Before the Fixes
Here's a clock. Over there—a calendar. On the table—a bouquet of fake forget-me-nots. And right next to it—a ripped backpack. Scattered around—a pen and its cap, destined never to part ways, because they're basically besties forever!
And way over there stood Yuki, clearly not amused, her hands on her hips and one little foot tapping furiously as she glared at the chaos her goofball brother had unleashed. He was gleefully smashing things around the living room and calling that whole disaster a -fun game.
When he started twisting the chandelier like it was a Rubik's Cube he planned to break, Yuki grabbed his arms and shoved him aside. He barely noticed her interference—his eyes were still roaming, hunting for weak spots in the poor object's design.
—Where are the candles?—the troublemaker asked.
—Same place as everything else. A sad little pile of wax,—grumbled Yuki. Her brother slapped his forehead.
—Then we gotta put them back in the holder! Dad might notice!
—You think that's the only thing he'll notice?!
—Oops… guess I got carried away,—the rascal muttered. He sprinted off to fetch the robot vacuum, hoping it would clean up the mess for him (or rather, give him another excuse to slack off). Yuki sighed and started straightening things herself, stacking fallen objects back in place while silently calculating just how upset Dad would be when he saw the mess.
Probably not too much. Their dad was the type who always seemed to be -floating somewhere, like… in the clouds, or maybe in a block of cheese. Either way, he never had the time or energy to worry about small disasters at home. A lucky break for Lil C.
But Yuki noticed everything. She hated that her twin could never sit still—as if some imaginary frog kept biting him on the nose. Why else would he always be so hyper?
—You look like a mischievous puppy that somebody forgot to feed,—she scolded. —Go wash your hands at least.
—And then you'll feed me?—Her forever-hungry brother gave her a sly look, his skinny frame practically see-through from lack of calories.
-How does he even do that? He could chew on Dad's leather shoes and not blink. If we made him ten more pairs, he'd eat those too—like appetizers. Meanwhile I gain a whole pound just by… breathing.
Together, they managed to get the living room into something resembling order—enough that you could, in theory, invite guests. Not that they ever did. Their dad was always holed up in his study, leaving only to eat or crash in the bedroom.
And the kids? They had totally different friends.
Lil C. hung out with Maris, a calm, overly rational boy who could bore you with math problems for hours. He always carried his husky puppy in his arms, teaching him geography facts about continents and rivers. Whether the pup actually remembered anything was debatable, but he always thanked his teacher with a lick on the nose.
Yuki's best friend was Mari, who was basically a gossip machine. She'd sneak around whispering that their teacher, Mr. Clovis, had his grandmother's ghost living in the attic.
Everybody knew Mr. Clovis's grandma was alive and well. In fact, when she overheard the rumor, she bravely marched up to the attic herself to hunt for her own ghost. After that, people respected her way more than Mr. Clovis.
Anyway, since their friends couldn't stand each other, the twins never invited them over. Most of the time, they just hung out at home, glued to the game console—which was also a constant source of arguments.
Yuki loved logic puzzles, while Lil C. was obsessed with adventure games and brave heroes who always rode horses and swung swords with the same over-the-top flair.
—But you always know how it's going to end! They rescue the hostages, beat the villains, win every time! Where's the fun in that?—Yuki asked while pouring milk into her second bowl of raisin cereal.
Her brother, already scarfing down another round, waved his spoon like it was a sword.
—They're not just heroes—they're me! I see myself in them. And I never get tired of being the awesome ranger!
—Yeah, but all you do is break stuff, not create anything,—she shot back, secretly praying he wouldn't beg for a third bowl.
—That's only here, in this boring place. There's no chupacabra I can ride, and Maris's dog doesn't count. So I entertain myself however I can.
—Ugh…—Yuki stabbed her cereal a couple times, then leaned forward.
—Okay, since you're craving excitement, tell me honestly—have you ever sneaked into Dad's study?
Her face sharpened into something like a curious little fox. A dyed blue streak slipped across her eye, making her look even more mysterious. She'd always wanted to go in there herself—but where would she find the courage? Their father, Dr. Chaffy (the kids' proud nickname for him), had laid down exactly one rule:
-Never enter my study. Unless both of you are in a perfect mood. Only then.
And somehow, one of them was always cranky—usually Yuki—or Lil C. wasn't in the mood. They could never sync up.
