Whippy Creamy reached a cautious hand out, lightly tapping her glass in a fruitless attempt to rouse her. The other objects had gathered around us by now, and fearful muttering dominated the atmosphere. I was about to mimic Whippy Creamy’s action when… well, one moment she was there, and the next? She was gone.

 Whippy Creamy withdrew his hand abruptly with a short yelp, stumbling backwards a bit.

“What the hell?!” He stared perplexedly at the space where Scenty had just been. “I swear I didn’t do anything…”

“That’s so weird-” I could hear the sound of everyone’s clamouring rise in pitch.

Moldy cut off my reply ( She’s done that a lot lately, I thought). Her face was contorted with frustration.

“What the actual hell, Backpack?” she snarled up to the sky where Liam supposedly was. “Whatever you’re doing, just cut it out! Bring Scenty back!” But there was no response. Moldy’s eyes narrowed, turning into chips of ice. If Liam was there (which luckily for him he wasn’t), and if looks could kill (which also luckily for him they couldn’t), he would have been reduced to a pile of pitiful dust almost immediately.

“I knew this was a bad idea,” she hissed, glowering at all of us. “I told you this was a bad idea, didn’t I? I told you we shouldn’t do this. And look what’s happened now! Scenty’s - well - like that , and we’re still stuck here with that idiot Backpack doing who knows what because he can’t be bothered to explain what the hell he’s doing to Scenty!”

“D-do you think he meant to do that?” Tray asked uncertainly, leaning forward to stare at the spot where Scenty was before.

“No! Of course not!” I exclaimed, but at the same time despair washed over me. How could this happen? Why did Airy even have these codes?

Moldy snorted.

“Well, the obvious answer is yes,” she said sardonically. “He was so vague about the code he was running - ‘ Don’t worry, the risk won’t be too high’ - all the signs point to this!” 

Subway Seat frowned, and I also caught onto the implications of Moldy’s words. 

“Surely you don’t mean…” I trailed off. But Subway Seat finished my question for me - it was probably hovering in everyone else’s thoughts anyway.

“Surely you don’t mean Liam did this on purpose?”

I’d never seen anyone roll their eyes back so hard. At this point, Moldy could probably see into the back of her head.

“What I’m saying is, Backpack’s probably turned against us. After all, he’s in the position Airy was before. How would you know that he hasn’t gone insane just like Airy? We can’t put our faith in him!”

“But Liam can’t have turned bad! He was with us from the beginning!” I protested against the accusations. “I don’t believe he would do that on purpose.”

“Well, Backpack has control over us now. How do you know the power hasn’t gone to his head?” Moldy smiled grimly. “Power is hard to resist, you know.” She turned to the rest of the objects.

“I believe,” she stated calmly, “that we can’t trust Backpack anymore. We’re on our own now.” 

At Moldy’s words, a low buzz of conversation was aroused.

“I don’t understand why you’re all so quick to push the blame onto Backpack.” Subway Seat said, an unusual hardness edging his words. “I remember him - he was the first person I spoke to when I first came here. He would never do something like that on purpose.”

Tray also joined the conversation, albeit rather hesitantly.

“But… you have to admit, Moldy does have a point,” she said, glancing towards her. “What if Backpack has gone insane?”

“Exactly,” Moldy said as she nodded at Tray, a trace of satisfaction lacing her voice. “We can’t see Backpack right now, or what he’s doing. How do we know we can trust him?” 

I honestly couldn’t believe how quickly these people were doubting Liam.

“For goodness’s sake!” I interjected angrily. “Liam literally gave up his life in San Francisco to help you! He’s stuck in Airy’s world trying to help you - no, all of us - to get out! How could you believe this nonsense?”

“Soda Bottle’s right,” Whippy Creamy chimed in, coming to stand next to me. I spared a grateful glance at him. “Backpack - I mean Liam - made so many sacrifices to get us out. Why would he turn on us now, when we’ve come so far?”

“And how do you know this?” Moldy challenged. “How do you know he’s telling the truth?” She raised a hand to point an accusing finger at me, eyes flashing dangerously. “ You weren’t with him when he got supposedly transported into Airy’s world - you were back here with us! You don’t have any reason to trust him more than I do!” 

Suddenly a small voice piped up somewhere near my foot. 

“Well, I don’t really care about whether Liam’s evil or not. He might be, or he might not be, but he’s our only ticket out of here and I don’t care about any more than that.” 

Momentarily nonplussed, I turned around to scan the surroundings behind me, searching for the source of the voice. Then realisation dawned on me. 

“Atom?” I said in confusion. In response to my question, a small blade of grass a few metres away twitched slightly. 

“Yes, it’s me,” he replied dryly. For someone so small, he had an astonishingly loud voice. “Why is everyone always so surprised to hear me? I even have this grass now!” But before I could reply that I may have sort of forgotten about him, his blade of grass tilted towards where the others had been arguing. “Never mind me, though. I think you should check back on them.”

“Check on them? Why- oh.” 

I turned back to see Moldy dangling Whippy Creamy in the air by his leg. Tray was tugging at Moldy’s arm in an vain attempt to get her to release him while Subway Seat was shuffling awkwardly (being a subway seat) but determinedly towards Moldy, seemingly trying to ram into her and knock her down using his size and absolute solidness. 

“Well, you wouldn’t mind if I just… go calm them down a little?” I mumbled, already turning to go. 

“Hold on, wait for me! I want to see the action!” Atom called after me. I swivelled back to see his little blade of grass hopping along towards the disturbance. I sighed. This was going to take a long time.

“You know what, just jump onto my hand,” I decided as I bent down and held my hand out just in front of Atom. As soon as he was settled, I hastened my pace, making it just in time before Subway Seat crashed head first into Moldy.

“Stop!” I yelled furiously. The action temporarily froze and everyone turned to face me (with the exception of Whippy Creamy, who tried and failed to twist round in Moldy’s grip).

“What do you all think you’re doing?” I said angrily. Vaguely, I sensed the feeling of the blade of grass in my hand disappear, but the current situation required too much focus for me to care about it. “Do you think it would do your chances of getting out of here any good if you all started trying to kill each other?” With this sentence, I directed a hard, very pointed stare at Moldy. But she didn’t acknowledge it, and this only served to make my temper rise more. At least Tray had the decency to look a little ashamed.

I strode to Moldy in a few brisk steps and jerked Whippy Creamy out of her surprisingly strong grasp, then dropped him onto the ground without really considering the height he would fall from. Or who he would fall onto.

There was a small collective gasp and my eyes narrowed in confusion. Surely a metre or so wouldn’t hurt… And that was the moment my brain registered the sudden emptiness of my hand. The hand that had been holding Atom.

“Crap - Atom!” I swore. Whippy Creamy, realisation dawning on him a fraction of a second after me, hurriedly scrambled up from the place he had been lying a few moments previously. There was nothing there…

Nothing but a blade of crushed grass.

Chapter Text

There was nothing there…

Nothing but a blade of crushed grass. 

“Atom…” I whispered. 

“Is he…?” Tray trailed off, not daring to finish the question that was plaguing our thoughts.

“Look at what we’ve done,” Subway Seat suddenly said, his voice filled to the brim with disgust. “This pointless fighting is the reason Atom’s dead!”

As the gravity of his words sank in, even Moldy’s eyes held a hint of remorse.

“Atom wasn’t even involved in the fight,” Tray said quietly. “He shouldn’t have been the one to suffer the consequences.”

I glanced towards Whippy Creamy. His eyes were casted to the ground, refusing to meet anyone’s gaze, probably spiralling deeper and deeper into a pool of regret; he’d been the direct cause of Atom’s death, after all.

However, my attention was diverted as there was a blue flash in the corner of my vision, and I whipped around so quickly that I almost lost my balance. Shocked gasps hit my ears from all angles.

“Scenty?” I exclaimed in disbelief.

“Is she back to normal?” Tray questioned.

My gaze skimmed over her again half-heartedly to check, but I found that I knew the answer even before I looked.

“No,” I responded, my shoulders sagging in defeat. 

“Not that we expected her to be,” Subway Seat said sadly. Moldy opened her mouth, probably to deliver a cutting retort, but she was interrupted by a familiar and long-awaited voice (and not exactly welcome at that particular moment).

“Ok, Scenty,” Liam said brightly. “How did it go?”

We all stared at the sky for a long while, startled by the sudden reappearance of Liam’s voice. We’d all sort of assumed that he’d abandoned us after Scenty’s… accident. Moldy was the first to break the silence.

“Backpack,” she said softly, anger barely concealed in her voice. Any hint of her earlier remorse was completely wiped away.. “Please could you explain what the hell are you doing to Scenty?”

Liam seemed to be rather taken aback, for it was quite some time before he answered.

