Cigarette smoke swirled toward the wobbling ceiling fan as Elijah flicked its ash. The jukebox in Mel's smokehouse played the blues, led by a melancholic acoustic guitar. Elijah sipped his tea as Dezerea returned with his order. Smoked barbecue lingered in the air, jockeying with the cigarette smoke and musk. Television screens above the bar broadcast news discussing those chosen by the Engine. The customers glanced back at Elijah, Amos, and Arthur frequently as they listened to the news. Elijah grumbled under his breath as he overheard their gossip.
"Here you go," Dezerea said as she filled their drinks after handing them their food. "So what is it like to be chosen for godhood? She asked as she wiped her hands on her towel tied to her waist.
"If the possibility of death wasn't a factor... not so bad," Elijah jested as he grabbed a barbecue rib. He licked his lips and fingers as he savored the sweet and spicy dry rub that coated the meat. "You get a lot of free food," he said as he picked up another rib.
"I've been prepping for this my whole life," Amos explained as he bit into a chicken wing. "I taught history and wrote a variety of books about the ENGINE and the pilgrimage."
"I would be having an existential crisis every moment if I was in your shoes."
"You try not to think about it. Having anxiety attacks about your death most surely will lead to your death."
"I always wondered why the ENGINE doesn't just pick the PRIME instead of doing a pilgrimage. Why do people have to die?" Dezerea asked as she handed out condiments.
Amos shrugged. "Nobody knows exactly, but I believe it is to test who is actually worthy rather than bestowing godhood on what it perceives as worthy."
"Well, it's God, so wouldn't it already know?"
"The ENGINE does not communicate with mortals. It needs a PRIME to communicate and enact its will," Arthur replied as he cut into his steak.
"Even that is just a theory; we really don't know," Arthur implied. "I read a few books and sacred texts about its nature. A lot of it is nothing but conspiracy theories wrapped in divine truth."
"When I was but a child, my mother used to tell me that the PRIME is more than just divinity. To be PRIME is to rule in God's place. That is why the ENGINE doesn't just choose but tests," Amos said.
"And if you don't make the cut, you're just dead," Elijah flatly replied as he wiped his mouth. "Doesn't let us decide if we want a crack at godhood either."
"The luxury of being a God," Amos replied.
"I would like to thank my brother, who would make a good PRIME. Though I don't know why the ENGINE selected him?" Dezerea wondered as she looked out the window. "No era nadie especial. He was an electrician just trying to make ends meet."
Arthur chuckled. "The Engine sees what we can not. We have this orphan in our group that's, let's just say she is different."
"A conduit of some nature perhaps," Amos muttered as he took a sip of water. "She is either the most naturally talented human alive and doesn't know how gifted she is. Or her whole orphan backstory is a cover-up."
"I think she really doesn't know," Elijah replied as he lit a cigarette. "Been to her makeshift tent on the rooftops of Leonore. She ain't lying about being an orphan, but she's definitely not just an orphan."
His mind went back to when he busted down her hotel room door. Memories of hearing her pitch-shifted screams as she tossed in her bed, asleep, echoed in Elijah's brain. Elijah's nervous system shivered as his body remembered the overwhelming aura he sensed oozing from Emily's body afterwards. It unsettled him to think that was the same gifted musical prodigy girl he met in Leonore who said sorry.
"Speaking of orphans," Arthur said as he gestured towards the window.
Elijah exhaled a cloud of smoke as he watched Emily, Rachel, and Alice walking down the sidewalk nearby.
"You think they followed us?" Amos asked as he observed Emily and Rachel carrying shopping bags.
Arthur shook his head. "Doesn't seem so."
"They wanted to get away from Sarah," Elijah explained as he put his cigarette out in the ashtray. "They're coming, conversation over," he said as he noticed them turning down the alleyway.
Rachel sniffed the air and smiled as she opened the front door of Mel's Smokehouse. She clutched a shopping bag full of antiques and clothes in her left hand. "This smells divine... we should eat here," Rachel insisted as she held the door open for Alice and Emily.
