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Incessant ringing pulls Stelle’s consciousness out of the depths of oblivion.
She hauls her arm off the bed onto the bedside table and palms for her phone. Cracks her eyes open to take a look at the name of the disturber of her sleep, but there’s only an unknown number blinking at her dimly in the dark. Her thumb hovers over the ‘end call’ button, but something makes her pause. The person who prefers contacting her using a new number every time usually does so via messaging; she’s never tried calling Stelle before, no matter the circumstances.
She throws off the blanket and shuffles to the edge of the bed, planting her feet on the cold floor.
“Hel…” Stelle rasps before clearing her throat and trying again, “Hello?”
Uneven breathing rustles in her ear. Stelle leans in, looking all over the floor. “Kafka? Is that you?”
A slow, shuddering inhale is followed by a soft, “I’m not Kafka.”
Stelle lowers her head between her shoulders.
“Then who are you and why are you interrupting my beauty sleep?” she says.
A chuckle erupts out of the dynamic.
“Is that why you haven’t been answering my calls all this time?”
Stelle glances at the clock. “I’ve been out for, like, three hours.”
Chuckling deepens into laughter, making Stelle want to pull the phone away from her ear. But then it fades into silence.
“I’ve been waiting for this for so long,” crisp words prickle her ear, as if whispered right into the phone mic.
“Dramatic, are we? Who am I talking to?”
The caller doesn’t seem to be in a hurry to answer the question: the only sound Stelle hears is breathing again, quickened and shallow. She drags a hand down her face with a sigh.
“Call back later when you remember what you wanted to say.”
“Wait.” The sharp rise of the girl’s voice makes Stelle pause. “Please give me a moment to… gather my thoughts.” A giggle bubbles up in between her words. “Can you fault a girl for being out of sorts, when her unheard prayers have finally been answered?”
“…I guess not.”
The stranger’s next words come out in a hushed tone, like a confession. “Would you like to know something no one else in the entire universe does?”
A flicker of curiosity dispels her drowsiness. “Fire away.”
“I… I’ve been wanting to stop for a while now. Letting go seemed so easy,” the girl goes on. “I’m not allowed to even have those thoughts, but… I feel like I can tell you anything, you know?”
Stelle huffs. “Yeah, I figured.”
“Yeah. I don’t even know what you look like, but things like that seem so trivial right now. What’s your name?”
Stelle drums her fingers against the mattress. The thought of just ending this bizarre call floats in the back of her mind. It was a false alarm; no need to stay on the line any longer. But, since any traces of sleep she’s had have been snuffed out by now, Stelle tosses her legs back onto the bed and dives into the softness of her pillows.
“The Galactic Baseballer,” she says, burying herself under the covers.
“The Galactic Baseballer,” the girl echoes back, as if testing how it would roll off her tongue. “Yes… that’s precisely how I imagined it. It suits you so well.”
Stelle shakes her head as her mouth curls up in a smile. “That’s just a nickname, duh. I’m Stelle.”
“Ah. Stelle the Galactic Baseballer.” She hums. “So whimsical. I like it.”
“Hey, it’s actually pretty epic, if I do say so myself.”
The girl's voice drops to a serious tone. “Oh, right. Of course, yes.” Then she puffs out another giggle.
“You still haven’t told me your name, by the way.”
“Yeah?”
“M-hm.”
“Good. My mysterious charm is safe.”
“You’re forcing me to come up with a nickname for you, then.”
“Please do. I’d like something beautiful.”
Stelle smirks. “My ‘beautiful’ could be your ‘ugly’.”
“Oh, please, ugly wouldn’t fit me at all… What’s so funny? It’s true.”
“Sure, sure.”
“You’ll see it for yourself when we finally meet,” she says, her voice hitching at the last word.
Then the dynamic ruptures with hysterical laughter, prompting Stelle to hold the phone away slightly. The stranger laughs and laughs like she’s just heard the biggest joke of her life, until it turns into rapid, uneven gasps tearing their way out of her lungs.
Stelle brings the phone closer after a moment, biting her lip as she listens to her struggle for air. “Uh, you good?”
“Yeah, I’m sorry, I just… I still can’t wrap my head around all this.” The girl hiccups one last snigger before quieting down with a slow exhale. “It’s incredible. I don’t remember the last time I felt so alive.“
Silence chimes in Stelle’s ears after the girl’s outburst. Her eyes, now used to the darkness of the cosmos’ void, follow the gentle swaying of March’s origami snowflakes hanging off the ceiling. The stalemate in their conversation drags on, but nothing that could break it comes to Stelle’s mind.
Something crackles on the other end as the girl speaks up timidly, “Are you… are you still there?”
“Yep.”
“Good, good.” She hums. “Tell me, what were you doing before you went to bed?”
Stelle blinks. Her brain needs a few moments to resume functioning.
“FYI, the creepiness bar is about to explode.”
“What?”
“You’re being creepy,” Stelle spells out.