And so it always happened—either Yuki was mad (most of the time), or Lil C. was in a mood, and they could never quite sync up.
—I've never been in there,—her brother admitted honestly. —I've peeked through the keyhole a hundred times, but all I ever saw was his desk. Not exactly thrilling. Lately I've been thinking about just ripping out the keyhole and, you know, -expanding the view. Then I'd see a lot more.
—Don't you dare! That's one thing Dr. Chaffy would definitely notice! So… what's your mood like today?—Yuki pressed.
—Awesome!—Lil C. saluted her with a jar of jam (where did he even get that?). —No school, it's the weekend. What else do you even need in life?
—Learning isn't so bad…—she mumbled, but decided not to push it. Instead, she thought, What about me? Do I even want to smile, laugh? No, I don't feel that spark inside.
—Brother, tell me something funny.
—You look like a bowling pin,—Lil C. fired back instantly, and Yuki's lips curled into a smile.
—You mean, like, a cool shape?—she asked hopefully.
—Nope. I mean useless.
That was it—she charged at him, and for five whole minutes the house echoed with chaos. Lil C. hopped from couch to couch, dodging her furious chase. But there's no escaping Yuki's righteous wrath, not when she's determined to make you color four brand-new activity books.
Usually Lil C. would shout, -Can't catch me! but this time, seeing her super-speed, he was the one yelling:
—You'll catch me! You'll catch me! Please, nooo!
With every escape route blocked, he bolted toward his one safe haven—the forbidden study. Sprinting down the hall, he shoved the door open and rushed inside. Yuki was right on his heels.
—Wait… why's it unlocked? Dad went to the supermarket. He locks this thing even when he's home—especially when he's not,—Lil C. muttered, looking around. His sister was already standing in awe inside what turned out not to be a study at all—but a laboratory.
—Nope, doesn't look like one,—he argued. —If this were the real deal, we'd see metal tables, glass beakers bubbling and hissing, steaming with who-knows-what. I learned that from a quest in one of my games!
—And scientists need instruments, right? Like musicians have pianos and violins. Scientists should have strange but awesome gadgets instead.
—And it's supposed to be quiet, like a library! Could you hush for once? Don't you get it? Dr. Chaffy can only work in a lab. That's how it goes. Even if it doesn't look… super atmospheric,—Yuki added less confidently, eyeing the plain wooden panels and a bookshelf without a single book.
Lil C. wandered over to the coat rack and rubbed the sleeve of their dad's white lab coat.
—See? If this is here, then it's definitely a research center. The coat rack itself must be one of his inventions.
Yuki, already annoyed (again, not for the first time today), wanted to prove him wrong. She scanned the desk—nothing but a soldering iron. In the corner, on a small stand, lay a pair of glasses.
Ordinary, round, cracked, with one arm snapped. Nothing special… except they looked exactly like—
—Mom's glasses!—the twins gasped, passing them back and forth, inspecting them from every angle.
They were hers. Not a copy, not a replica. The very same glasses the kids had found on the doorstep the day their mom disappeared. She never made it inside that night—never even crossed the threshold. The glasses lay there. She didn't.
-Did someone take her? the children had asked, terrified.
—Of course she was kidnapped!—they insisted back then. —Some crook stole the most precious thing we have and will demand ransom any minute!
Yuki remembered their father's pale, trembling whisper:
—If she didn't leave on her own…
But a year had passed, and the supposed kidnapper never called. Not even a message—no shady Facebook friend request, nothing. Hope had faded, and even the police couldn't keep it alive.
—He broke them!—Lil C. gasped, stroking the object that meant more to them than anything. —Look, he split them in two!
—You're right,—Yuki whispered. —Let me see. Don't hog it… come on… give it here! You little—
They wrestled, Lil C. lifting the glasses high above his head, forcing his shorter sister to jump in vain.
—Mine!—he yelled right in her face, bolting out of the study. Of course Yuki had no choice but to chase him down.
The hunt was back on. She tore through the house faster than a thousand winds plus one tiny tornado. Stools, cabinets, and every piece of furniture seemed to leap under her feet, trying to trip her. She dodged and leapt like a pro, refusing to slow down.
Her brother wasn't so lucky. He crashed near the front door, colliding with a side table. Flat on his back, he offered:
—Let's share. One half for me, one half for you. Look, the cord makes it just like those old-school headphones!