“I- wait - what do you mean?” he stammered. “It worked, didn’t it? Scenty’s back, right?” There was an awkward pause. “Isn’t she?”

“Of course she is!” Moldy scoffed. “You have complete control over us - why do you even have to ask?” 

“But then what’s the problem? Why are you so… mad?” Liam asked, uncertainty creeping into his tone. 

Subway Seat turned to face me, beckoning me closer to him. I leaned forward.

“If Moldy’s right about Liam,” he said in a low voice, “then I have to say, he’s a very good actor.”

“Not you too!” I said indignantly. “I thought you were on my side!” Subway Seat shot me a warning look, and I realised that I might just have been a tiny bit too loud.

“I’m not saying I agree with her,” he said quickly. “Don’t you see? What I’m saying is that there’s a very good chance that Moldy’s wrong.”

I was about to reply, when I registered the deafening silence that crashed over me like a wave. I turned around to face the others, dreading the looks that were bound to come our way. Ah, there it was. Everyone was looking at me and Subway Seat with pointed stares. Well, I couldn’t see Liam’s face but I could sense it. 

“Um… carry on?” I offered weakly. The stares intensified.

Liam objected to my statement irritably.

“No. Let’s carry on your conversation. Please, go ahead and explain to Moldy why I am not a deranged psychopath.” 

I exchanged a surprised glance with Subway Seat. Clearly, a considerable lot had happened during our short private conversation (looking back, maybe not so private). Liam sounded like he’d just suffered through one of Moldy’s insufferable rants. Trying to sound pacifying, I attempted to placate Moldy, who was tapping her feet impatiently and glaring at us with her arms crossed. 

“Well, Moldy, you see, I was just saying to Subway Seat here that…” I faltered. There was something in Moldy’s gaze warning me that I shouldn’t continue speaking if I valued my dignity of being upright.

“Atom is dead because Backpack abandoned us,” she stated coolly. “There is nothing more to it.”

Liam suddenly interrupted, voice rising in shock.

“Hang on, Atom’s dead ?” he asked, aghast. “How come I’ve only heard of this now-”

“No, actually,” a familiar voice declared. “I’m not. I’ve just happened to lose my grass, that’s all.”

For the second time in an hour, I turned around to stare at the spot just behind my foot. But this time there was a noticeable lack of twitching grass. Liam’s voice spoke again.

“Can someone please explain to me what’s going on?”

I felt words sliding to the tip of my tongue then springing back into my throat again. Eventually I gave up trying to form a coherent sentence and decided to let someone else explain.

“Honestly, why is everyone so surprised to hear me?” Atom huffed, sounding as if his ego had been wounded for life. “I’m an atom, you know. It is basically impossible for me to die. Didn’t you ever learn that?” I stared at him incredulously, not believing how matter-of-fact he was being.

“But then why didn’t you tell us before?” Tray asked. “Why let us think you were dead?”

“I wanted to see the drama,” Atom said gleefully. Then he added hastily, “And I wanted to keep an eye on Scenty, obviously. Who would’ve looked after her if you had all killed each other?”

I rolled my eyes. “Of course you did.” Then, turning back to everyone else, I said, “Guys, let's not forget about the issue in hand. What are we going to do about Scenty?”

“What happened to Scenty?” Liam asked, frustration filling his tone. “Why is no one telling me?”

We all glanced at each other apprehensively. Liam really did sound like he didn’t know what was going on.

“You mean you really don’t know?” Whippy Creamy asked. 

“Of course I don’t know! That’s why I keep asking you but you all refuse to answer!”

I hesitated, wondering how I could describe Scenty’s state. But Moldy beat me to it.

“Scenty’s an object,” she said bluntly.

“Well yeah, obviously, aren’t we all-”

“No, I mean she’s literally an object.”

“Yes, I know - wait, what? What do you mean, she’s literally an object?”

“A literal object - you know, like the blades of grass on the Plane. They can’t think, feel, talk to or see us.” I explained. There was a pause.

“So what you’re saying is… she’s inanimate right now.”

I nodded seriously. “Yes.”

Liam groaned. “What have I done? I thought I was helping…”

The genuine misery in his tone drove into my heart like an axe. Tray attempted to comfort him.

“Well, you’re not a complete failure,” she said optimistically. “You still managed to make her disappear and reappear again.” I raised an eyebrow at her ‘uplifting’ words.

“Yes, but she’s also inanimate!” Liam cried. “And everything’s all my fault…”

Even Moldy’s eyes softened a little.

“Instead of feeling sorry for ourselves, let’s actually try and solve the problem at hand,” she said briskly. I guess she was trying to make Liam feel better in her own way. “Backpack, when you transported her out of the Plane, did you perhaps type or press something wrong? Maybe an incorrect character or button?”

We waited, listening to Liam humming under his breath as he tried to recall anything he’d done wrong.

“No,” he said frustratedly. “I just can’t remember what-” 

Abruptly, we heard a faint voice. It sounded muffled, distant as if someone was speaking to Liam from the other side. “Didn’t you say you’d mistyped a character or something?”

I frowned. I could’ve sworn I’d heard that rather robotic voice before. Everyone else just looked confused.

“Is that… Texty?” I asked. At the name, a glimmer of recognition appeared in Whippy Creamy’s eyes. 

“Texty? You mean, that floating text box?”

“Yes, her! I swear that was her voice!” Then I called up to the sky. “Liam! Do you still have Texty with you?”

Liam chuckled. “Yes, Texty is still with me.”

My eyes widened. I’d half expected Liam to scoff that I was going crazy and imagining things after spending too much time on the Plane. Not to say that I wasn’t crazy. My shock and joyful disbelief had joined together and created a very mixed emotion. I didn’t really know what to say.

Texty’s voice increased in volume; Liam was probably holding her laptop closer to the… well, whatever he spoke into.

“Hey guys!” a monotonous female voice spoke. “It’s me, Texty. How have y’all been?”

“Texty!” I said, still feeling a bit dazed with the shock of hearing the familiar voice again. “It’s been ages since I last saw you… how are you?”

“As well as a text box can be, I suppose,” she answered. I guess as long as her laptop was charged sufficiently then she was as well as she could be.

“Wait, Texty, you mentioned something about mistyping a character, didn’t you?” Liam asked her, drawing us back to the topic.

“Yeah - I remember when you were coding Scenty’s code, you said something about accidentally typing a wrong character. I think that’s probably where you went wrong.”

“So that’s what happened,” I said in relief. Although I’m not sure why my spirits lifted up as much as they did when we still didn’t know how to get her back, at least we knew what went wrong. At least we had somewhere to start. At least we weren’t sitting around in depressed silence anymore.

“Is there any way to… well, reverse the code?” Moldy asked. “If it even is an existing code.”

“If the code didn’t exist already then it wouldn’t have run in the first place,” Liam pointed out. “So that means the code must’ve already been on the computer.” 

“What, so he just happened to have a code that could turn objects inanimate?” Moldy said darkly. “That’s comforting.”

 I shivered involuntarily. I already knew Airy wasn’t quite right, but to have codes that turned objects inanimate, to strip them of their ability to think, feel and move… now that was a completely different matter. That was just cruel. Was he planning to use them on us? 

“But back to my question,” Moldy prompted. “Is there any way to undo the code?”

Liam sighed. “I’ll do everything I can to get Scenty back,” he promised. “I’m not that good with codes, as you’ve probably experienced firsthand… but I will try. Trust me, I won’t leave her like this.”

Chapter Text

I gazed around at the towering cityscape of San Francisco as I followed Stone across the Golden Gate Bridge. The bustling and hurrying of pedestrians and cars was a stark contrast to the sense of isolated tranquillity in the universe which had been my former home. My mind spun with all the vague, foggy memories of Earth that were returning, resulting in a rather dazed feeling - almost like I was in a dream. Maybe I was. Maybe I wasn’t. Either way, the sights around me were enough to considerably lighten my heart. Staring off into the distant blue skies, I didn’t notice I had stopped moving until I saw rather peculiar movement in my peripheral vision. A little figure was bobbing up and down, waving their hands in the air. Maybe they were trying to get my attention. They seemed to be… 

“Oh, right. Sorry, Stone,” I muttered half to myself, and quickly walked the rest of the way to Stone. It took a while. When I’d finally reached him, he eyed me reproachfully, then made a beckoning gesture with his hand: ‘Come on ’.

I groaned internally as I saw the distance we had yet to go - it seemed as if we’d barely travelled since we were transported to San Francisco. Stone turned and started plodding away again. How did he walk so fast? How was he not tired? Maybe being a stone did have its benefits. Or perhaps I just wasn’t used to moving so much after a decade or so of sitting in front of a computer.

“Wait for me!” I called after him, slightly out of breath. “I can’t- argh!”

