The Item of Monumental Importance

by Zachry Wheeler

  “We did it,” Perra said. “I can’t believe we did it.”

  Zoey gripped her shoulder and shared the gratification. A smile stretched across her face as she gazed across the shimmering surface. She reached into a belt pouch and retrieved the Item of Monumental Importance. After a brief pause to digest the moment, she held it overhead and grit her teeth with furious intent. “On this day, a dark and vile pestilence shall be cast from our lands! We smite the rot and bring an end to the Ebon Edge of the Essence! I, Zoeyana, Warrior Princess of the Pointy-Eared Attractives, hereby cleanse Norsouthermidlandia of its crippling affliction!” She reared back and hurled the stone as far as she could. It sailed through the toxic air and ended with a muted splash.

  A stillness shrouded the area as ripples floated back to shore.

  They stood in silence, waiting for the sweet release of vindication, or anything really.

  “Is that it?” Max said.

  Zoey stared at the shoreline and shifted her lips. “I, um ... I guess so.”

  “Go team,” Ross said with the least possible enthusiasm.

  A muted rumble echoed from afar, raking tiny ripples across the lake. The group traded concerned glances. Another rumble, louder this time, followed by a muffled quake underfoot. Zoey and Perra readied themselves for battle as Max spun around in confusion. Ross glared at the ground as if it had disturbed a nap. A series of gurgles yanked their gazes to the shoreline. The lake started to recede, slowly at first, but then as quick as a raging river. A dull roar echoed around the basin as it drained into the earth. Before long, a barren lakebed revealed itself.

  Silence returned.

  But the moment was fleeting.

  A colossal earthquake thundered into existence, tossing them all to the ground. Slabs of rock ripped from the cliffs. Giant boulders tumbled down the slopes. An ear-splitting shriek echoed from every direction, as if the entire world began to wail. The group covered their ears as they struggled to their feet. Booming fractures shot around the basin, prompting Zoey to motion up the path from which they came. The others followed as she scaled the hillside. The earth fought them the entire way, thrusting to and fro. They dodged an onslaught of rocks and debris on their way to the summit. With a final push, they crested the hill and turned back to the lakebed.

  The shrieking stopped.

  The rumbles subsided.

  A blanket of steam lifted from the empty basin.

  “What the hell just happened?” Max said through hurried breaths.

  Zoey shook her head. “I know not.”

  A blinding flash forced everyone to recoil and shield their eyes. Ribbons of light swirled around the group before coalescing into a floating silhouette. An ethereal figure with eight arms and three prominent eyes appeared before them, cloaked in white robes with golden trim. An intricate headpiece gave way to soft skin and a feminine form. Zoey and Perra recognized the goddess immediately and fell to their knees.

  “Attractive Ultima,” Zoey said with her head bowed. “You grace us with your presence.”

  Perra punched Max in the calf, causing him to yelp and drop to a knee.

  Ross studied the spirit with the same emotional investment as watching a traffic light.

  “The Guild of Good Guys has triumphed,” the goddess said with a celestial tone. “A great evil has been purged from our world and the light shines with solace once again. The realm is in your debt, heroes. As such, I grant each of you a mortal request.” She offered a modest bow and turned to Zoey. “What, Zoeyana, doth your heart desire from the world you so valiantly saved?”

  Zoey lifted her head. “I only request the strength to lead my people in this new era.”

  The goddess smiled and nodded. “I bless you with an extended life, warrior. You shall serve your people for ages to come.”

  Zoey smiled and lowered her head. “Thank you, kind spirit.”

  “And what to you, brave Perralyn?”

  Perra lifted her head. “My devotion is to my people, but more so to my love and Princess. I only ask to remain at her side for the duration of her rule.”

  The goddess nodded. “So be it. Your life shall match hers in length and compassion.”

  Perra smiled and joined hands with Zoey.

  The goddess turned to Ross. “And what say you, mighty Rossarath?”

  Ross waved off the request. “I’m good, thanks.”

  The goddess narrowed her three-eyed gaze, then nodded. “Okay then.” She emitted a soft grunt and turned to Max. “And what of you, valiant shaman?”