She brushed her strawberry blonde hair out of her face. The black mask that branded her as chosen glowed underneath warm light coming from the ceiling fan. Her eyes drifted towards the kitchen and then the jukebox. Rachel's chestnut eyes widened when she noticed Elijah, Arthur, and Amos sitting at a table booth.
"Fancy running into you guys," she chuckled as she walked towards them.
"I know. What are the odds we end up in the same restaurant in this big city?" Amos replied with a thin-lipped smile as he glanced at Emily, then at Arthur and Elijah.
"I promise we ain't stalking y'all. Just a coincidence," Emily explained as she sat down next to Elijah.
"Wanted to get away from Sarah, I take it?" Elijah asked as he watched her pick up the menu on the table.
Emily snickered. "Bingo!" She laughed. "Plus, it was Rachel's idea, anyway. She wanted to go shopping for a new outfit."
"We got you this," Rachel said as she dug into the shopping bag and pulled out some black hair dye.
Elijah glanced down at the dye with a sour expression. "You calling me old?"
"No...we just-" Rachel blabbered as she forced a thin lip smile.
"Hey, just because you're old doesn't mean you need to look old," Emily cackled.
"Keep talking shit, and I will dye your hair pink while you sleep," Elijah threatened as he lit a cigarette.
Emily blinked, her eyes widening as she rubbed the nape of her neck. "That is so fucked. I rather just go bald."
"Did we intrude on bro time?" Alice asked as she sat next to Amos.
"Not necessarily, by the way... where is Shiyu?" Amos asked as he peeked out the window.
"She is too immersed in a book. Hasn't moved since we arrived at Sarah's penthouse."
"Sounds like her," Elijah said as he ate.
"So you're the orphan?" Dezerea asked as she placed her hands on her hips.
Emily glanced up at her. "Who, me?"
"Yeah, we were all talking about-"
"Talking about your musical duel with Sarah," Amos interjected as he grabbed his chicken sandwich.
"Wait, are we talking about Sarah? Like prom queen Sarah, right?" Dezerea asked with wide eyes.
"Yup," Elijah replied.
Emily rolled her eyes as she buried her head in the menu.
"She has imposter syndrome," Rachel whispered to Dezerea. "I think I am going to try on these new clothes," she said as she lifted her shopping bag.
"Can it wait?" Emily asked, with a raised eyebrow.
"No... if they don't fit, then I can't return them once we leave Tyrial."
"Could have done it at the clothing store."
"You were rushing me!?"
"Fine, whatever... tell me what you want so I can order for you."
"Just get me what you are getting."
"Are there waffles here?"
"It's a smokehouse, Emily," Elijah grumbled.
Emily shrugged. "You never know... they might serve breakfast."
"No smokehouse serves waffles, Emily."
"Yeah, that is just weird," Rachel said.
Emily glanced at everyone staring at her, silently judging her. "Fine, whatever. Let me get some steak and ribs, please."
"How do you want your steak cooked?" Dezerea asked.
"Well done?"
Elijah shook his head as everyone went silent again.
"What I do?" Emily asked.
"Medium-rare for the orphan," Dezerea said, refusing to write well done on the order paper.
"Guess that's what I am having. I will be back," Rachel said as she left the group and headed towards the bathroom.
Rachel placed her shopping bag on the vinyl tile floor. She locked the door and then glanced at the graffiti on the bathroom stall doors. Above the mirror hung a neon sign that read, "Not just barbecue, bridges." Her reflection lagged behind her movements, similar to a video game's frame drop. She fiddled with her hair before entering the bathroom stall to undress. VHS tape hissed, and glitch effects rippled from the mirror despite nothing being in front of it. Her reflection moved with latency to keep up in unison with Rachel's movements as she opened the stall door wearing tight blue jeans and an oversized multicolored retro windbreaker.
"I wonder if she would like this?" Rachel muttered to herself as she checked herself out in the mirror. Her eyes dilated when she noticed her reflection grinning at her. "What the fuck!?"