In that moment, something blue flashed into existence right before me and I felt my heart practically do a backflip. Completely startled, I staggered backwards a few paces before I stumbled to a stop and tried to evaluate what in the multiple worlds was happening. Refocusing on the spot in front of me, I noticed the place where the flash had occurred was… an object. A familiar candle with blue wax. My confusion didn’t lessen; in fact, it increased by tenfold. Had they just teleported ? From thin air ? Countless questions popped up in my mind. 

And that wasn’t the most surprising part: the most shocking part was that I knew this object. She was a contestant from the second season of One. It was the candle - Scenty. That’s what I’d named her. Why on earth was she out of the Plane? Last I checked, she was still sitting with the other contestants on that artificial green grass.

Scenty was facing away from me, sitting on the ground. That’s when I realised that she hadn’t moved in the whole time I’d been wondering how she’d got there, which had been quite a while. Or maybe it was ten seconds… how was I supposed to know? I stepped forwards and walked around her to the opposite side so that she could see who was speaking to her.

“Hello, Scen-…” I began, and then I stopped, bewildered. I couldn’t see her face. It looked like Scenty - exactly like her, but at the same time… how could it be? She had a face, and limbs. This… thing had no arms or legs, and the face was nowhere to be seen: no eyes, no mouth. With this thought, I remembered Stone, and I looked back to where he had been. However, to my surprise, he was already coming my way. Of course - he had known what was going to happen.

Hold on.

…He had known what was going to happen. As this new revelation was considered, I spotted a strange glint in Stone's eye that I swear hadn’t been there before. I was certain that if he had a mouth, he would have been smirking.

“Stone!” I called. “Come look here - what is this?” I tipped my deflector at Scenty. Looking back, I saw that she still hadn’t moved from her position on the ground. Cautiously, I stretched my hand out to touch her glass. “What’s happened to- argh!”

This time, my heart did a front flip as Scenty’s cool glass suddenly disappeared from beneath my hands. In fact, the entirety of Scenty disappeared from beneath my hands. One moment she was there, and the next she had vanished.

Utterly dumbfounded, I stared uncomprehendingly into space for a long while. Long enough for Stone to reach me. Oh yeah, he was definitely smirking. I’m not sure exactly how, since he literally didn’t have a mouth, but he was.

“What’s going on? You knew this would happen, didn’t you?” I asked with a slightly accusing tone. Stone simply shrugged. “You know she was one of my contestants, right? How did she get out? How have they learnt the codes already?” A second thought occurred to me. “Or maybe is Backpack continuing my competition?”

I sighed. Every question just paved the way for more questions, and Stone was refusing to answer a single one (rather irritatingly). I decided not to keep pursuing the topic at that moment.

“Let’s just get off this bridge,” I said in a resigned voice, and Stone nodded approvingly. 

We finally stepped off onto the busy streets of San Francisco. It felt foreign - I’d never seen this place before, as compared to the painfully familiar landmarks of my world: the cave, the campfire, the cabin and the waterfall. 

The streets stretched out before us like a labyrinth, twisting and turning in every direction. Tall buildings loomed overhead, casting long shadows along the pavement. Stone looked back briefly to check that I was following, and I hastened my pace: I was, once again, falling further behind. He nodded and gestured for us to continue navigating through the multitude of people. Sounds of the city enveloped us - the honking of car horns, the chatter of passersby, the dinging of bicycle bells. The noise was overwhelming, as I attempted to focus on everything all at once, unused to the city noise. I struggled to block it out.

“How long until we stop?” I called to Stone over the clamour. He glanced at me sympathetically, almost like he knew exactly what was going through my mind. Actually, he probably felt the same way, living in a silent world for his entire life. 

“Almost there,” he signed, and I acknowledged him with a grateful nod. 

Finally, after countless twists and turns that were impossible to keep track of, and what seemed like hours of walking, Stone led me into a quaint little cafe tucked into the corner of a street. With a relieved sigh, I sank into a chair, glad to rest. Stone sat down opposite me a tad more gracefully than I had. I looked at him expectantly.

“So… why are we here?” I asked curiously. But he just stared back at me in that mysterious way of his. I felt a tinge of annoyance.

“Everything will become clear soon,” he signed. The hope of satisfying my curiosity dissipated. I honestly should have seen it coming; maybe omniscient people had some sort of rules that they had to live by - rules that included refusing to answer anyone’s questions. Or, if they did, answer in a vague, prophetic sort of way.

“You lead me to a completely random cafe in San Francisco and not expect me to ask you why?” 

Stone shrugged, and shifted in his chair. Silence fell between us, and the only sounds to be heard were the quiet chatter of the other people in the cafe and the clinking of mugs on saucers. The warm smell of pastries wafted around. I exhaled, feeling weirdly nostalgic - it’d been so long since I’d smelled food. Or even seen it, in fact.

“You know, this reminds me so much of my first life here,” I mused wistfully to Stone. “There’s so many people, so much going on at once… so different from my life back in my old universe. It was just me there. No one else.”

Stone nodded. “I understand," he signed. 

“Isn’t it strange for you? Knowing everything, but having to spend your life lying in a pile of millions of other stones? Doesn’t it get… well, lonely, sometimes, or even boring?”

“You’d be surprised," Stone signed, “how nice it is sometimes to just think for a while.”

I smiled slightly. “I think it was more than just ‘a while’, Stone. More like for the entirety of your existence, by the looks of it.”

“Time passes faster than you expect," he replied simply. Typical Stone and his cryptic statements.

“Okay but seriously, what are we doing here?” I tried again. “We definitely didn’t come here just to talk about life.”

“Like I said, you’ll see.”

I narrowed my eyes. “That wasn’t an answer.”

“I wasn’t trying to give one.”

I groaned impatiently. “Talking to you is so exhausting.” Then I sighed. “But then again, I guess you’re the only person I can talk to. Nobody here knows me - everybody I might have once known is gone, and if they’re not, they probably wouldn’t even remember who I am…”

Stone reached forward, patting me sympathetically.

“You don’t need to worry,” he signed. “You’ll stop feeling lonely soon.”

“What do you mean?” I asked, tilting my head curiously. Stone lifted his hands, about to answer, but I interrupted before he could. “Wait, let me guess: ‘You’ll see’?”

He nodded, a satisfied glint in his eyes. 

“You’re starting to get it now.”

Chapter Text

I rubbed my sore eyes, diverting them away from the overly bright screen of Airy’s computer for a relieving moment. I’d spent days searching feverishly through the numerous folders there, trying to find codes that might restore Scenty back to her usual self. Countless nights I’d spent in the little cave, the relentless shine of the screen being the only source of light, until finally I found something that looked functional - the codes that would cure Scenty, and the codes that would transport everyone back to Earth.

My fingers trembled a bit as I typed the code into the computer, triple-checking each line after it was written. I wouldn’t- I couldn’t let myself make such an idiotic mistake again - it was through sheer luck that my last mistake wasn’t permanent. Hopefully. I glanced over to the Plane, a pang of guilt hitting me once again as I saw the limbless, faceless shell of a person that sat there unmoving.

“No mistakes this time, then?” Texty asked from where her laptop was at the edge of the table. I pressed my lips into a thin line.

“Hopefully not.” I thought back to how I’d gloated last time, flushing a little with embarrassment. I sighed, and moved over to the Plane, hesitating. “Time to test it out.”

“Good luck, then.” Texty said. “And don’t kill anyone, please. They’d probably think you’ve entered your villain arc if you did.” I rolled my eyes.

“Wow, thanks, that helps me so much- wait, are you implying that I’ll have a villain arc sooner or later? Never mind, be quiet. Let me do my thing.”

After banishing the topic from my thoughts, I spoke into the mic nervousl. “So… I’m back. With some new codes.”

Silence. Everyone stared up at me.

The silence prevailed.

“You need to tell them that the codes actually work, you idiot.” Texty advised helpfully from the corner.

“With some new codes… that work. Probably.” I amended my previous statement. Moldy raised an eyebrow in disbelief. Well, at least I was getting some sort of reaction.

“Isn’t that what you said last time?” she asked with some asperity and folded her arms, receiving nods from those standing around her. I swallowed; evidently they were all reluctant to trust me after what happened last time.

“How do you know that they work? It’s not like you’ve tried them yet,” Tray added.

“Exactly. And you know what happened after you tested your old code on Scenty,” Moldy said, nodding towards Scenty.

“I can’t find a good blade of grass!” A familiar voice piped up in the middle of the discussion. I stared at the source of the sound, which happened to be a seemingly empty space to the left of Moldy.

“What?”

“Is that Atom?”

“Yeah! I’ve been trying to find a new blade of grass while you guys were arguing over Scenty and all that but it’s been thirty-seven minutes and I still can’t find one!”