—And what's stopping me from just taking them all?—Yuki's eyes flashed predator-bright. She wouldn't really do it, of course—she wasn't a vandal like him, just a decent girl.
—Uh… I could clean your room. Someday. Not today, not tomorrow, and…
—So never,—she nodded wisely. —Fine. Hand me my half.
They split the glasses evenly and slipped them on. The elastic cord stretched nearly four feet, keeping them connected.
—Whoa, cool! Just regular glasses, not some kind of super-weapon,—Lil C. joked. —Too bad Dad only fixed the cord. Still, at least he kept them safe. That means they'll always be with us.
Yuki stayed quiet—he'd said exactly what she was thinking.
—C'mon, let's go outside. We've been cooped up too long.—Lil C. led the way, and together they stepped into sunshine, chirping birds, and everything else worth leaving a cozy house for.
Their garden, once cared for by their mom, now looked a little wilted despite their efforts. Beyond it stood the low fence and the street beyond.
Down the sidewalk trudged a tired-looking man in a business suit. His haircut was neat, his shoes soft, but his briefcase dragged heavy in his hand. Dark circles sagged under his eyes, and a patch of stubble showed he hadn't had time for his daily shave.
—Why can I see the zit on his neck?—Yuki gasped.
—And my half zooms in so much I can count every hair on his head! These glasses aren't normal. They're for looking inside people!—her brother exclaimed.
First Fix
At first it felt like someone slapped a wad of gum across their eyes. The smell even hit their noses—sweet, rubbery, unmistakably bubblegum. Something lumpy and sticky clung to their vision.
They clawed at it, jumping and squealing, but it wouldn't come off. Panicked, they bumped heads, then froze and clung to each other.
—Yuki, what now? We're prisoners of the Gum Monster. Next step, it seals us into its wrapper like trading cards!
—Don't be ridiculous!—Yuki snapped. —It'll come off. Probably… Please, bubblegum, go away! We don't like you!
Apparently offended, the gum vanished at once, clearing their sight—though now everything shimmered green.
—Because it is green! We're inside some kind of green hall!—Lil C. shouted, poking the soft walls and ceiling, all made of thick green curtains.
—Whoa, so squishy!—He rubbed his hand across the fabric, ignoring Yuki's cry of, -Don't touch it! He was fine, of course. Instead, he darted around, yanking curtains down only to find… more curtains behind them.
Meanwhile Yuki studied the floor. It bounced under her feet, springy but never giving way. She hopped higher and higher, the surface tossing her back gently.
—What even is this place? Why does it never end?—her brother panted. —And where are we?
—Sit down. We need to think,—Yuki ordered. He actually obeyed, plopping down beside her. She sat cross-legged; he sprawled out like always.
—Family council?—he asked.
—Exactly. You do realize we've been yanked out of Earth, right?
—What?—He sat up, excitement buzzing in his voice. No fear, just joy. At last—a real adventure!
—I mean it. One second we're in our backyard, next we're in some place made of curtains. And no matter how many layers we pull, there are always more. That doesn't happen on Earth.
—No way!—Lil C. protested, though he scratched his chin, thinking. —Unless… maybe some rich trickster built this whole thing, filled it with hidden cameras just to prank us?
They both looked around warily, scanning up, down, and all around, until Yuki swatted away her brother's theory.
—That makes no sense. How could he transport us into this place in an instant? Did you even think about that?
—He invented teleportation…—Lil C. suggested, sounding even less convinced. Then he added, —Not that I'd mind getting dumped into Narnia or wherever bored kids go! But this place isn't exactly fun either.
—Yeah, it's like we're stuck inside a giant green screen where they shoot movies,—Yuki muttered, scratching her chin.
—We're in a blockbuster?—her brother perked up. —Then I'm the star, and I get the biggest paycheck—because I'm the only one who needs all the money in the world!
—And what for?—Yuki raised an eyebrow. —To buy a dozen inflatable castles so you can bounce all day?
—No way! I'd buy every single grain of buckwheat in existence, hide it forever, and make sure Dad never forces me to eat that gross stuff again!—Lil C. clenched his fists dramatically.
—A noble dream,—Yuki said with sarcasm. —But before you conquer the world's supply of grains, let's remember how we even got into this -movie.
—Easy. We put on the glasses.
—Exactly! Where are they?!