The ceiling light flickered like dying fireflies overhead. Rachel glanced up, eyes wide as the lights went out for several seconds. She walked over towards the light switch and flipped it off and then back on. A sour expression stretched across Rachel's face as the light bulb flickered on and off to her disappointment.
Rachel rapidly flicked the light switch on and off for several seconds. The light bulb blazed like the sun before turning off. Her eyes drifted back to the mirror, gazing at herself with narrowed eyes. Sweat trickled down her forehead as she felt uneasy by her own reflection. She bit her lip, almost convinced that whatever was in that mirror was not exactly her. The lights flickered back to life several seconds later; however, the warm light was now replaced with an eerie mulberry red. Long, jagged shadows stretched across the bathroom as Rachel's eyes widened as she stared up at the mulberry light. Her heart raced as she flipped the light switch on and off, but the mulberry light did not turn off.
"Oh, fuck!" She yelled as she reached for the bathroom door handle. "Oh, fuck!" Rachel screamed as the door would not open. "Help me!" She screamed as her reflection stopped turning the light switch on and off.
The mulberry light flickered like a dying star as the bathroom glitched with digital and typographic artifacts. Static and VHS hiss scratched at Rachel's eardrums. She bashed on the door, kicking it before rattling the doorknob that would not yield. Relief mixed with dread crept up Rachel's spine as the normal warm fluorescent light returned to the bathroom seconds later.
Rachel stumbled into the diner as she opened the bathroom door. She breathed out of her mouth as her wild eyes stared down at the red and white checkered floor. Her eyebrow raised as she heard jazz playing and the scent of sausage and waffles sizzling from the kitchen.
"What the fuck?" She mumbled to herself as she stood upright and glanced around the diner.
Red checkered floors and barstools complemented the white walls of the diner. Sizzling bacon and the homely scent of pancakes and syrup lingered in the air. Rachel blinked frequently as customers' chatter filled the air, their sidelong glances prickling her skin like needles. A hostess's eyes widened as she gazed at Rachel's black mask while she poured coffee for a customer.
"Where the fuck am I?" Rachel asked herself as her mouth dropped open, as she stared at everyone.
Rachel's eyes drifted toward the Mel's Diner sign glowing above the jukebox. Her attention then drifted towards the large oak tree forest that lined the road. She crept towards the window and looked up at the cloudy blue sky above. The sky was clear of smog, ad drones, and the ENGINE. Her heart raced as she rushed toward the bathroom.
She locked the door and flipped the light switch. Rachel gazed up at the light as it turned off and on, casting the bathroom into darkness before illuminating the bathroom interior once more in fluorescent light. Anxiety swelled in her mind before spilling down her back and into her arms and legs when the light never flickered the color of mulberry.
Rachel exited the bathroom once again. She glanced at all the customers staring at her with raised eyebrows. Her eyes fixated on the Mel's Diner sign flickering above the jukebox that continued to play jazz instead of blues. Vertigo crept up her feet as if the floor ripped from under her. Her mind spiraled as she pulled at her hair.
"Ma'am, are you alright?" A hostess asked as she placed dirty dishes on top of the kitchen bar. "I don't think I saw you come in. Did you come from one of those cosplay conventions or something?" She asked as she stared at Rachel's black mask.
Rachel blinked slowly as she stared down at the checkered floor before staring out at the trees outside. She rubbed a hand through her hair as she took a deep breath. "Yeah... yeah, you could say that," Rachel replied as she forced a smile. "Hey, I know this is a weird question. I am not from around here. Could you tell me where I am?"
"Well, you are in Corwood, Tennessee, sweetheart," The hostess replied with a worried expression. "You sure you're doing alright, sugar? You are pale as a white wall."
Rachel nodded as she turned her head towards the bathroom before glancing at the Mel's Diner sign once more. She bit her fingernails as everyone's eyes were on her as she sat down at a table. Reality didn't seem solid to her anymore.