I didn’t particularly know how to respond to that. Tearing myself away from my bemusement with Atom’s exclamations, I focused back on trying to get the others to let me run the codes.

“Trust me, guys, please,” I said, wincing internally at the pleading note in my voice, “I’ve checked the codes so many times - I wouldn’t let the same thing happen again! Just trust me this once, and if anything happens again you can say all you want about me. I’m doing all I can to help you guys get out!”

The majority of the objects looked doubtful still. Help me, Bryce, I pleaded in my head, let them see that I won’t go wrong this time.

“Maybe we should give him another chance?” Finally, Bryce spoke up, and I sighed; at least someone still supported me. “After all, we know that he’s sorry about Scenty’s…incident, and, well, this time he could only be more careful.”

“Bryce is right,” Whippy Creamy concurred. Things were looking a little bit brighter for me. “Last time was just a mistake that anyone could have made. We can still rely on Liam. If not, at least try to believe in him for Scenty’s sake.”

“Ugh - still too small!”

Subway Seat shuffled over to where Atom seemed to be, and peered curiously at the ground, trying to spot him.

“Stop leaning over me like that - all I can see is your shadow right now and it’s really not helping me.”

Subway Seat drew back with an offended huff and returned to his original position, glaring in Atom’s general direction.

“Well,” Subway Seat began, “I think that last time was a mistake that anyone could have made. And this time he could only be more careful, right?”

Bryce and Whippy Creamy stared at him.

“That was my line.”

“And the second line was mine.”

“Could we please go back to the topic?” Moldy asked irritably.

Subway Seat started indignantly. “But that’s exactly what I was trying to-“

“No.”

Even though we were a little off topic, I could see by now that lots of people’s opinions were being swayed over to my side. Only Moldy still looked unconvinced.

“Haven’t you all learnt from last time?” she began in a frustrated voice. “This ‘mistake’ had huge consequences!”

I honestly would rather fall off the cliff again than listen to Moldy’s long speech about why I was mentally unstable. I knew I’d made a costly mistake last time - despite what she seemed to think, I wasn’t stupid enough to repeat it with my second chance. Not bothering to hear the rest of her rant, I cut her off with a curt ‘Fine,’ before turning silently to the computer and clicking the run button to reanimate Scenty. Even without looking, I already knew that it had worked.

I whipped around back to the microphone and asked irritably, “How about that? You trust me now?”

For once in her life, Moldy was at a loss for words; she stared uncomprehendingly at Scenty, who had just regained limbs and facial features. Silence ensued as I stared down at Moldy, Moldy stared at Scenty and Scenty stared at… well, everyone. Finally, she spoke.

“I… what- I don't…” She stammered for a bit, her gaze roving around as she flexed her limbs experimentally. Eventually she managed to string together a sentence. “...What happened? I- it’s so weird…it feels like there’s a blank space in my memory?”

“Do you… do you remember what happened before that blank in your memory?” I asked her hesitantly while she recomposed herself.

“Liam? Is that you? What happened? Have you run the code already?” she asked, tilting her head back to look up at where she presumed I was.

I opened my mouth but no words came out. How was I supposed to explain that the code went wrong, taking away everything that made her alive, which resulted in everyone having a fight over whether I was a psychopath or not, leading to Atom’s supposed ‘death’?

In my peripheral vision I spotted Texty’s voice synthesiser textbox beginning to fill up with words. I hurriedly brought her laptop to the mic, sensing that she wanted to say something - and indeed she did.

“Basically, Scenty, the code went wrong, which made you inanimate, which resulted in everyone having a fight over whether Liam was a psychopath or not, which led to Atom’s supposed ‘death’.”

Scenty stared up in utter bewilderment. “...What?” And then, “Who are you?”

“I’m that floating text box who was taken to the Plane with you all. You probably know me as Texty. I’m currently residing with Liam in Airy’s old universe to make sure he doesn’t die from depression.”

“Wow, Texty,” I muttered under my breath. “Not blunt at all.”

“I’m sorry, what?”

I took pity on her and plopped Texty’s laptop back into its usual spot.

“So, the codes I tested on you… they went wrong, let’s just say.” I tried to keep it as short and as concise as possible, mostly for my own sake. “After that, you became inanimate - that is, you became a literal object, so I’m assuming you weren’t able to think, feel, move or see. That’s probably why there’s a huge blank in your memory. Then, certain people started doubting me and it started a small squabble over whether or not I could be trusted, which led to Atom supposedly d- I mean, Atom’s blade of grass being crushed.”

Once I’d finished explaining, I waited expectantly for her response. So did everyone else.

“So…” she began slowly, “I take it that a lot has happened since the code went wrong?”

“Yep - you couldn’t really see most of it though, because you were kinda an object for the majority of that time. A bit like us, you know.” Subway Seat gestured towards himself, Tray and Whippy Creamy. “Except you couldn’t turn back.”

“Honestly, I still don’t understand how you guys can’t change back and forth. I thought it was common knowledge!” Whippy Creamy proceeded to demonstrate just how ‘simple’ it was by changing into his hidden form and then back, finishing with a proud bow.

Scenty laughed sarcastically. “Yeah, because it’s just that easy to become a hidden object, you know? All you have to do is just-”

And the rest of us watched in horror as her limbs retracted with a pop, her facial features seeming to withdraw into herself. A sense of deja vu washed over me as I stared agape at the scene unfolding before me - the last time this happened she stayed like that for weeks.

“Scenty!” Bryce cried, panic spilling into his voice. “Liam, I thought you changed her back! What’s this?”

All I could do was gaze at Scenty blankly, trying to process what was happening.

And then, as quickly as she had disappeared, she was back, eyes wide open and figure limp.

“Wait- how the actual heck did I just do that?” she gasped.

“I think the right question is what the actual heck did you just do?!”

“I don’t know!” Scenty said in bafflement. “I just thought about being a hidden object and- well- then I was!”

“Wait a second,” I interrupted, frowning. “So you know what just happened? You didn’t have a blank in your memory?”

“No… I didn’t.” Scenty said slowly. “I could still see and hear you guys, and I could still think - I just couldn’t move or speak.”

“But that’s literally how I feel when I’m in my hidden form!” Tray said excitedly. “Scenty, I think Liam accidentally gave you abilities the same as ours!”

“I…”

“Try do it again,” Whippy Creamy prompted eagerly. “Just like how you did it before.”

We all watched in silent astonishment as Scenty transformed into her hidden self and then back again.

“I really can do it!” she exclaimed once she was back, eyes shining.

Something akin to triumph crossed Moldy’s features.

“So Backpack did get the code wrong.”

“Shut up, Moldy,” Subway Seat said sharply. “Stop being such a jerk.”

“So Scenty ended up with the same abilities as ours,” Tray said optimistically. “See, guys, it wasn’t all bad, right?”

Bryce smiled wryly. “Yeah… other than having a whole fight about whether Liam was mentally deluded in which we almost ended up squishing Atom.”

Speaking of Atom…

“No, this one’s too big… this one’s too small - and this one isn’t fresh enough!”

“Atom,” Bryce said with an exasperated sigh, “you do realise that the grass here is artificial?”

Atom neglected to respond. Whether that was on purpose or he really didn’t hear him - well, only Stone knows.

“Right, so now Scenty’s figured that out, what about the ‘sending us back’ part?” Whippy Creamy said eagerly. But Scenty hadn’t finished.

“Wait - what do you mean the code went wrong? Are you trying to say we can’t trust Liam?” she asked, turning towards Moldy, who happened to be standing nearest to her. I groaned inwardly. Not this again.

“I would advise,” I intervened, trying to keep my voice as neutral as possible, “asking that question to anyone but Moldy.” When Scenty cocked her head questioningly, I added, “I’d rather not go into why.”

“Anyway, that doesn’t matter anymore,” Bryce cut in, shooting a sharp look at Moldy. “I say we should try the code instead of arguing over this… for the fourth time, it seems.”

At his words, everyone seemed to unintentionally back away a few paces. I sighed. They still didn’t have enough faith in me to try the codes. And the chance of Scenty volunteering again was as slim as the likelihood of finding my way back to Earth via the radio. Which is to say, extremely slim. That possibility is so small it might as well be impossible, in fact.

“Right, no one?” I asked, slightly miffed. Was I really that bad? “Fine. I’ll pick someone. Moldy, you can do it.”

Moldy opened her mouth to protest, as expected, but I wasn’t bothered enough to have another long-winded debate. I entered Moldy’s code into the computer to transport her to Earth and back.

“I’ve learnt that the best thing to do is to just get it over with,” I heard Scenty say to a furious-looking Moldy while I was typing. Probably giving her advice from firsthand experience.