The glasses were gone. Their eyes were once again just… eyes. Plain, boring eyes.
—Our eyes are lame,—Lil C. complained, rubbing his eyelids. —If the glasses could do all that, I'd rather look through them forever than with these dull things.
And how could Yuki argue? He said what she secretly felt too, though she'd never admit it. She always tried to look -grown-up, serious, never silly. She wanted people to see her as smart, not a know-it-all. Which, ironically, usually backfired.
Feeling a pang of frustration at not being fully herself, Yuki turned—and froze. There on the ground lay a melted pile of material.
Grabbing her brother's sleeve, she dragged him closer. Something told her to put her hand over her heart, as if she were about to sing a national anthem. Maybe silly—but for such an important object in their lives, it felt like the right kind of respect.
—Don't say goodbye to them yet,—Lil C. crouched down and nudged the mess with his foot. —We could take them to some master, get them fixed.
—If we ever get out of here…
—Of course you'll get out. Because now you've got the one and only Prima Donna, the Greatest Creator in All the World, the Bohemian of Bohemia herself!—a booming voice rang out of nowhere.
The kids stumbled back as fragments began to rise out of the pile, snapping together one by one. In seconds, towering over the soft green floor, stood their mother's glasses—only now they were half as tall as Yuki.
They still had the same cracked frame, chipped lenses, and worn-out look. But now they sported long painted eyelashes fluttering above the rims, and inside the lenses glowed a pair of beautiful green eyes that blinked constantly. No mouth, no hands, no feet. Instead, the Glasses perched casually on a hoverboard, steering it with perfect balance.
Rolling up to the stunned kids, the character boomed:
—And who are you, little but unbroken travelers?
—We… we…—the kids stammered.
The voice came from everywhere and nowhere, grand and theatrical.
—Oh, blast it, I slipped into character again. Yuki, Lil C., of course I know who you are. You are the children of my bearer—and now my responsibility. Mischief-makers I must watch over, thanks to the conscience integrated into me by the Great Oculist himself. (Yes, I like to think there is such a person watching out for me.)
So tell me—are you already employed? Lil C., how's your wife doing? Or… wait. What year is it? Am I a bit ahead of schedule? Bring me up to speed, and we can piece this puzzle together.
The kids' jaws dropped so far it became a contest who could stretch theirs closer to the ground. Both won—at least according to the Glasses, who measured the distance instantly.
—Note, children. I didn't even need a ruler. Perfect depth perception and advanced scientific knowledge. —The Glasses bragged.
Trying to collect herself, Yuki finally managed to ask:
—Um… honored Glasses, first of all, what's your name? And where are we supposed to go?
The object shifted nervously on its hoverboard, flashing multicolored lights underneath. After a theatrical cough—echoing across the entire chamber—it replied with importance:
—To those questions I must add a far more pressing one: why don't I have a mouth? Couldn't you have asked your father to give me one?
—Well… no. Wait—did Dad actually create you?—Yuki asked.
—Who else? When you activated his defibrillator of wave occasions, you ended up inside someone's mind. And I am the totem, the very first thing to awaken in the subconscious of a traveler—in this case, you, Yuki. You unknowingly summoned what matters most to you, and I appeared as your mediator between realities, your helper.
—I love Mom too…—Lil C. finally chimed in, pouting. —And I figured it out! You're our mom. Or at least a piece of her soul trapped in her favorite thing. Mommy!! Let me hug you!
He lunged forward, arms wide, but the Glasses panicked and rolled back, performing a neat kick-flip like a skateboard.
—No, no, I'm not your mother! I'm just her former accessory. Or more precisely, her mental projection. Please don't project her traits onto me—I'll get nervous.
—Fiiiine…—Yuki sighed. —So what's your name, then?
The Glasses straightened on their arms and announced to the chamber:
—I have none! My bearer never granted me an egregor—or, in simpler terms, a Personality! Alas!
—That's a shame… We'll think of one,—Yuki promised.
—No matter. I'm used to it,—the Glasses said with mock tragedy. A single tear rolled down their lens, dropped to the floor, then zipped away to the wall where it splattered with a dramatic -plop. —But I do know where we are. This is the brain's foyer, the preparation room, before diving into the subject's subconscious. Are you ready for the tour?
—Uh-huh!—the kids nodded furiously.
