He scrubbed his temples as he shrugged, finally waking up to reality.
But, but—
He immediately scrambled up from the wood, which served as a bed, on which he slept. Having one of his legs placed on the wooden floor, while the other beveled on the wooden bed, he took in his environment.
Different drawings were etched on the wall around him, he looked closely but didn't understand what any of those drawings meant. One of the drawings that caught his interest was the one that pictured a very small mammal, which held a gigantic reptile in between its teeth-claws.
The gigantic reptile stretched long enough, almost mistaken to be a snake... or, a snake-dragon as the case may be. But he didn't want to be sure whatever creatures were represented by the etching. All he could tell was, "So strange... they are."
He turned, to find a wooden window open to broad daylight. The sky maintained its color, but the mood of the day had changed.
Crimson streaks blended in contrast to the sea blue and white smoke color of the sky, hinting at prospective eclipsis — this was what human inhabitants would term the sight — but the confusion covering his face was that the day was abhorrently bright.
"..."
No words came as he repulsed his gaze, darting his eyes around himself once again and realizing — he was in a room.
Beside the bed, was a simple plastic table and on it, a book that looked like it was a notepad and a pen were placed side to side.
He didn't even care to find out what was contained in the notepad, all he wanted was to realize what had happened to him. He wanted to know—
"Where am I?"
As soon as he spoke, a throbbing pain pierced the right side of his head and he clung to it tightly by the side with both hands, trying hard to maintain balance as well as struggling to get off with the pain that came from this sullen feeling.
A feeling that hinted at the fact that the body he was occupying was suffering from migraine.
"Ahh...!"
The next instant, he lay clutched onto the bed, his legs moving lackadaisically, his body writhing as he struggled with the piercing pain in his head. 'Is this how migraine affected its victims?'
"Where the fuck—?"
His last words hitched in his throat, as he suddenly gave out, and then in his unconsciousness, he happened to fall into a retrospective trance.
***
"All those who bear the Mark of Ellipse, leave our world!"
Laz, a boy clad in tattered attire, his fair complexion starkly contrasting with his ragged garments, sat cross-legged beside the tarred road. His face fell pale as soon as he listened to the announcement from the huge board screen, hanging on a tall pole beside him.
That was the voice of the President, offering his last warning to people like him.
He rubbed his eyes as if he wanted to cry, but no, he is a big boy now. And big boys only look pathetic when they shed tears.
Even though times were hard for him, the worst word description he promised never to make himself feel was "pathetic". Maybe because he scrambled all his life for survival.
In front of him lay a small circular bowl, containing a few scattered coins. These coins represented his day's meager earnings, and their sum should originally decide whether he would have anything as a meal that day, and subsequently.
He longed for his circumstances to be a bit different. Even if life's challenges persisted, he wished they were at least less costly to soar through.
The worst of it all tinged on him, the moment he memorized that he had spent his life as an orphan, thrown into the streets by his aunt and her husband.
And now, the cost of everything drowned him in striving, to survive in this kind of setting.
The cost of living was, nonetheless, escalating with each passing day, turning survival into a do-and-die affair for someone in his position. Had it been in the past, the coins generously donated to him would have sufficed for three meals. It only seemed as though complaints of the past for a better future, all ended up as the tips of an iceberg in an ocean.
Now, what lies in the very bowl cannot even procure one square meal for him. And he was very hungry.
Surveying his surroundings, Laz shrugged.
It appeared as though he alone bore the burden of this particular form of destitution, as everyone else he observed seemed well-established. Few people traveled the road on foot; the majority of its users journeyed by car.
'Perhaps that explains my inability to obtain sufficient resources each day. If only these motorists would also contribute...'
His thoughts were abruptly interrupted by an unexpected splash of water. A young woman had just doused the asphalt road, and a car had raced through the water, sending it splattering across his body. He buried his nose in his sleeve and discerned the scent.
"Disgusting…"
It was not as though he ever donned immaculate attires, anyway.
But, this was the world he lived in — a world where the majority remained indifferent to the plight of the less fortunate, where the impoverished persisted in their destitution, while the affluent maintained their wealth.
As a young child, he was made to understand that occasionally, the tides could turn for the downtrodden, allowing them to ascend to prosperity.
But... but to him now, all those notions seemed nothing more than idle prattle and superstition. Those were their beliefs, but they did not constitute reality.
He cast himself one final withering glance before rolling up his sleeve to view the mark.