“Moldy, I’m going to transport you to Earth and then back,” I told her bluntly. “Ready?”

“Yes,” she clarified, still looking annoyed.

“Good.” I clicked the run button on the computer. I turned back to the Plane and was greeted with a blissful sight. Moldy was gone.

After an ephemeral moment, I regretfully ran the second code, and the blissful sight disappeared. Moldy was back.

“Oh wow, it worked this time,” I said sardonically. “I wonder why? It’s not like I checked a hundred times before I was forced to use it on you because there were no volunteers.”

Moldy looked like she’d just been defenestrated. Unsurprisingly.

“So we know now that the code works!” Tray said optimistically. “Now all we have to do is get Liam to run it on us and bring us all back to our respective universes.”

The storm of resentment in my chest was picking up speed as I listened to Tray, although I wasn’t particularly sure why.

“Come on, guys!” Tray tried to provoke some sort of reaction from the others, who were looking doubtful, to no avail. “We’re so close to going home! Why are you all looking so down?”

Scenty frowned thoughtfully. Finally, she offered her thoughts on the matter, after a moment of consideration. “But… would it really be that great? We’ve been here for more than eight months now - probably more than a year, in fact. Our lives would be completely different if we went back now. But here, staying on the Plane? It- it almost feels familiar: it’s like home, I guess.”

Moldy nodded, having recovered from her uncharacteristic lapse of concentration. “Our friends and family have probably moved on. It’s been ages since we disappeared; they probably think we’re dead. Honestly, there wouldn’t be much point in going back.”

Something inside me snapped. “Really, guys? Really?” The frustration that I’d been bottling up over days spilled relentlessly into my voice. “I’ve spent weeks upon weeks trying to find a code to get you out, and now you’re telling me you don’t even want to go back? What was the point of all this, then? I could have just left you alone and we could have just got along with our separate lives in our separate places!”

There was a short but tension-filled pause.

“But we want to go back,” said Tray timidly, gesturing to herself, Subway Seat and Whippy Creamy. And maybe Atom too, although I could see no sign of him. “Don’t we?” They nodded in assent.

“Scenty, Moldy, please,” Bryce said imploringly. “If you two stay, I’d be the only one of us to go back to Earth. It would be great to have someone who knew exactly what we had to go through; like you said, our friends have probably moved on, so why not stick together?” At this moment, Scenty seemed to be on the fence, glancing uncertainly between Moldy and Bryce.

“Okay.” she said eventually. “I’ll go back to Earth with you.” She turned to Moldy and looked at her quizzically, an unspoken question in her eyes. I resisted the urge to groan with impatience; why was this taking so long? What could there possibly be to consider?

“Don’t you get it? You actually have a choice as to whether you leave or not!” I growled into the mic forcefully. “Unlike me, who, chances are, will be stuck in this world for the rest of my current life until I die by some stupid accident and then end up back in the waiting room. If I were you, I’d be jumping with joy right now, because I’m so lucky that a friend of mine happens to have the codes to transport me back to Earth even though he won’t ever go back!” I paused for a breath, finishing my rant and just feeling completely, utterly drained.

“Just make your decision,” I said tiredly. “If you want to stay, then stay. But if you change your mind one day I won’t help you.”

Moldy looked uncertain now. Scenty spoke, trying to nudge her towards the right direction.

“Liam’s right, you know,” she said quietly. “You don’t realise how lucky we are that we have someone to operate the codes for us. Airy’s dead, and if Liam wasn’t here then we’d have no chance of ever going back.”

“I…” Moldy paused, then seemed to rethink what she was about to say. “I suppose that if I stayed,” she said slowly, “then I would be the only one here, with nobody else to talk to. That would be lonely for me.” Her jaw set resolutely. “I’ll go with you.”

“Great!” Scenty exclaimed. “So we’re all going back to our own worlds, then.” My mood blackened considerably at her words.

“Yep,” I said halfheartedly. “You all get to go back now. Say your goodbyes, because you likely won’t see each other again.”

“Wait,” Bryce said suddenly. “Liam, since Moldy, Scenty and I are all going back together could you make it so that we’re all transported to the same place?”

“San Francisco,” I replied automatically. Bryce looked surprised, but nodded. The atmosphere suddenly became very tense.

“Well, I’ll start preparing the codes, then.” I said stiffly, turning to the computer.

“Okay.”

Silence followed, and the only sound to be heard was the clacking of keys on the keyboard as I typed the codes in.

“Tray’s first.” My voice sounded quite emotionless. Sort of like Texty’s voice synthesiser. It was strange. “I’ll have to do you all separately.”

Scenty laughed weakly, attempting to release the tension. “That creates quite some suspense.”

I ignored her. “Tray, are you ready?”

Tray nodded, unusually quiet. “I think so.” She nodded directly at Whippy Creamy and Subway Seat. “I hope I’ll be able to see you guys again someday.” She looked around at the objects on the Plane and smiled slightly. “Nice knowing you guys.”

I clicked the run button. There was a small pop, and she vanished. The only thing that implied that there had ever been a person there was the flattened artificial grass which she’d been standing on.

It was repetitive. I soon fell into the rhythm of things. Click, vanish. Click, vanish. After Tray was Whippy Creamy. Then Subway Seat. Then Atom (who had finally seemed to find a blade of suitable grass). Then Moldy. Then Scenty. Finally, it was Bryce’s turn.

“Well… hope you’re able to get your life back,” I said, unable to hide the bitterness lacing my voice anymore. “Are you ready to go?”

“Don’t speak like you’re not getting out either, Liam,” Bryce said fiercely. “You’ve done a lot for us, and I won’t forget it - neither will the others when I see them again. We’ll get you out of there, Liam - Texty too. I promise we’ll come back for you.”

I swallowed. Now that Bryce was the only object on the Plane, he looked so small. So alone.

“Don’t do that to me, Bryce. You know it’s hopeless,” I responded morosely.

“I’m serious. We will come back for you. Just don’t forget us - don’t lose hope.”

I chose to ignore his statement.

“Are you ready?” I repeated my earlier question in a monotone voice. Bryce sighed.

“Yes.”

I clicked the run button, albeit a bit more shakily this time. And then he was gone.

The reality hit me a few seconds later.

There was nobody left.

I was alone. Stuck here.

Probably for eternity.

Out of the corner of my eye, I watched Texty’s computer shuffle between pages almost forlornly, somehow. At least I still had Texty. Who would also be stuck here for the rest of her life.

I remembered Bryce’s parting words.

We will come back for you. Just don’t forget us - don’t lose hope.

Hope. Such a pointless, fickle thing.

Fine, Bryce. I won’t lose hope.

I won’t lose the false hope you insisted I keep.

Chapter Text

As quick as a blink, the artificial green grass of the Plane disappeared and suddenly I found myself standing in a bustling street. I blinked furiously, trying to adjust my eyes to the bright sunlight flooding the street. Real sunlight. Not the artificial light on the Plane. Actual sunlight from the actual sun. This felt unreal.

I surveyed my unfamiliar surroundings, attempting to identify where I was right now. Where had Liam said he would send me to? San Francisco, that was it. Numerous shops lined the sides of the street, which meandered around the towering buildings that the city seemed to be so full of. I looked in wonder at the sheer amount of people I could see here - running errands, shopping, looking for items, talking to other people, eating lunch… After the months I’d spent on the Plane, I couldn’t believe how normal life seemed here. 

Suddenly, I became acutely aware of a loud beeping noise in my ears. Oh, right. I was standing in the middle of a lane of cars. And I also happened to be causing a massive traffic jam. I looked up into the eyes of a glaring, very pissed off driver. 

“Sorry!” I yelled as I hastily took myself off the road, and finally the beeping ceased. I breathed a sigh of relief, feeling people’s stares boring into the back of my head. But then a problem sprang to my mind. 

“Where are Scenty and Moldy?” I wondered out loud. “Didn’t Liam say we would be teleported to the same place?”

Yep. I was definitely attracting stares. 

“Uh… maybe I’ll just take my leave and go…” I scanned the area, spotting a quaint little cafe tucked away into the plethora of shops a few metres away. “...there.” 

I slipped discreetly into the little place (well, as discreet as I could be in the present moment) and the sounds of the street faded as the door swung shut behind me. Here, at least, people barely even glanced up at me when I came in. However, that didn’t last for long.

A teabag made straight for me, brandishing what looked like a menu, smiling aggressively as they attempted to corner me against the door and shove it into my face.

I looked around frantically, searching for a way out of this, and hoping perhaps that some random kind-hearted stranger would come rescue me. If this was my old life, before the whole universe-jumping thing, I wouldn’t have minded. But right now I had just teleported from an artificial planet which I’d spent months on, and here’s the thing: I was broke. And I did not want to be forced back out onto the street. 