—Then let the Heroic Act commence!—the Glasses declared. The curtains ripped away—
—and the trio suddenly stood in a back alley. Cracked graffiti walls, trash bins, and—bizarrely—the Eiffel Tower looming overhead. Droplets that looked suspiciously like the Glasses' earlier tear hopped merrily up and down the tower, giggling in high-pitched voices. Apparently that tear had arrived first, had kids, and now they were having the time of their lives.
From a perfectly ordinary sky, the sun shone down like a stage spotlight, focused on a single place: a basketball court at the tower's base.
—I'm guessing that's where we're supposed to go,—Lil C. said.
—Wow, genius deduction, brother,—Yuki clapped mockingly. This was her revenge for the sweatshirt he'd printed with her photo—tongue out, goofy face. He swore it was out of love, but Yuki was convinced he wore it just to drive her crazy.
And waiting for them by the court entrance was… a giant cupcake. Or maybe a pastry.
—No, that's a Muffin!—Lil C. declared with the authority of someone who'd eaten his fair share.
—And look at those fabulous cowboy boots with spurs—and that wool cap with the visor,—Yuki added.
—Old school! Just like the one Dad used to wear back when he was obsessed with Linkin Park. Only… the boots don't really match…
Yuki shot him a suspicious look.
—Since when are you our fashion critic? Personally, I like them.
—I think our very entertaining stranger is trying to say something. Speak, mysterious one!—the Glasses announced with ceremony as they approached the huffing Muffin. He scratched his neatly trimmed goatee and smacked his plump lips before asking:
—Was it you who emailed me?
—Uh… no.
He shook his head in shock.
—Well then, I'll be on my way. Farewell. I was looking for some Yuki and Lil C.
Clinking his metal spurs, he turned to leave, but the kids shouted after him:
—Wait! That's us!
Instantly, he spun around with a grin.
—Oh! Tiny tots, it's you, huh?
He leaned in close, staring so hard he had to wipe away a drip of drool.
—You're Lil C.,—he pointed with a brawny hand made of crumb-muscles. —Yo.
—Uh… yo. —The boy stammered.
—Your new album drop yet?
—Nope, haven't even started it,—Lil C. scratched his head.
—Well, let me know, I'll preorder for sure,—the Sweetest Giant in the World promised. —And you must be Yuki. But you didn't summon me—he did.
—Wait, what?!—Lil C. blurted.
The Glasses intervened:
—Simple, my pupils. He is the form that Lil C.'s subconscious created. Just as Yuki birthed me, this delicious pastry is now his mascot.
—Awesome!—Lil C. jumped and high-fived his new friend.
—Yeah! But hold up—who are you? You look like the Glasses Mom used to wear. Are you their mom?—the Muffin asked.
—I am her thing, not her self,—the Glasses corrected. —I wasn't given her personality or name. Sadly, I was never named at all…
She sighed, but the always-grinning Muffin chimed in:
—I got it! You're not just a thing—you're Mami.
—The dumbest nickname ever! Nonsense!—the Glasses huffed. But Yuki and Lil C. immediately started calling her that too. And that was it. The name stuck, like a stubborn sticker you can never peel off.
So, introductions done, they sealed their eternal friendship with solemn vows—which they promptly forgot two seconds later. Together they faced the basketball court behind the chain-link fence. Empty.
—We supposed to go in there?—Yuki asked.
—How should I know? I just stand here,—the Muffin—now officially Pom-Pom—shrugged.
—Then let's go.
They pushed through the creaky gate and stepped inside together.
Something changed? Oh yeah. Transformations are the heart of any good adventure!
The moment they entered (or hoverboarded, in one case), the spiky chain-link shimmered into laser beams, glowing and crackling. A heartbeat later, the lasers vanished and turned into strings hung with fragrant flower blossoms, making the place look like a wedding reception. But not for long.
The beams reappeared, burned the flowers, vanished again—over and over in an endless loop.
—Sweet! It's both a laser show and a flower shop in one!—Lil C. cheered.
—Pretty flowers,—Pom-Pom agreed, reaching for a carnation. —This one's for our Mami.
—Look out! The beams!—The kids shrieked.
—Ow!—he yelped as his crumb-hand got lightly toasted. He sniffed it. —Nope. Not a fan of overbaked pastry.
—Ahem,—Mami tried to steer the subject back. —Maybe we should focus on what's actually happening here.
And there was plenty to see.