  Max stood upright and expelled a weighted sigh. “To be perfectly honest, all I really want is to know where the hell I am and what the hell just happened.”

  The goddess paused for thought. After a brief melding of minds, her three eyes widened with a rush of cognition. “You ... you are Max of Earth of System 78P8 of Galaxy MW865 of Cluster V1355 of Universe 89B345-GH234X-C137.”

  Max shrugged. “Sure, let’s go with that.”

  “What are you doing here?”

  “Dunno, was hoping you could tell me. In Earth terms, please.”

  “Very well. The ship is a giant space turtle, you are all fantasy embodiments of immune cells, and you just helped it pass a kidney stone.”

  Max ruffled his brow. “So the Item was—”

  “Yes.”

  “And the yellow lake was—”

  “Yes.”

  “And the roaring rumble was—”

  “Searing genital pain, yes.”

  Max nodded and gave her a crisp thumbs up. “Thanks.”

  The goddess smiled and returned the gesture. “Welcome.”

  Max glanced at Zoey and Perra, both of whom wore puzzled faces. “S’all good, don’t worry about it.”

  “With this,” the goddess said, “I bid you all a kind farewell. May these blessings aid you in thought and in duty.” Her image faded like a wash of snow.

  Zoey and Perra climbed to their feet and embraced, releasing a wave of repletion. Max and Ross grinned at each other and bumped fists. A comfortable silence enclosed the group as they reveled in a well-fought victory. They decided to camp there that evening, safe and secure under the grace of a watchful goddess. A sense of reprieve and satisfaction cloaked them like a warm blanket. They laughed and chatted around a crackling campfire, recounting their own saga like kids at a sleepover. After all, they knew that songs would be written about that day and they wanted to absorb every magical second.

  Max fell asleep beside the fire with a wide smile, never once explaining the meaning of his peculiar blessing.

  * * *

  Max awoke in his familiar bed aboard the freighter ship. The dim glow of artificial light filled him with a mixture of comfort and sadness. He glanced down to the foot of the bed where his little dragon friend rested in a curled pile of orange fur. Ross stirred as Max hoisted his body to a seated position and stretched away the morning aches. The cold metal floor needled his soles, an odd sensation after a day of tromping around a fantastical realm in crude leather boots. He moped through a standard morning routine, then exited the chamber with an eye towards breakfast. Little did he know that his new universe was devoid of French toast. And France, for that matter. In fact, the entirety of Earth’s landmass was simply called Rupert.

  Zoey sat at a small table at the rear of the cargo bay. Her sleek pilot suit was unzipped with sleeves tied around her waist, exposing a thin tank top. She scrolled through her comdev while munching on a pastry. “Morning,” she said without looking up.

  “M’lady,” Max said as a joke to himself.

  She cocked an eyebrow and met eyes with the human.

  He smirked and dismissed the gesture.

  Ross trotted into the area like he had forgotten something critical. He paused, traded hurried glances between the two, then plopped onto the floor and started grooming his crotch.

  “Yo,” Perra said from inside the engine room. She emerged into the cargo bay wearing her usual punky garb. Her long aubur
n hair was pulled into a tight ponytail and grease stains dotted her creamy orange cheeks. “Check this out.” She tossed an object to Max, which he caught with a few fumbles.

  Max opened his palm to find a white stone the size of an apple. His eyes widened.

  “What the hell is that?” Zoey said.

  “A calcium rock. I just pulled it from one of the fuel lines.”

  “Aaah, so that’s what was gumming up the works.”

  “Yup, our last batch must have had a high oxide content. I injected some dissolving agents to handle the rest.”

  “Gravy. Thanks, sweetie.”

  Max snickered as he gripped an imaginary staff and held the stone overhead. “Behold, the Item of Monumental Importance.”

  Ross snorted. “What are you supposed to be, some kind of shaman?”

  Max flinched and the rock clanked onto the floor.

