2103:10:21:04:22:20

  The dreaded night had arrived and I was all alone.

  Millie’s snoring was a soft, if wheezy one, sounding like she was hooked up to a machine and on her last breath. Jolie’s was an open-mouthed rumble of an engine, oddly low-pitched for the girl’s otherwise light voice. Saga’s was soft, more like a cat sniffing softly into the microphone like that video I once saw.

  Yes, I had nothing better to do than differentiate my friends’ snores.

  After giving a short statement to the police, Millie and I had been allowed to leave the jewelry store. The rest of the day had been a better kind of exciting, with a nice and sweet pineapple pizza for dinner – to Millie’s delight and Saga’s dismay – and two movies, one a cheesy comedy and one a cheesy romance film. As expected of a sleepover (I think), it was followed by a lot of late-night chatting and joking to finish off the day.

  But now the fun was over and done with.

  The sleeping part of the sleepover had been the one thing I knew for sure I wouldn’t like. With my friends sleeping nearby, the things I usually did in the dead of night were a non-starter.

  Masking was right out, of course. Even if I hadn’t notified Crowsong I wouldn’t, I doubted I could leave without my friends noticing me. I would’ve had to return home to put on my costume, then go masking, then return home to hide my costume again, and then, after all that, travel back to Milie’s house and sneak back into the bedroom unnoticed. There was too much risk and not enough reward.

  That left me with two things to do: review memcordings and do things on my phone. The former was something I did every night in between masking and studying, but while the process had been slow-going in the beginning, I now only took about an hour or two to reprocess them. In other words, I was already done.

  As for the phone, it was… boring. With my friends were so close by – even if asleep – it made me hesitant to watch anything that could lead them to ask questions. I watched some NurTube to pass the time, watching some news, politics, hero vlogs and the occasional science or gun tube video, but without a clear goal to work towards I found few things remained interesting for long. Besides, I constantly worried the flashing lights would wake the others up and for that same reason, I didn’t want to use earbuds with how they closed me off from my surroundings. What if my friends woke up and saw me watching something that could expose me? So after a while, I stopped using that too.

  To make a long story short, I was bored. Had been bored for the past two hours.

  Thus, analyzing snores. Outside of each of my friends having distinct sound, they each had their own unique pattern they cycled through. For example, Millie didn’t start with a wheezy one, but with deep and sharp breaths that-

  Suddenly, one in the chorus of snores stopped – Saga’s. It was too early for a change in pattern, but maybe she just woke up briefly. I found that happened often enough, someone ‘waking up’ without really being ‘awake’. They would turn over, groan or cough a bit, then move their pillow and/or sheets around before returning to sleep almost immediately.

  I closed my eyes and remained dead quiet, focusing purely on the missing sound of Saga’s soft snores, waiting for it to restart. Yet instead, her breathing turned shaky and rapid, inhales and exhales that sounded almost like shivers. Was she alright?

  Ten minutes later, Saga rose up out of their bed and, as quietly as she could, opened the slightly-creaking door and left Millie’s room. Going to the bathroom? But shortly after she left, I heard the creaking steps of the wooden staircase softly echo from the hall. She was going downstairs.

  I waited another ten minutes to see if Millie or Jolie would wake up before I, too, rose. I left my futon and, while carefully walking on my toes, stepped over Jolie’s sleeping bag. I opened the door quicker than Saga did – I’d already discovered speed counterintuitively made less noise when opening this particular door – and left Millie’s room as well.

  I walked down the stairs as quietly as I could, putting all my skill as a stealthy vigilante into it. I stopped right before the second stairs down to the first floor. Then, like Millie did the day I arrived, I lowered myself to the ground and over the edge of the stairs, peering through the gaps in the bannisters into the living room.

  Saga was staring all but right at me, squinting her eyes as she looked past her cellphone’s bright light.

  ‘Hey’, she mouthed at me. I waved back and walked down the rest of the stairs normally.

  I plopped myself down next to her on the couch, bouncing a little as the couch’s suspension creaked under the force. After that, the house returned to quiet once more, the only disturbance coming from Saga’s phone auto-playing the next video.

  I wasn’t sure what to say, or even whether I should talk at all. Perhaps because it the middle of the night and everyone else was fast asleep, but the quiet held some kind of weight to it. Speaking now seemed taboo, even if I wanted to talk to Saga.

  Saga seemed to be feeling the same thing. Outside of the mouthed greeting and scooting over to get more comfortable, she’d returned to watching the video without further comment.

  I moved my head a bit closer to look at what she was watching, to which Saga responded by moving her phone between us. She was watching short-form cooking videos on… Circles? I thought that was what the media platform was called at least. Or was it Cycles?