My gaze came to a halt abruptly as it landed on a familiar, grey figure sitting in the shadows of the room, almost unnoticeable. I inhaled sharply. Without a word I ducked under the teabag’s waving arm and I strode briskly to where the unmistakable figure was sitting.

Stone.

“Stone!” I exclaimed, taking the last few steps at a jog. “What are you doing here? I thought you’d been eliminated!” Stone just blinked up at me calmly, not seeming surprised in the least. Now I noticed that there was someone sitting opposite him - a lantern - who was staring at me with a strange look on his features. 

A weird feeling arose in my gut - I felt like I should know this object, even though I’d never seen him before. This lantern. But as much as I racked my brain, I just couldn’t think why he seemed so familiar. So I appealed to Stone for help.

“Who’s this, a friend of yours?” I asked curiously. Stone blinked. “Stone?” He pointed at the blank space on his face where there would usually be a mouth. Oh right. In my surprise at seeing him, I’d forgotten that he couldn’t talk. 

Instead, Stone gestured to the lantern sitting opposite him. I took that to mean that I was supposed to let him explain, and I turned awkwardly to face him.

“So… who are you? Do I know you?” I asked. He stared at me for a few seconds more, then blinked a few times and seemed to gather himself up before saying:

“Okay, sure, but…uh… this might sound a bit weird, but can you promise that if I tell you my name, you won’t…well, you won’t try and murder me with an axe?”

Something about that voice… it sent a chill slipping down my spine as a nagging feeling rose in the back of my mind. Indifferent. Emotionless. Unreadable. 

Slightly wary now, I stared at him in confusion. “I… what? Why would I try and murder you - and with an axe, of all things?”

“You’ll understand when I tell you my name. But can you promise?” he asked stubbornly. My patience was being tested to the limit.

“Fine, fine - I won’t try and murder you with an axe. Seriously now, what’s your name?”

Stone stood up and backed away from us, going to stand a few metres behind me. I suspected that something was going on. Something that Stone knew, and something that I didn’t. 

Well, to be fair, Stone knew a lot of things that I didn’t. Including this.

“Okay, so… well, uh… my name is…” The lantern paused, nervousness flitting over his face. “Airy.”

I staggered back a few paces as if I'd just been slapped in the face, thoughts reeling in shock. Airy. 

The memory suddenly came rushing back to me. Airy was a psychotic lantern, Liam had once said when I was on the Plane. A lantern. And that’s when it really hit me.

This was the psychopath that trapped us on the Plane? Made us compete in his so-called gameshow? Why the hell was Stone sitting with him? He’d made everyone suffer through copious amounts of emotional trauma, turned us all into depressed shells of who we used to be and then just had to go and die, leaving us stuck on the Plane - and we would have been for eternity if it hadn’t been for Liam! Plus the main question - how the heck was he sitting in a cafe, on Earth, and with Stone?!

I whipped around furiously to Stone and confronted him, my blood starting to boil.

“Why the hell are you with him? This pathetic excuse for an object?” I snarled. “You know what he did to us - you were literally there - you know that he’s a mentally deluded psychopath that loves to torture people for the sake of his own amusement! I thought you were helping us, Stone!” 

Stone moved his hands in a placating gesture, and then performed a complicated set of hand movements that I completely failed to understand.

“You do realise that I don’t know sign language and have no idea what you just said?” I asked dryly. Stone pointed to Airy. My eyes narrowed.

“What about him?” Another complicated set of movements. Stone pointed to Airy again. I turned to glare at him, waiting for him to say whatever he needed to say. And then the next thing was to murder him, consequences be damned. Now I get what he meant when he made me promise not to murder him with an axe, a part of me mused thoughtfully, while the other part wanted to get on with it and kill him. But still - why an axe specifically? That would just be unnecessarily messy.

Airy interrupted my train of thought. “I understand what he’s saying,” he informed me, angling his head at Stone. “He said that you need me because I’m the only one out of you guys who understands sign language. And you need sign language if you want to communicate with Stone properly.” I narrowed my eyes suspiciously.

“Is what he said true?” I asked Stone. He nodded fervently. Oh well. You can never be too careful, right? I mean, what if Stone had been saying that Airy was a serial killer as well as a psychopath and he was purposely making me believe the wrong thing? I sighed. I was getting a bit carried away.

“Well… if it’s actually true…I could definitely use some help.” I directed my words at Stone. He signed something again. 

“He knows you’re looking for two of your friends,” Airy translated helpfully from behind me. “And he says he can help you.”

I hummed thoughtfully. Scenty, yes, but did I really consider Moldy to be my ‘friend’? I decided not to answer that question now. Instead I spoke to Stone again, still not looking at Airy.

“You know where they are, right?” He nodded. “Can’t you just give me a location and then I’ll go find them? I don’t need you or Airy to come anyway.” But Stone shook his head adamantly and signed something. I waited for Airy’s translation behind me. This was really annoying, having to go to Airy for help every time I wanted to talk to Stone. 

“He says he won’t tell you where to find them unless you take both of us with you.”

I let out an exasperated sigh. “Seriously, Stone, what do you think will happen if I take Airy to meet Scenty and Moldy?” I demanded, voice rising in volume. “Do you think they’ll become best friends with that psychopath?” I pointed to Airy.

“Uh… Soda Bottle?” Airy’s voice drifted into my ear.

“ What?”

“People are staring at you.”

I whipped around. Indeed, nearly everyone in the cafe was eyeing me disdainfully. And hear this - they were giving Airy pitiful looks! 

The teabag I’d been cornered by earlier was now fixing me with a disapproving gaze and sternly shaking his head at me. It reminded me of an adult reprimanding a loud troublemaker, said troublemaker in this case being me.

“Come on, guys,” I muttered, feeling stares burning into my back. “I think we should go.” 

I walked briskly to the door, with Stone and Airy trailing behind me. We went back out onto the street, and seemed to have reached a silent agreement that we should not mention any of the things I had just said.

“So…finding Moldy and Scenty, wasn’t it?” I brought us back to the topic awkwardly. Stone nodded once, and then started down the street, beckoning for us to follow.

“He’s beckoning for us to follow,” Airy supplied helpfully. I rolled my eyes.

“I know. I’m not that stupid.”

And we followed Stone down the maze of streets that made up San Francisco. I tried to keep track of where we were going - left, right, right, left, left, right, left… - but San Francisco is a fairly large place, you know. Unsurprisingly, I had completely lost my sense of direction at barely ten minutes in, and eventually just settled for following Stone blindly around the city like a lost puppy.

It was also rather hard to ignore someone when they were next to you for most of the journey there. Airy. Let’s just say it was kind of hard trying to make conversation with him.

“So… how old are you?”

“...I don’t know.”

“Right, great. Uh… how did you die?”

“Which death are you talking about?”

“...Which death?”

“Yeah. I’ve probably died over a thousand times by now.”

“No, I mean… how did you get back to Earth?”

“I died and then teleported.”

“So how did that death happen?”

“I fell and smashed my head on some sharp rocks, causing the glass to shatter and then I died.”

“Oh. I see.”

Needless to say, having a conversation with Airy was not as easy as having a conversation with anyone else. After that rather lame attempt at conversation, I gave up and we followed Stone in silence for the remainder of the journey. 

It was almost dusk when we finally stopped outside a tiny little shop on the street. It was so inconspicuous that if Stone hadn’t stopped us right by the entrance, I would have missed it. It was just a glass door with a handwritten ‘open’ scrawled onto a small piece of paper and stuck onto the door with duct tape. Hanging above the door was a sign that said ‘THE CANDLE NOOK’.

“Is this where Scenty is?” I asked Stone. He gave me a nod of confirmation.

“He said yes,” Airy translated unnecessarily. I rolled my eyes. Again.

“Thanks, I didn’t know that.” A thought suddenly occurred to me - did Airy understand sarcasm?

Deciding to dwell on this thought (and maybe test out the theory) later, I pushed open the door of the shop and ventured in, Stone and Airy following behind me. The door shut with an unexpectedly loud clang .

It was creepy. No, seriously. The shop was dimly lit by a few electric lights overhead, and I could smell probably more than ten different scents mingled together, creating quite the funky overall aroma. I couldn’t see anyone in the shop. And the shop itself? It was lined with wooden shelves, all of them holding… candles.

There were so many different types of candles - big ones, small ones, red, blue, purple ones, cube-shaped, prism-shaped, cylinder-shaped ones. Tea lights, taper candles, floating candles, glass candles, pillars, soy candles - you name it, this shop had the full collection. The sheer number and variety had me gaping as I took it all in. Who on earth had the time to collect or make so many candles?

Wait. Hang on. Scenty was a candle. And she could change into her hidden form at will now. 