The court hadn't grown wider, but the hoops had stretched sky-high, towering dozens of Yukis and Pom-Poms stacked on each other's shoulders. Guarding them stood a team—figures dressed in who-knows-what, looking rough and half-finished, their features jagged and glitchy.
—What happened to the graphics?—Lil C. gasped. —What year did they render these models? And why are they so jerky?
The players really did stutter along, freezing mid-motion, then twitching forward again, waving their cricket bats around instead of basketballs.
—They're lagging,—Pom-Pom explained, and waddled toward them in the same glitchy fashion. —We come in peace, bat-on-legs people.
—Stand up and pull yourselves together!—Mami suddenly barked, her eyes fluttering angrily. —Show us who's in charge here!
The glitchy game-characters froze, then pointed their fingerless hands toward a huge office desk shoved in the corner of the court.
It was buried in dust, along with the man slumped behind it—business suit, tie, the whole package.
—That's the tired guy from the street!—Lil C. gasped, turning to his sister. —Remember? The last person we saw before the green room.
—That's him alright,—Yuki nodded. —Only now he's even more buried in his work…
And -buried was putting it lightly. On his desk, endless piles of paperwork spawned from nowhere. He shuffled them frantically from one side of the desk to the other, like armies locked in eternal battle. One stack towered higher, so he moved sheets back to even them out—then repeated, again and again.
—Busy gentleman,—Mami observed. —Perhaps he requires our assistance? You could become his assistants, and I shall, naturally, be his boss. I think I look the part.
Yuki was the only one tempted—she felt bad for the poor man crushed under the paper avalanche. But Pom-Pom was already chasing one of the glitch-players, begging for a cricket bat.
Lil C. cheered him on, shouting:
—Go, buddy! Grab one for me too—I wanna play!
The second he said it, the office worker straightened. One of the player models ran up and clipped a headset mic to his cheek, like a rock star. Then the man boomed in the tone of a seasoned commentator:
—Only Tomorrow! And only Today! The Greatest Match in the history of Crickball begins! On my right—the Team of -Old School Console! On my left—the Team of -I Have No Idea Who! Players, exchange greetings: handshakes or nods. First to score ten points wins!
Forward, gladiators!
Pom-Pom didn't need to chase bats anymore—dozens shot out from under the man's desk.
The newcomers grabbed them instantly, while the glitch-players already had theirs.
Then came the basketballs—twenty of them, ten rolling to each side.
—That makes twenty,—Lil C. counted.
—Genius. Give him the Nobel Prize,—Yuki teased, staring at the desk as if expecting the medal to pop out next. Instead, a scoreboard clunked into place, sliding down lazily until it settled at the bottom: 0–0.
—Amazing!—Pom-Pom cheered. —Life is like food: you're full, but it's still delicious.
—Second Nobel. This time in Literature,—Yuki shouted, before Mami cut in:
—Focus, children. Let's watch their strategy first. We'll adapt and learn the rules as we go.
The glitch-team seemed to be waiting for exactly that. Their forms flickered, blinked out, then merged together into one massive player.
The giant swung his bat and smashed a ball skyward. It hovered, sprouted a huge mouth and two hands, yawned, then covered its mouth sheepishly. It didn't want to go anywhere.
Not until the giant player brandished his bat again, threateningly. Then the ball got the message—like a torpedo, it zipped toward the hoop, perched awkwardly on the rim, poked the net a couple times, then finally dropped in with a sulky plop.
The scoreboard jumped instantly: 9–0.
—An unbelievable shot in both power and quality! Ovations are in order!
The office man clapped. His documents clapped too—sprouting little hands, one even whistling in approval. Across its top margin was written: Accounting Department.
—The strategy's changing. —Mami said nervously. —They're not giving us time to warm up or figure things out. They only need one more point to win, and we might have to score all ten! How does this scoring system even work?!
—Referees to the trash!—Pom-Pom yelled, hopping angrily and jingling his spurs.
Yuki crept up to the glitchy player, looking up timidly.
—Could you maybe do the same for us? I mean, helping isn't such a bad thing, right?
The opponent instantly saw through her little sports trick and turned away, arms crossed. Yuki shrugged and went back.
—Guess we have to pick who's gonna take the shot.
—I'm cross-eyed. —The muffin excused himself right away.
—I refuse to sully my non-existent hands with primitive games,—Mami declared with aristocratic disdain.