“Am I?” The girl’s tone jumps in a way that sounds genuine. “Sorry. I’m not sure when was the last time I talked to anyone other than myself.”
Her chuckle plucks at something inside Stelle’s ribcage.
”Indulge me, will you?” the girl says softly. “Tell me something about yourself. Anything.”
And so, Stelle tells her. About vast snowplains and murderous robots…
“Trash cans are the stuff,” Stelle says as she sits with her legs crossed, her hands living a life of their own as they articulate her point. “They’re kind of like people. Full of random crap the society doesn’t care for, but if you dig deep enough, you might find something awesome.”
“Oh, that’s so romantic,” the stranger breathes out. “Unconventional, granted, but I can see it.”
About skyships and immortality…
“And people consider it to be on the same level as, say, physics or chemistry?” the girl says. She seems especially interested in this topic; Stelle can picture her perched on the edge of her metaphorical seat, drinking in every bit of information she gets.
“Pretty much, yeah. It might be a sub-branch of math, I think?” Stelle says. “I’m not really well-versed in all this divination stuff.”
“Calculating odds on the universal scale.” She laughs in wonder. “Incredible.”
Festivals and endless dreams…
“I’d like that,” she muses. “Not forever, but at least for a little while, I’d like it to be Sunday every day… as long as it’s not the same one, of course.”
Stelle takes her off speaker after that, throwing a cursory glance over her room, watching out for a winged figure hiding in the dark. Better not jinx it, she thinks.
The conversation keeps flowing, peppered with the stranger’s questions and comments. For a moment Stelle thinks that, if she turns her head, she’ll see a formless shape on her bed, a faceless silhouette lying next to her, head to head, asking about the world outside her room, marveling at things most people wouldn't bat an eye at.
The silence on the other end becomes a reminder that it’s just her imagination.
“Hello?” She frowns. “Was the sheer epicness of my tales too much for you?”
As she’s about to check if the call is still on, she hears a quiet, almost reverent, “You are real.”
Warmth floods Stelle’s face. Hanging off the bed upside down must’ve done things to her bloodflow. “I can vouch for that.”
“You’re here.”
“That, not so much. We could be in the opposite parts of the universe for all I know.”
“You’re right where you’re needed to be,” the stranger insists, an edge to her words. “Just a few more steps, and we’ll meet at last.”
“Why do you want to meet me so badly?” Stelle blurts out. “I still have no clue who you are, no name, nothing, and you’re already setting up a date for us.”
The girl makes a sound like she’s about to say something, but cuts herself off at the last moment.
“Because…” Her voice hitches. “I…”
Stelle bites her tongue, forcing herself to wait for the stranger to confess willingly. Seconds tick away, mingling with the pulse of the parasitic being inside her, blending in with the beat of her heart. The only sign that they’re still on the line.
“Do you need help?” Stelle probes.
She gets a quiet, hollow, “Yes.”
Stelle runs a hand through her hair. The bed creaks as she sits up again.
“How can you be sure I’m the one who can help you?” she ends up saying.
“I’m not,” the girl says. There’s a smile in her somber voice. “But there’s a point after which things like that stop matter.”
On the other side of the window is an endless void speckled with myriads of worlds, one farther than the other from where she is, in the comfort of her room that seems suffocating by comparison. The locomotive of the Express is already steered in the direction of their next destination. The course is set.
Screw it, she thinks and presses the phone against her ear. “How do I find you?”
“No need. I’ll find you.”
“You don’t even know what I look like.”
“I’ll find you,” she repeats. “Just… just come, okay?”
“Come where?”
“You’ll know.”
Stelle lets out a sharp sigh through her nose. “Fine.”
“Thank you,” the girl breathes out. Her voice dissolves into laughter, sweet like melted caramel, tickling Stelle’s skin.
“So…” she coughs, “your name?”
“Oh, I’ll tell you when we meet.”
Stelle rolls her eyes, even though her mouth stretches into a traitorous smile. “Why do you insist on making this difficult?”
“So you’d be too curious not to show up,” she says. Stelle swears she can hear her wink.
Her eyes fly open. Her phone’s on the bedside table, blaring her ears off. She grabs it, cursing at the alarm that can’t be bothered to shut up on the first try, and opens her call history. And stares. Then rubs her eyes.
The last call was two days ago, lasting eight seconds. It was from Dan Heng. She wouldn’t read his messages. So he had to call her.
Following an impulse, she holds the phone up to her ear. She’s not on the line; doing this is pointless. But the echoes of that voice still linger in her mind, clear as day.
With a groan, she drops the phone on the covers and looks out the window. In the distance, a rainbow path flows into itself, bright yet hidden from the universe. They’ve already made a warp jump and decided to have some sleep before setting out to the next world. Meanwhile the person she promised to help is going to remain trapped in her memory, waiting.
The speaker above her crackles to life.
“Attention, all passengers! Conductor Pom-Pom asks everyone to gather in the Parlor Car in ten minutes. Amphoreus awaits!”