“You’re saying Scenty is in this shop and we have to find her?!” I said incredulously to Stone. “You have literally got to be kidding me!”

Stone made a series of movements that I assumed was sign language. I turned to Airy.

“Ok, I actually do need your help this time.” Something flashed across his face: a sort of happiness-but-not-quite at being asked for help? But it came and went so quickly that I might’ve imagined it.

“He asked you if you realised that these candles are absolutely tiny and that Scenty is around your size so she is obviously not among the candles on the shelves.”

“...Oh.” Slightly embarrassed, I turned away and pretended to observe a star-shaped candle. All of a sudden, I felt a hand on my shoulder and I yelped, twisting around.

“Don’t scare me like tha- Scenty?” And there she was, grinning at me. I could feel my eyes widening and my mouth automatically stretching into a smile of their own accord. “Scenty! You’re here!”

Behind her, Stone had that smirk-but-not-smirk on his face, while Airy’s expression was unreadable (as always). 

Scenty smiled at me. “It’s nice to see you too, Bryce,” she responded warmly. Mentally, I smacked myself in the head - that’s right, it’s Amelia. Then she turned and looked at my companions. Her eyes widened when she saw Stone, and narrowed when she saw Airy. 

“You’re Stone, right?” She said guardedly. Stone nodded. “So you’re the one that helped Liam and Bryce?” Stone nodded again. Scenty turned to Airy.

“And… who are you?” Airy opened his mouth to respond, but I decided to help him out. For some unbeknownst reason. 

“You have to promise him that you won’t try to murder him with an axe first,” I told her. Scenty stared at me, confusion in her gaze. 

“Why would I do that?” 

“Just promise you won’t.”

“Well, of course I wouldn’t,” she said, still looking bewildered at the request. “I would never murder anyone, let alone with an axe, of all things.”

Suddenly, Scenty narrowed her eyes, freezing up like she was thinking carefully about something. “Hang on…” she said slowly. “Didn’t Liam… when we were on the Plane…” She hesitated, glancing at me. “Didn’t Liam say that Airy was a lantern ?”

I sighed. She’d found out before Airy got round to telling her.

“Yeah,” I said heavily.

“But he’s… he can’t be…the lantern…is he…?” Scenty looked at me, her eyes finishing her question for her.

This moment was gonna be awkward. “Yep,” I confirmed for her. “He’s Airy.”

Scenty just stared at me in shock. And was there a tiny bit of betrayal in there as well? I didn’t want to know. 

I was right. This was awkward. For Airy, too. Stone just stood there unblinkingly though - I doubt he found anything awkward.

“But, Bryce…” Scenty began in a small voice. “It’s Airy . How could you work with him? You know what he did to us… to all of us… how can you just - well - join him? Just like this?”

“Wait, Scenty.” I swallowed. “Hear me out. I know…” I lowered my voice so that the others couldn’t hear us. “I know that you don’t trust Airy. Really. I don’t trust him either, after all he did to us. But he’s the only way we’re going to be able to get Liam out of his world - and Texty too.”

“I don’t understand. Why do we need Airy to help? Can’t we just rescue Liam ourselves?”

“You know how Stone can’t speak?” She nodded. “Well, the only way we can communicate with him is with sign language. But I don’t know any sign language.” Understanding filled Scenty’s eyes.

“And Airy does?” she asked. I nodded. 

“That’s why we need him, see?”

“I guess you’re right,” Scenty admitted. “He’s the only way we can communicate with Stone.” I could see that she was still a bit reluctant, but understood why Airy was with us now. I couldn’t blame her for being reluctant, though. I mean, who would trust a crazy guy that gave them perpetual emotional damage?

We went back to the others. Scenty nodded to Airy, and he performed a weird little jerk of the head in her direction, like he had decided to nod back but changed his mind halfway through it. 

“Right,” said Scenty. “So… what’s your plan? How’re we gonna rescue Liam?”

“Well, first we’ve got to find Moldy as well,” I reminded her. She frowned.

“Moldy? Did she say she wanted to help?” 

That was a good point. I thought back to when we were just about to leave the Plane, trying to recall something Moldy said that implied that she wanted to help us find Liam, but… nothing. She just wanted to leave the Plane. Nothing else.

“Well… not explicitly,” I admitted. “But I’m sure she’d want to… right?” Scenty looked at me doubtfully.

“Maybe, I guess.” But she still didn’t look convinced and to be honest, I didn’t feel that certain either. 

“We’ll find her,” I decided. “We’ll find her and we’ll ask her.”

Scenty gave a determined nod, and off we set, a little ragtag group consisting of an omniscient being, a copper light source, a glass light source and a beverage container to find a slice of mouldy bread.

Chapter Text

It was night. The sky was dark, the shops were closed, and the street lamps were on, the light emanating onto the smooth pavement. The stillness of our surroundings was exceptionally similar to that of my old universe, but the one here was comfortable, rather than unnatural. The only movement (apart from the occasional car) was our tired and dragging footsteps as we - Scenty, Soda Bottle and I - followed Stone mindlessly through the streets.

It would have been quite a pleasant silence if it weren’t for the fact that said silence was suffocating with the weight of the tension between us all. Except for Stone, of course.

“Are we there yet?” Soda Bottle suddenly asked Stone.

“No,” I responded automatically. He shot me an annoyed glance.

“Well, how long until we are?”

Stone and I shrugged simultaneously. Soda Bottle huffed.

After Soda Bottle’s inquiry, we returned to our rather uncomfortable silence, everyone’s eyes either following the flickering shadows on the ground or staring straight ahead.

Eventually we arrived at a small, less brightly lit street, slightly stumbling on the unevenly laid cobblestone that jutted out unpredictably - I almost tripped multiple times, unable to avoid the protruding rocks with the darkness that cloaked them. A solitary figure sat hunched over on a bench placed against the wall on the left side of the street. I could vaguely make out them eating something from a paper bag.

“Is that Moldy?” Scenty whispered. At least, she tried to - it was the middle of the night, after all, and any attempt at a whisper ended up seeming like a normal volume. Stone nodded in response to her question, while Moldy looked up mid-bite, caught sight of the little group huddled together in the middle of the street and sent what I assumed was a death stare at us (although I couldn’t really tell with her face hidden in the shadows).

Caught out by her gaze, we shuffled apprehensively towards her - when reaching closer proximity I confirmed that it indeed was a death stare. I noticed that her mold had worsened severely since the last time I saw her; almost three-quarters of her face was covered by it, and some of it was now creeping towards her right eye. She would die again if it wasn’t treated soon - and without anyone running the codes, it would be virtually impossible for her to find her way back to Earth again from the waiting room.

“What are you doing here?” she asked abruptly, putting down her paper bag, which I could now see had a half-eaten sandwich in it. Isn’t that… cannibalism? I thought.

“How did you find me?”

Soda Bottle and Scenty exchanged nervous glances, most likely contemplating how best to answer the question without getting their heads bitten off, as was Moldy’s usual habit.

“Well… we went looking for you. So we can, um, rescue Liam, right?”

The intensity of Moldy’s ongoing death stare lessened a bit, her expression morphing into a hostile confusion.

“When did I say I wanted you guys to find me?”

“Um…you didn’t.”

“So how did you even find m- what is he doing with you?” She came to a stop mid-sentence as her eyes landed on Stone. “And who’s that?” Then me.

I instinctively coughed for no apparent reason. Reflexes, maybe, although then they would be very strange reflexes. It could be a side effect of not having social interaction for more than a decade - not communicating face-to-face with anyone for more than ten years inevitably would have some detrimental effects, I was sure. Stone, of course, just stared at Moldy calmly and non-intrusively. Maybe I should learn from him.

“Who is that?” she repeated.

In my peripheral vision I could see Soda Bottle and Scenty having a silent but heated debate. Although they weren’t making any noise, I knew exactly what they were saying.

Should we tell her?

No.

Why?

It would just dissuade her.

But wouldn’t she find out by herself in the end? I did.

She won’t. She's too stupid.

But we should still-

I decided to save them the trouble.

“Hi,” I greeted Moldy. “I’m Airy.”

Dead silence. Somewhere behind me, I heard a sigh. Moldy’s eyes widened - I could almost see her physically processing my introduction.

“What?” Shock flitted across her face.

I slowly backed away out of sheer intuition.

“Wait, Moldy!” said Scenty quickly, who seemed to know exactly what was coming. Moldy either didn’t hear her or just decided to ignore her and stepped forward.

“What is wrong with you?” she said furiously. “How could you just-”

Soda Bottle suddenly grabbed her shoulders.

“Moldy, shut up and listen to me,” he said firmly. “I get that you don’t like Airy.” He jerked his head in my direction. “You want to know why we’re with him? He’s our translator. He understands sign language, no one else does, and that’s all there is to it, so no, you do not need to start ranting about how we’ve turned evil. All right?”