—Why even play at all? We could just walk out of here,—Lil C. suggested.
—Oh yeah? And you still don't get it's impossible in this reality?—Yuki snapped at him. Why was he always so clueless?!
She grabbed his head and turned it toward the flashing lasers.
—See that fence? It's dangerous. Sure, we could dash through when it turns into flowers. Same for Mami on her speedy hoverboard. But how nimble do you think Pom-Pom is?
—What, Groot?!—the muffin looked at her tragically. —Shaming me for being not just pastry but a pastry with filling? Bitter words indeed!
—Not even sure I'd make it either,—Lil C. admitted, eyeing the barrier. —Who knows what's going on in those laser-brains, when they'll pop back up again?
—But you're a bold warrior!—Yuki reminded him.
—A warrior with toasted crust doesn't look so noble,—he shot back for once with actual logic.
They all fell into anxious silence, tossing ideas back and forth. Then the office announcer lost his patience. Dust flew from his shoulders as he roared:
—Timer started! Team -I Have No Idea Who You Are take your positions! Time to strike!
All four stepped forward, huddling around the ball. Yuki turned it in her hands, wondering how on earth she could launch it high enough to touch the sky. She'd need arms of pure steel!
Mami circled it on her hoverboard, mumbling terms like -trajectory and -angle radius. Pom-Pom tried to take a bite. It half-worked, but he spat it out with disgust.
—Terrible cooking!—he groaned.
—10, 9, 8…—the commentator bellowed, and Yuki's knees went weak. She steeled herself, imagining she had titanic strength—only for Lil C. to snatch the ball, rear back, and hurl it straight at the desk.
Everyone gasped. The ball landed exactly where the stack of papers was supposed to be. They panicked and, with screams and stuntman tricks, dodged beautifully. In the process, they jumped off the desk, apparently freeing the man.. He blinked furiously, rubbed the spot on the table, then stood with great effort and…
The kids were suddenly back in their own backyard. Yuki still gripped an invisible bat, mid-swing. Her brother froze in the pose of someone about to toss a snowball—except it was a basketball. Both of them were strapped together by the glasses, each wearing one lens.
—Wait, what? Where are we? —Lil C. gasped. —Ohhh, we're home… boring! Back to nosy neighbors with lawnmowers and a mailman who throws letters way less accurately than me. Did you see that shot? Bullseye! —He bragged, as Yuki facepalmed.
—Not the point, Lil! Look at the man in the suit!
The same office worker now stood in the middle of their street, dazed. He shook his head, then hopped on one foot like someone trying to drain water from their ear after a dive. Finally he let out a triumphant shout, popped open his briefcase, and unleashed a blizzard of documents. Papers spiraled into the air and fluttered down like financial snow.
Then he carefully pulled out his passport (can't forget that!) and his wallet (how else do you buy snacks? Though he could have given us a prize for helping—Lil grumbled), set the briefcase down, and strutted off with a spring in his step. He even loosened his tie!
—Well… now he'll get fired,—Yuki sighed.
—Or he'll train like crazy and become the next LeBron,—Lil C. countered. —Add a cricket bat, and even LeBron would run scared! So, do we keep going or what? By the looks of it only a second passed, so before Dad's back from the store, we can still climb a hundred levels! Maybe even a hundred and one! Like yours, for example!
Yuki didn't hear him—she was mumbling to herself, lost in thought.
-In this case it didn't work out… but we could do it so much better next time. We've got a chance to actually help people who really need a change! Her eyes lit up, and she waved at her brother.
-Come on, let's take a walk! Maybe we'll spot someone interesting out there—someone who needs us.
-Great idea, sis! He happily followed her, and together they opened the gate and stepped out into the sleepy suburbs.
It was a hot day. Along the street, dog owners strolled with their pets on leashes, and the mailman pedaled by on his bike. He and Lil C. exchanged hostile looks, since both considered themselves the true champion of throwing things with style.
A girl streaming live on her phone, giving tips about ironing shirts, clearly wasn't the one—they could see she had her life completely under control. A drowsy pigeon perched on an empty birdhouse? Nope. Yuki wasn't ready to end up crawling around inside a bird's brain as a worm.
Nor was it the woman staring up at a billboard and muttering, -Nah, the food at my diner's better than this chain. Clearly, she knew what she wanted in life.
And then HE appeared.