  “You don’t even like cooking,” I whispered.

  Saga rumbled in agreement. “I like eating though.”

  Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.

  Impeccable logic.

  “Did I wake you up?” Saga asked.

  I hesitated for a second. “No,” I said. “Just a light sleeper.”

  Again, Saga gave an agreeing rumble, eyes never leaving the screen.

  Before I could ask, Saga said, “Sometimes, I just wake up in a panic. Nightmares, maybe, but I never remember them.” She remained quiet for a moment. “Jolie and Millie already know and always offer to help, but I don’t… I don’t want to wake them. So I just leave and calm down somewhere by myself.”

  This time, it was my turn to rumble agreeably. Was I supposed to leave? I didn’t want to, but maybe Saga would be more comfortable if I did. Then again, it seemed like her refusing Millie and Jolie was because she didn’t want to wake them up, and since I was as awake as always, I could probably stay.

  Since she’d yet to chase me off, I decided to remain.

  After a moment, Saga whispered a quiet, “Thanks.”

  Silence returned, and we continued watching her never-ending, strangely hypnotic reel of cooking videos for the rest of the night.

  X

  Saga fell asleep somewhere along the line, but her phone kept playing similarly themed videos. I now had well over a hundred recipes stored in my memcordings, though I found not a single one lingered in my conscious memory. Strange, that. Still, maybe I should try cooking some of them?

  Either way, hours had passed and the sun had risen, its light beginning to filter into the living room. While the curtains were drawn, they were of a lighter fabric; they were only capable of dimming the sun’s light, not keep them out like the heavier ones Millie’s bedroom – and mine, and every other bedroom I’d seen so far – possessed.

  It was around 7:37 AM – give or take a few passing seconds – when I heard creaking coming from the stairs. I turned my eyes away from where Saga’s cellphone had fallen on her lap, my neck stiff and aching from the awkward position I’d kept it in these past few hours.

  The videos were just that hypnotizing.

  I watched as a pair of fuzzy slippers descended down the stairs. It was soon followed by an ankle, the edges of a bathrobe and/or dressing gown, a leg, a hand etcetera, etcetera as the individual slowly made their way to the living room, doing their best to make as little sound as possible.

  The newcomer was one I had only met in passing: Millie’s dad. Mister Brown was a lanky, clean-shaven and bespectacled man with thinning blond hair – same shade as his daughter’s. He looked like someone who should have a cup of coffee in his hand while fetching the morning newspaper, like I’d seen in some of the older movies Mom had shown me. I suspected he was about to live up to half that image.

  But first, as he descended down the stairs, his eyes met mine. He froze mid stride, eyes flicking between my fully-awake and Saga’s softly-snoring forms.

  “Good morning,” he said, voice soft but carrying. “Samantha, right?”

  I nodded. “Good morning Mister Brown.”

  “Couldn’t sleep?” he asked.

  “Slept well enough,” I responded.

  “Ah,” he ah-ed. “Would you like anything to drink? Coffee? Tea?”

  I hesitated. “I’ve never had coffee before,” I said leadingly. Mom wouldn’t let me have it, so now was a good time to try.

  The man smiled – a thin, but kind one. “I’ll whip you something up.” As he said it, I heard Saga’s breathing pattern change, followed by a soft croak emerging from her throat. Mister Brown’s eyes turned to her. “And for Saga as well. I doubt she’ll sleep much longer.”

  “Thank you,” I said. Mister Brown nodded and headed toward the kitchen.

  A moment later and hisses, cracks, rattles, grinds and growls emerged from the kitchen. Saga slowly woke up as the noise got louder and louder.

  She lifted her head from my shoulder and rubbed her eyes. A bleary, half-awake stare turned to me and for a second, Saga froze. Unsurprising, since our faces were very close; if I returned from oblivion and saw a giant face in front of me, I’d freeze too.

  “Millie’s dad is making us coffee,” I informed her.

  That seemed to unstuck her and Saga nodded, her gaze landing on her still-playing phone. She turned to me. “Have you… been watching these videos all night?”

  “Yes,” I answered. “They were very interesting. Who knew you could make a cupcake by microwaving it?”

  Her eyes turned back to the screen, then back to me. “You know these videos are fake, right?”

  This time, it was my turn to freeze. “What?”

  “Yeah- well, not all of these. I started with real ones from channels I followed, but if you let Cycles autoplay on by itself, you’ll eventually end up with stuff like...” We looked at the screen. A woman was stuffing newspaper into a turkey, lit it on fire and threw it in the oven. A second and a cut later, she pulled out a completely baked-through turkey. “…That. I need to remove them from my history before they mess with my algo.”