  MAX AND THE MULTIVERSE

  Book One, Chapter One

  Max stared at a dingy basement wall, tracing the grout lines of bare cinder blocks. He stood motionless in the center of the room, silent and waiting. Nostrils flared as they recycled the stale air. Fingernails scraped on tattered jeans. A pair of dim lamps painted haunting shadows on a cracked ceiling. His eyes shifted towards every faint sound. A thump here, a muffle there, followed by footsteps. Loud clomps overhead, then down the hall, then nothing. Silence ensnared the room. A door slammed. A car started soon after and faded into the distance. Max closed his eyes, took a measured breath, then scared the crap out of his cat by shouting “Spring break!”

  Max’s parents had departed for Hawaii, leaving him to fend for himself in the dusty suburbs of Albuquerque, New Mexico. Not that he minded. As an only child with social anxieties and a crippling fear of the outdoors, he welcomed a quiet week in a dank basement. He enjoyed it, preferred it even. Spring break to most teens meant travel to exotic locales, or at the very least, anywhere but home. Max had no interest in such things. Spring break to him meant one thing: gaming, lots and lots of gaming, an endless romp of caffeinated carnage without curfews or prying parents.

  And so, it began.

  His closest friends inhabited pixels on a computer, the avatars of fleshy cohorts all around the world. They escaped their real-life dungeons by slaughtering monsters in virtual ones. It gave them a sense of pride and accomplishment, all while dismantling their basic social faculties. Two days into an epic bender, Max’s cat found him facedown and drooling on a rather expensive keyboard.

  “Oi, Max. Time to get up.”

  “Huh?” Max stirred at his desk.

  “Arise, you lazy sod. I’m hungry.”

  “Okay, okay, I’ll—wait, what?”

  Max opened his eyes to find a chubby orange tabby with green eyes and puffy jowls sitting on the desk beside him, part one of a reliable morning routine. However, the usual crop of impatient meows had been replaced by the King’s English, complete with a disarming British accent.

  “Morning,” Ross said.

  Max yelped and flung himself backwards, tumbling out of the chair. His body thumped the cold tile floor and rolled to a rest against the couch. The chair clanked and clattered before landing on its side. Max whipped a frightened gaze to an apathetic feline.

  “That looked painful,” Ross said.

  Max flinched.

  Ross raised an eyebrow while maintaining a ninja-like stillness, conveying the least possible amount of concern. “You okay there, mate?”

  “You can talk. You’re talking.”

  “Yeah, so?”

  “But how? You don’t, um, I mean ...” Max’s sputtering mind sifted through a deluge of questions before settling on the most impractical one. “Do all cats talk?”

  “What, do you mean figuratively?”

  Max started to respond, then stopped, then started and stopped again. His brain and mouth refused to cooperate, sounding like a faulty video stream.

  “Ooookay then, moving on. You’re awake. I’m hungry. Get off the damn floor, get your head on straight, and meet me in the kitchen.” Ross dropped from the desk and trotted towards the stairs.

  Max shook his head and blinked several times, trying to offload the hallucination. He untangled himself and leaned back against the couch. After a scowl and shoulder roll, he pressed a finger to his neck to check his pulse, explaining a grand total of nothing.

  An annoyed Ross peeked around the stairwell. “Are you coming or not?”

  Max flinched again and covered his heart. “Jeez, give me a minute.”

  “That’s another minute I have to abide an empty belly, now get a move on. By the way, the litter pan is full and I deuced in the bathtub. You might want to address that after you tend to my nutritional needs.”

  Max responded with a contorted gaze.

  Ross huffed and scampered up the stairs.

  Max slapped himself across the cheek, winced in pain, and immediately regretted the decision. Climbing to his feet, he glanced over to a morning sunbeam peeking through a small port window, then grimaced like an albino cave troll. Designed as a mother-in-law suite, the basement featured a bathroom, kitchenette, and external entry, allowing Max to come and go as he pleased, not that it mattered much. His real-world obligations peaked at school and the occasional girlfriend, so he preferred to stay put, content to explore his virtual worlds under a veil of darkness.