Moldy’s fire died down a bit, but I could tell it was still simmering, capable of returning at the slightest provocation. Inwardly I heaved a sigh of relief, although I was quite sure that nothing had changed in my expression on the outside. Anyone who saw me would probably think I had zoned out.

Scenty nudged me. “Airy, say something.”

Moldy stood there with her arms crossed, looking disdainfully at me. I stared at her. And smiled. For some unknown reason. It felt so wrong on my face as well - it was like when you were forced to smile while singing carols for strangers and it ended up coming out as a sort of psychotic grin.

“Well?” she demanded, though there was a hint of a falter at the end, so I thought it came out less forceful than she intended it to - probably due to the possibility that she was slightly freaked out by my smile.

“I… can translate sign language,” I offered, the smile refusing to leave my face.

“We’ve covered that already,” Soda Bottle hissed impatiently. “Were you even listening?”

“Yeah,” I said indifferently. Both Soda Bottle and Scenty sighed.

“Sure you were.”

“Yeah. I know I was. You don’t need to tell me again.”

“Airy, it’s called sarcasm.”

I blinked. “What?”

When he sighed, it looked like he’d just aged fifty years. “Never mind.”

I was still rather confused about the foreign word that Soda Bottle had just uttered, but for the time being I focused on Moldy. She was still glaring at us, but had the productivity to finish the sandwich in the paper bag while doing so, most likely bewildered by everything we were saying. When she spoke again, she sounded completely indifferent. You wouldn’t be able to tell that she’d been furious just a few minutes ago.

“Well, what are you still doing here? Take your weird little friends and go do your ‘rescuing Backpack’ thing. But leave me out of it.”

Scenty drew back, looking stung, and looked to Soda Bottle for help. His forehead creased as he thought for a few minutes, rubbing his chin.

“Well,” he said finally, “I guess if Moldy doesn’t want to help… then she doesn’t have to. Maybe we should leave her.”

“But then coming here would have been for nothing!” Scenty protested. “Moldy, why don’t you want to help us?”

Moldy rolled her eyes, and gestured very pointedly at Stone and me.

“Them, obviously. Why would I trust them? And yes,” she added, seeing Soda Bottle open his mouth, “I know Airy is your translator and all that but really? You trust him not to murder you because of that? And him.” She tilted her head towards Stone. “He’s just… not very trustworthy either.”

Soda Bottle cocked his head. “Why not?”

“He’s just… weird.”

“So you’re not gonna come with us because you think our friends - no, acquaintances - are weird.”

“Well, yeah,” agreed Moldy disinterestedly. “But mainly because I don’t trust him.”

Me. Of course. It had always been me.

Fury sparked in Soda Bottle’s eyes. “So you don’t care about Liam? You don’t care that he’s gonna spend eternity trapped in a universe all by himself?”

She shrugged. “He’s got Texty, hasn’t he? And she won’t run out of battery. He’s not alone.”

Soda Bottle heaved a frustrated sigh and closed his eyes. When he opened them again, the anger that had been burning in his eyes had frozen into flecks of ice.

“You know what?” he said contemptuously. “We don’t need you. We don’t need someone who doesn’t give a damn about her so-called friend.”

He turned away from her and started walking down the street, calling to us over his shoulder, “Come on, let’s go, we don’t want her.”

“Fine,” said Moldy coolly. “See if I care.”

“Wait, Bryce!” Scenty protested again. Her gaze was conflicted as she looked between Soda Bottle and Moldy. “Are we really just gonna leave her like this? Look at her, she’s eating a sandwich on a bench in the middle of the night, she has nowhere to…” Her voice faded away as she realised that he couldn’t hear her anymore; he’d stopped, but far away enough that her voice wouldn’t be audible to him.

“Maybe we should just leave her if she doesn’t want to come,” I suggested. It wasn’t like she’d be any more help if she did come.

She certainly wasn’t helping now, and I was confused as to why we even came to find her if she didn’t want us to.

“I’m doing fine,” she hissed defensively. “I don’t need your pity.”

Scenty’s eyes flicked to Stone, who had stood there impassively throughout the whole conversation.

“Stone?” she said pleadingly. He gazed at her calmly and signed something.

“He says to leave her be and that she’ll find her way,” I translated automatically. At least there was one thing I knew how to do.

Scenty wilted and sighed. “Alright,” she mumbled. “If that’s all you have to say. I guess we should go then.”

She gestured for Stone and I to follow her to where Soda Bottle was leaning against the wall waiting. I could feel Moldy’s eyes on our backs, watching us.

He raised his eyebrows as we drew near.

“Failed to convince her, then?”

Scenty and I nodded. He snorted derisively.

“Shouldn’t have wasted our time in the first place,” he muttered to himself.

There was a short silence in which everyone stared at each other.

“So… this rescuing Liam thing,” Scenty began. “How exactly are we going to go about it? Stone?”

Stone signed, and I translated.

“We’re going to the Waiting Room, and then-”

“No!” Soda Bottle burst out. Three pairs of eyes landed on him, and he flushed a little. “There’s no way I’m climbing up a smokestack again,” he said, by way of explanation. Those three pairs of eyes stayed on him. “Nevermind,” he mumbled.

“Climbing up a smokestack?” I repeated, puzzled. I did not see how that fitted into the equation. “Where does that come in?”

“Nevermind,” Soda Bottle reiterated stubbornly. “Carry on.”

“We’re going to the Waiting Room, and Stone’s going to transport us to Liam’s universe via the radio. We’re going to get him and then go back to earth.”

Scenty frowned. “That sounds… overly simple.”

I glanced at Stone to see if he would elaborate, but all he did was shrug.

“Right, so all we have to do is die!” Soda Bottle said in a falsely bright voice. “Let’s go kill ourselves so we can get to the Waiting Room, guys!”

No one moved.

He scowled. “Just being optimistic.”

No one spoke.

The silence expanded between us all like a giant balloon. We stood there.

Stone abruptly turned and headed forwards down the street, glancing behind briefly to gesture a ‘wait’, before disappearing around the corner.

“He told us to wait here,” I informed Scenty and Soda Bottle.

“I know.”

“Okay.”

What felt like two hours later, Stone reappeared at the end of the street, hurrying towards us and clutching a strange assortment of items that he had apparently taken from the shops around the corner. Including a laptop.

“How- where in all the universes did you just get a frickin laptop-” Soda Bottle started incredulously. Stone shushed him with a hand, plopping the things down onto the ground and crouching over them.

“How the hell did you even manage to break in?” Soda Bottle couldn’t seem to hold it in. Scenty, too, was staring at the collection of things on the ground in astonishment. Stone looked up from his position on the ground, eyeing the two of them reproachfully.

“He’s telling you to shut up and listen to him,” I said helpfully. No, Stone had not signed anything, but his eyes said something along those lines. And it seemed that those lines were the right lines, because he nodded gratefully to me.

“Well, listen to me, technically,” I added as an afterthought.

The items on the floor, from what I could see, were a bunch of multicoloured post-it notes, a laptop, and some pens. Stone kneeled down, grabbed a pen and a handful of blue post-it notes, and started scribbling furiously on them.

Soda Bottled groaned in realisation of something that I hadn’t realised yet. “Oh, not the post-it notes again!” he lamented.

Scenty and I regarded him in confusion.

“Smokestack,” was all he said when he noticed us. He really was quite terrible at explaining things.

Once Stone was done, he stood up, brushed the dirt off his knees and handed one post-it note each to us. I noticed curiously that there was one more that he didn’t give anyone.

Peering down at it, I saw that he had written a long line of numbers. This is for the radio, I realised.

He signed again, and I translated.

“These post-it notes are for when it comes to getting back to earth - Stone will help us get to Liam’s universe. And, it’s very important not to slip and accidentally drop them into a waterfall.”

Soda Bottle and Scenty stared at Stone, which he ignored, and instead promptly opened the laptop and started typing into it. For a while, all we heard was the painfully audible sound of keys clacking.

As soon as the clacking stopped, he looked up and gestured for us to gather around him. At this point, no one knew what was going on and so we just obeyed without question.

Even if it was upside down, I could tell from a glimpse that Stone had pulled up the Plane Database. I had a feeling that I knew what was coming.

There was a moment where we all looked at each other, the suspense building as we waited for something to happen.

I heard a click.

My vision flashed, went black, and the next time I opened my eyes (when had I closed them?) I was standing in the horribly familiar Waiting Room.

Bryce groaned again, and Scenty (having never been there before) looked around with mild curiosity, while Stone observed us.

“I hate this place.”

And, of course, what else did I expect? As constant as time and unchanging as the past, the radio - annoyingly the same as ever.