  The world faded away around me. Had I just spent the last couple hours watching fake videos? And if it was that easy to fall into that trap, how many of the other videos I’d watched were fake? It couldn’t be everything – I refused to believe I was that stupid or unlucky – but if I couldn’t manage to discern the cooking ones, how could I rely on my skills to separate the true from the false.

  Were the combat tutorials useful? The world history ones true? What about the how-to’s of masking I saw from multiple heroes, rogues and even a few villains? Well, I kind of already knew about the latter thanks to Crowsong, but what about the things she hadn’t taught me about? Were politicians the puppets of villains or were villains the deniable assets of politicians? Were repentance and reforming criminals truly the purpose behind the justice system? Were the Guardians actually using government funds to secretly fund Malcatorist cults to justify their secret world domination, or was that what villains wanted me to believe?

  A shiver went through my spine. I’d thought I was able to spot which videos were for entertainment, which were made by the unhinged and which were well-informed and well-researched, but now everything was in doubt. Maybe I was making a mountain out of a molehill – there was no way there were that many conspiracies running around in the world – but the thought of my memcordings being stuffed full of false information was chilling. How many times had I replayed memcordings to integrate lies into my personality?

  Who knew the internet could be so terrifying.

  “Here’re your coffees,” Mister Brown said, ignorant of my world-shattering revelation. He grabbed four coasters, put them in front of us and set down the two cups of coffee and two glasses of water on them. Then, he placed a few differently-sized and colored packets in between to them. “I’ve already done Saga’s, but here’s some sugar, honey and milk to help make it more palatable,” he said to me, gesturing towards the packets. “Go nuts,” He finished with a smile.

  With forcibly-steadied hands, I went for the cup and put it to my mouth.

  “Sam-” Saga tried, eyes wide. But it was already too late.

  I instantly drained half the cup.

  The taste was indescribable. Never before had I wanted to spit something out this badly. Not even when I accidently shoveled a bit of wet dirt in my mouth during my time as a mole did I feel a need this strong. I had to force myself to swallow it before I could spray it out, the vile liquid burning as it went down my throat. My face scrunched and body contorted at the taste, and I felt the coffee start rise back up. I forced it down, only for it to be replaced by dry, hacking coughs.

  Saga, the bi- the bad friend, was of course laughing at my pain. “Here,” I heard her say between laughs, pressing a glass of water into my hand. I drank it instantly and most of the taste left my mouth. Most, but not all.

  “Ugh,” I ugh-ed. “You drink this every day?”

  Saga’s laughter renewed.

  I looked to Mister Brown, who seemed to be suppressing his own bout of laughter. He lifted the mug of coffee to his mouth and, with one raised eyebrow, took a small sip. I grimaced in disgust as the memory of the drink’s taste resurfaced. Mister Brown just smirked from behind his mug.

  “What did I miss this time.” Jolie sighed from the top of the stairs, wondering at Saga’s cheer. Millie was there as well, following just a step behind.

  “Sam just took her first sip of coffee,” Saga explained gleefully. “Drank half the cup in one go, and then made this face, like-” Saga overexaggerated my reaction “-and nearly threw up.”

  Jolie shifted her gaze to me. It was full of disappointment. “Really, Sam?”

  I huffed. “It wasn’t on purpose. I was distracted.” A way to shift the blame clicked in my mind. “Saga said that all the videos she made me watch were fake. I didn’t even know there were fake videos.” An exaggeration. I knew many videos were like movies, angling more for entertainment than educating their viewer. It was the fact that people produced outright lies, knowingly and on purpose, and without clearly marking it as such that bothered me.

  Jolie shifted her disappointment toward Saga, who scowled at my accusation. “I didn’t make you watch anything. ‘Sides, how could you not know it was fake? She was baking turkeys with newspaper!”

  “You’re going to blame the two-months-old for this?” I parried.

  Saga opened and closed her mouth a few times, unsure of what to say.

  I puffed up my chest in pride. “I win.”

  Millie rushed down the stairs and jumped next to me on the couch, immediately beginning to ruffle my hair. I tried to swat away her arm, but she dodged and threw herself between my back and the couch, hugging me like a koala.

  “Look at you! Exploiting personal tragedy to win an argument?” She plinked away a fake tear. “I’m sooooo proud.”

  I tried to stand up and throw her off of me, but Saga threw herself on top of me and pushed me down. “Suffer,” she growled. I scowled and tried to wrestle myself out of the pile, but the two wouldn’t let up.

  Somewhere far away, muffled by one ear lying flat on the couch and caught under Millie’s arm, I heard a voice.

  “Tea?” Mister Brown asked.

  “Please,” Jolie responded.