  He spent most of his time in a living room of sorts, in the sense that it housed the evidence of something living. Apart from an extravagant gaming system, furnishings amounted to little more than a squatter’s paradise. A ratty couch and rickety table served as bedroom and dining room. Corners and cubbies seemed hell-bent on expanding an impressive collection of dust bunnies. A pair of particleboard bookcases with opposing veneers gave a firm middle finger to interior design. An assortment of comic books, computer manuals, and gadget boxes completed the portrait of a standard nerd cave.

  Max climbed the stairs like a half-naked camp counselor in a horror movie. He paused at the top and peered around the doorframe, scanning the hallway through widened eyes. Everything seemed in order, down to the forced smiles of family pictures along the walls. He tiptoed down the hall, pausing to examine each passing room. When he arrived at the end, he poked his head into a sage green kitchen where hanging pots reflected the morning sunlight. Ross stood in the center of the room with an expectant gaze.

  Max froze and gawked at the feline.

  Ross sighed. “Um, food? Sometime around now would be nice.”

  Max stiffened his posture and crept towards the pantry while maintaining eye contact.

  Ross tilted his head. “You’re starting to weird me out a bit.”

  Max filled a bowl with cat food, lowered it to the floor, and slid it over to Ross.

  “Thanks, mate. And for the record, that was way more than a minute.” Ross plunked his face into the bowl, spilling bits of kibble onto the floor.

  Max backed away slowly like a vegan at a hog roast. He turned to the sink, cranked the faucet, and splashed his face with cold water. Droplets fell from his dangling jaw as he gazed out the window at nothing in particular. After a brief mental reboot, his attention shifted to the coffee maker, the lifeblood of any true gamer. He fixed a pot, filled his favorite mug, and lowered himself to the kitchen table. Sip after sip, he studied his furry friend while fretting over mental health and conversation etiquette. Small talk proved vexing with other humans, let alone with a cognizant pet. Convinced he was dreaming, or perhaps the target of an elaborate prank, Max decided to test the waters with a civil exchange.

  “So, um, any plans for the day?”

  Ross halted mid-chew and lifted an irked face from the bowl. “What, besides eating?” he said through a mouthful of kibble.

  “Yeah, I guess.”

  “Why?” Ross narrowed his eyes.

  “I don’t know, just curious.”

  “Okay. I’ll play your little mind game.”

  “It’s not a game. I’m just making conversation.
”

  “Life is a never-ending game of attrition. Our wits, swords. Our composure, shields.”

  Max rolled his eyes. “Jeez, dude. It’s a simple, harmless, superficial question. I don’t need a Shakespearian response.”

  “Fine.” Ross thought for a moment while crunching. “I haven’t thought much past this bowl, to be honest. Napping will be a high priority, on a variety of precarious surfaces. Might take in a window viewing or chase some sunbeams. May freak the hell out for no apparent reason, that’s always fun.” He ruffled his brow. “Why? Is there anything I should know about?”

  “Nothing comes to mind. Why are you so suspicious?”

  “That trollop of a girlfriend isn’t coming over, is she?”

  “Who, Megan?”

  “No, Miley Cyrus. Who the bloody hell do you think I mean?”

  “No need to be a dick about it. What’s wrong with her coming over?”

  “Well, duh, she’s an insufferable twit.”

  “Wow.” Max cringed. “That’s a bit harsh. I thought you liked her.”

  “What? When did I ever give you that impression?”

  “So you don’t like her?”

  Ross huffed and glanced away for a moment. “You are one dense wanker, you know that? How many times do we need to have this conversation?”

  Max started to respond, but sighed instead.

  “She’s a canine sympathizer, Max. She consistently reeks of wet dog and utterly fails to grasp the concept of an inside voice. I have choked down her prattle for long enough. Let it be known that I am very close to a rash retaliation.”

  “Please don’t. She’s a good person.”

  “Seriously, the next time I see that dimwitted bint, I’m going to vomit in her shoes.”

  “Fine, no Megan today.” Max groaned and rubbed his forehead. “Jeez, it’s like living with a douchebag Garfield.”

  “That’s racist.” Ross cocked his ears back.

  “What? How is that— You’re both—” Max paused for a brain buffer. He shook his head, took another sip of coffee, then stood from the table. “I’m going out to get the mail.”