On his wrist, was a relatively small, smooth, curved shape that looked like a flattened circle. It has an oval appearance, wider on one side from the right, and narrower on the left side. Imagine squashing a perfect circle from the top and bottom, or stretching it from side to side.
This was the mark of Ellipse, except for the absence of an intersection at the edge of the circle. But that was the mark, every being the President talked about bore.
Naturally, this mark on Laz's wrist is believed to travel into the world with the bearer from birth, and as true as it was, is said to reach its maturity stage as soon as the bearer gets within the age range of sixteen to eighteen.
That was when the ritual performed for a full representation of the Mark was believed to have an effect. A ritual that allowed its bearers to bilocate into the world of which they bore its mark.
Ellipse was based on superstition, believed to be another world that is tranquil in mystery... but, those who are yet to become witnesses found it certainly hard to believe. Among these unbelievers, was Laz.
Even after maturity, Laz left his mark to exist without cause on his hand up until now that he is eighteen years old. Maturation of the Mark is realized when it begins to show visibly where the bearer had it.
To prevent acknowledgment of being one of the bearers, Laz had turned into "the boy on long sleeves".
Unfortunately, and as technology may have it, the government had developed a facility that helped them to keep track of all the bearers of this mark. Now, they want all those still living on earth to vamoose to this so-called Ellipse world.
"Are they not asking we face our death?"
Tch.
"Even if it were to be real, how do I afford the ROUTE?" Laz brought his head down in disappointment.
The Route is a powder-like substance that enables bearers of the Mark of Ellipse to successfully teleport into the World of Ellipse. The process granted by the Route was called Bilocation, since it somehow generates a virtual body for its user, leaving the real body on earth, useless until the user returns—that's if a user happens to.
The substance is usually very expensive, and cannot be afforded by average citizens, or poor beings like Laz. This is why, the notion that the mark was designed only for the wealthy in the society was rampant.
But, Laz hadn't cared.
"That reminds me, my pizza," he stood from the ground where he sat, collected the bowl with the coins in it, and walked down the street.
His pizza?
Yes, he needed to satisfy his quench of hunger.
Plus, that was what Laz preferred to use his money for when he finally realized the amount to afford a ROUTE.
It had been like a life dream for him to have a taste of this pizza, and now he had the money, how could he waste it on some mythical belief?
He whirled the doorknob, stepping into his cheap one-room apartment, which he manages to offset the bills once every half of the year.
There it was.
By the side of the small mattress on the carpet floor, was where he kept the pizza the previous night after he bought it. He moved tentatively, collecting the pizza and settling on his mattress... cutting out chunks and drawing his bite on them.
The announcement that people like him should leave earth had continued for a week, and today... that day was the proposed day that action would be taken.
Whatever it is the government planned to take as action, what Laz cared about was to have his last wish fulfilled before he would rot in jail... or supposedly, face instant death.
"What shall it profit me, if I disappear from this world without the slightest enjoyment," he mumbled and at the same time, chewed chunks in his mouth.
***
'Instant death... Oh, that is it. That was how I got here.'
'But, is this how it looked like to resurrect from the dead? Maybe. The spirits of the dead rise in an enclosed environment, before they make their journey to get judged, then placed in their designated combo places — hell or heaven.'
'Why is my own resurrection different? Why does it have to be in a room?'
Then, a retrospective voice played in his mind.
"There are two methods to leave our world to where you belong. The best is through Bilocation, and the second option is by Transmigration. Bilocation is preferred since it doesn't render your body lifeless, although your body remains useless until you return from the netherworld to activate it, or strive in the netherworld."
"But, now you are enjoying a pizza, and claim you can't afford a ROUTE, I will make the journey easier for you. Hehe... transmigration is still a good path that grants your departure, except your body will become lifeless... you will face death for it to be possible."
The man who led the group that had barged into his room on Earth grinned, then whirled the short gun on his hand in rotary motion.
"...I don't know what it is called again. Yes, Land of Call. It is said that all the bearers will face trial in the land of call before your future in Ellipse will be decided."
Those were the last words he heard, followed by the sounds of the gunshot that had led to his death.
'Land of Call?'
'Wait, wait, where am I?'
He struggled to open his eyes, and finally flickered it open, only to realize he had actually not woken on his own accord.
Still lying on the wooden bed, a small rat was biting his toe and as he straightened up to meet the gaze of the rat, faint words appeared above it.
«↓ Laz Mann, welcome to the Land of Call ↑»